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diff --git a/1083.txt b/1083.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..32ee5d4 --- /dev/null +++ b/1083.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11197 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Arrow of Gold, by Joseph Conrad + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Arrow of Gold + a story between two notes + + +Author: Joseph Conrad + + + +Release Date: August 3, 2009 [eBook #1083] +[This file last updated December 27, 2010] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ARROW OF GOLD*** + + +Transcribed from the 1921 T. Fisher Unwin by David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org + + + + + + THE + ARROW OF GOLD + + + A STORY BETWEEN TWO NOTES + + BY + JOSEPH CONRAD + + Celui qui n'a connu que des hommes + polis et raisonnables, ou ne connait pas + l'homme, ou ne le connait qu'a demi. + + CARACTERES. + + * * * * * + + T. FISHER UNWIN, LTD. + LONDON: ADELPHI TERRACE + + * * * * * + +_First published_ _August_ 1919 +_Reprinted_ _December_ 1919 +_Reprinted_ _October_ 1921 + + * * * * * + + ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + + * * * * * + + TO + RICHARD CURLE + + * * * * * + + + + +FIRST NOTE + + +The pages which follow have been extracted from a pile of manuscript +which was apparently meant for the eye of one woman only. She seems to +have been the writer's childhood's friend. They had parted as children, +or very little more than children. Years passed. Then something +recalled to the woman the companion of her young days and she wrote to +him: "I have been hearing of you lately. I know where life has brought +you. You certainly selected your own road. But to us, left behind, it +always looked as if you had struck out into a pathless desert. We always +regarded you as a person that must be given up for lost. But you have +turned up again; and though we may never see each other, my memory +welcomes you and I confess to you I should like to know the incidents on +the road which has led you to where you are now." + +And he answers her: "I believe you are the only one now alive who +remembers me as a child. I have heard of you from time to time, but I +wonder what sort of person you are now. Perhaps if I did know I wouldn't +dare put pen to paper. But I don't know. I only remember that we were +great chums. In fact, I chummed with you even more than with your +brothers. But I am like the pigeon that went away in the fable of the +Two Pigeons. If I once start to tell you I would want you to feel that +you have been there yourself. I may overtax your patience with the story +of my life so different from yours, not only in all the facts but +altogether in spirit. You may not understand. You may even be shocked. +I say all this to myself; but I know I shall succumb! I have a distinct +recollection that in the old days, when you were about fifteen, you +always could make me do whatever you liked." + +He succumbed. He begins his story for her with the minute narration of +this adventure which took about twelve months to develop. In the form in +which it is presented here it has been pruned of all allusions to their +common past, of all asides, disquisitions, and explanations addressed +directly to the friend of his childhood. And even as it is the whole +thing is of considerable length. It seems that he had not only a memory +but that he also knew how to remember. But as to that opinions may +differ. + +This, his first great adventure, as he calls it, begins in Marseilles. +It ends there, too. Yet it might have happened anywhere. This does not +mean that the people concerned could have come together in pure space. +The locality had a definite importance. As to the time, it is easily +fixed by the events at about the middle years of the seventies, when Don +Carlos de Bourbon, encouraged by the general reaction of all Europe +against the excesses of communistic Republicanism, made his attempt for +the throne of Spain, arms in hand, amongst the hills and gorges of +Guipuzcoa. It is perhaps the last instance of a Pretender's adventure +for a Crown that History will have to record with the usual grave moral +disapproval tinged by a shamefaced regret for the departing romance. +Historians are very much like other people. + +However, History has nothing to do with this tale. Neither is the moral +justification or condemnation of conduct aimed at here. If anything it +is perhaps a little sympathy that the writer expects for his buried +youth, as he lives it over again at the end of his insignificant course +on this earth. Strange person--yet perhaps not so very different from +ourselves. + +A few words as to certain facts may be added. + +It may seem that he was plunged very abruptly into this long adventure. +But from certain passages (suppressed here because mixed up with +irrelevant matter) it appears clearly that at the time of the meeting in +the cafe, Mills had already gathered, in various quarters, a definite +view of the eager youth who had been introduced to him in that +ultra-legitimist salon. What Mills had learned represented him as a +young gentleman who had arrived furnished with proper credentials and who +apparently was doing his best to waste his life in an eccentric fashion, +with a bohemian set (one poet, at least, emerged out of it later) on one +side, and on the other making friends with the people of the Old Town, +pilots, coasters, sailors, workers of all sorts. He pretended rather +absurdly to be a seaman himself and was already credited with an +ill-defined and vaguely illegal enterprise in the Gulf of Mexico. At +once it occurred to Mills that this eccentric youngster was the very +person for what the legitimist sympathizers had very much at heart just +then: to organize a supply by sea of arms and ammunition to the Carlist +detachments in the South. It was precisely to confer on that matter with +Dona Rita that Captain Blunt had been despatched from Headquarters. + +Mills got in touch with Blunt at once and put the suggestion before him. +The Captain thought this the very thing. As a matter of fact, on that +evening of Carnival, those two, Mills and Blunt, had been actually +looking everywhere for our man. They had decided that he should be drawn +into the affair if it could be done. Blunt naturally wanted to see him +first. He must have estimated him a promising person, but, from another +point of view, not dangerous. Thus lightly was the notorious (and at the +same time mysterious) Monsieur George brought into the world; out of the +contact of two minds which did not give a single thought to his flesh and +blood. + +Their purpose explains the intimate tone given to their first +conversation and the sudden introduction of Dona Rita's history. Mills, +of course, wanted to hear all about it. As to Captain Blunt--I suspect +that, at the time, he was thinking of nothing else. In addition it was +Dona Rita who would have to do the persuading; for, after all, such an +enterprise with its ugly and desperate risks was not a trifle to put +before a man--however young. + +It cannot be denied that Mills seems to have acted somewhat +unscrupulously. He himself appears to have had some doubt about it, at a +given moment, as they were driving to the Prado. But perhaps Mills, with +his penetration, understood very well the nature he was dealing with. He +might even have envied it. But it's not my business to excuse Mills. As +to him whom we may regard as Mills' victim it is obvious that he has +never harboured a single reproachful thought. For him Mills is not to be +criticized. A remarkable instance of the great power of mere +individuality over the young. + + + + +PART ONE + + +CHAPTER I + + +Certain streets have an atmosphere of their own, a sort of universal fame +and the particular affection of their citizens. One of such streets is +the Cannebiere, and the jest: "If Paris had a Cannebiere it would be a +little Marseilles" is the jocular expression of municipal pride. I, too, +I have been under the spell. For me it has been a street leading into +the unknown. + +There was a part of it where one could see as many as five big cafes in a +resplendent row. That evening I strolled into one of them. It was by no +means full. It looked deserted, in fact, festal and overlighted, but +cheerful. The wonderful street was distinctly cold (it was an evening of +carnival), I was very idle, and I was feeling a little lonely. So I went +in and sat down. + +The carnival time was drawing to an end. Everybody, high and low, was +anxious to have the last fling. Companies of masks with linked arms and +whooping like red Indians swept the streets in crazy rushes while gusts +of cold mistral swayed the gas lights as far as the eye could reach. +There was a touch of bedlam in all this. + +Perhaps it was that which made me feel lonely, since I was neither +masked, nor disguised, nor yelling, nor in any other way in harmony with +the bedlam element of life. But I was not sad. I was merely in a state +of sobriety. I had just returned from my second West Indies voyage. My +eyes were still full of tropical splendour, my memory of my experiences, +lawful and lawless, which had their charm and their thrill; for they had +startled me a little and had amused me considerably. But they had left +me untouched. Indeed they were other men's adventures, not mine. Except +for a little habit of responsibility which I had acquired they had not +matured me. I was as young as before. Inconceivably young--still +beautifully unthinking--infinitely receptive. + +You may believe that I was not thinking of Don Carlos and his fight for a +kingdom. Why should I? You don't want to think of things which you meet +every day in the newspapers and in conversation. I had paid some calls +since my return and most of my acquaintance were legitimists and +intensely interested in the events of the frontier of Spain, for +political, religious, or romantic reasons. But I was not interested. +Apparently I was not romantic enough. Or was it that I was even more +romantic than all those good people? The affair seemed to me +commonplace. That man was attending to his business of a Pretender. + +On the front page of the illustrated