A Laodicean : A Story of To-day

by Thomas Hardy

  II.

  That evening when the sun was dropping out of sight they started for thecity of Somerset's pilgrimage. Paula seated herself with her face towardthe western sky, watching from her window the broad red horizon, acrosswhich moved thin poplars lopped to human shapes, like the walking formsin Nebuchadnezzar's furnace. It was dark when the travellers drove intoCaen.

  She still persisted in her wish to casually encounter Somerset in someaisle, lady-chapel, or crypt to which he might have betaken himself tocopy and learn the secret of the great artists who had erected thosenooks. Mrs. Goodman was for discovering his inn, and calling upon him ina straightforward way; but Paula seemed afraid of it, and they went outin the morning on foot. First they searched the church of St. Sauveur;he was not there; next the church of St. Jean; then the church of St.Pierre; but he did not reveal himself, nor had any verger seen or heardof such a man. Outside the latter church was a public flower-garden, andshe sat down to consider beside a round pool in which water-lilies grewand gold-fish swam, near beds of fiery geraniums, dahlias, and verbenasjust past their bloom. Her enterprise had not been justified by itsresults so far; but meditation still urged her to listen to the littlevoice within and push on. She accordingly rejoined her aunt, and theydrove up the hill to the Abbaye aux Dames, the day by this time havinggrown hot and oppressive.

  The church seemed absolutely empty, the void being emphasized by itsgrateful coolness. But on going towards the east end they perceived abald gentleman close to the screen, looking to the right and to theleft as if much perplexed. Paula merely glanced over him, his back beingtoward her, and turning to her aunt said softly, 'I wonder how we getinto the choir?'

  'That's just what I am wondering,' said the old gentleman, abruptlyfacing round, and Paula discovered that the countenance was notunfamiliar to her eye. Since knowing Somerset she had added to hergallery of celebrities a photograph of his father, the Academician, andhe it was now who confronted her.

  For the moment embarrassment, due to complicated feelings, brought aslight blush to her cheek, but being well aware that he did not knowher, she answered, coolly enough, 'I suppose we must ask some one.'

  'And we certainly would if there were any one to ask,' he said, stilllooking eastward, and not much at her. 'I have been here a long time,but nobody comes. Not that I want to get in on my own account; forthough it is thirty years since I last set foot in this place, Iremember it as if it were but yesterday.'

  'Indeed. I have never been here before,' said Paula.

  'Naturally. But I am looking for a young man who is making sketches insome of these buildings, and it is as likely as not that he is in thecrypt under this choir, for it is just such out-of-the-way nooks thathe prefers. It is very provoking that he should not have told me moredistinctly in his letter where to find him.'

  Mrs. Goodman, who had gone to make inquiries, now came back, andinformed them that she had learnt that it was necessary to pass throughthe Hotel-Dieu to the choir, to do which they must go outside. Thereuponthey walked on together, and Mr. Somerset, quite ignoring his troubles,made remarks upon the beauty of the architecture; and in absence ofmind, by reason either of the subject, or of his listener, retained hishat in his hand after emerging from the church, while they walked allthe way across the Place and into the Hospital gardens.

  'A very civil man,' said Mrs. Goodman to Paula privately.

  'Yes,' said Paula, who had not told her aunt that she recognized him.

  One of the Sisters now preceded them towards the choir and crypt, Mr.Somerset asking her if a young Englishman was or had been sketchingthere. On receiving a reply in the negative, Paula nearly betrayedherself by turning, as if her business there, too, ended with theinformation. However, she went on again, and made a pretence of lookinground, Mr. Somerset also staying in a spirit of friendly attention tohis countrywomen. They did not part from him till they had come out fromthe crypt, and again reached the west front, on their way to which headditionally explained that it was his son he was looking for, who hadarranged to meet him here, but had mentioned no inn at which he might beexpected.

  When he had left them, Paula informed her aunt whose company they hadbeen sharing. Her aunt began expostulating with Paula for not tellingMr. Somerset what they had seen of his son's movements. 'It would haveeased his mind at least,' she said.

  'I was not bound to ease his mind at the expense of showing what I wouldrather conceal. I am continually hampered in such generosity as that bythe circumstance of being a woman!'

  'Well, it is getting too late to search further tonight.'

