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Zuleika Dobson; Or, An Oxford Love Story
·
Sir Max Beerbohm
10
It
chanced
that
she
came,
at
length,
to
be
governess
in
a
large
family
that
had
Gibbs
for
its
name
and
Notting
Hill
for
its
background.
Edward,
the
eldest
son,
was
a
clerk
in
the
city,
who
spent
his
evenings
in
the
practice
of
amateur
conjuring.
He
was
a
freckled
youth,
with
hair
that
bristled
in
places
where
it
should
have
lain
smooth,
and
he
fell
in
love
with
Zuleika
duly,
at
first
sight,
during
high-tea.
In
the
course
of
the
evening,
he
sought
to
win
her
admiration
by
a
display
of
all
his
tricks.
These
were
familiar
to
this
household,
and
the
children
had
been
sent
to
bed,
the
mother
was
dozing,
long
before
the
seance
was
at
an
end.
But
Miss
Dobson,
unaccustomed
to
any
gaieties,
sat
fascinated
by
the
young
man’s
sleight
of
hand,
marvelling
that
a
top-hat
could
hold
so
many
goldfish,
and
a
handkerchief
turn
so
swiftly
into
a
silver
florin.
All
that
night,
she
lay
wide
awake,
haunted
by
the
miracles
he
had
wrought.
Next
evening,
when
she
asked
him
to
repeat
them,
“Nay,”
he
whispered,
“I
cannot
bear
to
deceive
the
girl
I
love.
Permit
me
to
explain
the
tricks.”
So
he
explained
them.
His
eyes
sought
hers
across
the
bowl
of
gold-fish,
his
fingers
trembled
as
he
taught
her
to
manipulate
the
magic
canister.
One
by
one,
she
mastered
the
paltry
secrets.
Her
respect
for
him
waned
with
every
revelation.
He
complimented
her
on
her
skill.
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