paper I saw lying on a table near +me, he looked picturesque enough, seated on a boulder, a big strong man +with a square-cut beard, his hands resting on the hilt of a cavalry +sabre--and all around him a landscape of savage mountains. He caught my +eye on that spiritedly composed woodcut. (There were no inane +snapshot-reproductions in those days.) It was the obvious romance for +the use of royalists but it arrested my attention. + +Just then some masks from outside invaded the cafe, dancing hand in hand +in a single file led by a burly man with a cardboard nose. He gambolled +in wildly and behind him twenty others perhaps, mostly Pierrots and +Pierrettes holding each other by the hand and winding in and out between +the chairs and tables: eyes shining in the holes of cardboard faces, +breasts panting; but all preserving a mysterious silence. + +They were people of the poorer sort (white calico with red spots, +costumes), but amongst them there was a girl in a black dress sewn over +with gold half moons, very high in the neck and very short in the skirt. +Most of the ordinary clients of the cafe didn't even look up from their +games or papers. I, being alone and idle, stared abstractedly. The girl +costumed as Night wore a small black velvet mask, what is called in +French a "_loup_." What made her daintiness join that obviously rough +lot I can't imagine. Her uncovered mouth and chin suggested refined +prettiness. + +They filed past my table; the Night noticed perhaps my fixed gaze and +throwing her body forward out of the wriggling chain shot out at me a +slender tongue like a pink dart. I was not prepared for this, not even +to the extent of an appreciative "_Tres foli_," before she wriggled and +hopped away. But having been thus distinguished I could do no less than +follow her with my eyes to the door where the chain of hands being broken +all the masks were trying to get out at once. Two gentlemen coming in +out of the street stood arrested in the crush. The Night (it must have +been her idiosyncrasy) put her tongue out at them, too. The taller of +the two (he was in evening clothes under a light wide-open overcoat) with +great presence of mind chucked her under the chin, giving me the view at +the same time of a flash of white teeth in his dark, lean face. The +other man was very different; fair, with smooth, ruddy cheeks and burly +shoulders. He was wearing a grey suit, obviously bought ready-made, for +it seemed too tight for his powerful frame. + +That man was not altogether a stranger to me. For the last week or so I +had been rather on the look-out for him in all the public places where in +a provincial town men may expect to meet each other. I saw him for the +first time (wearing that same grey ready-made suit) in a legitimist +drawing-room where, clearly, he was an object of interest, especially to +the women. I had caught his name as Monsieur Mills. The lady who had +introduced me took the earliest opportunity to murmur into my ear: "A +relation of Lord X." (_Un proche parent de Lord X_.) And then she +added, casting up her eyes: "A good friend of the King." Meaning Don +Carlos of course. + +I looked at the _proche parent_; not on account of the parentage but +marvelling at his air of ease in that cumbrous body and in such tight +clothes, too. But presently the same lady informed me further: "He has +come here amongst us _un naufrage_." + +I became then really interested. I had never seen a shipwrecked person +before. All the boyishness in me was aroused. I considered a shipwreck +as an unavoidable event sooner or later in my future. + +Meantime the man thus distinguished in my eyes glanced quietly about and +never spoke unless addressed directly by one of the ladies present. +There were more than a dozen people in that drawing-room, mostly women +eating fine pastry and talking passionately. It might have been a +Carlist committee meeting of a particularly fatuous character. Even my +youth and inexperience were aware of that. And I was by a long way the +youngest person in the room. That quiet Monsieur Mills intimidated me a +little by his age (I suppose he was thirty-five), his massive +tranquillity, his clear, watchful eyes. But the temptation was too +great--and I addressed him impulsively on the subject of that shipwreck. + +He turned his big fair face towards me with surprise in his keen glance, +which (as though he had seen through me in an instant and found nothing +objectionable) changed subtly into friendliness. On the matter of the +shipwreck he did not say much. He only told me that it had not occurred +in the Mediterranean, but on the other side of Southern France--in the +Bay of Biscay. "But this is hardly the place to enter on a story of that +kind," he observed, looking round at the room with a faint smile as +attractive as the rest of his rustic but well-bred personality. + +I expressed my regret. I should have liked to hear all about it. To +this he said that it was not a secret and that perhaps next time we +met. . . + +"But where can we meet?" I cried. "I don't come often to this house, you +know." + +"Where? Why on the Cannebiere to be sure. Everybody meets everybody +else at least once a day on the pavement opposite the _Bourse_." + +This was absolutely true. But though I looked for him on each succeeding +day he was nowhere to be seen at the usual times. The companions of my +idle hours (and all my hours were idle just then) noticed my +preoccupation and chaffed me about it in a rather obvious way. They +wanted to know whether she, whom I expected to see, was dark or fair; +whether that fascination which kept me on tenterhooks of expectation was +one of my aristocrats or one of my marine beauties: for they knew I had a +footing in both these--shall we say circles? As to themselves they were +the bohemian circle, not very wide--half a dozen of us led by a sculptor +whom we called Prax for short. My own nick-name was "Young Ulysses." + +I liked it. + +But chaff or no chaff they would have been surprised to see me leave them +for the burly and sympathetic Mills. I was ready to drop any easy +company of equals to approach that interesting man with every mental +deference. It was not precisely because of that shipwreck. He attracted +and interested me the more because he was not to be seen. The fear that +he might have departed suddenly for England--(or for Spain)--caused me a +sort of ridiculous depression as though I had missed a unique +opportunity. And it was a joyful reaction which emboldened me to signal +to him with a raised arm across that cafe. + +I was abashed immediately afterwards, when I saw him advance towards my +table with his friend. The latter was eminently elegant. He was exactly +like one of those figures one can see of a fine May evening in the +neighbourhood of the Opera-house in Paris. Very Parisian indeed. And +yet he struck me as not so perfectly French as he ought to have been, as +if one's nationality were an accomplishment with varying degrees of +excellence. As to Mills, he was perfectly insular. There could be no +doubt about him. They were both smiling faintly at me. The burly Mills +attended to the introduction: "Captain Blunt." + +We shook hands. The name didn't tell me much. What surprised me was +that Mills should have remembered mine so well. I don't want to boast of +my modesty but it seemed to me that two or three days was more than +enough for a man like Mills to forget my very existence. As to the +Captain, I was struck on closer view by the perfect correctness of his +personality. Clothes, slight figure, clear-cut, thin, sun-tanned face, +pose, all this was so good that it was saved from the danger of banality +only by the mobile black eyes of a keenness that one doesn't meet every +day in the south of France and still less in Italy. Another thing was +that, viewed as an officer in mufti, he did not look sufficiently +professional. That imperfection was interesting, too. + +You may think that I am subtilizing my impressions on purpose, but you +may take it from a man who has lived a rough, a very rough life, that it +is the subtleties of personalities, and contacts, and events, that count +for interest and memory--and pretty well nothing else. This--you see--is +the last evening of that part of my life in which I did not know that +woman. These are like the last hours of a previous existence. It isn't +my fault that they are associated with nothing better at the decisive +moment than the banal splendours of a gilded cafe and the bedlamite yells +of carnival in the street. + +We three, however (almost complete strangers to each other), had assumed +attitudes of serious amiability round our table. A waiter approached for +orders and it was then, in relation to my order for coffee, that the +absolutely first thing I learned of Captain Blunt was the fact that he +was a sufferer from insomnia. In his immovable way Mills began charging +his pipe. I felt extremely embarrassed all at once, but became +positively annoyed when I saw our Prax enter the cafe in a sort of +mediaeval costume very much like what Faust wears in the third act. I +have no doubt it was meant for a purely operatic Faust. A light mantle +floated from his shoulders. He strode theatrically up to our table and +addressing me as "Young Ulysses" proposed I should go outside on the +fields of asphalt and help him gather a few marguerites to decorate a +truly infernal supper which was being organized across the road at the +Maison Doree--upstairs. With expostulatory shakes of the head and +indignant glances I called his attention to the fact that I was not +alone. He stepped back a pace as if astonished by the discovery, took +off his plumed velvet toque with a low obeisance so that the feathers +swept the floor, and swaggered off the stage with his left hand resting +on the hilt of the property dagger at his belt. + +Meantime the well-connected but rustic Mills had been busy lighting his +briar and the distinguished Captain sat smiling to himself. I was +horribly vexed and apologized for that intrusion, saying that the fellow +was a future great sculptor and perfectly harmless; but he had been +swallowing lots of night air which had got into his head apparently. + +Mills