The Beach of Dreams | Page 8

looked at as a structure of
canvas and wood, once seen by Mademoiselle de Bromsart, has
become part of her mind, just as it has become part of yours and mine,
a logical and definite part of our minds; now, mark me, there was also
the sunset and the storm clouds, those objects also became part of the
mind of Mademoiselle de Bromsart, and the reasons interlying between
all these objects produced in her a definite and painful impression.
They were, in fact, all thinking something which she interpreted."
"It seemed to me," said the girl, "that I saw Loneliness itself, and for
the first time, and I felt just now that it was following me. It was to
escape from that absurd phantom that I suggested to Monsieur le Prince
that we should alter our course."
"Well," said Madame de Warens, "your will has conquered the
Phantom. Let us talk of something more cheerful."
"Listen!" said Mademoiselle de Bromsart. "It seems to me that the
engines are going slower."
"You have a quick ear, mademoiselle," said the Prince, "they
undoubtedly are. The Captain has reduced speed. Kerguelen is before
us, or rather on our starboard bow, and daybreak will, no doubt, give us
a view of it. We do not want to be too close to it in the dark hours, that
is why speed has been reduced."
Coffee was served at table and presently, amidst the fumes of cigarette
smoke, the conversation turned to politics, the works of Anatole France,
and other absorbing subjects. One might have fancied oneself in Paris
but for the vibrations of the propeller, the heave of the sea, and the
hundred little noises that mark the passage of a ship under way.
Later Mademoiselle de Bromsart found herself in the smoking-room

alone with her host, Madame de Warens having retired to her
state-room and the others gone on deck.
The girl was doing some embroidery work which she had fetched from
her cabin and the Prince was glancing at the pages of the Revue des
Deux Mondes. Presently he laid the book down.
"I was in earnest," said he.
"How?" she asked, glancing up from her work.
"When I proposed altering the course. Nothing would please me more
than to spoil a plan of my own to please you."
"It is good of you to say that," she replied, "all the same I am glad I did
not spoil your plan, not so much for your sake as my own."
"How?"
"I would rather die than run away from danger."
"So you feared danger?"
"No, I did not fear it, but I felt it. I felt a premonition of danger. I did
not say so at dinner. I did not want to alarm the others."
He looked at her curiously for a moment, contrasting her fragility and
beauty with the something unbendable that was her spirit, her soul--call
it what you will.
"Well," said he, "your slightest wish is my law. I have been going to
speak to you for the last few days. I will say what I want to say now. It
is only four words. Will you marry me?"
She looked up at him, meeting his eyes full and straight.
"No," said she, "it is impossible."
"Why?"

"I have a very great regard for you--but--"
"You do not love me?"
She said nothing, going on with her work calmly as though the
conversation was about some ordinary topic.
"I don't see why you should," he went on, "but look around you--how
many people marry for love now-a-days--and those who do, are they
any the happier? I have seen a very great deal of the world and I know
for a fact that happiness in marriage has little to do with what the poets
call love and everything to do with companionship. If a man and
woman are good companions then they are happy together, if not they
are miserable, no matter how much they may love one another at the
start."
"Have you seen much of the world?" she raised her eyes again as she
asked the question. "Have you seen anything really of the world? I do
not mean to be rude, but this world of ours, this world of society that
holds us all, is there anything real about it, since nearly everything in it
is a sham? Look at the lives we lead, look at Paris and London and
Berlin. Why the very language of society is framed to say things we do
not mean."
"It is civilization. How else would you have it?"
"I don't know," she replied, "but I do know it is not life. It is dishonesty.
You say that the only happy married people are those that are good
companions, that love does not count