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at　to　say　next。　Indeed；　Orlando　was　at　her　wit’s　end　what　to　talk　about　and　had　she　not　bethought　her　of　a　game　called　Fly　Loo；　at　which　great　sums　of　money　can　be　lost　with　very　little　expense　of　spirit；　she　would　have　had　to　marry　him；　she　supposed；　for　how　else　to　get　rid　of　him　she　knew　not。　By　this　device；　however；　and　it　was　a　simple　one；　needing　only　three　lumps　of　sugar　and　a　sufficiency　of　flies；　the　embarrassment　of　conversation　was　overe　and　the　necessity　of　marriage　avoided。　For　now；　the　Archduke　would　bet　her　five　hundred　pounds　to　a　tester　that　a　fly　would　settle　on　this　lump　and　not　on　that。　Thus；　they　would　have　occupation　for　a　whole　morning　watching　the　flies　（who　were　naturally　sluggish　at　this　season　and　often　spent　an　hour　or　so　circling　round　the　ceiling）　until　at　length　some　fine　bluebottle　made　his　choice　and　the　match　was　won。　Many　hundreds　of　pounds　changed　hands　between　them　at　this　game；　which　the　Archduke；　who　was　a　born　gambler；　swore　was　every　bit　as　good　as　horse　racing；　and　vowed　he　could　play　at　for　ever。　But　Orlando　soon　began　to　weary。

What’s　the　good　of　being　a　fine　young　woman　in　the　prime　of　life’；　she　asked；　‘if　I　have　to　pass　all　my　mornings　watching　blue–bottles　with　an　Archduke？’

She　began　to　detest　the　sight　of　sugar；　flies　made　her　dizzy。　Some　way　out　of　the　difficulty　there　must　be；　she　supposed；　but　she　was　still　awkward　in　the　arts　of　her　sex；　and　as　she　could　no　longer　knock　a　man　over　the　head　or　run　him　through　the　body　with　a　rapier；　she　could　think　of　no　better　method　than　this。　She　caught　a　blue–bottle；　gently　pressed　the　life　out　of　it　（it　was　half　dead　already；　or　her　kindness　for　the　dumb　creatures　would　not　have　permitted　it）　and　secured　it　by　a　drop　of　gum　arabic　to　a　lump　of　sugar。　While　the　Archduke　was　gazing　at　the　ceiling；　she　deftly　substituted　this　lump　for　the　one　she　had　laid　her　money　on；　and　crying　‘Loo　Loo！’　declared　that　she　had　won　her　bet。　Her　reckoning　was　that　the　Archduke；　with　all　his　knowledge　of　sport　and　horseracing；　would　detect　the　fraud　and；　as　to　cheat　at　Loo　is　the　most　heinous　of　crimes；　and　men　have　been　banished　from　the　society　of　mankind　to　that　of　apes　in　the　tropics　for　ever　because　of　it；　she　calculated　that　he　would　be　manly　enough　to　refuse　to　have　anything　further　to　do　with　her。　But　she　misjudged　the　simplicity　of　the　amiable　nobleman。　He　was　no　nice　judge　of　flies。　A　dead　fly　looked　to　him　much　the　same　as　a　living　one。　She　played　the　trick　twenty　times　on　him　and　he　paid　her　over　17；250　pounds　（which　is　about　40；885　pounds　6　shillings　and　8　pence　of　our　own　money）　before　Orlando　cheated　so　grossly　that　even　he　could　be　deceived　no　longer。　When　he　realized　the　truth　at　last；　a　painful　scene　ensued。　The　Archduke　rose　to　his　full　height。　He　coloured　scarlet。　Tears　rolled　down　his　cheeks　one　by　one。　That　she　had　won　a　fortune　from　him　was　nothing—she　was　wele　to　it；　that　she　had　deceived　him　was　something—it　hurt　him　to　think　her　capable　of　it；　but　that　she　had　cheated　at　Loo　was　everything。　To　love　a　woman　who　cheated　at　play　was；　he　said；　impossible。　Here　he　broke　down　pletely。　Happily；　he　said；　recovering　slightly；　there　were　no　witnesses。　She　was；　after　all；　only　a　woman；　he　said。　In　short；　he　was　preparing　in　the　chivalry　of　his　heart　to　forgive　her　and　had　bent　to　ask　her　pardon　for　the　violence　of　his　language；　when　she　cut　the　matter　short；　as　he　stooped　his　proud　head；　by　dropping　a　small　toad　between　his　skin　and　his　shirt。

In　justice　to　her；　it　must　be　said　that　she　would　infinitely　have　preferred　a　rapier。　Toads　are　clammy　things　to　conceal　about　one’s　person　a　whole　morning。　But　if　rapiers　are　forbidden；　one　must　have　recourse　to　toads。　Moreover　toads　and　laughter　between　them　sometimes　do　what　cold　steel　cannot。　She　laughed。　The　Archduke　blushed。　She　laughed。　The　Archduke　cursed。　She　laughed。　The　Archduke　slammed　the　door。