peered at me with his friendly but awfully searching blue eyes +through the cloud of smoke he had wreathed about his big head. The slim, +dark Captain's smile took on an amiable expression. Might he know why I +was addressed as "Young Ulysses" by my friend? and immediately he added +the remark with urbane playfulness that Ulysses was an astute person. +Mills did not give me time for a reply. He struck in: "That old Greek +was famed as a wanderer--the first historical seaman." He waved his pipe +vaguely at me. + +"Ah! _Vraiment_!" The polite Captain seemed incredulous and as if +weary. "Are you a seaman? In what sense, pray?" We were talking French +and he used the term _homme de mer_. + +Again Mills interfered quietly. "In the same sense in which you are a +military man." (_Homme de guerre_.) + +It was then that I heard Captain Blunt produce one of his striking +declarations. He had two of them, and this was the first. + +"I live by my sword." + +It was said in an extraordinary dandified manner which in conjunction +with the matter made me forget my tongue in my head. I could only stare +at him. He added more naturally: "2nd Reg. Castille, Cavalry." Then +with marked stress in Spanish, "_En las filas legitimas_." + +Mills was heard, unmoved, like Jove in his cloud: "He's on leave here." + +"Of course I don't shout that fact on the housetops," the Captain +addressed me pointedly, "any more than our friend his shipwreck +adventure. We must not strain the toleration of the French authorities +too much! It wouldn't be correct--and not very safe either." + +I became suddenly extremely delighted with my company. A man who "lived +by his sword," before my eyes, close at my elbow! So such people did +exist in the world yet! I had not been born too late! And across the +table with his air of watchful, unmoved benevolence, enough in itself to +arouse one's interest, there was the man with the story of a shipwreck +that mustn't be shouted on housetops. Why? + +I understood very well why, when he told me that he had joined in the +Clyde a small steamer chartered by a relative of his, "a very wealthy +man," he observed (probably Lord X, I thought), to carry arms and other +supplies to the Carlist army. And it was not a shipwreck in the ordinary +sense. Everything went perfectly well to the last moment when suddenly +the _Numancia_ (a Republican ironclad) had appeared and chased them +ashore on the French coast below Bayonne. In a few words, but with +evident appreciation of the adventure, Mills described to us how he swam +to the beach clad simply in a money belt and a pair of trousers. Shells +were falling all round till a tiny French gunboat came out of Bayonne and +shooed the _Numancia_ away out of territorial waters. + +He was very amusing and I was fascinated by the mental picture of that +tranquil man rolling in the surf and emerging breathless, in the costume +you know, on the fair land of France, in the character of a smuggler of +war material. However, they had never arrested or expelled him, since he +was there before my eyes. But how and why did he get so far from the +scene of his sea adventure was an interesting question. And I put it to +him with most naive indiscretion which did not shock him visibly. He +told me that the ship being only stranded, not sunk, the contraband cargo +aboard was doubtless in good condition. The French custom-house men were +guarding the wreck. If their vigilance could be--h'm--removed by some +means, or even merely reduced, a lot of these rifles and cartridges could +be taken off quietly at night by certain Spanish fishing boats. In fact, +salved for the Carlists, after all. He thought it could be done. . . . + +I said with professional gravity that given a few perfectly quiet nights +(rare on that coast) it could certainly be done. + +Mr. Mills was not afraid of the elements. It was the highly inconvenient +zeal of the French custom-house people that had to be dealt with in some +way. + +"Heavens!" I cried, astonished. "You can't bribe the French Customs. +This isn't a South-American republic." + +"Is it a republic?" he murmured, very absorbed in smoking his wooden +pipe. + +"Well, isn't it?" + +He murmured again, "Oh, so little." At this I laughed, and a faintly +humorous expression passed over Mills' face. No. Bribes were out of the +question, he admitted. But there were many legitimist sympathies in +Paris. A proper person could set them in motion and a mere hint from +high quarters to the officials on the spot not to worry over-much about +that wreck. . . . + +What was most amusing was the cool, reasonable tone of this amazing +project. Mr. Blunt sat by very detached, his eyes roamed here and there +all over the cafe; and it was while looking upward at the pink foot of a +fleshy and very much foreshortened goddess of some sort depicted on the +ceiling in an enormous composition in the Italian style that he let fall +casually the words, "She will manage it for you quite easily." + +"Every Carlist agent in Bayonne assured me of that," said Mr. Mills. "I +would have gone straight to Paris only I was told she had fled here for a +rest; tired, discontented. Not a very encouraging report." + +"These flights are well known," muttered Mr. Blunt. "You shall see her +all right." + +"Yes. They told me that you . . . " + +I broke in: "You mean to say that you expect a woman to arrange that sort +of thing for you?" + +"A trifle, for her," Mr. Blunt remarked indifferently. "At that sort of +thing women are best. They have less scruples." + +"More audacity," interjected Mr. Mills almost in a whisper. + +Mr. Blunt kept quiet for a moment, then: "You see," he addressed me in a +most refined tone, "a mere man may suddenly find himself being kicked +down the stairs." + +I don't know why I should have felt shocked by that statement. It could +not be because it was untrue. The other did not give me time to offer +any remark. He inquired with extreme politeness what did I know of South +American republics? I confessed that I knew very little of them. +Wandering about the Gulf of Mexico I had a look-in here and there; and +amongst others I had a few days in Haiti which was of course unique, +being a negro republic. On this Captain Blunt began to talk of negroes +at large. He talked of them with knowledge, intelligence, and a sort of +contemptuous affection. He generalized, he particularized about the +blacks; he told anecdotes. I was interested, a little incredulous, and +considerably surprised. What could this man with such a boulevardier +exterior that he looked positively like, an exile in a provincial town, +and with his drawing-room manner--what could he know of negroes? + +Mills, sitting silent with his air of watchful intelligence, seemed to +read my thoughts, waved his pipe slightly and explained: "The Captain is +from South Carolina." + +"Oh," I murmured, and then after the slightest of pauses I heard the +second of Mr. J. K. Blunt's declarations. + +"Yes," he said. "_Je suis Americain_, _catholique et gentil-homme_," in +a tone contrasting so strongly with the smile, which, as it were, +underlined the uttered words, that I was at a loss whether to return the +smile in kind or acknowledge the words with a grave little bow. Of +course I did neither and there fell on us an odd, equivocal silence. It +marked our final abandonment of the French language. I was the one to +speak first, proposing that my companions should sup with me, not across +the way, which would be riotous with more than one "infernal" supper, but +in another much more select establishment in a side street away from the +Cannebiere. It flattered my vanity a little to be able to say that I had +a corner table always reserved in the Salon des Palmiers, otherwise Salon +Blanc, where the atmosphere was legitimist and extremely decorous +besides--even in Carnival time. "Nine tenths of the people there," I +said, "would be of your political opinions, if that's an inducement. +Come along. Let's be festive," I encouraged them. + +I didn't feel particularly festive. What I wanted was to remain in my +company and break an inexplicable feeling of constraint of which I was +aware. Mills looked at me steadily with a faint, kind smile. + +"No," said Blunt. "Why should we go there? They will be only turning us +out in the small hours, to go home and face insomnia. Can you imagine +anything more disgusting?" + +He was smiling all the time, but his deep-set eyes did not lend +themselves to the expression of whimsical politeness which he tried to +achieve. He had another suggestion to offer. Why shouldn't we adjourn +to his rooms? He had there materials for a dish of his own invention for +which he was famous all along the line of the Royal Cavalry outposts, and +he would cook it for us. There were also a few bottles of some white +wine, quite possible, which we could drink out of Venetian cut-glass +goblets. A _bivouac_ feast, in fact. And he wouldn't turn us out in the +small hours. Not he. He couldn't sleep. + +Need I say I was fascinated by the idea? Well, yes. But somehow I +hesitated and looked towards Mills, so much my senior. He got up without +a word. This was decisive; for no obscure premonition, and of something +indefinite at that, could stand against the example of his tranquil +personality. + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The street in which Mr. Blunt lived presented itself to our eyes, narrow, +silent, empty, and dark, but with enough gas-lamps in it to disclose its +most striking feature: a quantity of flag-poles sticking out above many +of its closed portals. It was the street of Consuls and I remarked to +Mr. Blunt that coming out in the morning he could survey the flags of all +nations almost--except his own. (The U. S. consulate was on the other +side of the town.) He mumbled through his teeth that he took good care +to keep clear of his own consulate. + +"Are you afraid of the consul's dog?" I asked jocularly. The consul's +dog weighed about a pound and a half and was known to the whole town as +exhibited on the consular fore-arm in all places, at all hours, but +mainly at the hour of the fashionable promenade on the Prado. + +But I felt my jest misplaced when Mills growled low in my