Free Henry James: Complete Stories 1864-1874 by Henry James

of anything. There is not a man in the world less free. I am a slave. I am a victim.
She looked at him with kind eyes; something in his voice suddenly made her put away all thought of the defensive airs that a girl, in certain situations, is expected to assume. She perceived that he wanted to make her understand something, and now her only wish was to help him to say it. You are not happy, she murmured simply, her voice dying away in a kind of wonderment at this reality.
The gentle touch of her wordsit was as if her hand had stroked his cheekseemed to him the sweetest thing he had ever known. No, I am not happy, because I am not free. If I wereif I were, I would give up my ship, I would give up everything, to follow you. I can't explain; that is part of the hardness of it. I only want you to know it, that if certain things were different, if everything was different, I might tell you that I believe I should have a right to speak to you. Perhaps some day it will change; but probably then it will be too late. Meanwhile, I have no right of any kind. I don't want to trouble you, and I don't ask of youanything! It is only to have spoken just once. I don't make you understand, of course. I am afraid I seem to you rather a brute, perhaps even a humbug. Don't think of it now; don't try to understand. But some day, in the future, remember what I have said to you, and how we stood here, in this strange old place, alone! Perhaps it will give you a little pleasure.
Kate Theory began by listening to him with visible eager-

 

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ness; but in a moment she turned away her eyes. I am very sorry for you, she said, gravely.
Then you do understand enough?
I shall think of what you have saidin the future.
Benyon's lips formed the beginning of a word of tenderness, which he instantly suppressed; and in a different tone, with a bitter smile and a sad shake of the head, raising his arms a moment and letting them fall, he rejoined, It won't hurt any one, your remembering this!
I don't know whom you mean. And the girl, abruptly, began to walk to the end of the room. He made no attempt to tell her whom he meant, and they proceeded together in silence till they overtook their companions.
XII..
There were several pictures in the neighbouring room, and Percival Theory and his wife had stopped to look at one of them, of which the cicerone announced the title and the authorship as Benyon came up. It was a modern portrait of a Bourbon princess, a woman young, fair, handsome, covered with jewels. Mrs. Percival appeared to be more struck with it than with anything the palace had yet offered to her sight, while her sister-in-law walked to the window, which the custodian had opened, to look out into the garden. Benyon noticed this; he was conscious that he had given the girl something to reflect upon, and his ears burned a little as he stood beside Mrs. Percival and looked up, mechanically, at the royal lady. He already repented a little of what he had said; for, after all, what was the use? And he hoped the others wouldn't observe that he had been making love.
Gracious, Percival! Do you see who she looks like? Mrs. Theory said to her husband.
She looks like a lady who has a big bill at Tiffany's, this gentleman answered.
She looks like my sister-in-law; the eyes, the mouth, the way the hair's donethe whole thing.
Which do you mean? You have got about a dozen.
Why, Georgina, of courseGeorgina Roy. She's awfully like.

 

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Do you call her your sister-in-law? Percival Theory asked. You must want very much to claim her.
Well, she's handsome enough. You have got to invent some new name, then. Captain Benyon, what do you call your brother-in-law's second wife? Mrs. Percival continued, turning to her neighbour, who still stood staring at the portrait. At first he had looked without seeing; then sight, and hearing as well, became quick. They were suddenly peopled with thrilling recognitions. The Bourbon princessthe eyes, the mouth, the way the hair was