  It was indeed almost evening twilight in the streets, though thegraceful freestone spires to a depth of about twenty feet from theirsummits were still dyed with the orange tints of a vanishing sun. Thetwo relatives dined privately as usual, after which Paula looked outof the window of her room, and reflected upon the events of the day. Atower rising into the sky quite near at hand showed her that some churchor other stood within a few steps of the hotel archway, and sayingnothing to Mrs. Goodman, she quietly cloaked herself, and went outtowards it, apparently with the view of disposing of a portion of a dulldispiriting evening. The church was open, and on entering she foundthat it was only lighted by seven candles burning before the altar of achapel on the south side, the mass of the building being in deepshade. Motionless outlines, which resolved themselves into the formsof kneeling women, were darkly visible among the chairs, and in thetriforium above the arcades there was one hitherto unnoticed radiance,dim as that of a glow-worm in the grass. It was seemingly the effect ofa solitary tallow-candle behind the masonry.

  A priest came in, unlocked the door of a confessional with a click whichsounded in the silence, and entered it; a woman followed, disappearedwithin the curtain of the same, emerging again in about five minutes,followed by the priest, who locked up his door with another loud click,like a tradesman full of business, and came down the aisle to go out.In the lobby he spoke to another woman, who replied, 'Ah, oui, Monsieurl'Abbe!'

  Two women having spoken to him, there could be no harm in a third doinglikewise. 'Monsieur l'Abbe,' said Paula in French, 'could you indicateto me the stairs of the triforium?' and she signified her reason forwishing to know by pointing to the glimmering light above.

  'Ah, he is a friend of yours, the Englishman?' pleasantly said thepriest, recognizing her nationality; and taking her to a little door heconducted her up a stone staircase, at the top of which he showed herthe long blind story over the aisle arches which led round to where thelight was. Cautioning her not to stumble over the uneven floor, he lefther and descended. His words had signified that Somerset was here.

  It was a gloomy place enough that she found herself in, but the sevencandles below on the opposite altar, and a faint sky light from theclerestory, lent enough rays to guide her. Paula walked on to the bendof the apse: here were a few chairs, and the origin of the light.

  This was a candle stuck at the end of a sharpened stick, the latterentering a joint in the stones. A young man was sketching by theglimmer. But there was no need for the blush which had prepareditself beforehand; the young man was Mr. Cockton, Somerset's youngestdraughtsman.

  Paula could have cried aloud with disappointment. Cockton recognizedMiss Power, and appearing much surprised, rose from his seat with a bow,and said hastily, 'Mr. Somerset left to-day.'

  'I did not ask for him,' said Paula.

  'No, Miss Power: but I thought--'

  'Yes, yes--you know, of course, that he has been my architect. Well, ithappens that I should like to see him, if he can call on me. Which waydid he go?'

  'He's gone to Etretat.'

  'What for? There are no abbeys to sketch at Etretat.'

  Cockton looked at the point of his pencil, and with a hesitating motionof his lip answered, 'Mr. Somerset said he was tired.'

  'Of what?'

  'He said he was sick and tired of holy places, and would go to somewicked spot or other, to get that consolation which holiness could notgiv
e. But he only said it casually to Knowles, and perhaps he did notmean it.'

  'Knowles is here too?'

  'Yes, Miss Power, and Bowles. Mr. Somerset has been kind enough to giveus a chance of enlarging our knowledge of French Early-pointed, and payshalf the expenses.'

  Paula said a few other things to the young man, walked slowly roundthe triforium as if she had come to examine it, and returned down thestaircase. On getting back to the hotel she told her aunt, who had justbeen having a nap, that next day they would go to Etretat for a change.

  'Why? There are no old churches at Etretat.'

  'No. But I am sick and tired of holy places, and want to go to somewicked spot or other to find that consolation which holiness cannotgive.'

  'For shame, Paula! Now I know what it is; you have heard that he's gonethere! You needn't try to blind me.'

  'I don't care where he's gone!' cried Paula petulantly. In a moment,however, she smiled at herself, and added, 'You must take that for whatit is worth. I have made up my mind to let him know from my own lips howthe misunderstanding arose. That done, I shall leave him, and probablynever see him again. My conscience will be clear.'

  The next day they took the steamboat down the Orne, intending toreach Etretat by way of Havre. Just as they were moving off an elderlygentleman under a large white sunshade, and carrying his hat in hishand, was seen leisurely walking down the wharf at some distance, butobviously making for the boat.

  'A gentleman!' said the mate.

  'Who is he?' said the captain.

  'An English,' said Clementine.

