Teresa felt sincerely grateful to her: she had cooled the situation, and, as well, had given the whole conversation about Don Juan an amazing significance; the play would have to be re-cast.
2
On Monday morning Teresa had a little talk with Guy before he went away—after all, he was but a fantastic little creature, powerless to hurt her; and he was suffering.
“Don’t be cross with me, Guy,” she said, laying her hand on his sleeve; “it’s so difficult to feel ... to feel as you want me to ... you see, it’s so difficult with some one one has known so many years; besides, you know, you can’t have it both ways,” and she smiled.
“How do you mean?” he asked sulkily.
“Well, you see, you’re a poet. We take poetry seriously, but sometimes we ... well, we smile a little at poets. Sub specie æternitatis—isn’t that the expression? You are sub specie æternitatis, and the worst of being under that species is that both one’s value and one’s values are apt to be ... well, snowed over by the present. Milton’s daughters, at the actual moment that they were grumbling about having to have Paradise Lost dictated to them, were really quite justified—the darning of their fichus or ... or young Praise-the-Lord Simpkins waiting for them by the stile were much more important at that moment. It’s only afterwards, when all these things—the young man, the stile and the fichus—have turned long ago into dust, and Paradise Lost grows more glorious every year, that they turn into frivolous, deplorable fools. You can’t have it both ways, old Guy.”
Her instinct had been true—this was the only possible balm.
Now, at last, he knew what she really thought of him—she mentioned him in the same breath with Milton; she thought him a genius.
He felt wildly happy and excited, but, of course, he did not allow this to show in his face.
Then he looked at her: the pointed arch her mouth went into when she smiled; the beautiful oval teeth, the dark, rather weary eyes, for the moment a tender, slightly quizzical smile lurking in their corners ... oh! he wanted this creature for his own; he must get her.