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Zuleika Dobson; Or, An Oxford Love Story
·
Sir Max Beerbohm
133
X
Sounds
of
a
violin,
drifting
out
through
the
open
windows
of
the
Hall,
suggested
that
the
second
part
of
the
concert
had
begun.
All
the
undergraduates,
however,
except
the
few
who
figured
in
the
programme,
had
waited
outside
till
their
mistress
should
re-appear.
The
sisters
and
cousins
of
the
Judas
men
had
been
escorted
back
to
their
places
and
hurriedly
left
there.
It
was
a
hushed,
tense
crowd.
“The
poor
darlings!”
murmured
Zuleika,
pausing
to
survey
them.
“And
oh,”
she
exclaimed,
“there
won’t
be
room
for
all
of
them
in
there!”
“You
might
give
an
‘overflow’
performance
out
here
afterwards,”
suggested
the
Duke,
grimly.
This
idea
flashed
on
her
a
better.
Why
not
give
her
performance
here
and
now?--now,
so
eager
was
she
for
contact,
as
it
were,
with
this
crowd;
here,
by
moonlight,
in
the
pretty
glow
of
these
paper
lanterns.
Yes,
she
said,
let
it
be
here
and
now;
and
she
bade
the
Duke
make
the
announcement.
“What
shall
I
say?”
he
asked.
“‘Gentlemen,
I
have
the
pleasure
to
announce
that
Miss
Zuleika
Dobson,
the
world-renowned
She-Wizard,
will
now
oblige’?
Or
shall
I
call
them
‘Gents,’
tout
court?”
She
could
afford
to
laugh
at
his
ill-humour.
She
had
his
promise
of
obedience.
She
told
him
to
say
something
graceful
and
simple.
The
noise
of
the
violin
had
ceased.
There
was
not
a
breath
of
wind.
The
crowd
in
the
quadrangle
was
as
still
and
as
silent
as
the
night
itself.
Nowhere
a
tremour.
And
it
was
borne
in
on
Zuleika
that
this
crowd
had
one
mind
as
well
as
one
heart--a
common
resolve,
calm
and
clear,
as
well
as
a
common
passion.
No
need
for
her
to
strengthen
the
spell
now.
No
waverers
here.
And
thus
it
came
true
that
gratitude
was
the
sole
motive
for
her
display.
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