CONFIDENCE
hasn't changed, and I have no reason to suppose that she likes me any the less; but she makes a strange impression on me—she makes me uneasy. It's only her nature coming out, I suppose—what you might call her originality. She's thoroughly original—she's a kind of mysterious creature. I suppose that what I feel is a sort of fascination; but that is just what I don't like. Hang it, I don't want to be fascinated—I object to being fascinated!"
This little story had taken some time in the telling, so that the two young men had now reached their hotel.
"Ah, my dear Gordon," said Bernard, "we speak a different language. If you don't want to be fascinated, what is one to say to you? Object to being fascinated! There's a man easy to satisfy! Raffiné, va!"
"Well, see here, now," said Gordon, stopping in the doorway of the inn; "when it comes to the point, do you like it yourself?"
"When it comes to the point?" Bernard exclaimed. "I assure you I don't wait till then. I like the beginning—I delight in the approach of it—I revel in the prospect."
"That's just what I did. But now that the thing has come—I don't revel. To be fascinated is to be mystified. Damn it, I like my liberty—I like my judgement!"
"So do I—like yours," said Bernard, laughing, as they took their bedroom candles.
62
