And, as if under the influence of a spell, Julian found himself thinking
of the wandering ruffians as fine fellows, full of warmth of heart and
generous feeling. A boy and girl went by. Neither could have been more
than sixteen years old. They paused by a lamp-post, and the girl openly
kissed the boy. He sturdily endured the compliment, staring firmly at
her pale cheeks and tired eyes. Then the girl walked away, and he stood
alone till she was out of sight. Eventually he walked off slowly, singing
a plantation song: "I want you, my honey; yes, I do!" Valentine and
Julian had watched and listened, and now Valentine, moving round on the
window-ledge till he faced Julian, said:
"That is it, Julian, put in the straightforward music-hall way. People
are happy because they want things; yes, they do. It is a philosophy of
life. That boy has a life because he wants that girl, and she wants him.
And you, Julian, you want a thousand things--"
"Not since I have known you," Julian said.
He felt curiously excited and troubled. His arm was still linked in
Valentine's. Slowly he withdrew it. Valentine shut down the window and
they came back to the fire.
"You know," Valentine said, "that it is possible for two influences to
work one upon the other, and for each to convert the other. I begin to
think that your nature has triumphed over mine."
"What?" Julian said, in frank amazement. The Philistines could not have
been more astounded when Samson pulled down the pillars.
"I have taught you, as you say, to die to the ordinary man's life,
Julian. But what if you have taught me to live to it?"
Julian did not answer for a moment. He was wondering whether Valentine
could possibly be serious. But his face was serious, even eager. There
was an unwonted stain of red on his smooth, usually pale cheeks. A
certain wild boyishness had stolen over him, a reckless devil danced
in his blue eyes. Julian caught the infection of his mood.
"And what's my lesson?" Julian said.
His voice sounded thick and harsh. There was a surge of blood through
his brain and a prickly heat behind his eyeballs. Suddenly a notion took
him that Valentine had never been so magnificent as now,--now when a new
fierceness glittered in his expression, and a wild wave of humanity ran
through him like a surging tide.
"What's my lesson, Valentine?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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