  Nobody knew more, but as leisure was the order of the day the engineswere stopped, on the chance of his being a passenger, and all eyes werebent upon him in conjecture. He disappeared and reappeared from behinda pile of merchandise and approached the boat at an easy pace, whereuponthe gangway was replaced, and he came on board, removing his hat toPaula, quietly thanking the captain for stopping, and saying to Mrs.Goodman, 'I am nicely in time.'

  It was Mr. Somerset the elder, who by degrees informed our travellers,as sitting on their camp-stools they advanced between the green banksbordered by elms, that he was going to Etretat; that the young man hehad spoken of yesterday had gone to that romantic watering-place insteadof studying art at Caen, and that he was going to join him there.

  Paula preserved an entire silence as to her own intentions, partly fromnatural reticence, and partly, as it appeared, from the difficulty ofexplaining a complication which was not very clear to herself. At Havrethey parted from Mr. Somerset, and did not see him again till they weredriving over the hills towards Etretat in a carriage and four, when thewhite umbrella became visible far ahead among the outside passengers ofthe coach to the same place. In a short time they had passed and cut inbefore this vehicle, but soon became aware that their carriage, like thecoach, was one of a straggling procession of conveyances, some mile anda half in length, all bound for the village between the cliffs.

  In descending the long hill shaded by lime-trees which sheltered theirplace of destination, this procession closed up, and they perceived thatall the visitors and native population had turned out to welcomethem, the daily arrival of new sojourners at this hour being the chiefexcitement of Etretat. The coach which had preceded them all the way, atmore or less remoteness, was now quite close, and in passing along thevillage street they saw Mr. Somerset wave his hand to somebody in thecrowd below. A felt hat was waved in the air in response, the coachswept into the inn-yard, followed by the idlers, and all disappeared.Paula's face was crimson as their own carriage swept round in theopposite direction to the rival inn.

  Once in her room she breathed like a person who had finished a longchase. They did not go down before dinner, but when it was almost darkPaula begged her aunt to wrap herself up and come with her to the shorehard by. The beach was deserted, everybody being at the Casino; thegate stood invitingly open, and they went in. Here the brilliantly litterrace was crowded with promenaders, and outside the yellow palings,surmounted by its row of lamps, rose the voice of the invisible sea.Groups of people were sitting under the verandah, the women mostly inwraps, for the air was growing chilly. Through the windows at theirback an animated scene disclosed itself in the shape of a room-full ofwaltzers, the strains of the band striving in the ear for mastery overthe sounds of the sea. The dancers came round a couple at a time, andwere individually visible to those people without who chose to look thatway, which was what Paula did.

  'Come away, come away!' she suddenly said. 'It is not right for us to behere.'

  Her exclamation had its origin in what she had at that moment seenwithin, the spectacle of Mr. George Somerset whirling round the roomwith a young lady of uncertain nationality but pleasing figure. Paulawas not accustomed to show the white feather too clearly, but she soonhad passed out through those yellow gates and retreated, till the mixedmusic of sea and band had resolved into that of the sea alone.

  'Well!' said her aunt, half in soliloquy, 'do you know who I saw dancingthere, Paula? Our Mr. Somerset, if I don't make a great mistake!'

  'It was likely enough that you did,' sedately replied her niece. 'Heleft Caen with the intention of seeking distractions of a lighter kindthan those furnished by art, and he has merely succeeded in findingthem. But he has made my duty rather a difficult one. Still, it wasmy duty, for I very greatly wronged him. Perhaps, however, I have doneenough for honour's sake. I would have humiliated myself by an apologyif I had found him in any other situation; but, of course, one can't heexpected to take MUCH trouble when he is seen going on like that!'

  The coolness with which she began her remarks had developed intosomething like warmth as she concluded.

  'He is only dancing with a lady he probably knows very well.'

  'He doesn't know her! The idea of his dancing with a woman of thatdescription! We will go away tomorrow. This place has been greatlyover-praised.'

  'The place is well enough, as far as I can see.'

  'He is carrying out his programme to the letter. He plunges intoexcitement in the most reckless manner, and I tremble for theconsequences! I can do no more: I have humiliated myself into followinghim, believing that in giving too ready credence to appearances I hadbeen narrow and inhuman, and had caused him much misery. But he does notmind, and he has no misery; he seems just as well as ever. How much thisfinding him has cost me! After all, I did not deceive him. He musthave acquired a natural aversion for me. I have allowed myself to beinterested in a man of very common qualities, and am now bitterly aliveto the shame of having sought him out. I heartily detest him! I willgo back--aunt, you are right--I had no business to come.... His lightconduct has rendered him uninteresting to me!'