‘Heaven　be　praised！’　cried　Orlando　still　laughing。　She　heard　the　sound　of　chariot　wheels　driven　at　a　furious　pace　down　the　courtyard。　She　heard　them　rattle　along　the　road。　Fainter　and　fainter　the　sound　became。　Now　it　faded　away　altogether。

‘I　am　alone；’　said　Orlando；　aloud　since　there　was　no　one　to　hear。

That　silence　is　more　profound　after　noise　still　wants　the　confirmation　of　science。　But　that　loneliness　is　more　apparent　directly　after　one　has　been　made　love　to；　many　women　would　take　their　oath。　As　the　sound　of　the　Archduke’s　chariot　wheels　died　away；　Orlando　felt　drawing　further　from　her　and　further　from　her　an　Archduke　（she　did　not　mind　that）；　a　fortune　（she　did　not　mind　that）；　a　title　（she　did　not　mind　that）；　the　safety　and　circumstance　of　married　life　（she　did　not　mind　that）；　but　life　she　heard　going　from　her；　and　a　lover。　‘Life　and　a　lover；’　she　murmured；　and　going　to　her　writing–table　she　dipped　her　pen　in　the　ink　and　wrote：

‘Life　and　a　lover’—a　line　which　did　not　scan　and　made　no　sense　with　what　went　before—something　about　the　proper　way　of　dipping　sheep　to　avoid　the　scab。　Reading　it　over　she　blushed　and　repeated；

‘Life　and　a　lover。’　Then　laying　her　pen　aside　she　went　into　her　bedroom；　stood　in　front　of　her　mirror；　and　arranged　her　pearls　about　her　neck。　Then　since　pearls　do　not　show　to　advantage　against　a　morning　gown　of　sprigged　cotton；　she　changed　to　a　dove　grey　taffeta；　thence　to　one　of　peach　bloom；　thence　to　a　wine–coloured　brocade。　Perhaps　a　dash　of　powder　was　needed；　and　if　her　hair　were　disposed—so—about　her　brow；　it　might　bee　her。　Then　she　slipped　her　feet　into　pointed　slippers；　and　drew　an　emerald　ring　upon　her　finger。　‘Now；’　she　said　when　all　was　ready　and　lit　the　silver　sconces　on　either　side　of　the　mirror。　What　woman　would　not　have　kindled　to　see　what　Orlando　saw　then　burning　in　the　snow—for　all　about　the　looking–glass　were　snowy　lawns；　and　she　was　like　a　fire；　a　burning　bush；　and　the　candle　flames　about　her　head　were　silver　leaves；　or　again；　the　glass　was　green　water；　and　she　a　mermaid；　slung　with　pearls；　a　siren　in　a　cave；　singing　so　that　oarsmen　leant　from　their　boats　and　fell　down；　down　to　embrace　her；　so　dark；　so　bright；　so　hard；　so　soft；　was　she；　so　astonishingly　seductive　that　it　was　a　thousand　pities　that　there　was　no　one　there　to　put　it　in　plain　English；　and　say　outright；　‘Damn　it；　Madam；　you　are　loveliness　incarnate；’　which　was　the　truth。　Even　Orlando　（who　had　no　conceit　of　her　person）　knew　it；　for　she　smiled　the　involuntary　smile　which　women　smile　when　their　own　beauty；　which　seems　not　their　own；　forms　like　a　drop　falling　or　a　fountain　rising　and　confronts　them　all　of　a　sudden　in　the　glass—this　smile　she　smiled　and　then　she　listened　for　a　moment　and　heard　only　the　leaves　blowing　and　the　sparrows　twittering；　and　then　she　sighed；　‘Life；　a　lover；’　and　then　she　turned　on　her　heel　with　extraordinary　rapidity；　whipped　her　pearls　from　her　neck；　stripped　the　satins　from　her　back；　stood　erect　in　the　neat　black　silk　knickerbockers　of　an　ordinary　nobleman；　and　rang　the　bell。　When　the　servant　came；　she　told　him　to　order　a　coach　and　six　to　be　in　readiness　instantly。　She　was　summoned　by　urgent　affairs　to　London。　Within　an　hour　of　the　Archduke’s　departure；　off　she　drove。

