She had the same
luxuriantly dark hair--a wonder to behold when it was let down over
her shoulders--the same grey eyes, the same singularly erect
attitude, and lips which, although they were not tight and screwed
up, were always set with decision. But her distinguishing
peculiarity was her inherited vivacity, which was perfectly natural,
but frequently exposed her--just as it did her mother--to the charge
of being theatrical. The criticism was as unjust in her case as in
that of her mother, if by being theatrical we mean being unreal. The
unreal person is the half-alive languid person. Pauline felt what
she said, and acted it in every gesture. Her precious promptitude of
expression made her invaluable as a companion to her father. He was
English all over and all through; hypochondriacal, with a strong
tendency to self-involution and self-absorption. She was only half
English, or rather altogether French, and when he came home in the
evening he often felt as if some heavy obstruction in his brain and
about his heart were suddenly dissolved. She and her mother were
like Hercules in the house of Admetus. Before Hercules has promised
to rescue Alcestis we feel that the darkness has disappeared.
Pages:
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278