ear: "They are +all Yankees there." + +I murmured a confused "Of course." + +Books are nothing. I discovered that I had never been aware before that +the Civil War in America was not printed matter but a fact only about ten +years old. Of course. He was a South Carolinian gentleman. I was a +little ashamed of my want of tact. Meantime, looking like the +conventional conception of a fashionable reveller, with his opera-hat +pushed off his forehead, Captain Blunt was having some slight difficulty +with his latch-key; for the house before which we had stopped was not one +of those many-storied houses that made up the greater part of the street. +It had only one row of windows above the ground floor. Dead walls +abutting on to it indicated that it had a garden. Its dark front +presented no marked architectural character, and in the flickering light +of a street lamp it looked a little as though it had gone down in the +world. The greater then was my surprise to enter a hall paved in black +and white marble and in its dimness appearing of palatial proportions. +Mr. Blunt did not turn up the small solitary gas-jet, but led the way +across the black and white pavement past the end of the staircase, past a +door of gleaming dark wood with a heavy bronze handle. It gave access to +his rooms he said; but he took us straight on to the studio at the end of +the passage. + +It was rather a small place tacked on in the manner of a lean-to to the +garden side of the house. A large lamp was burning brightly there. The +floor was of mere flag-stones but the few rugs scattered about though +extremely worn were very costly. There was also there a beautiful sofa +upholstered in pink figured silk, an enormous divan with many cushions, +some splendid arm-chairs of various shapes (but all very shabby), a round +table, and in the midst of these fine things a small common iron stove. +Somebody must have been attending it lately, for the fire roared and the +warmth of the place was very grateful after the bone-searching cold +blasts of mistral outside. + +Mills without a word flung himself on the divan and, propped on his arm, +gazed thoughtfully at a distant corner where in the shadow of a +monumental carved wardrobe an articulated dummy without head or hands but +with beautifully shaped limbs composed in a shrinking attitude, seemed to +be embarrassed by his stare. + +As we sat enjoying the _bivouac_ hospitality (the dish was really +excellent and our host in a shabby grey jacket still looked the +accomplished man-about-town) my eyes kept on straying towards that +corner. Blunt noticed this and remarked that I seemed to be attracted by +the Empress. + +"It's disagreeable," I said. "It seems to lurk there like a shy skeleton +at the feast. But why do you give the name of Empress to that dummy?" + +"Because it sat for days and days in the robes of a Byzantine Empress to +a painter. . . I wonder where he discovered these priceless stuffs. . . +You knew him, I believe?" + +Mills lowered his head slowly, then tossed down his throat some wine out +of a Venetian goblet. + +"This house is full of costly objects. So are all his other houses, so +is his place in Paris--that mysterious Pavilion hidden away in Passy +somewhere." + +Mills knew the Pavilion. The wine had, I suppose, loosened his tongue. +Blunt, too, lost something of his reserve. From their talk I gathered +the notion of an eccentric personality, a man of great wealth, not so +much solitary as difficult of access, a collector of fine things, a +painter known only to very few people and not at all to the public +market. But as meantime I had been emptying my Venetian goblet with a +certain regularity (the amount of heat given out by that iron stove was +amazing; it parched one's throat, and the straw-coloured wine didn't seem +much stronger than so much pleasantly flavoured water) the voices and the +impressions they conveyed acquired something fantastic to my mind. +Suddenly I perceived that Mills was sitting in his shirt-sleeves. I had +not noticed him taking off his coat. Blunt had unbuttoned his shabby +jacket, exposing a lot of starched shirt-front with the white tie under +his dark shaved chin. He had a strange air of insolence--or so it seemed +to me. I addressed him much louder than I intended really. + +"Did you know that extraordinary man?" + +"To know him personally one had to be either very distinguished or very +lucky. Mr. Mills here . . ." + +"Yes, I have been lucky," Mills struck in. "It was my cousin who was +distinguished. That's how I managed to enter his house in Paris--it was +called the Pavilion--twice." + +"And saw Dona Rita twice, too?" asked Blunt with an indefinite smile and +a marked emphasis. Mills was also emphatic in his reply but with a +serious face. + +"I am not an easy enthusiast where women are concerned, but she was +without doubt the most admirable find of his amongst all the priceless +items he had accumulated in that house--the most admirable. . . " + +"Ah! But, you see, of all the objects there she was the only one that +was alive," pointed out Blunt with the slightest possible flavour of +sarcasm. + +"Immensely so," affirmed Mills. "Not because she was restless, indeed +she hardly ever moved from that couch between the windows--you know." + +"No. I don't know. I've never been in there," announced Blunt with that +flash of white teeth so strangely without any character of its own that +it was merely disturbing. + +"But she radiated life," continued Mills. "She had plenty of it, and it +had a quality. My cousin and Henry Allegre had a lot to say to each +other and so I was free to talk to her. At the second visit we were like +old friends, which was absurd considering that all the chances were that +we would never meet again in this world or in the next. I am not +meddling with theology but it seems to me that in the Elysian fields +she'll have her place in a very special company." + +All this in a sympathetic voice and in his unmoved manner. Blunt +produced another disturbing white flash and muttered: + +"I should say mixed." Then louder: "As for instance . . . " + +"As for instance Cleopatra," answered Mills quietly. He added after a +pause: "Who was not exactly pretty." + +"I should have thought rather a La Valliere," Blunt dropped with an +indifference of which one did not know what to make. He may have begun +to be bored with the subject. But it may have been put on, for the whole +personality was not clearly definable. I, however, was not indifferent. +A woman is always an interesting subject and I was thoroughly awake to +that interest. Mills pondered for a while with a sort of dispassionate +benevolence, at last: + +"Yes, Dona Rita as far as I know her is so varied in her simplicity that +even that is possible," he said. "Yes. A romantic resigned La Valliere +. . . who had a big mouth." + +I felt moved to make myself heard. + +"Did you know La Valliere, too?" I asked impertinently. + +Mills only smiled at me. "No. I am not quite so old as that," he said. +"But it's not very difficult to know facts of that kind about a +historical personage. There were some ribald verses made at the time, +and Louis XIV was congratulated on the possession--I really don't +remember how it goes--on the possession of: + + ". . . de ce bec amoureux + Qui d'une oreille a l'autre va, + Tra la la. + +or something of the sort. It needn't be from ear to ear, but it's a fact +that a big mouth is often a sign of a certain generosity of mind and +feeling. Young man, beware of women with small mouths. Beware of the +others, too, of course; but a small mouth is a fatal sign. Well, the +royalist sympathizers can't charge Dona Rita with any lack of generosity +from what I hear. Why should I judge her? I have known her for, say, +six hours altogether. It was enough to feel the seduction of her native +intelligence and of her splendid physique. And all that was brought home +to me so quickly," he concluded, "because she had what some Frenchman has +called the 'terrible gift of familiarity'." + +Blunt had been listening moodily. He nodded assent. + +"Yes!" Mills' thoughts were still dwelling in the past. "And when +saying good-bye she could put in an instant an immense distance between +herself and you. A slight stiffening of that perfect figure, a change of +the physiognomy: it was like being dismissed by a person born in the +purple. Even if she did offer you her hand--as she did to me--it was as +if across a broad river. Trick of manner or a bit of truth peeping out? +Perhaps she's really one of those inaccessible beings. What do you +think, Blunt?" + +It was a direct question which for some reason (as if my range of +sensitiveness had been increased already) displeased or rather disturbed +me strangely. Blunt seemed not to have heard it. But after a while he +turned to me. + +"That thick man," he said in a tone of perfect urbanity, "is as fine as a +needle. All these statements about the seduction and then this final +doubt expressed after only two visits which could not have included more +than six hours altogether and this some three years ago! But it is Henry +Allegre that you should ask this question, Mr. Mills." + +"I haven't the secret of raising the dead," answered Mills good +humouredly. "And if I had I would hesitate. It would seem such a +liberty to take with a person one had known so slightly in life." + +"And yet Henry Allegre is the only person to ask about her, after all +this uninterrupted companionship of years, ever since he discovered her; +all the time, every breathing moment of it, till, literally, his very +last breath. I don't mean to say she nursed him. He had his +confidential man for that. He couldn't bear women about his person. But +then apparently he couldn't bear this one out of his sight. She's the +only woman who ever sat to him, for he would never suffer a model inside +his house. That's why the 'Girl in the Hat' and the 'Byzantine Empress' +have that family air, though neither of them is really a likeness of Dona +Rita. . . You know my mother?" + +Mills inclined his body slightly and a fugitive smile vanished from his +lips. Blunt's eyes were fastened on the very centre of his empty plate. + +"Then perhaps you know my mother's