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Zuleika Dobson; Or, An Oxford Love Story
·
Sir Max Beerbohm
104
His
face
was
not
so
oval,
nor
were
his
eyes
so
big,
nor
his
lips
so
full,
nor
his
hands
so
delicate,
as
they
appeared
in
the
mezzotint.
Yet
(bating
the
conventions
of
eighteenth-century
portraiture)
the
likeness
was
a
good
one.
Humphrey
Greddon
was
not
less
well-knit
and
graceful
than
the
painter
had
made
him,
and,
hard
though
the
lines
of
the
face
were,
there
was
about
him
a
certain
air
of
high
romance
that
could
not
be
explained
away
by
the
fact
that
he
was
of
a
period
not
our
own.
You
could
understand
the
great
love
that
Nellie
O’Mora
had
borne
him.
Under
the
mezzotint
hung
Hoppner’s
miniature
of
that
lovely
and
ill-starred
girl,
with
her
soft
dark
eyes,
and
her
curls
all
astray
from
beneath
her
little
blue
turban.
And
the
Duke
was
telling
Mr.
Oover
her
story--how
she
had
left
her
home
for
Humphrey
Greddon
when
she
was
but
sixteen,
and
he
an
undergraduate
at
Christ
Church;
and
had
lived
for
him
in
a
cottage
at
Littlemore,
whither
he
would
ride,
most
days,
to
be
with
her;
and
how
he
tired
of
her,
broke
his
oath
that
he
would
marry
her,
thereby
broke
her
heart;
and
how
she
drowned
herself
in
a
mill-pond;
and
how
Greddon
was
killed
in
Venice,
two
years
later,
duelling
on
the
Riva
Schiavoni
with
a
Senator
whose
daughter
he
had
seduced.
And
he,
Greddon,
was
not
listening
very
attentively
to
the
tale.
He
had
heard
it
told
so
often
in
this
room,
and
he
did
not
understand
the
sentiments
of
the
modern
world.
Nellie
had
been
a
monstrous
pretty
creature.
He
had
adored
her,
and
had
done
with
her.
It
was
right
that
she
should
always
be
toasted
after
dinner
by
the
Junta,
as
in
the
days
when
first
he
loved
her--“Here’s
to
Nellie
O’Mora,
the
fairest
witch
that
ever
was
or
will
be!”
He
would
have
resented
the
omission
of
that
toast.
But
he
was
sick
of
the
pitying,
melting
looks
that
were
always
cast
towards
her
miniature.
Nellie
had
been
beautiful,
but,
by
God!
she
was
always
a
dunce
and
a
simpleton.
How
could
he
have
spent
his
life
with
her?
She
was
a
fool,
by
God!
not
to
marry
that
fool
Trailby,
of
Merton,
whom
he
took
to
see
her.
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