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skylike； and discontinuous with all about it。 The faded quality of
the very sunshine of that season； the mellow discoloured palaces and
places； the huge； time…ripened paintings of departed splendours； the
whispering； nearly noiseless passage of hearse…black gondolas； for
the horrible steam launch had not yet ruined Venice； the stilled
magnificences of the depopulated lagoons； the universal autumn； made
me feel altogether in recess from the teeming uproars of reality。
There was not a dozen people all told； no Americans and scarcely any
English； to dine in the big cavern of a dining…room； with its vistas
of separate tables； its distempered walls and its swathed
chandeliers。 We went about seeing beautiful things； accepting
beauty on every hand； and taking it for granted that all was well
with ourselves and the world。 It was ten days or a fortnight before
I became fretful and anxious for action； a long tranquillity for
such a temperament as mine。
Our pleasures were curiously impersonal； a succession of shared
aesthetic appreciation threads all that time。 Our honeymoon was no
exultant coming together； no mutual shout of 〃YOU！〃 We were almost
shy with one another； and felt the relief of even a picture to help
us out。 It was entirely in my conception of things that I should be
very watchful not to shock or distress Margaret or press the
sensuous note。 Our love…making had much of the tepid smoothness of
the lagoons。 We talked in delicate innuendo of what should be
glorious freedoms。 Margaret had missed Verona and Venice in her
previous Italian journeyfear of the mosquito had driven her mother
across Italy to the westward routeand now she could fill up her
gaps and see the Titians and Paul Veroneses she already knew in
colourless photographs； the Carpaccios； （the St。 George series
delighted her beyond measure；） the Basaitis and that great statue of
Bartolomeo Colleoni that Ruskin praised。
But since I am not a man to look at pictures and architectural
effects day after day； I did watch Margaret very closely and store a
thousand memories of her。 I can see her now； her long body drooping
a little forward； her sweet face upraised to some discovered
familiar masterpiece and shining with a delicate enthusiasm。 I can
hear again the soft cadences of her voice murmuring commonplace
comments； for she had no gift of expressing the shapeless
satisfaction these things gave her。
Margaret； I perceived； was a cultivated person； the first cultivated
person with whom I had ever come into close contact。 She was
cultivated and moral； and I； I now realise； was never either of
these things。 She was passive； and I am active。 She did not simply
and naturally look for beauty but she had been incited to look for
it at school； and took perhaps a keener interest in books and
lectures and all the organisation of beautiful things than she did
in beauty itself； she found much of her delight in being guided to
it。 Now a thing ceases to be beautiful to me when some finger points
me out its merits。 Beauty is the salt of life； but I take my beauty
as a wild beast gets its salt； as a constituent of the meal。 。 。 。
And besides； there was that between us that should have seemed more
beautiful than any picture。 。 。 。
So we went about Venice tracking down pictures and spiral staircases
and such…like things； and my brains were busy all the time with such
things as a comparison of Venice and its nearest modern equivalent；
New York； with the elaboration of schemes of action when we returned
to London； with the development of a theory of Margaret。
Our marriage had done this much at least； that it had fused and
destroyed those two independent ways of thinking about her that had
gone on in my mind hitherto。 Suddenly she had become very near to
me； and a very big thing； a sort of comprehensive generalisation
behind a thousand questions； like the sky or England。 The judgments
and understandings that had worked when she was； so to speak； miles
away from my life； had now to be altogether revised。 Trifling
things began to matter enormously； that she had a weak and easily
fatigued back； for example； or that when she knitted her brows and
stammered a little in talking； it didn't really mean that an
exquisite significance struggled for utterance。
We visited pictures in the mornings chiefly。 In the afternoon；
unless we were making a day…long excursion in a gondola； Margaret
would rest for an hour while I prowled about in search of English
newspapers； and then we would go to tea in the Piazza San Marco and
watch the drift of people feeding the pigeons and going into the
little doors beneath the sunlit arches and domes of Saint Mark's。
Then perhaps we would stroll on the Piazzetta； or go out into the
sunset in a gondola。 Margaret became very interested in the shops
that abound under the colonnades and decided at last to make an
extensive purchase of table glass。 〃These things；〃 she said； are
quite beautiful； and far cheaper than anything but the most ordinary
looking English ware。〃 I was interested in her idea； and a good
deal charmed by the delightful qualities of tinted shape； slender
handle and twisted stem。 I suggested we should get not simply
tumblers and wineglasses but bedroom waterbottles； fruit… and sweet…
dishes； water…jugs； and in the end we made quite a business…like
afternoon of it。
I was beginning now to long quite definitely for events。 Energy was
accumulating in me； and worrying me for an outlet。 I found the
TIMES and the DAILY TELEGRAPH and the other papers I managed to get
hold of； more and more stimulating。 I nearly wrote to the former
paper one day in answer to a letter by Lord GrimthorpeI forget now
upon what point。 I chafed secretly against this life of tranquil
appreciations more and more。 I found my attitudes of restrained and
delicate affection for Margaret increasingly difficult to sustain。
I surprised myself and her by little gusts of irritability； gusts
like the catspaws before a gale。 I was alarmed at these symptoms。
One night when Margaret had gone up to her room； I put on a light
overcoat； went out into the night and prowled for a long time
through the narrow streets； smoking and thinking。 I returned and
went and sat on the edge of her bed to talk to her。
〃Look here； Margaret；〃 I said； 〃this is all very well； but I'm
restless。〃
〃Restless！ 〃 she said with a faint surprise in her voice。
〃Yes。 I think I want exercise。 I've got a sort of feelingI've
never had it beforeas though I was getting fat。〃
〃My dear！〃 she cried。
〃I want to do things；ride horses； climb mountains； take the devil
out of myself。〃
She watched me thoughtfully。
〃Couldn't we DO something？〃 she said。
Do what？
〃I don't know。 Couldn't we perhaps go away from here soonand walk
in the mountainson our way home。〃
I thought。 〃There seems to be no exercise at all in this place。〃
〃Isn't there some walk？〃
〃I wonder；〃 I answered。 〃We might walk to Chioggia perhaps； along
the Lido。〃 And we tried that； but the long stretch of beach
fatigued Margaret's back； and gave her blisters； and we never got
beyond Malamocco。 。 。 。
A day or so after we went out to those pleasant black…robed； bearded
Armenians in their monastery at Saint Lazzaro； and returned towards
sundown。 We fell into silence。 〃PIU LENTO；〃 said Margaret to the
gondolier； and released my accumulated resolution。
〃Let us go back to London；〃 I said abruptly。
Margaret looked at me with surprised blue eyes。
〃This is beautiful beyond measure； you know；〃 I said； sticking to my
point； 〃but I have work to do。〃
She was silent for some seconds。 〃I had forgotten；〃 she said。
〃So had I；〃 I sympathised； and took her hand。 〃Suddenly I have
remembered。〃