artistic and literary associations," +Blunt went on in a subtly changed tone. "My mother has been writing +verse since she was a girl of fifteen. She's still writing verse. She's +still fifteen--a spoiled girl of genius. So she requested one of her +poet friends--no less than Versoy himself--to arrange for a visit to +Henry Allegre's house. At first he thought he hadn't heard aright. You +must know that for my mother a man that doesn't jump out of his skin for +any woman's caprice is not chivalrous. But perhaps you do know? . . ." + +Mills shook his head with an amused air. Blunt, who had raised his eyes +from his plate to look at him, started afresh with great deliberation. + +"She gives no peace to herself or her friends. My mother's exquisitely +absurd. You understand that all these painters, poets, art collectors +(and dealers in bric-a-brac, he interjected through his teeth) of my +mother are not in my way; but Versoy lives more like a man of the world. +One day I met him at the fencing school. He was furious. He asked me to +tell my mother that this was the last effort of his chivalry. The jobs +she gave him to do were too difficult. But I daresay he had been pleased +enough to show the influence he had in that quarter. He knew my mother +would tell the world's wife all about it. He's a spiteful, gingery +little wretch. The top of his head shines like a billiard ball. I +believe he polishes it every morning with a cloth. Of course they didn't +get further than the big drawing-room on the first floor, an enormous +drawing-room with three pairs of columns in the middle. The double doors +on the top of the staircase had been thrown wide open, as if for a visit +from royalty. You can picture to yourself my mother, with her white hair +done in some 18th century fashion and her sparkling black eyes, +penetrating into those splendours attended by a sort of bald-headed, +vexed squirrel--and Henry Allegre coming forward to meet them like a +severe prince with the face of a tombstone Crusader, big white hands, +muffled silken voice, half-shut eyes, as if looking down at them from a +balcony. You remember that trick of his, Mills?" + +Mills emitted an enormous cloud of smoke out of his distended cheeks. + +"I daresay he was furious, too," Blunt continued dispassionately. "But +he was extremely civil. He showed her all the 'treasures' in the room, +ivories, enamels, miniatures, all sorts of monstrosities from Japan, from +India, from Timbuctoo . . . for all I know. . . He pushed his +condescension so far as to have the 'Girl in the Hat' brought down into +the drawing-room--half length, unframed. They put her on a chair for my +mother to look at. The 'Byzantine Empress' was already there, hung on +the end wall--full length, gold frame weighing half a ton. My mother +first overwhelms the 'Master' with thanks, and then absorbs herself in +the adoration of the 'Girl in the Hat.' Then she sighs out: 'It should +be called Diaphaneite, if there is such a word. Ah! This is the last +expression of modernity!' She puts up suddenly her face-a-main and looks +towards the end wall. 'And that--Byzantium itself! Who was she, this +sullen and beautiful Empress?' + +"'The one I had in my mind was Theodosia!' Allegre consented to answer. +'Originally a slave girl--from somewhere.' + +"My mother can be marvellously indiscreet when the whim takes her. She +finds nothing better to do than to ask the 'Master' why he took his +inspiration for those two faces from the same model. No doubt she was +proud of her discerning eye. It was really clever of her. Allegre, +however, looked on it as a colossal impertinence; but he answered in his +silkiest tones: + +"'Perhaps it is because I saw in that woman something of the women of all +time.' + +"My mother might have guessed that she was on thin ice there. She is +extremely intelligent. Moreover, she ought to have known. But women can +be miraculously dense sometimes. So she exclaims, 'Then she is a +wonder!' And with some notion of being complimentary goes on to say that +only the eyes of the discoverer of so many wonders of art could have +discovered something so marvellous in life. I suppose Allegre lost his +temper altogether then; or perhaps he only wanted to pay my mother out, +for all these 'Masters' she had been throwing at his head for the last +two hours. He insinuates with the utmost politeness: + +"'As you are honouring my poor collection with a visit you may like to +judge for yourself as to the inspiration of these two pictures. She is +upstairs changing her dress after our morning ride. But she wouldn't be +very long. She might be a little surprised at first to be called down +like this, but with a few words of preparation and purely as a matter of +art . . .' + +"There were never two people more taken aback. Versoy himself confesses +that he dropped his tall hat with a crash. I am a dutiful son, I hope, +but I must say I should have liked to have seen the retreat down the +great staircase. Ha! Ha! Ha!" + +He laughed most undutifully and then his face twitched grimly. + +"That implacable brute Allegre followed them down ceremoniously and put +my mother into the fiacre at the door with the greatest deference. He +didn't open his lips though, and made a great bow as the fiacre drove +away. My mother didn't recover from her consternation for three days. I +lunch with her almost daily and I couldn't imagine what was the matter. +Then one day . . ." + +He glanced round the table, jumped up and with a word of excuse left the +studio by a small door in a corner. This startled me into the +consciousness that I had been as if I had not existed for these two men. +With his elbows propped on the table Mills had his hands in front of his +face clasping the pipe from which he extracted now and then a puff of +smoke, staring stolidly across the room. + +I was moved to ask in a whisper: + +"Do you know him well?" + +"I don't know what he is driving at," he answered drily. "But as to his +mother she is not as volatile as all that. I suspect it was business. +It may have been a deep plot to get a picture out of Allegre for +somebody. My cousin as likely as not. Or simply to discover what he +had. The Blunts lost all their property and in Paris there are various +ways of making a little money, without actually breaking anything. Not +even the law. And Mrs. Blunt really had a position once--in the days of +the Second Empire--and so. . ." + +I listened open-mouthed to these things into which my West-Indian +experiences could not have given me an insight. But Mills checked +himself and ended in a changed tone. + +"It's not easy to know what she would be at, either, in any given +instance. For the rest, spotlessly honourable. A delightful, +aristocratic old lady. Only poor." + +A bump at the door silenced him and immediately Mr. John Blunt, Captain +of Cavalry in the Army of Legitimity, first-rate cook (as to one dish at +least), and generous host, entered clutching the necks of four more +bottles between the fingers of his hand. + +"I stumbled and nearly smashed the lot," he remarked casually. But even +I, with all my innocence, never for a moment believed he had stumbled +accidentally. During the uncorking and the filling up of glasses a +profound silence reigned; but neither of us took it seriously--any more +than his stumble. + +"One day," he went on again in that curiously flavoured voice of his, "my +mother took a heroic decision and made up her mind to get up in the +middle of the night. You must understand my mother's phraseology. It +meant that she would be up and dressed by nine o'clock. This time it was +not Versoy that was commanded for attendance, but I. You may imagine how +delighted I was. . . ." + +It was very plain to me that Blunt was addressing himself exclusively to +Mills: Mills the mind, even more than Mills the man. It was as if Mills +represented something initiated and to be reckoned with. I, of course, +could have no such pretensions. If I represented anything it was a +perfect freshness of sensations and a refreshing ignorance, not so much +of what life may give one (as to that I had some ideas at least) but of +what it really contains. I knew very well that I was utterly +insignificant in these men's eyes. Yet my attention was not checked by +that knowledge. It's true they were talking of a woman, but I was yet at +the age when this subject by itself is not of overwhelming interest. My +imagination would have been more stimulated probably by the adventures +and fortunes of a man. What kept my interest from flagging was Mr. Blunt +himself. The play of the white gleams of his smile round the suspicion +of grimness of his tone fascinated me like a moral incongruity. + +So at the age when one sleeps well indeed but does feel sometimes as if +the need of sleep were a mere weakness of a distant old age, I kept +easily awake; and in my freshness I was kept amused by the contrast of +personalities, of the disclosed facts and moral outlook with the rough +initiations of my West-Indian experience. And all these things were +dominated by a feminine figure which to my imagination had only a +floating outline, now invested with the grace of girlhood, now with the +prestige of a woman; and indistinct in both these characters. For these +two men had _seen_ her, while to me she was only being "presented," +elusively, in vanishing words, in the shifting tones of an unfamiliar +voice. + +She was being presented to me now in the Bois de Boulogne at the early +hour of the ultra-fashionable world (so I understood), on a light bay +"bit of blood" attended on the off side by that Henry Allegre mounted on +a dark brown powerful weight carrier; and on the other by one of +Allegre's acquaintances (the man had no real friends), distinguished +frequenters of that mysterious Pavilion. And so that side of the frame +in which that woman appeared to one down the perspective of the great +Allee was not permanent. That morning when Mr. Blunt had to escort his +mother there for the gratification of her irresistible curiosity (of +which he highly disapproved) there appeared in succession, at that +woman's or girl's bridle-hand, a cavalry general in red breeches, on whom +she was smiling; a rising politician