all, with three intervals for recuperation. At the
fourth sound of the bell, the lovers, stepping asunder, repeated their
hideous mutual grimace, and disappeared from the platform as suddenly
as they had come. Their place was soon taken by another, a more mature,
and heavier, but not less personable, couple, who proceeded to make
love in their own somewhat different way. The lyrical notes seemed to
be missing in them. But maturity, though it had stripped away magic,
had not blunted their passion--had, rather, sharpened the edge of it,
and made it a stronger and more formidable instrument. Throughout the
evening, indeed, in the long succession that there was of amorous
encounters, it seemed to be the encounters of mature couples that
excited in the smoke-laden audience the keenest interest. It was
evidently not etiquette to interrupt the lovers while they were
talking; but, whenever the bell sounded, there was a frantic outburst
of sympathy, straight from the heart; and sometimes, even while a
love-scene was proceeding, this or that stout gentleman would snatch
the cigar from his lips and emit a heart-cry. Now and again, it seemed
to be thought that the lovers were insufficiently fervid--were but
dallying with passion; and then there were stentorian grunts of
disapproval and hortation. I did not gather that the audience itself
was composed mainly of active lovers. I guessed that the greater number
consisted of men who do but take an active interest in other people's
love affairs--men who, vigilant from a detached position, have
developed in themselves an extraordinarily sound critical knowledge of
what is due to Venus. 'Plaisir d'amour ne dure qu'un moment,' I
murmured; 'chagrin d'amour dure toute la vie. And wise are ye who,
immune from all love's sorrow, win incessant joy in surveying Cythara
through telescopes. Suave mari magno,' I murmured. And this second tag
caused me to awake from my dream shivering.

A strange dream? Yet a precisely parallel reality had inspired it. I
had been taken over-night--my first visit--to the National Sporting
Club.

The instinct to fight, like the instinct to love, is a quite natural
instinct. To fight and to love are the primary instincts of primitive
man. I know that people with strongly amorous natures are not trained
and paid to make love ceremoniously, in accordance to certain rules
laid down for them by certain authorities, and for the delectation of
highly critical audiences. B