The Child of the Dawn

  XIII

  But when I saw Cynthia, as I presently did, she too was in a differentmood. She had positively missed me, and told me so with manyendearments. I was not to remain away so long. I was useful to her.Charmides had become tiresome and lost in thought, but Lucius was assweet as ever. Some new-comers had arrived, all pleasant enough. Sheasked me where I had been, and I told her all the story. "Yes, that isbeautiful enough," she said, "but I hate all this breaking up and goingon. I am sure I do not wish for any change." She made a grimace ofdisgust at the idea of the ugly town I had seen, and then she said thatshe would go with me some time to look at it, because it would make herhappier to return to her peace; and then she went off to tell Lucius.

  I soon found Charmides, and I told him my adventures. "That is acurious story," he said. "I like to think of people caring for eachother so; that is picturesque! These simple emotions are interesting.And one likes to think that people who have none of the finer tastesshould have something to fall back upon--something hot and strong, as weused to say."

  "But," I said, "tell me this, Charmides, was there never any one in theold days whom you cared for like that?"

  "I thought so often enough," said he, a little peevishly, "but you donot know how much a man like myself is at the mercy of little things! Anugly hand, a broken tooth, a fallen cheek ... it seems little enough,but one has a sort of standard. I had a microscopic eye, you know, and alittle blemish was a serious thing to me. I was always in search ofsomething that I could not find; then there were awkward strains in thecharacters of people--they were mean or greedy or selfish, and all mypleasure was suddenly dashed. I am speaking," he went on, "with astrange candour! I don't defend it or excuse it, but there it was. I didonce, as a child, I believe, care for one person--an old nurse ofmine--in the right way. Dear, how good she was to me! I remember oncehow she came all the way, after she had left us, to see me on my waythrough town. She just met me at a railway station, and she had bought alittle book which she thought might amuse me, and a bag of oranges--sheremembered that I used to like oranges. I recollect at the time thinkingit was all very touching and devoted; but I was with a friend of mine,and had not time to say much. I can see her old face, smiling, withtears in her eyes, as we went off. I gave the book and the oranges away,I remember, to a child at the next station. It is curious how it allcomes back to me now; I never saw her again, and I wish I had behavedbetter. I should like to see her again, and to tell her that I reallycared! I wonder if that is possible? But there is really so much to dohere and to enjoy; and there is no one to tell me where to go, so that Iam puzzled. What is one to do?"

  "I think that if one desires a thing enough here, Charmides," I said,"one is in a fair way to obtain it. Never mind! a door will be opened.But one has got to care, I suppose; it is not enough to look upon it asa pretty effect, which one would just like to put in its place withother effects--'Open, sesame'--do you remember? There is a charm atwhich all doors fly open, even here!"

  "I will talk to you more about this," said Charmides, "when I have hadtime to arrange my thoughts a little. Who would have supposed that anold recollection like that would have disturbed me so much? It wouldmake a good subject for a picture or a song."