in a grey suit, who talked to her +with great animation but left her side abruptly to join a personage in a +red fez and mounted on a white horse; and then, some time afterwards, the +vexed Mr. Blunt and his indiscreet mother (though I really couldn't see +where the harm was) had one more chance of a good stare. The third party +that time was the Royal Pretender (Allegre had been painting his portrait +lately), whose hearty, sonorous laugh was heard long before the mounted +trio came riding very slowly abreast of the Blunts. There was colour in +the girl's face. She was not laughing. Her expression was serious and +her eyes thoughtfully downcast. Blunt admitted that on that occasion the +charm, brilliance, and force of her personality was adequately framed +between those magnificently mounted, paladin-like attendants, one older +than the other but the two composing together admirably in the different +stages of their manhood. Mr. Blunt had never before seen Henry Allegre +so close. Allegre was riding nearest to the path on which Blunt was +dutifully giving his arm to his mother (they had got out of their fiacre) +and wondering if that confounded fellow would have the impudence to take +off his hat. But he did not. Perhaps he didn't notice. Allegre was not +a man of wandering glances. There were silver hairs in his beard but he +looked as solid as a statue. Less than three months afterwards he was +gone. + +"What was it?" asked Mills, who had not changed his pose for a very long +time. + +"Oh, an accident. But he lingered. They were on their way to Corsica. +A yearly pilgrimage. Sentimental perhaps. It was to Corsica that he +carried her off--I mean first of all." + +There was the slightest contraction of Mr. Blunt's facial muscles. Very +slight; but I, staring at the narrator after the manner of all simple +souls, noticed it; the twitch of a pain which surely must have been +mental. There was also a suggestion of effort before he went on: "I +suppose you know how he got hold of her?" in a tone of ease which was +astonishingly ill-assumed for such a worldly, self-controlled, +drawing-room person. + +Mills changed his attitude to look at him fixedly for a moment. Then he +leaned back in his chair and with interest--I don't mean curiosity, I +mean interest: "Does anybody know besides the two parties concerned?" he +asked, with something as it were renewed (or was it refreshed?) in his +unmoved quietness. "I ask because one has never heard any tales. I +remember one evening in a restaurant seeing a man come in with a lady--a +beautiful lady--very particularly beautiful, as though she had been +stolen out of Mahomet's paradise. With Dona Rita it can't be anything as +definite as that. But speaking of her in the same strain, I've always +felt that she looked as though Allegre had caught her in the precincts of +some temple . . . in the mountains." + +I was delighted. I had never heard before a woman spoken about in that +way, a real live woman that is, not a woman in a book. For this was no +poetry and yet it seemed to put her in the category of visions. And I +would have lost myself in it if Mr. Blunt had not, most unexpectedly, +addressed himself to me. + +"I told you that man was as fine as a needle." + +And then to Mills: "Out of a temple? We know what that means." His dark +eyes flashed: "And must it be really in the mountains?" he added. + +"Or in a desert," conceded Mills, "if you prefer that. There have been +temples in deserts, you know." + +Blunt had calmed down suddenly and assumed a nonchalant pose. + +"As a matter of fact, Henry Allegre caught her very early one morning in +his own old garden full of thrushes and other small birds. She was +sitting on a stone, a fragment of some old balustrade, with her feet in +the damp grass, and reading a tattered book of some kind. She had on a +short, black, two-penny frock (_une petite robe de deux sous_) and there +was a hole in one of her stockings. She raised her eyes and saw him +looking down at her thoughtfully over that ambrosian beard of his, like +Jove at a mortal. They exchanged a good long stare, for at first she was +too startled to move; and then he murmured, "_Restez donc_." She lowered +her eyes again on her book and after a while heard him walk away on the +path. Her heart thumped while she listened to the little birds filling +the air with their noise. She was not frightened. I am telling you this +positively because she has told me the tale herself. What better +authority can you have . . .?" Blunt paused. + +"That's true. She's not the sort of person to lie about her own +sensations," murmured Mills above his clasped hands. + +"Nothing can escape his penetration," Blunt remarked to me with that +equivocal urbanity which made me always feel uncomfortable on Mills' +account. "Positively nothing." He turned to Mills again. "After some +minutes of immobility--she told me--she arose from her stone and walked +slowly on the track of that apparition. Allegre was nowhere to be seen +by that time. Under the gateway of the extremely ugly tenement house, +which hides the Pavilion and the garden from the street, the wife of the +porter was waiting with her arms akimbo. At once she cried out to Rita: +'You were caught by our gentleman.' + +"As a matter of fact, that old woman, being a friend of Rita's aunt, +allowed the girl to come into the garden whenever Allegre was away. But +Allegre's goings and comings were sudden and unannounced; and that +morning, Rita, crossing the narrow, thronged street, had slipped in +through the gateway in ignorance of Allegre's return and unseen by the +porter's wife. + +"The child, she was but little more than that then, expressed her regret +of having perhaps got the kind porter's wife into trouble. + +"The old woman said with a peculiar smile: 'Your face is not of the sort +that gets other people into trouble. My gentleman wasn't angry. He says +you may come in any morning you like.' + +"Rita, without saying anything to this, crossed the street back again to +the warehouse full of oranges where she spent most of her waking hours. +Her dreaming, empty, idle, thoughtless, unperturbed hours, she calls +them. She crossed the street with a hole in her stocking. She had a +hole in her stocking not because her uncle and aunt were poor (they had +around them never less than eight thousand oranges, mostly in cases) but +because she was then careless and untidy and totally unconscious of her +personal appearance. She told me herself that she was not even conscious +then of her personal existence. She was a mere adjunct in the twilight +life of her aunt, a Frenchwoman, and her uncle, the orange merchant, a +Basque peasant, to whom her other uncle, the great man of the family, the +priest of some parish in the hills near Tolosa, had sent her up at the +age of thirteen or thereabouts for safe keeping. She is of peasant +stock, you know. This is the true origin of the 'Girl in the Hat' and of +the 'Byzantine Empress' which excited my dear mother so much; of the +mysterious girl that the privileged personalities great in art, in +letters, in politics, or simply in the world, could see on the big sofa +during the gatherings in Allegre's exclusive Pavilion: the Dona Rita of +their respectful addresses, manifest and mysterious, like an object of +art from some unknown period; the Dona Rita of the initiated Paris. Dona +Rita and nothing more--unique and indefinable." He stopped with a +disagreeable smile. + +"And of peasant stock?" I exclaimed in the strangely conscious silence +that fell between Mills and Blunt. + +"Oh! All these Basques have been ennobled by Don Sanche II," said +Captain Blunt moodily. "You see coats of arms carved over the doorways +of the most miserable _caserios_. As far as that goes she's Dona Rita +right enough whatever else she is or is not in herself or in the eyes of +others. In your eyes, for instance, Mills. Eh?" + +For a time Mills preserved that conscious silence. + +"Why think about it at all?" he murmured coldly at last. "A strange bird +is hatched sometimes in a nest in an unaccountable way and then the fate +of such a bird is bound to be ill-defined, uncertain, questionable. And +so that is how Henry Allegre saw her first? And what happened next?" + +"What happened next?" repeated Mr. Blunt, with an affected surprise in +his tone. "Is it necessary to ask that question? If you had asked _how_ +the next happened. . . But as you may imagine she hasn't told me +anything about that. She didn't," he continued with polite sarcasm, +"enlarge upon the facts. That confounded Allegre, with his impudent +assumption of princely airs, must have (I shouldn't wonder) made the fact +of his notice appear as a sort of favour dropped from Olympus. I really +can't tell how the minds and the imaginations of such aunts and uncles +are affected by such rare visitations. Mythology may give us a hint. +There is the story of Danae, for instance." + +"There is," remarked Mills calmly, "but I don't remember any aunt or +uncle in that connection." + +"And there are also certain stories of the discovery and acquisition of +some unique objects of art. The sly approaches, the astute negotiations, +the lying and the circumventing . . . for the love of beauty, you know." + +With his dark face and with the perpetual smiles playing about his +grimness, Mr. Blunt appeared to me positively satanic. Mills' hand was +toying absently with an empty glass. Again they had forgotten my +existence altogether. + +"I don't know how an object of art would feel," went on Blunt, in an +unexpectedly grating voice, which, however, recovered its tone +immediately. "I don't know. But I do know that Rita herself was not a +Danae, never, not at any time of her life. She didn't mind the holes in +her stockings. She wouldn't mind holes in her stockings now. . . That is +if she manages to keep any stockings at all," he added, with a sort of +suppressed fury so funnily unexpected that I would have burst into a +laugh if I hadn't been lost in astonishment of the simplest kind. + +"No--really!" There was a flash of interest from the quiet Mills. + +"Yes, really," Blunt nodded and knitted his brows very devilishly +indeed. "She may yet be left without a single