~Book IV.~ Character and Situation in the Novel
I.
I.
X. London, “Qu’Acre” and “Lame”
Fast and Loose
A Novelette by ‘David Olivieri’
written 1876/77, University Press of Virginia, 1977.
“Let woman beware
How she plays fast & loose thus with human despair
And the storm in man’s heart.”
Robert Lytton: Lucile.
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Dedication
To Cornelie
“[Donna] beata e bella” [illegible] Quinta.
(October 1876)
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I.
Hearts & Diamonds.
“‘Tis best to be off with the old love
Before you are on with the new!”
Song.
A dismal Autumn afternoon in the country. Without, a soft drizzle falling on yellow leaves & damp ground; within, two people playing chess by the window of the fire-lighted drawing-room at Holly Lodge. Now, when two people play chess on a rainy afternoon, tête-à-tête in a room with the door shut, they are likely to be either very much bored, or rather dangerously interested; & in this case, with all respect to romance, they appeared overcome by the profoundest ennui. The lady—a girl of about 18, plump & soft as a partridge, with vivacious brown eyes, & a cheek like a sun-warmed peach—occasionally stifled a yawn, as her antagonist, curling a slight blonde moustache (the usual sign of masculine perplexity) sat absently meditating a move on which the game, in his eyes, appeared to depend; & at last, pushing aside her chair, she rose & stood looking out of the window, as though even the dreary Autumn prospect had more attraction for her than the handsome face on the other side of the chess-board. Her movement seemed to shake her companion out of his reverie, for he rose also, & looking over her shoulder, at the soft, misty rain, observed rather languidly, “Cheerful weather!” “Horrid!” said the girl, stamping her foot. “I am dying of stagnation.” “Don’t you mean to finish the game?” “If you choose. I don’t care.” “Nor I—It’s decidedly a bore.” No answer. The bright brown eyes & the lazy blue ones stared out of the window for the space of five slow minutes. Then the girl said: “Guy!” “My liege!” “You’re not very amusing this afternoon.” “Neither are you, my own!” “Gallant for a lover!” she cried, pouting & turning away from the window. “How can I amuse a stone wall? I might talk all day!” She had a way of tossing her pretty little head, & drawing her soft white forehead, that was quite irresistible. Guy, as the most natural thing in the world, put his arm about her, but was met with a sharp, “Don’t! You know I hate to be taken hold of, Sir! Oh, I shall die of ennui if this weather holds.” Guy whistled, & went to lean against the fireplace; while his betrothed stood in the middle of the room, the very picture of “I-won’t-be-amused” crossness. “Delightful!” she said, presently. “Really, your conversation today displays your wit & genius to a remarkable degree.” “If I talk to you, you scold, Georgie,” said the lover, pathetically. “No, I don’t! I only scold when you twist your arms around me.” “I can’t do one without the other!” Georgie laughed. “You do say nice things, Guy! But you’re a bore this afternoon, nevertheless.” “Isn’t everything a bore?” “I believe so. Oh, I should be another person gallopping over the downs on Rochester! ‘What’s his name is himself again!’ Shall we be able to hunt tomorrow?” “Ask the clerk of the weather,” said Guy, rather dismally. “Guy! I do believe you’re going
