MYSELF. The meaning of which I never quite fathomed.
PRO. And, frequently, a "pedant."
MYSELF. I think not more than four times.
PRO. On such occasions, you will remember, she had a petulant
way of twitching her shoulder towards you and frowning, and,
occasionally, stamping her foot; and, deep within you, you loved
it all, you know you did.
CONTRA. But that is all over, and you are going to "The Bull."
MYSELF (hurriedly). To be sure--"The Bull."
PRO. And, lastly, you cannot have forgotten--you never will
forget--the soft tumult of the tender bosom that pillowed your
battered head--the pity of her hands--those great, scalding
tears, the sudden, swift caress of her lips, and the thrill in
her voice when she said-MYSELF (hastily). Stop! that is all forgotten.
PRO. You lie! You have dreamed of it ever since, working at
your anvil, or lying upon your bed, with your eyes upon the
stars; you have loved her from the beginning of things!
MYSELF. And I did not know it; I was very blind. The wonder is
that she did not discover my love for her long ago, for, not
knowing it was there, how should I try to hide it?
CONTRA. O Blind, and more than blind! Why should you suppose
she hasn't?
MYSELF (stopping short). What? Can it be possible that she has?
CONTRA. Didn't she once say that she could read you like a book?
MYSELF. She did.
CONTRA. And have you not often surprised a smile upon her lips,
and wondered?
MYSELF. Many times.
CONTRA. Have you not beheld a thin-veiled mockery in her look?
Why, poor fool, has she not mocked you from the first? You dream
of her lips. Were not their smiles but coquetry and derision?
MYSELF. But why should she deride me?
CONTRA. For your youth and--innocence.
MYSELF. My youth! my innocence!
CONTRA. Being a fool ingrain, didn't you boast that you had
known but few women?
MYSELF. I did, but-CONTRA. Didn't she call you boy! boy! boy!--and laugh at you?
MYSELF. Well--even so-CONTRA (with bitter scorn). O Boy! O Innocent of the innocent!
Go to, for a bookish fool! Learn that lovely ladies yield
themselves but to those who are masterful in their wooing, who
have wooed often, and triumphed as often. O Innocent of the
innocent! Forget the maudlin sentiment of thy books and old
romances--thy pure Sir Galahads, thy "vary parfait gentil
knightes," thy meek and lowly lovers serving their ladies on
bended knee; open thine eyes, learn that women to-day love only
the strong hand, the bold eye, the ready tongue; kneel to her,
and she will scorn and contemn you. What woman, think you, would
prefer the solemn, stern-eyed purity of a Sir Galahad (though he
be the king of men) to the quick-witted gayety of a debonair
Lothario (though he be but the shadow of a man)? Out upon thee,
pale-faced student! Thy tongue hath not the trick, nor thy mind
the nimbleness for the winning of a fair and lovely lady.
Thou'rt well enough in want of a better, but, when Lothario
comes, must she not run to meet him with arms outstretched?