and swiftness of the one, swift as an arrow, light as dew; like the

other, she shone on the pale background of the world with the
brilliancy of flowers. I could not call by the name of brother

that half-witted lad, nor by the name of mother that immovable and
lovely thing of flesh, whose silly eyes and perpetual simper now

recurred to my mind like something hateful. And if I could not
marry, what then? She was helplessly unprotected; her eyes, in

that single and long glance which had been all our intercourse, had
confessed a weakness equal to my own; but in my heart I knew her

for the student of the cold northern chamber, and the writer of the
sorrowful lines; and this was a knowledge to disarm a brute. To

flee was more than I could find courage for; but I registered a vow
of unsleeping circumspection.

As I turned from the window, my eyes alighted on the portrait. It
had fallen dead, like a candle after sunrise; it followed me with

eyes of paint. I knew it to be like, and marvelled at the tenacity
of type in that declining race; but the likeness was swallowed up

in difference. I remembered how it had seemed to me a thing
unapproachable in the life, a creature rather of the painter's

craft than of the modesty of nature, and I marvelled at the
thought, and exulted in the image of Olalla. Beauty I had seen

before, and not been charmed, and I had been often drawn to women,
who were not beautiful except to me; but in Olalla all that I

desired and had not dared to imagine was united.
I did not see her the next day, and my heart ached and my eyes

longed for her, as men long for morning. But the day after, when I
returned, about my usual hour, she was once more on the gallery,

and our looks once more met and embraced. I would have spoken, I
would have drawn near to her; but strongly as she plucked at my

heart, drawing me like a magnet, something yet more imperious
withheld me; and I could only bow and pass by; and she, leaving my

salutation unanswered, only followed me with her noble eyes.
I had now her image by rote, and as I conned the traits in memory

it seemed as if I read her very heart. She was dressed with
something of her mother's coquetry, and love of positive colour.

Her robe, which I know she must have made with her own hands, clung
about her with a cunning grace. After the fashion of that country,

besides, her bodice stood open in the middle, in a long slit, and
here, in spite of the poverty of the house, a gold coin, hanging by

a ribbon, lay on her brown bosom. These were proofs, had any been
needed, of her inborn delight in life and her own loveliness. On

the other hand, in her eyes that hung upon mine, I could read depth
beyond depth of passion and sadness, lights of poetry and hope,

blacknesses of despair, and thoughts that were above the earth. It
was a lovely body, but the inmate, the soul, was more than worthy

of that lodging. Should I leave this incomparable flower to wither
unseen on these rough mountains? Should I despise the great gift

offered me in the eloquent silence of her eyes? Here was a soul
immured; should I not burst its prison? All side considerations

fell off from me; were she the child of Herod I swore I should make
her mine; and that very evening I set myself, with a mingled sense

of treachery and disgrace, to captivate the brother. Perhaps I
read him with more favourable eyes, perhaps the thought of his

sister always summoned up the better qualities of that imperfect
soul; but he had never seemed to me so amiable, and his very

likeness to Olalla, while it annoyed, yet softened me.
A third day passed in vain - an empty desert of hours. I would not

lose a chance, and loitered all afternoon in the court where (to
give myself a countenance) I spoke more than usual with the Senora.

God knows it was with a most tender and sincere interest that I now
studied her; and even as for Felipe, so now for the mother, I was

conscious of a growing warmth of toleration. And yet I wondered.
Even while I spoke with her, she would doze off into a little

sleep, and presently awake again without embarrassment; and this
composure staggered me. And again, as I marked her make

infinitesimal changes in her posture, savouring and lingering on
the bodily pleasure of the movement, I was driven to wonder at this

depth of passive sensuality. She lived in her body; and her
consciousness was all sunk into and disseminated through her

members, where it luxuriously dwelt. Lastly, I could not grow
accustomed to her eyes. Each time she turned on me these great

beautiful and meaningless orbs, wide open to the day, but closed
against human inquiry - each time I had occasion to observe the

lively changes of her pupils which expanded and contracted in a
breath - I know not what it was came over me, I can find no name

for the mingled feeling of disappointment, annoyance, and distaste
that jarred along my nerves. I tried her on a variety of subjects,

equally in vain; and at last led the talk to her daughter. But
even there she proved indifferent; said she was pretty, which (as

with children) was her highest word of commendation, but was
plainly incapable of any higher thought; and when I remarked that

Olalla seemed silent, merely yawned in my face and replied that
speech was of no great use when you had nothing to say. 'People

speak much, very much,' she added, looking at me with expanded
pupils; and then again yawned and again showed me a mouth that was

as dainty as a toy. This time I took the hint, and, leaving her to
her repose, went up into my own chamber to sit by the open window,

looking on the hills and not beholding them, sunk in lustrous and
deep dreams, and hearkening in fancy to the note of a voice that I

had never heard.
I awoke on the fifth morning with a brightness of anticipation that

seemed to challenge fate. I was sure of myself, light of heart and
foot, and resolved to put my love incontinently to the touch of

knowledge. It should lie no longer under the bonds of silence, a
dumb thing, living by the eye only, like the love of beasts; but

should now put on the spirit, and enter upon the joys of the
complete human intimacy. I thought of it with wild hopes, like a

voyager to El Dorado; into that unknown and lovely country of her
soul, I no longer trembled to adventure. Yet when I did indeed

encounter her, the same force of passion descended on me and at
once submerged my mind; speech seemed to drop away from me like a

childish habit; and I but drew near to her as the giddy man draws
near to the margin of a gulf. She drew back from me a little as I

came; but her eyes did not waver from mine, and these lured me
forward. At last, when I was already within reach of her, I

stopped. Words were denied me; if I advanced I could but clasp her
to my heart in silence; and all that was sane in me, all that was

still unconquered, revolted against the thought of such an accost.
So we stood for a second, all our life in our eyes, exchanging

salvos of attraction and yet each resisting; and then, with a great
effort of the will, and conscious at the same time of a sudden

bitterness of disappointment, I turned and went away in the same
silence.

What power lay upon me that I could not speak? And she, why was
she also silent? Why did she draw away before me dumbly, with

fascinated eyes? Was this love? or was it a mere brute attraction,
mindless and inevitable, like that of the magnet for the steel? We

had never spoken, we were wholly strangers: and yet an influence,
strong as the grasp of a giant, swept us silently together. On my

side, it filled me with impatience; and yet I was sure that she was
worthy; I had seen her books, read her verses, and thus, in a

sense, divined the soul of my mistress. But on her side, it struck
me almost cold. Of me, she knew nothing but my bodily favour; she

was drawn to me as stones fall to the earth; the laws that rule the
earth conducted her, unconsenting, to my arms; and I drew back at

the thought of such a bridal, and began to be jealous for myself.
It was not thus that I desired to be loved. And then I began to

fall into a great pity for the girl herself. I thought how sharp
must be her mortification, that she, the student, the recluse,

Felipe's saintly monitress, should have thus confessed an
overweening weakness for a man with whom she had never exchanged a

word. And at the coming of pity, all other thoughts were swallowed
up; and I longed only to find and console and reassure her; to tell

her how wholly her love was returned on my side, and how her
choice, even if blindly made, was not unworthy.

The next day it was glorious weather; depth upon depth of blue
over-canopied the mountains; the sun shone wide; and the wind in