STORIES OF THE EAST
LEONARD WOOLF
COVER BY DORA CARRINGTON
PRINTED&PUBLISHED BY LEONARD WOOLF AND VIRGINIA WOOLF
AT THE HOGARTH PRESS, HOGARTH HOUSE, SURREY.
1921
A TALE TOLD BY MOONLIGHT
PEARLS AND SWINE
THE TWO BRAHMANS
A TALE TOLD BY MOONLIGHT
Many people did not like Jessop. He had rather a brutal mannersometimes of telling brutal things—the truth, he called it. "Theydon't like it," he once said to me in a rare moment of confidence."But why the devil shouldn't they? They pretend these sorts of things,battle, murder, and sudden death, are so real—more real than whitekid gloves and omnibuses and rose leaves—and yet when you give themthe real thing, they curl up like school girls. It does them good, youknow, does them a world of good."
They didn't like it and they didn't altogether like him. He was asturdy thick set man, very strong, a dark reserved man with blackeyebrows which met over his nose. He had knocked about the world agood deal. He appealed to me in many ways; I liked to meet him. He hadfished things up out of life, curious grim things, things which mayhave disgusted but which certainly fascinated as well.
The last time I saw him we were both staying with Alderton, thenovelist. Mrs Alderton was away—recruiting after annual childbirth,I think. The other guests were Pemberton, who was recruiting after hisannual book of verses, and Smith, Hanson Smith, the critic.
It was a piping hot June day, and we strolled out after dinner in thecool moonlight down the great fields which lead to the river. It wasvery cool, very beautiful, very romantic lying there on the grass abovethe river bank, watching the great trees in the moonlight and the silverwater slipping along so musically to the sea. We grew silent andsentimental—at least I know I did.
Two figures came slowly along the bank, a young man with his arm rounda girl's waist. They passed just under where we were lying withoutseeing us. We heard the murmur of his words and in the shadow of thetrees they stopped and we heard the sound of their kisses.
I heard Pemberton mutter:
A boy and girl if the good fates please
Making love say,
The happier they.
Come up out or the light of the moon
And let them pass as they will, too soon
With the bean flowers boon
And the blackbird's tune
And May and June.
It loosed our tongues and we began to speak—all of us exceptJessop—as men seldom speak together, of love. We were sentimental,romantic. We told stories of our first loves. We looked back withregret, with yearning to our youth and to love. We were passionatein our belief in it, love, the great passion, the real thing which hadjust passed us by so closely in the moonlight.
We talked like that for an hour or so, I suppose, and Jessop neveropened his lips. Whenever I looked at him, he was watching the rivergliding by and he