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res except her eyes。 I suppose she had a nose； a little lace pocket…handkerchief I have by me at the moment is almost too small to be evidence on that important point。
As I walked by her side that May morning； I was only conscious of her voice and her exquisite girlhood； for though she talked with the APLOMB of a woman of the world； a passionate candour and simple ardour in her manner would have betrayed her； had her face not plainly declared her the incarnation of twenty。 But if she were twenty years young； she was equally twenty years OLD； and twenty years old； in some respects； is the greatest age attained to by man or woman。 In this she rather differed from Alastor； of whom otherwise she was the female counterpart。 Her talk； and something rather in her voice than her talk； soon revealed her as a curious mixture of youth and age； of dreamer and desillusionee。
One soon realised that she was too young； was hoping too much from life； to spend one's days with。 Yet she had just sufficiently that touch of languor which puts one at one's ease； though indeed it was rather the languor of waiting for what was going to happen than the weariness of experience gone by。 She was weary； not because of the past； but because the fairy theatre of life still kept its curtain down； and forced her to play over and over again the impatient overture of her dreams。
I have no doubt that it was largely nervousness that kept the mysterious playwright so long fumbling behind the scenes； for it was obvious that it would be no ordinary sort of play； no every…day domestic drama； that would satisfy this young lady； to whom life had given； by way of prologue； the inestimable blessing of wealth； and the privilege； as a matter of course； of choosing as she would among the grooms （that is； the bride…grooms） of the romantic British aristocracy。
She had made youth's common mistake of beginning life with books； which can only be used without danger by those who are in a position to test their statements。 Youth naturally believes everything that is told it； especially in books。
Now； books are simply professional liars about life； and the books that are best worth reading are those which lie the most beautifully。 Yet； in fairness； we must add that they are liars； not with intent to mislead； but merely with the tenderest purpose to console。 They are the good Samaritans that find us robbed of all our dreams by the roadside of life； bleeding and weeping and desolate； and such is their skill and wealth and goodness of heart； that they not only heal up our wounds； but restore to us the lost property of our dreams； on one condition；that we never travel with them again in the daylight。
A library is a better world； built by the brains and hearts of poets and dreamers； as a refuge from the real world outside； and in it alone is to be found the land of milk and honey which it promises。
〃Milk and honey〃 would have been an appropriate inscription for the delicious little library which parents who； I surmised； doted on Nicolete in vain； had allowed her to build in a wild woodland corner of her ancestral park； half a mile away from the great house； where； for all its corridors and galleries； she could never feel； at all events； spiritually alone。 All that was most sugared and musical and generally delusive in the old library of her fathers had been brought out to this little woodland library； and to that nucleus of old leather…bound poets and romancers； long since dead； yet as alive and singing on their shelves as any bird on the sunny boughs outside； my young lady's private purse had added all that was most sugared and musical and generally delusive in the vellum bound Japanese…paper literature of our own luxurious day。 Nor were poets and romancers from over seain their seeming simple paper covers； but with； oh； such complicated and subtle insides！absent from the court which Nicolete held here in the greenwood。 Never was such a nest of singing…birds。 All day long； to the ear of the spirit； there was in this little library a sound of harping and singing and the telling of tales；songs and tales of a world that never was； yet shall ever be。 Here day by day Nicolete fed her young soul on the nightingale's…tongues of literature； and put down her book only to listen to the nightingale's… tongues outside。 Yea； sun； moon； and stars were all in the conspiracy to lie to her of the loveliness of the world and the good intentions of life。 And now； thus unexpectedly； I found myself joining the nefarious conspiracy。 Ah； well！ was I not twenty myself； and full of dreams！
CHAPTER V
'T IS OF AUCASSIN AND NICOLETE
Thus it was that we lunched together amid the books and birds； in an exquisite solitude a deux； for the ringer of the silver bell had disappeared； having left a dainty meal in readinessfor two。
〃You see you were expected；〃 said Nicolete； with her pretty laugh。 〃I dreamed I should have a visitor to…day； and told Susan to lay the lunch for two。 You mustn't be surprised at that；〃 she added mischievously； 〃it has often happened before。 I dream that dream every other night； and Susan lays for two every day。 She knows my whims；knows that the extra knife and fork are for the fairy knight that may turn up any afternoon； as I tell her〃
〃To find the sleepless princess；〃 I added； thinking at the same time one of those irrelevant asides that will go through the brain of thirty； that the woman who would get her share of kisses nowadays must neither slumber nor sleep。
A certain great poet； I think it was Byron； objected to seeing women in the act of eating。 He thought their eating should be done in private。 What a curiously perverse opinion！ For surely woman never shows to better advantage than in the dainty exercises of a dainty repast； and there is nothing more thrilling to man than a meal alone with a woman he loves or is about to love。 Perhaps； deep down； the reason is that there still vibrates in the masculine blood the thrilling surprise of the moment when man first realised that the angel woman was built upon the same carnivorous principles as his grosser self。
That is one of the first heart…beating surprises that come upon the boy Columbus； as he sets out to discover the New World of woman； and indeed his surprise has not seldom deepened into admiration； as he has found that not only does woman eat； but frequently eats a lot。
This privilege of seeing woman eat is the earliest granted of those delicate animal intimacies； the fuller and fuller confiding of which plays not the least important part； and ever such a sweet one； even in a highly transcendental affection。 It is this gradual humanising of the divine female that brings about the spiritualising of the unregenerate male。
In the earliest stages of love the services are small that we are privileged to do for the loved one。 But if we are allowed to sit at meat with her；ever a royal condescension；it is ours at least to pass her the salt； to see that she is never kept waiting a moment for the mustard or the pepper； to cut the bread for her with geometrical precision； and to lean as near her warm shoulder as we dare to pour out for her the sacred wine。
Yes！ for sure I was twenty again； for the performance of these simple services for Nicolete gave me a thrill of pure boyish pleasure such as I had never expected to feel again。 And did she not make a knight of me by gently asking if I would be so kind as to carve the chicken； and how she laughed quite disproportionally at my school…boy story of the man who； being asked to carve a pigeon； said he thought they had better send for a wood…carver； as it seemed to be a wood pigeon。
And while we ate and drank and laughed and chatted； the books around us were weaving their spells。 Even before the invention of printing books were 〃love's purveyors。〃 Was it not a book that sent Paolo and Francesca for ever wandering on that stormy wind of passion and of death？ And nowadays the part played by books in human drama is greater than we perhaps realise。 Apart from their serious influence as determining destinies of the character； what endless opportunities they afford to lovers； who perhaps are denied all other meeting…places than may be found on the tell…tale pages of a marked volume。 The method is so easy and so unsuspect。 You have only to put faint pencil…marks against the tenderest passages in your favourite new poet； and lend the volume to Her； and She has only to leave here and there the dropped violet of a timid confirmatory initial； for you to know your fate。 And what a touchstone books thus become！ Indeed they simplify love… making； from every point of view。 With books so inexpensive and accessible to all as they are to…day； no one need run any risks of marrying the wrong woman。 He has only to put her through an unconscious examination by getting her to read and mark a few of his favourite authors； and he is thus in possession of the master clues of her character。 With a list of her month's reading and a photograph； a man ought to be able to make up his mind about any given woman； even though he has never spoken to her。 〃Name your favourite writer〃 should be one of the first questions in the Engagement Catechism。
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