"A man might do a great work over there. My imagination is sorely tempted. I am altogether at a loss."
She was too tired to take up the ancient arguments which this threadbare question had provoked. Later on, in her own bedroom, she sat before a brisk fire, and tried to take stock of the varied events of that busy day.
Vaguely out of the mists there emerged the truth, that two men had made love to her, and that one was a man who might presently rule the Western world. She could look down a vista of fable land to a future surpassing all expectations of her dreams, and believe that at a word she might enter in. The obverse of the medal was Harry Lassett and the story of her youth. This lad had crept into the secret places of her heart. She still trembled at a memory of his kisses. With him, life would be meticulous—a villa and a trim maidservant. His scheme of things could embrace no great idea; and yet he, too, was a popular hero, and great throngs would go to Lords to see him play. Gabrielle knew that she loved him; but she doubted if her love would prove as strong as the dreams.
It was midnight when she undressed.
The weather had turned much warmer. She opened her window to discover that it was snowing, and that the snow melted as it fell.
The fables were already discredited. It seemed almost an omen.
CHAPTER IV
THE BEGINNING OF THE ODYSSEY