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SANDRA BELLONI BY GEORGE MEREDITH - V6
SANDRA BELLONI BY GEORGE MEREDITH - V6 GEORGE MEREDITH BOOK 6
XL. SHE TASTES DESPAIR
XLI. SHE IS FOUND
XLII. DEFECTION OF MR. PERICLES FROM THE BROOKFIELD CIRCLE
XLIII. IN WHICH WE SEE WILFRID KINDLING
XLIV. ON THE HIPPOGRIFF IN AIR: IN WHICH THE PHILOSOPHER
HAS A SHORT SPELL.
XLV. ON THE HIPPOGRIFF ON EARTH.
XLVI. RAPE OF THE BLACK-BRIONY WREATH
XLVII. THE CALL TO ACTION
XLVIII. CONTAINS A FURTHER VIEW OF SENTIMENT
XLIX. BETWEEN EMILIA AND GEORGIANA
CHAPTER XL
Emilia stretched out her hand and said "Good-bye." Seeing that the
hardened girl with her dead eyelids did not appear to feel herself at
his mercy and also that Sir Purcell's forehead looked threatening Mr.
Pericles stopped his sardonic noise. He went straight to the door which
he opened with alacrity and mimicking very wretchedly her words of
adieu stood prepared to bow her out. She astonished him by passing
without another word. Before he could point a phrase bitter enough for
expression Sir Purcell had likewise passed and in going had given him a
quietly admonishing look.
"Zose Poles are beggars!" Mr. Pericles roared after them over the stairs
and slammed his door for emphasis. Almost immediately there was a knock
at it. Mr. Pericles stood bent and cat-like as Sir Purcell reappeared.
The latter avoiding all preliminaries demanded of the Greek that he
should promise not to use the names of his friends publicly in such a
manner again.
"I require a promise for the future. An apology will be needless from
you."
"I shall not give it" said Mr. Pericles with a sharp lift of his upper
lip.
"But you will give me the promise I have returned for."
In answer Mr. Pericles announced that he had spoken what was simply true:
that the prosperity of the Poles was fictitious: that he or any
unfavourable chance could ruin them: and that their friends might do
better to protect their interests than by menacing one who had them in
his power.
Sir Purcell merely reiterated his demand for the promise which was
ultimately snarled to him; whereupon he retired joy on his features.
For Cornelia poor she might be claimed by him fearlessly: that is to
say without the fear of people whispering that the penniless baronet had
sued for gold and without the fear of her father rejecting his suit. At
least he might with this knowledge that he had gained appoint to meet
her now! All the morning Sir Purcell had been combative owing to that
subordinate or secondary post he occupied in a situation of some
excitement;--which combativeness is one method whereby men thus placed
imagining that they are acting devotedly for their friends contrive
still to assert themselves. He descended to the foot of the stairs
where he had told Emilia to wait for him full of kind feelings and ready
cheerful counsels; as thus: "Nothing that we possess belongs to us;--All
will come round rightly in the end; Be patient look about for amusement
and improve your mind." And more of this copper coinage of wisdom in the
way of proverbs. But Emilia was nowhere visible to receive the
administration of comfort. Outside the house the fog appeared to have
swallowed her. With some chagrin on her behalf (partly a sense of duty
unfulfilled) Sir Purcell made his way to the residence of the Marinis to
report of her there if she should not have arrived. The punishment he
inflicted on himself in keeping his hand an hour from that letter to be
written to Cornelia was almost pleasing; and he was rewarded by it for
the projected sentences grew mellow and rich condensed and throbbed
eloquently. What wonder that with such a mental occupation he should
pass Emilia and not notice her? She let him go.
But when he was out of sight all seemed gone. The dismally-lighted city
wore a look of Judgement terrible to see. Her brain was slave to her
senses: she fancied she had dropped into an underground kingdom among a
mysterious people. The anguish through which action had just hurried
her now fell with a conscious weight upon her heart. She stood a
moment seeing her desolation stretch outwardly into endless labyrinths;
and then it narrowed and took hold of her as a force within: changing
thus almost with each breathing of her body.
The fog had thickened. Up and down the groping city went muffled men
few women. Emilia looked for one of her sex who might have a tender
face. Desire to be kissed and loved by a creature strange to her and to
lay her head upon a woman's bosom moved her to gaze around with a
longing once or twice; but no eyes met hers and the fancy recurred
vividly that she was not in the world she had known. Otherwise what had
robbed her of her voice? She played with her fancy for comfort long
after any real vitality in it had oozed out. Her having strength to play
at fancies showed that a spark of hope was alive. In truth firm of
flesh as she was to believe that all worth had departed from her was
impossible and when she reposed simply on her sensations very little
trouble beset her: only when she looked abroad did the aspect of numerous
indifferent faces and the harsh flowing of the world its own way tell
her she had lost her power. Could it be lost? The prospect of her
desolation grew so wide to her that she shut her eyes abandoning herself
to feeling; and this by degrees moved her to turn back and throw herself
at the feet of Mr. Pericles. For if he said "Wait my child and all
will come round well" she was prepared blindly to think so. The
projection of the words in her mind made her ready to weep: but as she
neared the house of his office the wish to hear him speak that became
passionate; she counted all that depended on it and discovered the size
of the fabric she had built on so thin a plank. After a while her steps
were mechanically swift. Before she reached the chambers of Mr. Pericles
she had walked she knew not why once round the little quiet enclosed
city-garden and a cold memory of those men who had looked at her face
gave her some wonder to be quickly kindled into fuller comprehension.
Beholding Emilia once more Mr. Pericles enjoyed a revival of his taste
for vengeance; but unhappily for her he found it languid and when he
had rubbed his hands stared and by sundry sharp utterances brought her
to his feet his satisfaction was less poignant than he had expected. As
a consequence instead of speaking outrageously according to his habit
in wrath he was now frigidly considerate informing Emilia that it would
be good for her if she were dead seeing that she was of no use whatever;
but as she was alive she had better go to her father and mother and
learn knitting or some such industrial employment. "Unless zat man for
whom you play fool!--" Mr. Pericles shrugged the rest of his meaning.
"But my voice may not be gone" urged Emilia. "I may sing to you to-
morrow--this evening. It must be the fog. Why do you think it lost? It
can't be--"
"Cracked!" cried Mr. Pericles.
"It is not! No; do not think it. I may stay here. Don't tell me to go
yet. The streets make me wish to die. And I feel I may perhaps sing
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