pair of stockings." + +"The world's a thief," declared Mills, with the utmost composure. "It +wouldn't mind robbing a lonely traveller." + +"He is so subtle." Blunt remembered my existence for the purpose of that +remark and as usual it made me very uncomfortable. "Perfectly true. A +lonely traveller. They are all in the scramble from the lowest to the +highest. Heavens! What a gang! There was even an Archbishop in it." + +"_Vous plaisantez_," said Mills, but without any marked show of +incredulity. + +"I joke very seldom," Blunt protested earnestly. "That's why I haven't +mentioned His Majesty--whom God preserve. That would have been an +exaggeration. . . However, the end is not yet. We were talking about the +beginning. I have heard that some dealers in fine objects, quite +mercenary people of course (my mother has an experience in that world), +show sometimes an astonishing reluctance to part with some specimens, +even at a good price. It must be very funny. It's just possible that +the uncle and the aunt have been rolling in tears on the floor, amongst +their oranges, or beating their heads against the walls from rage and +despair. But I doubt it. And in any case Allegre is not the sort of +person that gets into any vulgar trouble. And it's just possible that +those people stood open-mouthed at all that magnificence. They weren't +poor, you know; therefore it wasn't incumbent on them to be honest. They +are still there in the old respectable warehouse, I understand. They +have kept their position in their _quartier_, I believe. But they didn't +keep their niece. It might have been an act of sacrifice! For I seem to +remember hearing that after attending for a while some school round the +corner the child had been set to keep the books of that orange business. +However it might have been, the first fact in Rita's and Allegre's common +history is a journey to Italy, and then to Corsica. You know Allegre had +a house in Corsica somewhere. She has it now as she has everything he +ever had; and that Corsican palace is the portion that will stick the +longest to Dona Rita, I imagine. Who would want to buy a place like +that? I suppose nobody would take it for a gift. The fellow was having +houses built all over the place. This very house where we are sitting +belonged to him. Dona Rita has given it to her sister, I understand. Or +at any rate the sister runs it. She is my landlady . . ." + +"Her sister here!" I exclaimed. "Her sister!" + +Blunt turned to me politely, but only for a long mute gaze. His eyes +were in deep shadow and it struck me for the first time then that there +was something fatal in that man's aspect as soon as he fell silent. I +think the effect was purely physical, but in consequence whatever he said +seemed inadequate and as if produced by a commonplace, if uneasy, soul. + +"Dona Rita brought her down from her mountains on purpose. She is asleep +somewhere in this house, in one of the vacant rooms. She lets them, you +know, at extortionate prices, that is, if people will pay them, for she +is easily intimidated. You see, she has never seen such an enormous town +before in her life, nor yet so many strange people. She has been keeping +house for the uncle-priest in some mountain gorge for years and years. +It's extraordinary he should have let her go. There is something +mysterious there, some reason or other. It's either theology or Family. +The saintly uncle in his wild parish would know nothing of any other +reasons. She wears a rosary at her waist. Directly she had seen some +real money she developed a love of it. If you stay with me long enough, +and I hope you will (I really can't sleep), you will see her going out to +mass at half-past six; but there is nothing remarkable in her; just a +peasant woman of thirty-four or so. A rustic nun. . . ." + +I may as well say at once that we didn't stay as long as that. It was +not that morning that I saw for the first time Therese of the whispering +lips and downcast eyes slipping out to an early mass from the house of +iniquity into the early winter murk of the city of perdition, in a world +steeped in sin. No. It was not on that morning that I saw Dona Rita's +incredible sister with her brown, dry face, her gliding motion, and her +really nun-like dress, with a black handkerchief enfolding her head +tightly, with the two pointed ends hanging down her back. Yes, nun-like +enough. And yet not altogether. People would have turned round after +her if those dartings out to the half-past six mass hadn't been the only +occasion on which she ventured into the impious streets. She was +frightened of the streets, but in a particular way, not as if of a danger +but as if of a contamination. Yet she didn't fly back to her mountains +because at bottom she had an indomitable character, a peasant tenacity of +purpose, predatory instincts. . . . + +No, we didn't remain long enough with Mr. Blunt to see even as much as +her back glide out of the house on her prayerful errand. She was +prayerful. She was terrible. Her one-idead peasant mind was as +inaccessible as a closed iron safe. She was fatal. . . It's perfectly +ridiculous to confess that they all seem fatal to me now; but writing to +you like this in all sincerity I don't mind appearing ridiculous. I +suppose fatality must be expressed, embodied, like other forces of this +earth; and if so why not in such people as well as in other more glorious +or more frightful figures? + +We remained, however, long enough to let Mr. Blunt's half-hidden acrimony +develop itself or prey on itself in further talk about the man Allegre +and the girl Rita. Mr. Blunt, still addressing Mills with that story, +passed on to what he called the second act, the disclosure, with, what he +called, the characteristic Allegre impudence--which surpassed the +impudence of kings, millionaires, or tramps, by many degrees--the +revelation of Rita's existence to the world at large. It wasn't a very +large world, but then it was most choicely composed. How is one to +describe it shortly? In a sentence it was the world that rides in the +morning in the Bois. + +In something less than a year and a half from the time he found her +sitting on a broken fragment of stone work buried in the grass of his +wild garden, full of thrushes, starlings, and other innocent creatures of +the air, he had given her amongst other accomplishments the art of +sitting admirably on a horse, and directly they returned to Paris he took +her out with him for their first morning ride. + +"I leave you to judge of the sensation," continued Mr. Blunt, with a +faint grimace, as though the words had an acrid taste in his mouth. "And +the consternation," he added venomously. "Many of those men on that +great morning had some one of their womankind with them. But their hats +had to go off all the same, especially the hats of the fellows who were +under some sort of obligation to Allegre. You would be astonished to +hear the names of people, of real personalities in the world, who, not to +mince matters, owed money to Allegre. And I don't mean in the world of +art only. In the first rout of the surprise some story of an adopted +daughter was set abroad hastily, I believe. You know 'adopted' with a +peculiar accent on the word--and it was plausible enough. I have been +told that at that time she looked extremely youthful by his side, I mean +extremely youthful in expression, in the eyes, in the smile. She must +have been . . ." + +Blunt pulled himself up short, but not so short as not to let the +confused murmur of the word "adorable" reach our attentive ears. + +The heavy Mills made a slight movement in his chair. The effect on me +was more inward, a strange emotion which left me perfectly still; and for +the moment of silence Blunt looked more fatal than ever. + +"I understand it didn't last very long," he addressed us politely again. +"And no wonder! The sort of talk she would have heard during that first +springtime in Paris would have put an impress on a much less receptive +personality; for of course Allegre didn't close his doors to his friends +and this new apparition was not of the sort to make them keep away. +After that first morning she always had somebody to ride at her bridle +hand. Old Doyen, the sculptor, was the first to approach them. At that +age a man may venture on anything. He rides a strange animal like a +circus horse. Rita had spotted him out of the corner of her eye as he +passed them, putting up his enormous paw in a still more enormous glove, +airily, you know, like this" (Blunt waved his hand above his head), "to +Allegre. He passes on. All at once he wheels his fantastic animal round +and comes trotting after them. With the merest casual '_Bonjour_, +Allegre' he ranges close to her on the other side and addresses her, hat +in hand, in that booming voice of his like a deferential roar of the sea +very far away. His articulation is not good, and the first words she +really made out were 'I am an old sculptor. . . Of course there is that +habit. . . But I can see you through all that. . . ' + +He put his hat on very much on one side. 'I am a great sculptor of +women,' he declared. 'I gave up my life to them, poor unfortunate +creatures, the most beautiful, the wealthiest, the most loved. . . Two +generations of them. . . Just look at me full in the eyes, _mon enfant_.' + +"They stared at each other. Dona Rita confessed to me that the old +fellow made her heart beat with such force that she couldn't manage to +smile at him. And she saw his eyes run full of tears. He wiped them +simply with the back of his hand and went on booming faintly. 'Thought +so. You are enough to make one cry. I thought my artist's life was +finished, and here you come along from devil knows where with this young +friend of mine, who isn't a bad smearer of canvases--but it's marble and +bronze that you want. . . I shall finish my artist's life with your face; +but I shall want a bit of those shoulders, too. . . You hear, Allegre, I +must have a bit of her shoulders, too. I can see through the cloth that +they are divine. If they aren't divine I will eat my hat. Yes, I will +do your head and then--_nunc dimittis_.' + +"These were the first words with which the world greeted her, or should I +say civilization did; already both her native mountains and the cavern of +oranges belonged to a prehistoric age. 