possible to weary of her--so
frail--a white blonde. She said she would come, I know she wanted
to.... This waiting is agony! Oh, if I were only good-looking!
Whatever power I have over women I have acquired; it was the desire
to please women that gave me whatever power I possess; I was as soft
as wax, and in the fingers of desire was modified and moulded. You
did not know me when I was a boy--I was hideous. It seemed to me
impossible that women could love men. Women seemed to me so beautiful
and desirable, men so hideous and revolting. Could they touch us
without a revulsion of feeling? Could they really desire us? That
is why I could not bear to give women money, nor a present of any
kind--no, not even a flower. If I did all my pleasure was gone;
I could not help thinking it was for what they got out of me that
they liked me. I longed to penetrate the mystery of women's life.
It seemed to me cruel that the differences between the sexes should
never be allowed to dwindle, but should be strictly maintained
through all the observances of life. There were beautiful beings
walking by us of whom we knew nothing--irreparably separated from
us. I wanted to be with this sex as a shadow is with its object."

"You didn't find many opportunities of gratifying your tastes in
Cashel?"

"No, indeed! Of course the women about the town were not to be
thought of." Unpleasant memories seemed to check his flow of words.

Without noticing his embarrassment, Frank said--

"After France it must have been a horrible change to come to Ireland.
How old were you?"

"About fourteen. I could not endure the place. Every day was so
appallingly like the last. There was nothing for me to do but to
dream; I dreamed of everything. I longed to get alone and let my
fancy wander--weaving tales of which I was the hero, building castles
of which I was the lord."

"I remember always hearing of your riding and shooting. No one knew
of your literary tastes. I don't mind telling you that Mount Rorke
often suspected you of being a bit of a poacher."

Mike laughed.

"I believe I have knocked down a pheasant or two. I was an odd
mixture--half a man of action, half a man of dreams. My position in
Cashel was unbearable. My mother was a lady; my father--you know how
he had let himself down. You cannot imagine the yearnings of a poor
boy; you were brought up in all elegance and refinement. That
beautiful park! On afternoons I used to walk there, and I rememb