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Zuleika Dobson; Or, An Oxford Love Story
·
Sir Max Beerbohm
162
Yet,
for
all
his
humility,
he
was
possessed
by
a
spirit
of
egoism
that
repelled
me.
While
he
sat
peering
over
his
spectacles
at
the
beauteous
image,
he
said
again
and
again
to
himself,
in
a
hollow
voice,
“I
am
so
young
to
die.”
Every
time
he
said
this,
two
large,
pear-shaped
tears
emerged
from
behind
his
spectacles,
and
found
their
way
to
his
waistcoat.
It
did
not
seem
to
strike
him
that
quite
half
of
the
undergraduates
who
contemplated
death--and
contemplated
it
in
a
fearless,
wholesome,
manly
fashion--were
his
juniors.
It
seemed
to
seem
to
him
that
his
own
death,
even
though
all
those
other
far
brighter
and
more
promising
lives
than
his
were
to
be
sacrificed,
was
a
thing
to
bother
about.
Well,
if
he
did
not
want
to
die,
why
could
he
not
have,
at
least,
the
courage
of
his
cowardice?
The
world
would
not
cease
to
revolve
because
Noaks
still
clung
to
its
surface.
For
me
the
whole
tragedy
was
cheapened
by
his
participation
in
it.
I
was
fain
to
leave
him.
His
squint,
his
short
legs
dangling
towards
the
floor,
his
tear-sodden
waistcoat,
and
his
refrain
“I
am
so
young
to
die,”
were
beyond
measure
exasperating.
Yet
I
hesitated
to
pass
into
the
room
beneath,
for
fear
of
what
I
might
see
there.
How
long
I
might
have
paltered,
had
no
sound
come
from
that
room,
I
know
not.
But
a
sound
came,
sharp
and
sudden
in
the
night,
instantly
reassuring.
I
swept
down
into
the
presence
of
the
Duke.
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