-satisfied; I was watchful, however, for I knew that
I was naturally a selfish man. I studied to arrange my time and save my
money, to give her as much pleasure as I could. What she loved best in
the world just then was riding. I bought a horse for her, and in the
evenings of the spring and summer we rode together; but when it was too
dark to go out late, she would ride alone, great distances, sometimes
spend the whole day in the saddle, and come back so tired she could
hardly walk upstairs--I can't say that I liked that. It made me nervous,
she was so headlong--but I didn't think it right to interfere with her.
I had a good deal of anxiety about money, for though I worked hard and
made more than ever, there never seemed enough. I was anxious to save--I
hoped, of course--but we had no child, and this was a trouble to me. She
grew more beautiful than ever, and I think was happy. Has it ever struck
you that each one of us lives on the edge of a volcano? There is, I
imagine, no one who has not some affection or interest so strong that he
counts the rest for nothing, beside it. No doubt a man may live his
life through without discovering that. But some of us--! I am not
complaining; what is--is." He pulled the cap lower over his eyes, and
clutched his hands firmly on the top of his stick. He was like a man who
rushes his horse at some hopeless fence, unwilling to give himself time,
for fear of craning at the last moment. "In the spring of '78, a new
pupil came to me, a young man of twenty-one who was destined for the
army. I took a fancy to him, and did my best to turn him into a good
swordsman; but there was a kind of perverse recklessness in him; for
a few minutes one would make a great impression, then he would grow
utterly careless. 'Francis,' I would say, 'if I were you I should be
ashamed.' 'Mr. Brune,' he would answer, 'why should I be ashamed? I
didn't make myself.' God knows, I wish to do him justice, he had a
heart--one day he drove up in a cab, and brought in his poor dog, who
had been run over, and was dying: For half an hour he shut himself up
with its body, we could hear him sobbing like a child; he came out with
his eyes all red, and cried: 'I know where to find the brute who drove
over him,' and off he rushed. He had beautiful Italian eyes; a slight
figure, not very tall; dark hair, a little dark moustache; and his lips
were always a trifle parted--it was that, and his walk, and the way he
drooped his eyelids,