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Zuleika Dobson; Or, An Oxford Love Story
·
Sir Max Beerbohm
134
She
stood
with
eyes
downcast
and
hands
folded
behind
her,
moonlit
in
the
glow
of
lanterns,
modest
to
the
point
of
pathos,
while
the
Duke
gracefully
and
simply
introduced
her
to
the
multitude.
He
was,
he
said,
empowered
by
the
lady
who
stood
beside
him
to
say
that
she
would
be
pleased
to
give
them
an
exhibition
of
her
skill
in
the
art
to
which
she
had
devoted
her
life--an
art
which,
more
potently
perhaps
than
any
other,
touched
in
mankind
the
sense
of
mystery
and
stirred
the
faculty
of
wonder;
the
most
truly
romantic
of
all
the
arts:
he
referred
to
the
art
of
conjuring.
It
was
not
too
much
to
say
that
by
her
mastery
of
this
art,
in
which
hitherto,
it
must
be
confessed,
women
had
made
no
very
great
mark,
Miss
Zuleika
Dobson
(for
such
was
the
name
of
the
lady
who
stood
beside
him)
had
earned
the
esteem
of
the
whole
civilised
world.
And
here
in
Oxford,
and
in
this
College
especially,
she
had
a
peculiar
claim
to--might
he
say?--their
affectionate
regard,
inasmuch
as
she
was
the
grand-daughter
of
their
venerable
and
venerated
Warden.
As
the
Duke
ceased,
there
came
from
his
hearers
a
sound
like
the
rustling
of
leaves.
In
return
for
it,
Zuleika
performed
that
graceful
act
of
subsidence
to
the
verge
of
collapse
which
is
usually
kept
for
the
delectation
of
some
royal
person.
And
indeed,
in
the
presence
of
this
doomed
congress,
she
did
experience
humility;
for
she
was
not
altogether
without
imagination.
But,
as
she
arose
from
her
“bob,”
she
was
her
own
bold
self
again,
bright
mistress
of
the
situation.
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