Dornford Yates

“ Her soft dark hair, her steady grey eyes, the curve of her exquisite mouth, her little firm hands, her slim silk legs, naked and unashamed, went to make up the miracle. Like a rare perfume, her complete artlessness immensely enhanced her beauty and glorified all she did.
Danvers, the celibate, sat down beside his guest, like a man in a dream....
Tea was served: the silver and Dresden china winked in the light of the fire.
"It's like a fairy-tale," said the girl. "You're the knight, and I'm the maiden in distress, and this is the enchanted palace. Isn't it nice to have it all to ourselves?" ”

“ The sky was cloudless, and the sun, a beneficent giant, beamed upon a fabulous world. The ocean stretched, a flood of dark-blue quicksilver, brilliant and tremulous. The yellow coast and gay green countryside made up a ragged counterpane vivid and vast enough to shoulder Mandeville. The breath of a slumbering breeze tempered the savoury air.
Ivan, who had lain at Bordeaux the night before, came floating into Biarritz with a thankful heart.
As his car swept up the drive of Les Iles d’Or, his servant, unshaven and travel-stained, rose from a pile of luggage beside a bed of hydrangeas. ”

“ Anthony could not hear it, any more than he could hear the lark which was singing merrily at a vast height above the shining rails, for the rumble of the composite train, but he saw and marked the sleepy smile of the valley, noted with satisfaction its comfortable air of contentment to be no part or parcel of a frantic world, and held his terrier Patch to the dusty window, that he might witness the antics of a couple of forest ponies, which were galloping away from the train and kicking up contemptuous heels at the interloper in an ecstasy of idle menaces, clown-like in their absurdity. ”

“ In the morning, maybe, it will sleep placidly enough in the sunshine, but at eventide the wind has ruffled its temper, so that it mutters and heaves with anger, breathing forth threatenings. Yet the next dawn finds it alive with mischievous merriment and splitting its sides with laughter, to think how it has duped you the night before. The great grave cliffs and the shifting sea, and, beyond, woodland and pastures and deep meadows, where the cows low in the evenings, while the elms tower above them, their leaves unshaken by the wind—it is not difficult to grow fond of Stern. ”

“ The boxes were full, the floor was packed, the corridors were thronged with eager shining revellers, dancing and strolling and chattering to beat the band, which was flooding every corner of the enormous building with an air of gaiety so infectious that even the staid Jonah began to grumble that the dance would be over before the girls emerged from the cloakroom.
The Field of the Cloth of Gold cannot have presented a more splendid spectacle. ”

“ Our headlights were powerful, the road was not too bad, and the world was empty...
I let Jonah, who was leading, get well away, and then gave the car her head.
Well as we knew it, our way seemed unfamiliar.
We saw the countryside as through a glass darkly. A shadowy file of poplars, a grey promise of meadowland, a sable thicket, far in the distance a great blurred mass rearing a sombre head, a chain of silent villages seemingly twined about our road, and once in a long while the broad, brave flash of laughing water—these and their ghostly like made up our changing neighbourhood. ”

“ From the light of the fire in its cage to the toe of his lordship's pump, up to the chiselled mantel and the cigarette-box—the marshal's—perched on the narrow ledge, down to the heavy bell-pull by the side of the hearth, on to a high-backed chair against the wall, down again to the floor—all black here, for the light is too distant to show the carpet's hue—on into the shadows, where something—the table, of course—shows like a grim bas-relief hewn out of the darkness, on to its ponderous top, where the candles... ”

“ From the alcove, heaving with emotion, the Countess was surveying the scene with a beatific smile. Her proportions were immense: her splendour, barbaric. Her snow-white hair was almost hidden beneath an enormous tiara, while the size and number of the pearls about her neck was almost frightening. Bracelets flashed upon her tremendous arms: rings winked from every finger. Her dress was of purple and gold. Her shoes were of gold, with high purple heels.
The Duke of Culloden stood beside her, addressing her quietly from time to time. ”

“ Midsummer Night had come to Castle Breathless in all her glory.
“You know,” said Simon, extracting a cigarette, “I dare say it’s just as well. We think we’re suited, but we probably aren’t. If we joined up, we should probably scrap like hell.”
“I doubt it,” said Patricia, slipping a bare arm through his. “You’ve got your faults, of course: and so have I. But they’re—they’re quite bearable, Simon.”
“It isn’t a question of faults,” said Simon slowly. “I love your faults, Pat. . . . It’s a question of temperament. You know. Everything in the garden looks lovely—so long as you’re outside. ”

“ Silvia was leaning over the balcony, one hand to her white throat. I could hear her quick-coming breath.
"No," I said slowly, "I'm not. But until you tell me that you know I did not mean what I said, I will not believe that you did not mean to stand upon my fingers."
"Are you hurt, lad?"
"No. Did you hear what I said?"
Silvia stood up, her hands before her on the coping.
"You know I didn't."
Without a word I stepped carefully out of the car. The pain was intense. It was as if my side was being seared with a hot iron. How I started the car I shall never know. ”

“ Above us, the ramparts of Spain—below, an echelon of rollers, ceaselessly surging to their doom—before us, a ragged wonder of coast-line, rising and falling and thrusting into the distance, till the snarling leagues shrank into murmuring inches and tumult dwindled into rest—on our right, the might, majesty, dominion and power of Ocean, a limitless laughing mystery of running white and blue, shining and swaying and swelling till the eye faltered before so much magnificence and Sky let fall her curtain to spare the failing sight—for over six miles we hung over the edge of Europe.... ”

“ Danvers was no Don Quixote, but he was a decent man. His tastes were simple and his life was quiet, but he was no fool. By no means worldly, he was yet a man of the world—that is to say, he could expect, recognise and contemplate without horror the failings of mankind. He had all the man of the world's flair for letting ill alone. No one knew better than he that chivalry is stone-dead and that such as seek to revive it are riding for a fall. Yet in Stephanie's case he was going to interfere. ”

“ Often enough they repaired to Domesday Mill—a place of memories. The great wheel is silent, and the house tumbling. Ivy has run riot over the gabled roof, and the proud water, once so troubled but now unearthly still, has come to mirror the passing of the glory which it begot. But chestnut and ash and lime have come to cherish Domesday, keep it against the weather, ring it against the wind. Year by year they draw closer, put out more sheltering arms. ”