It
was true she would probably not have married Jean Jacques, if it had not
been for the wreck of the Antoine; but the wreck had occurred, and she
had married him, and that was done and over so far as she was concerned.
She had determined to go away with the master-carpenter, and though he
might feel the same hesitation as that which Jean Jacques had shown--she
had read her Norman aright aboard the Antoine--yet, still, George Masson
should take her away. A catastrophe had thrown Jean Jacques into her
arms; it would not be a catastrophe which would throw the master-
carpenter into her arms. It would be that they wanted each other.
The mirror gave her a look of dominance--was it her regular features and
her classic head? Does beauty in itself express authority, just because
it has the transcendent thing in it? Does the perfect form convey
something of the same thing that physical force--an army in arms, a
battleship--conveys? In any case it was there, that inherent
masterfulness, though not in its highest form. She was not an
aristocrat, she was no daughter of kings, no duchess of Castile, no
dona of Segovia; and her beauty belonged to more primary manifestations;
but it was above the lower forms, even if it did not reach to the
highest.
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