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"If it had been any one else but Dune . . ." but it couldn't have been any one else. There was no other possible rival, and "Cards," like the rest of the world, bowed to Dune's charm. The Dublin match, to be played now in a fortnight's time, would settle the football question. It was generally expected that they would try Dune in that match and judge him finally then on his play.
There remained then only this fourth place, and Cardillac seemed certain enough . . . until Dune's revival. And now it depended on Whymper. He would choose, of the two men, the one who suited him the better. Cardillac had played with him more than had Dune. Cardillac was safe, steady, reliable. Dune was uncertain, capricious, suddenly indifferent.
He had thought that his attitude had been nicely adjusted, but now he saw that there were still heights to be reached perhaps in this welcome that he was giving to Dune's success he might attain his position. . . . Not, in any way, a bad fellow, this Cardillac but obsessed by a self-conscious conviction that the world was looking at him; the world never looks for more than an instant at self-consciousness, but it dearly loves self-forgetfulness, for that implies a compliment to itself.
He knew that he made no attempt to escape the man in front of him; he seemed to run straight into his arms; he heard a little sigh go up from behind the ropes, as he tumbled to the ground, letting the ball trickle feebly from his fingers. A try missed if ever one was! No one said anything, but he felt the disappointment in the air. He knew what they were saying "One of Dune's off days!
It amazed him now when both these Prizes were seriously threatened that he should still appreciate and even seek out Dune's company.
Certain, at any rate, that Dune's recrudescence threatened the ruin of Cardillac's two dearest ambitions, and Cardillac did not easily either forget or forgive.
There were only ten minutes left for play and Cambridge were still five points behind. Somebody standing in the crowd said, "By Jove, Dune seems to be enjoying it. I never saw any one look as happy." Some one else said, "Dune's possessed by a devil or something. I never saw anything like that pace. He doesn't seem to be watching the game at all, though."
Nevertheless those earlier games were yet remembered against him, and it was confidently said that this brilliance, with a man of Dune's temperament, could not possibly last. But, nevertheless, the expectation of his success brought him up, with precipitation, against the personality of Cardillac, and it was this implied rivalry that agitated the College.
There was a line-out, a Cambridge man had the ball and fell, Cambridge dribbled past the ball to the half, the ball was in Cardillac's hands. Let this be ever to Cardillac's honour! Fame of a lifetime might have been his, the way was almost clear before him he passed back to Olva. The moment had come. The crowd fell first into a breathless silence, then screamed with excitement "Dune's got it.
On the other hand not Whymper himself could rival the brilliance of Dune's game against the Harlequins. That was in a place by itself let him play like that at Queen's Club in December and no Oxford defence could stop him. So it was argued, so discussed.
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