Europe -- Social conditions -- 20th century -- Fiction; Great Britain -- Social conditions -- 20th century -- Fiction; Love stories
passion, I would have fled father, friends, career, honour, everything,
at the call of the enchanted voice whispering of better dreams. _There
are better dreams!_ For so I remembered a phrase in a book telling of
the love of a lady of the sea for a mortal man: _There are better
dreams...._
A waiter, no doubt wishing for something to do, asked me if I would take
tea, but I thanked him, saying I would rather not, for it was not yet
half-past three, and saying to myself: “In every man there is always
unfolding a dream of things that never were and never can be, since life
will always be what it is and men and women will always be what they
are, and so we will always go on, men of high fancies and low flights,
and the higher the fancy is the lower the flight will be, as it is
written in the Scriptures concerning vanity. And maybe Napier had had
his dream when he was very young, and then the world came along and told
him that his dream was very silly, and so he did not dream any more,
until one night he was appalled to hear calling him a playmate’s voice,
but a playmate’s voice torn with the wonder of life and the sadness of
living, whispering to him: _There are better dreams._ And he listened,
and he was lost, and then he found himself again in renunciation, as so
many Englishmen will always be doing, for it is as true as any
generalisation can be to say of Englishmen that they will often only
find themselves when they have lost themselves.”
I could see Napier during those two days and two nights before his
marriage, I could see him casting his mind this way and that way, to
find that each way lay dishonour, on Venice’s side dishonour with
cruelty, and on Iris’s side dishonour with whatever happiness can go
with dishonour to a man such as Napier; and that, I thought, would be
very little, for can a man of honour embark on any dishonourable
adventure without first of all taking every care and precaution that
neither he nor his companion shall enjoy the fruits of it? But that, I
thought to myself, is a woman’s thought, surely I am not becoming
effeminate!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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