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III. The First Act in a Timeworn Drama

           “Wouldyouliketohelpme—byhigh-classteaching?Wemightbenefitthemmuch.”

           “Idon’tquitefeelanxiousto.Ihavenotmuchloveformyfellow-creatures.SometimesIquitehatethem.”

           “StillIthinkthatifyouweretohearmyschemeyoumighttakeaninterestinit.Thereisnouseinhatingpeople—ifyouhateanything,youshouldhatewhatproducedthem.”

           “DoyoumeanNature?Ihateheralready.ButIshallbegladtohearyourschemeatanytime.”

           Thesituationhadnowworkeditselfout,andthenextnaturalthingwasforthemtopart.Clymknewthiswellenough,andEustaciamadeamoveofconclusion;yethelookedatherasifhehadonewordmoretosay.PerhapsifhehadnotlivedinParisitwouldneverhavebeenuttered.

           “Wehavemetbefore,”hesaid,regardingherwithrathermoreinterestthanwasnecessary.

           “Idonotownit,”saidEustacia,witharepressed,stilllook.

           “ButImaythinkwhatIlike.”

           “Yes.”

           “Youarelonelyhere.”

           “Icannotenduretheheath,exceptinitspurpleseason.Theheathisacrueltaskmastertome.”

           “Canyousayso?”heasked.“Tomyminditismostexhilarating,andstrengthening,andsoothing.Iwouldratherliveonthesehillsthananywhereelseintheworld.”

           “Itiswellenoughforartists;butIneverwouldlearntodraw.”

           “Andthereisaverycuriousdruidicalstonejustoutthere.”Hethrewapebbleinthedirectionsignified.“Doyouoftengotoseeit?”

           “Iwasnotevenawarethereexistedanysuchcuriousdruidicalstone.IamawarethatthereareboulevardsinParis.

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