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Zuleika Dobson; Or, An Oxford Love Story
·
Sir Max Beerbohm
127
We
may
set
to
this
crowd’s
credit
that
it
refrained
now
from
following
Zuleika.
Not
one
of
the
ladies
present
was
deserted
by
her
escort.
All
the
men
recognised
the
Duke’s
right
to
be
alone
with
Zuleika
now.
We
may
set
also
to
their
credit
that
they
carefully
guarded
the
ladies
from
all
knowledge
of
what
was
afoot.
Side
by
side,
the
great
lover
and
his
beloved
wandered
away,
beyond
the
light
of
the
Japanese
lanterns,
and
came
to
Salt
Cellar.
The
moon,
like
a
gardenia
in
the
night’s
button-hole--but
no!
why
should
a
writer
never
be
able
to
mention
the
moon
without
likening
her
to
something
else--usually
something
to
which
she
bears
not
the
faintest
resemblance?...
The
moon,
looking
like
nothing
whatsoever
but
herself,
was
engaged
in
her
old
and
futile
endeavour
to
mark
the
hours
correctly
on
the
sun-dial
at
the
centre
of
the
lawn.
Never,
except
once,
late
one
night
in
the
eighteenth
century,
when
the
toper
who
was
Sub-Warden
had
spent
an
hour
in
trying
to
set
his
watch
here,
had
she
received
the
slightest
encouragement.
Still
she
wanly
persisted.
And
this
was
the
more
absurd
in
her
because
Salt
Cellar
offered
very
good
scope
for
those
legitimate
effects
of
hers
which
we
one
and
all
admire.
Was
it
nothing
to
her
to
have
cut
those
black
shadows
across
the
cloisters?
Was
it
nothing
to
her
that
she
so
magically
mingled
her
rays
with
the
candle-light
shed
forth
from
Zuleika’s
bedroom?
Nothing,
that
she
had
cleansed
the
lawn
of
all
its
colour,
and
made
of
it
a
platform
of
silver-grey,
fit
for
fairies
to
dance
on?
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