And　as　she　drove；　we　may　seize　the　opportunity；　since　the　landscape　was　of　a　simple　English　kind　which　needs　no　description；　to　draw　the　reader’s　attention　more　particularly　than　we　could　at　the　moment　to　one　or　two　remarks　which　have　slipped　in　here　and　there　in　the　course　of　the　narrative。　For　example；　it　may　have　been　observed　that　Orlando　hid　her　manuscripts　when　interrupted。　Next；　that　she　looked　long　and　intently　in　the　glass；　and　now；　as　she　drove　to　London；　one　might　notice　her　starting　and　suppressing　a　cry　when　the　horses　galloped　faster　than　she　liked。　Her　modesty　as　to　her　writing；　her　vanity　as　to　her　person；　her　fears　for　her　safety　all　seems　to　hint　that　what　was　said　a　short　time　ago　about　there　being　no　change　in　Orlando　the　man　and　Orlando　the　woman；　was　ceasing　to　be　altogether　true。　She　was　being　a　little　more　modest；　as　women　are；　of　her　brains；　and　a　little　more　vain；　as　women　are；　of　her　person。　Certain　susceptibilities　were　asserting　themselves；　and　others　were　diminishing。　The　change　of　clothes　had；　some　philosophers　will　say；　much　to　do　with　it。　Vain　trifles　as　they　seem；　clothes　have；　they　say；　more　important　offices　than　merely　to　keep　us　warm。　They　change　our　view　of　the　world　and　the　world’s　view　of　us。　For　example；　when　Captain　Bartolus　saw　Orlando’s　skirt；　he　had　an　awning　stretched　for　her　immediately；　pressed　her　to　take　another　slice　of　beef；　and　invited　her　to　go　ashore　with　him　in　the　long–boat。　These　pliments　would　certainly　not　have　been　paid　her　had　her　skirts；　instead　of　flowing；　been　cut　tight　to　her　legs　in　the　fashion　of　breeches。　And　when　we　are　paid　pliments；　it　behoves　us　to　make　some　return。　Orlando　curtseyed；　she　plied；　she　flattered　the　good　man’s　humours　as　she　would　not　have　done　had　his　neat　breeches　been　a　woman’s　skirts；　and　his　braided　coat　a　woman’s　satin　bodice。　Thus；　there　is　much　to　support　the　view　that　it　is　clothes　that　wear　us　and　not　we　them；　we　may　make　them　take　the　mould　of　arm　or　breast；　but　they　mould　our　hearts；　our　brains；　our　tongues　to　their　liking。　So；　having　now　worn　skirts　for　a　considerable　time；　a　certain　change　was　visible　in　Orlando；　which　is　to　be　found　if　the　reader　will　look　at　@　above；　even　in　her　face。　If　we　pare　the　picture　of　Orlando　as　a　man　with　that　of　Orlando　as　a　woman　we　shall　see　that　though　both　are　undoubtedly　one　and　the　same　person；　there　are　certain　changes。　The　man　has　his　hand　free　to　seize　his　sword；　the　woman　must　use　hers　to　keep　the　satins　from　slipping　from　her　shoulders。　The　man　looks　the　world　full　in　the　face；　as　if　it　were　made　for　his　uses　and　fashioned　to　his　liking。　The　woman　takes　a　sidelong　glance　at　it；　full　of　subtlety；　even　of　suspicion。　Had　they　both　worn　the　same　clothes；　it　is　possible　that　their　outlook　might　have　been　the　same。

That　is　the　view　of　some　philosophers　and　wise　ones；　but　on　the　whole；　we　incline　to　another。　The　difference　between　the　sexes　is；　happily；　one　of　great　profundity。　Clothes　are　but　a　symbol　of　something　hid　deep　beneath。　It　was　a　change　in　Orlando　herself　that　dictated　her　choice　of　a　woman’s　dress　and　of　a　woman’s　sex。　And　perhaps　in　this　she　was　only　expressing　rather　more　openly　than　usual—openness　indeed　was　the　soul　of　her　nature—something　that　happens　to　most　people　without　being　thus　plainly　expressed。　For　here　again；　we　e　to　a　dilemma。　Different　though　the　sexes　are；　they　intermix。　In　every　human　being　a　vacillation　from　one　sex　to　the　other　takes　place；　and　often　it　is　only　the　clothes　that　keep　the　male　or　female　likeness；　while　underneath　the　sex　is　the　very　opposite　of　what　it　is　above。　Of　the　plications　and　confusions　which　thus　result　everyone　has　had　experience；　but　here　we　leave　the　general　question　and　note　only　the　odd　effect　it　had　in　the　particular　case　of　Orlando　herself。

For　it　was　this　mixture　in　her　of　man　and　woman；　one　being　uppermost　and　then　the　other；　that　often　gave　her　conduct　an　unexpected　turn。　The　curious　of　her　own　sex　would　argue；　for　example；　if　Orlando　was　a　woman；　how　did　she　never　take　more　than　ten　minutes　to　dress？　And　were　not　her　clothes　chosen　rather　at　random；　and

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