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Authors: Susan Barrie
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of the evening was now abated. Edouard was on the seat beside her, and whenever she turned to look at him he appeared to be regarding her thoughtfully, and with something that the night only partly permitted her to see in his eyes.
It could have been simply admiration ... for a pretty girl in a black dress that emphasised the purity of her skin and the beauty of her hair. It could have been partly unexplainable, since there was at moments a certain detachment in his manner, as if a portion of his mind was occupied elsewhere, or there was some matter that preoccupied him to such an extent that he couldn’t entirely forget it.
But having rescued her he was determined to provide her with a few imperishable memories to take back to England. The singing gondolier was hardly his idea of entertainment, but he could tell that Cathleen was bemused by the warm tenor voice and the soft twanging on the guitar. The melodies were mostly old Italian folk songs, although from time to time one of the latest pop releases sounded a trifle odd rendered in liquid Italian. The boat made absolutely no sound as it slid through the dark waters of the canals, and as traffic on the canals had practically ceased there was little or no competition to detract from the tirelessness of the gondolier’s singing.
Since Cathleen hadn’t a coat Edouard had wrapped a light fur rug over her knees, and when he thought she shivered slightly he took his own coat off and slipped it about her shoulders.
“We can’t have you catching cold,” he said, as he had said once before.
To Cathleen it was all completely unreal. Edouard’s hand under the rug felt for, and encompassed, hers, and she made no attempt to remove it, although he was still holding it half an hour later. Their desultory talk died, finally, into silence, and they sat beneath a dreaming palace with the sunrise not so very far off and for a time there was absolute silence between them.
He had asked her whether she had enjoyed the Count’s party, and seemed faintly amused when she said hurriedly that she had hated it.
“There was no one I knew, and it was all so strange...” She sounded a little pathetic, as if she had needed support.
“Would you have enjoyed it better if I had been there ? ”
“I ... Yes.” After a moment of hesitation she answered emphatically. “I would. I would probably have enjoyed it very much.”
He turned and smiled at her. It was a faintly caressing smile, but there was also something withdrawn about it ... reserved.
“You are transparent, little one. But you must not confuse glamour with the essential things of life. All this—” he waved a hand to indicate the sl eeping canal —“all this is enough to turn any young woman’s head, particularly when she has been brought up in England where the climate is not very dependable, and the male element is essentially practical. Here in Italy the sun shines for most of the time, and the nights are such as this. But deep down the basic things are not so very different from the basic things in England, or France for that matter. Men and women meet and fall in love, or are attracted...” She felt a slight squeeze on her fingers. “They want to see more of one another. They want to go on seeing one another...”
She felt her heart beat fast, but deep down inside her there was an uneasy feeling, almost as if she was preparing herself for disappointment. She knew—or she thought she knew—what he was trying to tell her.
“Men like Paul make love instinctively, and it is advisable to be wary about them. I do not think you are attracted to Paul, but—there is the attraction of his title, his family ? You are not like Arlette—you have the means to feel on an equality with Paul, but unless you find something about him particularly irresistible do not allow anything he or his sister says to you to influence you in any way. That is something I would like to impress on you, for the sake of your future
It could have been simply admiration ... for a pretty girl in a black dress that emphasised the purity of her skin and the beauty of her hair. It could have been partly unexplainable, since there was at moments a certain detachment in his manner, as if a portion of his mind was occupied elsewhere, or there was some matter that preoccupied him to such an extent that he couldn’t entirely forget it.
But having rescued her he was determined to provide her with a few imperishable memories to take back to England. The singing gondolier was hardly his idea of entertainment, but he could tell that Cathleen was bemused by the warm tenor voice and the soft twanging on the guitar. The melodies were mostly old Italian folk songs, although from time to time one of the latest pop releases sounded a trifle odd rendered in liquid Italian. The boat made absolutely no sound as it slid through the dark waters of the canals, and as traffic on the canals had practically ceased there was little or no competition to detract from the tirelessness of the gondolier’s singing.
Since Cathleen hadn’t a coat Edouard had wrapped a light fur rug over her knees, and when he thought she shivered slightly he took his own coat off and slipped it about her shoulders.
“We can’t have you catching cold,” he said, as he had said once before.
To Cathleen it was all completely unreal. Edouard’s hand under the rug felt for, and encompassed, hers, and she made no attempt to remove it, although he was still holding it half an hour later. Their desultory talk died, finally, into silence, and they sat beneath a dreaming palace with the sunrise not so very far off and for a time there was absolute silence between them.
He had asked her whether she had enjoyed the Count’s party, and seemed faintly amused when she said hurriedly that she had hated it.
“There was no one I knew, and it was all so strange...” She sounded a little pathetic, as if she had needed support.
“Would you have enjoyed it better if I had been there ? ”
“I ... Yes.” After a moment of hesitation she answered emphatically. “I would. I would probably have enjoyed it very much.”
He turned and smiled at her. It was a faintly caressing smile, but there was also something withdrawn about it ... reserved.
“You are transparent, little one. But you must not confuse glamour with the essential things of life. All this—” he waved a hand to indicate the sl eeping canal —“all this is enough to turn any young woman’s head, particularly when she has been brought up in England where the climate is not very dependable, and the male element is essentially practical. Here in Italy the sun shines for most of the time, and the nights are such as this. But deep down the basic things are not so very different from the basic things in England, or France for that matter. Men and women meet and fall in love, or are attracted...” She felt a slight squeeze on her fingers. “They want to see more of one another. They want to go on seeing one another...”
She felt her heart beat fast, but deep down inside her there was an uneasy feeling, almost as if she was preparing herself for disappointment. She knew—or she thought she knew—what he was trying to tell her.
“Men like Paul make love instinctively, and it is advisable to be wary about them. I do not think you are attracted to Paul, but—there is the attraction of his title, his family ? You are not like Arlette—you have the means to feel on an equality with Paul, but unless you find something about him particularly irresistible do not allow anything he or his sister says to you to influence you in any way. That is something I would like to impress on you, for the sake of your future
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