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ip； as luck would have it； was already under sail in the harbour about to return to England； and Orlando； by breaking off another pearl from her necklace； not only paid her passage but had some banknotes left over in her wallet。 These she would have liked to present to the gipsies。 But they despised wealth she knew； and she had to content herself with embraces； which on her part were sincere。
CHAPTER 4。
With some of the guineas left from the sale of the tenth pearl on her string； Orlando bought herself a plete outfit of such clothes as women then wore； and it was in the dress of a young Englishwoman of rank that she now sat on the deck of the “Enamoured Lady”。 It is a strange fact； but a true one； that up to this moment she had scarcely given her sex a thought。 Perhaps the Turkish trousers which she had hitherto worn had done something to distract her thoughts； and the gipsy women； except in one or two important particulars； differ very little from the gipsy men。 At any rate； it was not until she felt the coil of skirts about her legs and the Captain offered； with the greatest politeness； to have an awning spread for her on deck； that she realized with a start the penalties and the privileges of her position。 But that start was not of the kind that might have been expected。
It was not caused； that is to say； simply and solely by the thought of her chastity and how she could preserve it。 In normal circumstances a lovely young woman alone would have thought of nothing else； the whole edifice of female government is based on that foundation stone； chastity is their jewel； their centrepiece； which they run mad to protect； and die when ravished of。 But if one has been a man for thirty years or so； and an Ambassador into the bargain； if one has held a Queen in one’s arms and one or two other ladies； if report be true； of less exalted rank； if one has married a Rosina Pepita； and so on； one does not perhaps give such a very great start about that。 Orlando’s start was of a very plicated kind； and not to be summed up in a trice。 Nobody； indeed； ever accused her of being one of those quick wits who run to the end of things in a minute。 It took her the entire length of the voyage to moralize out the meaning of her start； and so； at her own pace； we will follow her。
‘Lord；’ she thought； when she had recovered from her start； stretching herself out at length under her awning； ‘this is a pleasant； lazy way of life； to be sure。 But；’ she thought； giving her legs a kick； ‘these skirts are plaguey things to have about one’s heels。 Yet the stuff （flowered paduasoy） is the loveliest in the world。 Never have I seen my own skin （here she laid her hand on her knee） look to such advantage as now。 Could I； however； leap overboard and swim in clothes like these？ No！ Therefore； I should have to trust to the protection of a blue–jacket。 Do I object to that？ Now do I？’ she wondered； here encountering the first knot in the smooth skein of her argument。
Dinner came before she had untied it； and then it was the Captain himself—Captain Nicholas Benedict Bartolus； a sea–captain of distinguished aspect； who did it for her as he helped her to a slice of corned beef。
‘A little of the fat； Ma’m？’ he asked。 ‘Let me cut you just the tiniest little slice the size of your fingernail。’ At those words a delicious tremor ran through her frame。 Birds sang； the torrents rushed。 It recalled the feeling of indescribable pleasure with which she had first seen Sasha； hundreds of years ago。 Then she had pursued； now she fled。 Which is the greater ecstasy？ The man’s or the woman’s？ And are they not perhaps the same？ No； she thought； this is the most delicious （thanking the Captain but refusing）； to refuse； and see him frown。 Well； she would； if he wished it； have the very thinnest； smallest shiver in the world。 This was the most delicious of all； to yield and see him smile。 ‘For nothing；’ she thought； regaining her couch on deck； and continuing the argument； ‘is more heavenly than to resist and to yield； to yield and to resist。 Surely it throws the spirit into such a rapture as nothing else can。 So that I’m not sure’； she continued； ‘that I won’t throw myself overboard； for the mere pleasure of being rescued by a blue–jacket after all。’
（It must be remembered that she was like a child entering into possession of a pleasaunce or toy cupboard； her arguments would not mend themselves to mature women； who have had the run of it all their lives。）
‘But what used we young fellows in the cockpit of the “Marie Rose” to say about a woman who threw herself overboard for the pleasure of being rescued by a blue–jacket？’ she said。 ‘We had a word for them。 Ah！ I have it。。。’ （But we must omit that word； it was disrespectful in the extreme and passing strange on a lady’s lips。） ‘Lord！ Lord！ she cried again at the conclusion of her thoughts； ‘must I then begin to respect the opinion of the other sex； however monstrous I think it？ If I wear skirts； if I can’t swim； if I have to be rescued by a blue–jacket； by God！’ she cried； ‘I must！’ Upon which a gloom fell over her。 Candid by nature； and averse to all kinds of equivocation； to tell lies bored her。 It seemed to her a roundabout way of going to work。 Yet； she reflected； the flowered paduasoy—the pleasure of being rescued by a blue–jacket—if these were only to be obtained by roundabout ways； roundabout one must go； she supposed。 She remembered how； as a young man； she had insisted that women must be obedient； chaste； scented； and exquisitely apparelled。 ‘Now I shall have to pay in my own person for those desires；’ she reflected； ‘for women are not （judging by my own short experience of the sex） obedient； chaste； scented； and exquisitely apparelled by nature。 They can only attain these graces； without which they may enjoy none of the delights of life； by the most tedious discipline。 There’s the hairdressing；’ she thought； ‘that alone will take an hour of my morning； there’s looking in the looking–glass； another hour； there’s staying and lacing； there’s washing and powdering； there’s changing from silk to lace and from lace to paduasoy； there’s being chast