n I was a little bit of a girl. Well, after I got big enough I used
to find Malta and other places on Maitre Damian's globe. I've lived
always there, on that spot"--she pointed towards Jersey--"on that
spot one could walk round in a day. What do I know! You've been
everywhere--everywhere. When you look back you've got a thousand
pictures in your mind. You've seen great cities, temples, palaces, great
armies, fleets; you've done things: you've fought and you've commanded,
though you're so young, and you've learned about men and about many
countries. Look at what you know, and then, if you only think, you'll
laugh at what I know."
For a moment he was puzzled what to answer. The revelation of the
girl's nature had come so quickly upon him. He had looked for freshness,
sweetness, intelligence, and warmth of temperament, but it seemed to
him that here were flashes of power. Yet she was only seventeen. She had
been taught to see things with her own eyes and not another's, and she
spoke of them as she saw them; that was all. Yet never but to her mother
had Guida said so much to any human being as within these past few
moments to Philip d'Avranche.
The conditions were almost maliciously favourable, and d'Avranche was
simple and easy as a boy, with his sailor's bonhomie and his naturally
facile spirit. A fateful adaptability was his greatest weapon in life,
and his greatest danger. He saw that Guida herself was unconscious of
the revelation she was making, and he showed no surprise, but he caught
the note of her simplicity, and responded in kind. He flattered her
deftly--not that she was pressed unduly, he was too wise for that. He
took her seriously; and this was not all dissimulation, for her every
word had glamour, and he now exalted her intellect unduly. He had never
met girl or woman who talked just as she did; and straightway, with the
wild eloquence of his nature, he thought he had discovered a new heaven
and a new earth. A spell was upon him. He knew what he wanted when he
saw it. He had always made up his mind suddenly, always acted on the
intelligent impulse of the moment. He felt things, he did not study
them--it was almost a woman's instinct. He came by a leap to the goal
of purpose, not by the toilsome steps of reason. On the instant his
headlong spirit declared his purpose: this was the one being for him in
all the world: at this altar he would light a lamp of devotion, and keep
it burning forever.
"This is m
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