Page:Burton Stevenson--The marathon mystery.djvu/135

Rh “Then she is not an exception?”

“Oh, no—she’s a type—physically, at least. Mentally, I believe she does differ somewhat from the typical capresse. For instance, I never knew another attempt to tame a fer-de-lance.”

“It seemed to me,” I observed “that she had as many possibilities as the snake.”

He laughed lightly.

“For evil, you mean? That’s merely the effect of the first view. Really, the capresse girls have an excellent reputation for docility and all the rest. Not that it would matter much in Martinique-the people there are used to living over a volcano and don’t mind. Of course,” he added, in another tone, “I shall, before long, have to break it off. Society, here, is differently organised—different climates, different morals, you know; I feel that I must conform to it. Indeed, I even wish to do so. It is time that I settled down, ranged myself, became a man of family—I have been a wanderer long enough. Cecily can’t endure this climate, anyway. I’ll send her back to St Pierre.”

“What will she say to that?” I asked, with a vivid memory of the adoring way her eyes always dwelt upon him.

“You think it sounds a little brutal?” and he smiled gaily. “It isn’t, in the least. You’ve put Cecily on too high a pedestal. They have an axiom down there, ‘Née de l’amour, la fille-de-couleur nit d’amour, de rires, et d’oublis’—her life is a thing of love, laughter, and forgettings. I think it’s essentially true. At the same time,” he added, more seriously, “I don’t wish to