The noble square, with its vast stretch of
gray stone pavement--worn satin-smooth--its carved gray facades of
palaces, picked out with gold, and its vista of copper beeches rose-red
against a sky of pearl, had been designed as a sober background for the
colour and fantastic fashion of the eighteenth century, whereas we and
others like us but added an extra sober note.
I noticed, as Brian sketched us his little picture of the past, that
Dierdre O'Farrell gazed at him, as if at some legendary knight in whose
reality she did not believe. It was the first time I had seen any change
in the sullen face, but it was a change to interest rather than
sympathy. She had the air of saying in her mind: "You look more like a
St. George, stepped down from a stained-glass window, than an ordinary
man of to-day. You seem to think about everyone else before yourself,
and to see a lot more with your blind eyes than we see. You pretend to
be happy, too, as if you wanted to set everybody a good example. But
it's all a pose--a pose! I shall study you till I find you out, a
trickster like the rest of us."
I felt a sudden stab of dislike for the girl, for daring to put Brian on
a level with herself--and me. I wanted to punish her somehow, wanted to
make the little wretch pay for her impertinent suspicions. I pushed past
her brusquely to stand between her and Brian. "Let's go into the hotel,"
I said. "It's more important just now to see what our rooms are like
than to play with the ghosts of dukes.
Pages:
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113