Suddenly he stopped and glanced up at the houses. He found that he had passed his aunt’s some distance, and, smiling to himself, turned back. When he entered the somewhat sombre hall, the butler told him that they had gone in to lunch. He gave one of the footmen his hat and stick and passed into the dining-room.
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“The country,” said Darcy, “can in general supply but few subjects for such a study. In a country neighbourhood you move in a very confined and unvarying society.”
“What’s the matter with you, young man?”
“It is fortunate, then, that they fall to my lot instead of to yours.”
“Me dost thou bid to shun the coming fight? Me wouldst thou move to base, inglorious flight? Know, ’tis not honest in my soul to fear, Nor was Tydides born to tremble here. I hate the cumbrous chariot’s slow advance, And the long distance of the flying lance; But while my nerves are strong, my force entire, Thus front the foe, and emulate my sire. Nor shall yon steeds, that fierce to fight convey Those threatening heroes, bear them both away; One chief at least beneath this arm shall die; So Pallas tells me, and forbids to fly. But if she dooms, and if no god withstand, That both shall fall by one victorious hand, Then heed my words: my horses here detain, Fix’d to the chariot by the straiten’d rein; Swift to Æneas’ empty seat proceed, And seize the coursers of ethereal breed; The race of those, which once the thundering god[146] For ravish’d Ganymede on Tros bestow’d, The best that e’er on earth’s broad surface run, Beneath the rising or the setting sun. Hence great Anchises stole a breed unknown, By mortal mares, from fierce Laomedon: Four of this race his ample stalls contain, And two transport Æneas o’er the plain. These, were the rich immortal prize our own, Through the wide world should make our glory known.”
“Seven hundred and seventy-seventh,” again said Bildad, without lifting his eyes; and then went on mumbling—“for where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”
“Sir,” said I, “I thought I told you that I had been four voyages in the merchant—”
“You could not have helped telling me, Dorian. All through your life you will tell me everything you do.”
“For you I would throw over anybody, Duchess,” said Lord Henry with a bow.
“Queequeg,” said I, “do you think that we can make out a supper for us both on one clam?”
The sire of gods and men superior smiled, And, calling Venus, thus address’d his child: “Not these, O daughter are thy proper cares, Thee milder arts befit, and softer wars; Sweet smiles are thine, and kind endearing charms; To Mars and Pallas leave the deeds of arms.”
“I am perfectly ready, I assure you, to keep my engagement; and, when your sister is recovered, you shall, if you please, name the very day of the ball. But you would not wish to be dancing while she is ill?”
[Illustration:
As if long habituated to such profane talk from his old shipmate, Bildad, without noticing his present irreverence, quietly looked up, and seeing me, glanced again inquiringly towards Peleg.
“When I am in the country,” he replied, “I never wish to leave it; and when I am in town, it is pretty much the same. They have each their advantages, and I can be equally happy in either.”
With eyes averted Hector hastes to turn The lots of fight and shakes the brazen urn. Then, Paris, thine leap’d forth; by fatal chance Ordain’d the first to whirl the weighty lance. Both armies sat the combat to survey. Beside each chief his azure armour lay, And round the lists the generous coursers neigh. The beauteous warrior now arrays for fight, In gilded arms magnificently bright: The purple cuishes clasp his thighs around, With flowers adorn’d, with silver buckles bound: Lycaon’s corslet his fair body dress’d, Braced in and fitted to his softer breast; A radiant baldric, o’er his shoulder tied, Sustain’d the sword that glitter’d at his side: His youthful face a polish’d helm o’erspread; The waving horse-hair nodded on his head: His figured shield, a shining orb, he takes, And in his hand a pointed javelin shakes. With equal speed and fired by equal charms, The Spartan hero sheathes his limbs in arms.
When dinner was over, she returned directly to Jane, and Miss Bingley began abusing her as soon as she was out of the room. Her manners were pronounced to be very bad indeed,--a mixture of pride and impertinence: she had no conversation, no style, no taste, no beauty. Mrs. Hurst thought the same, and added,--
“Prince, thou art met. Though late in vain assail’d, The spear may enter where the arrow fail’d.”
“A blush is very becoming, Duchess,” remarked Lord Henry.
“That is exactly what I should have supposed of you,” said Elizabeth.