isappointed. Neither was Dominic
disappointed. During the half-hour's interview they got into touch with
each other in a wonderful way as if they had some common and secret
standpoint in life. Maybe it was their common lawlessness, and their
knowledge of things as old as the world. Her seduction, his
recklessness, were both simple, masterful and, in a sense, worthy of each
other.

Dominic was, I won't say awed by this interview. No woman could awe
Dominic. But he was, as it were, rendered thoughtful by it, like a man
who had not so much an experience as a sort of revelation vouchsafed to
him. Later, at sea, he used to refer to La Senora in a particular tone
and I knew that henceforth his devotion was not for me alone. And I
understood the inevitability of it extremely well. As to Dona Rita she,
after Dominic left the room, had turned to me with animation and said:
"But he is perfect, this man." Afterwards she often asked after him and
used to refer to him in conversation. More than once she said to me:
"One would like to put the care of one's personal safety into the hands
of that man. He looks as if he simply couldn't fail one." I admitted
that this was very true, especially at sea. Dominic couldn't fail. But
at the same time I rather chaffed Rita on her preoccupation as to
personal safety that so often cropped up in her talk.

"One would think you were a crowned head in a revolutionary world," I
used to tell her.

"That would be different. One would be standing then for something,
either worth or not worth dying for. One could even run away then and be
done with it. But I can't run away unless I got out of my skin and left
that behind. Don't you understand? You are very stupid . . ." But she
had the grace to add, "On purpose."

I don't know about the on purpose. I am not certain about the stupidity.
Her words bewildered one often and bewilderment is a sort of stupidity.
I remedied it by simply disregarding the sense of what she said. The
sound was there and also her poignant heart-gripping presence giving
occupation enough to one's faculties. In the power of those things over
one there was mystery enough. It was more absorbing than the mere
obscurity of her speeches. But I daresay she couldn't understand that.

Hence, at times, the amusing outbreaks of temper in word and gesture that
only strengthened the natural, the invincible force of the spell.
Sometimes the brass bowl would get upse