St Ives | Page 3

smartness of address: indeed, you could have seen our army nowhere
more discreditably represented than in this Castle of Edinburgh. And I
used to see myself in fancy, and blush. It seemed that my more elegant
carriage would but point the insult of the travesty. And I remembered
the days when I wore the coarse but honourable coat of a soldier; and
remembered further back how many of the noble, the fair, and the
gracious had taken a delight to tend my childhood. . . . But I must not
recall these tender and sorrowful memories twice; their place is further
on, and I am now upon another business. The perfidy of the Britannic
Government stood nowhere more openly confessed than in one
particular of our discipline: that we were shaved twice in the week. To
a man who has loved all his life to be fresh shaven, can a more
irritating indignity be devised? Monday and Thursday were the days.
Take the Thursday, and conceive the picture I must present by Sunday
evening! And Saturday, which was almost as bad, was the great day for
visitors.
Those who came to our market were of all qualities, men and women,
the lean and the stout, the plain and the fairly pretty. Sure, if people at
all understood the power of beauty, there would be no prayers

addressed except to Venus; and the mere privilege of beholding a
comely woman is worth paying for. Our visitors, upon the whole, were
not much to boast of; and yet, sitting in a corner and very much
ashamed of myself and my absurd appearance, I have again and again
tasted the finest, the rarest, and the most ethereal pleasures in a glance
of an eye that I should never see again--and never wanted to. The
flower of the hedgerow and the star in heaven satisfy and delight us:
how much more the look of that exquisite being who was created to
bear and rear, to madden and rejoice, mankind!
There was one young lady in particular, about eighteen or nineteen, tall,
of a gallant carriage, and with a profusion of hair in which the sun
found threads of gold. As soon as she came in the courtyard (and she
was a rather frequent visitor) it seemed I was aware of it. She had an air
of angelic candour, yet of a high spirit; she stepped like a Diana, every
movement was noble and free. One day there was a strong east wind;
the banner was straining at the flagstaff; below us the smoke of the city
chimneys blew hither and thither in a thousand crazy variations; and
away out on the Forth we could see the ships lying down to it and
scudding. I was thinking what a vile day it was, when she appeared.
Her hair blew in the wind with changes of colour; her garments
moulded her with the accuracy of sculpture; the ends of her shawl
fluttered about her ear and were caught in again with an inimitable
deftness. You have seen a pool on a gusty day, how it suddenly
sparkles and flashes like a thing alive? So this lady's face had become
animated and coloured; and as I saw her standing, somewhat inclined,
her lips parted, a divine trouble in her eyes, I could have clapped my
hands in applause, and was ready to acclaim her a genuine daughter of
the winds. What put it in my head, I know not: perhaps because it was a
Thursday and I was new from the razor; but I determined to engage her
attention no later than that day. She was approaching that part of the
court in which I sat with my merchandise, when I observed her
handkerchief to escape from her hands and fall to the ground; the next
moment the wind had taken it up and carried it within my reach. I was
on foot at once: I had forgot my mustard-coloured clothes, I had forgot
the private soldier and his salute. Bowing deeply, I offered her the slip
of cambric.
'Madam,' said I, 'your handkerchief. The wind brought it me.'

I met her eyes fully.
'I thank you, sir,' said she.
'The wind brought it me,' I repeated. 'May I not take it for an omen?
You have an English proverb, "It's an ill wind that blows nobody
good."'
'Well,' she said, with a smile, '"One good turn deserves another." I will
see what you have.'
She followed me to where my wares were spread out under lee of a
piece of cannon.
'Alas, mademoiselle!' said I, 'I am no very perfect craftsman. This is
supposed to be a house, and you see the chimneys are awry. You may
call this a box if you are very indulgent; but see