But the game of politics was none the less exhilarating for
that.
As to Kitty's relation to himself--and life's most intimate and tender
things--in these days, did he probe his own consciousness much
concerning them? Probably not. Was he aware that, when all was said and
done, in spite of her misdoings, in spite of his passion of anxiety
during her illness, in spite of the pity and affection of his daily
attitude, Kitty occupied, in truth, much less of his mind than she had
ever yet occupied?--that a certain magic--primal, incommunicable--had
ceased to clothe her image in his thoughts?
Again--probably not. For these slow changes in a man's inmost
personality are like the ebb and flow of summer tides over estuary
sands. Silent, the main creeps in, or out; and while we dream, the great
basin fills, and the fishing-boats come in--or the gentle, pitiless
waters draw back into the bosom of ocean, and the sea-birds run over the
wide, untenanted flats.
* * * * *
They landed at the Piazzetta as the lamps were being lit. The soft
October darkness was falling fast, and on the ledges of St.
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