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Zuleika Dobson; Or, An Oxford Love Story
·
Sir Max Beerbohm
84
Those
who
were
Judas
men
made
frantic
efforts
to
board
the
barge,
trying
to
hurl
themselves
through
the
gate
in
the
railings;
but
they
were
swept
vainly
on.
Presently
the
torrent
began
to
slacken,
became
a
mere
river,
a
mere
procession
of
youths
staring
up
rather
shyly.
Before
the
last
stragglers
had
marched
by,
Zuleika
moved
away
to
the
other
side
of
the
roof,
and,
after
a
glance
at
the
sunlit
river,
sank
into
one
of
the
wicker
chairs,
and
asked
the
Duke
to
look
less
disagreeable
and
to
give
her
some
tea.
Among
others
hovering
near
the
little
buffet
were
the
two
youths
whose
parley
with
the
Duke
I
have
recorded.
Zuleika
was
aware
of
the
special
persistence
of
their
gaze.
When
the
Duke
came
back
with
her
cup,
she
asked
him
who
they
were.
He
replied,
truthfully
enough,
that
their
names
were
unknown
to
him.
“Then,”
she
said,
“ask
them
their
names,
and
introduce
them
to
me.”
“No,”
said
the
Duke,
sinking
into
the
chair
beside
her.
“That
I
shall
not
do.
I
am
your
victim:
not
your
pander.
Those
two
men
stand
on
the
threshold
of
a
possibly
useful
and
agreeable
career.
I
am
not
going
to
trip
them
up
for
you.”
“I
am
not
sure,”
said
Zuleika,
“that
you
are
very
polite.
Certainly
you
are
foolish.
It
is
natural
for
boys
to
fall
in
love.
If
these
two
are
in
love
with
me,
why
not
let
them
talk
to
me?
It
were
an
experience
on
which
they
would
always
look
back
with
romantic
pleasure.
They
may
never
see
me
again.
Why
grudge
them
this
little
thing?”
She
sipped
her
tea.
“As
for
tripping
them
up
on
a
threshold--that
is
all
nonsense.
What
harm
has
unrequited
love
ever
done
to
anybody?”
She
laughed.
“Look
at
ME!
When
I
came
to
your
rooms
this
morning,
thinking
I
loved
in
vain,
did
I
seem
one
jot
the
worse
for
it?
Did
I
look
different?”
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