'Why don't you ask him to come +this afternoon?' Allegre's voice suggested gently. 'He knows the way to +the house.' + +"The old man said with extraordinary fervour, 'Oh, yes I will,' pulled up +his horse and they went on. She told me that she could feel her +heart-beats for a long time. The remote power of that voice, those old +eyes full of tears, that noble and ruined face, had affected her +extraordinarily she said. But perhaps what affected her was the shadow, +the still living shadow of a great passion in the man's heart. + +"Allegre remarked to her calmly: 'He has been a little mad all his +life.'" + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Mills lowered the hands holding the extinct and even cold pipe before his +big face. + +"H'm, shoot an arrow into that old man's heart like this? But was there +anything done?" + +"A terra-cotta bust, I believe. Good? I don't know. I rather think +it's in this house. A lot of things have been sent down from Paris here, +when she gave up the Pavilion. When she goes up now she stays in hotels, +you know. I imagine it is locked up in one of these things," went on +Blunt, pointing towards the end of the studio where amongst the +monumental presses of dark oak lurked the shy dummy which had worn the +stiff robes of the Byzantine Empress and the amazing hat of the "Girl," +rakishly. I wondered whether that dummy had travelled from Paris, too, +and whether with or without its head. Perhaps that head had been left +behind, having rolled into a corner of some empty room in the dismantled +Pavilion. I represented it to myself very lonely, without features, like +a turnip, with a mere peg sticking out where the neck should have been. +And Mr. Blunt was talking on. + +"There are treasures behind these locked doors, brocades, old jewels, +unframed pictures, bronzes, chinoiseries, Japoneries." + +He growled as much as a man of his accomplished manner and voice could +growl. "I don't suppose she gave away all that to her sister, but I +shouldn't be surprised if that timid rustic didn't lay a claim to the lot +for the love of God and the good of the Church. . . + +"And held on with her teeth, too," he added graphically. + +Mills' face remained grave. Very grave. I was amused at those little +venomous outbreaks of the fatal Mr. Blunt. Again I knew myself utterly +forgotten. But I didn't feel dull and I didn't even feel sleepy. That +last strikes me as strange at this distance of time, in regard of my +tender years and of the depressing hour which precedes the dawn. We had +been drinking that straw-coloured wine, too, I won't say like water +(nobody would have drunk water like that) but, well . . . and the haze of +tobacco smoke was like the blue mist of great distances seen in dreams. + +Yes, that old sculptor was the first who joined them in the sight of all +Paris. It was that old glory that opened the series of companions of +those morning rides; a series which extended through three successive +Parisian spring-times and comprised a famous physiologist, a fellow who +seemed to hint that mankind could be made immortal or at least +everlastingly old; a fashionable philosopher and psychologist who used to +lecture to enormous audiences of women with his tongue in his cheek (but +never permitted himself anything of the kind when talking to Rita); that +surly dandy Cabanel (but he only once, from mere vanity), and everybody +else at all distinguished including also a celebrated person who turned +out later to be a swindler. But he was really a genius. . . All this +according to Mr. Blunt, who gave us all those details with a sort of +languid zest covering a secret irritation. + +"Apart from that, you know," went on Mr. Blunt, "all she knew of the +world of men and women (I mean till Allegre's death) was what she had +seen of it from the saddle two hours every morning during four months of +the year or so. Absolutely all, with Allegre self-denyingly on her right +hand, with that impenetrable air of guardianship. Don't touch! He +didn't like his treasures to be touched unless he actually put some +unique object into your hands with a sort of triumphant murmur, 'Look +close at that.' Of course I only have heard all this. I am much too +small a person, you understand, to even . . ." + +He flashed his white teeth at us most agreeably, but the upper part of +his face, the shadowed setting of his eyes, and the slight drawing in of +his eyebrows gave a fatal suggestion. I thought suddenly of the +definition he applied to himself: "_Americain_, _catholique et +gentil-homme_" completed by that startling "I live by my sword" uttered +in a light drawing-room tone tinged by a flavour of mockery lighter even +than air. + +He insisted to us that the first and only time he had seen Allegre a +little close was that morning in the Bois with his mother. His Majesty +(whom God preserve), then not even an active Pretender, flanked the girl, +still a girl, on the other side, the usual companion for a month past or +so. Allegre had suddenly taken it into his head to paint his portrait. +A sort of intimacy had sprung up. Mrs. Blunt's remark was that of the +two striking horsemen Allegre looked the more kingly. + +"The son of a confounded millionaire soap-boiler," commented Mr. Blunt +through his clenched teeth. "A man absolutely without parentage. +Without a single relation in the world. Just a freak." + +"That explains why he could leave all his fortune to her," said Mills. + +"The will, I believe," said Mr. Blunt moodily, "was written on a half +sheet of paper, with his device of an Assyrian bull at the head. What +the devil did he mean by it? Anyway it was the last time that she +surveyed the world of men and women from the saddle. Less than three +months later. . ." + +"Allegre died and. . . " murmured Mills in an interested manner. + +"And she had to dismount," broke in Mr. Blunt grimly. "Dismount right +into the middle of it. Down to the very ground, you understand. I +suppose you can guess what that would mean. She didn't know what to do +with herself. She had never been on the ground. She . . . " + +"Aha!" said Mills. + +"Even eh! eh! if you like," retorted Mr. Blunt, in an unrefined tone, +that made me open my eyes, which were well opened before, still wider. + +He turned to me with that horrible trick of his of commenting upon Mills +as though that quiet man whom I admired, whom I trusted, and for whom I +had already something resembling affection had been as much of a dummy as +that other one lurking in the shadows, pitiful and headless in its +attitude of alarmed chastity. + +"Nothing escapes his penetration. He can perceive a haystack at an +enormous distance when he is interested." + +I thought this was going rather too far, even to the borders of +vulgarity; but Mills remained untroubled and only reached for his tobacco +pouch. + +"But that's nothing to my mother's interest. She can never see a +haystack, therefore she is always so surprised and excited. Of course +Dona Rita was not a woman about whom the newspapers insert little +paragraphs. But Allegre was the sort of man. A lot came out in print +about him and a lot was talked in the world about her; and at once my +dear mother perceived a haystack and naturally became unreasonably +absorbed in it. I thought her interest would wear out. But it didn't. +She had received a shock and had received an impression by means of that +girl. My mother has never been treated with impertinence before, and the +aesthetic impression must have been of extraordinary strength. I must +suppose that it amounted to a sort of moral revolution, I can't account +for her proceedings in any other way. When Rita turned up in Paris a +year and a half after Allegre's death some shabby journalist (smart +creature) hit upon the notion of alluding to her as the heiress of Mr. +Allegre. 'The heiress of Mr. Allegre has taken up her residence again +amongst the treasures of art in that Pavilion so well known to the elite +of the artistic, scientific, and political world, not to speak of the +members of aristocratic and even royal families. . . ' You know the sort +of thing. It appeared first in the _Figaro_, I believe. And then at the +end a little phrase: 'She is alone.' She was in a fair way of becoming a +celebrity of a sort. Daily little allusions and that sort of thing. +Heaven only knows who stopped it. There was a rush of 'old friends' into +that garden, enough to scare all the little birds away. I suppose one or +several of them, having influence with the press, did it. But the gossip +didn't stop, and the name stuck, too, since it conveyed a very certain +and very significant sort of fact, and of course the Venetian episode was +talked about in the houses frequented by my mother. It was talked about +from a royalist point of view with a kind of respect. It was even said +that the inspiration and the resolution of the war going on now over the +Pyrenees had come out from that head. . . Some of them talked as if she +were the guardian angel of Legitimacy. You know what royalist gush is +like." + +Mr. Blunt's face expressed sarcastic disgust. Mills moved his head the +least little bit. Apparently he knew. + +"Well, speaking with all possible respect, it seems to have affected my +mother's brain. I was already with the royal army and of course there +could be no question of regular postal communications with France. My +mother hears or overhears somewhere that the heiress of Mr. Allegre is +contemplating a secret journey. All the noble Salons were full of +chatter about that secret naturally. So she sits down and pens an +autograph: 'Madame, Informed that you are proceeding to the place on +which the hopes of all the right thinking people are fixed, I trust to +your womanly sympathy with a mother's anxious feelings, etc., etc.,' and +ending with a request to take messages to me and bring news of me. . . +The coolness of my mother!" + +Most unexpectedly Mills was heard murmuring a question which seemed to me +very odd. + +"I wonder how your mother addressed that note?" + +A moment of silence ensued. + +"Hardly in the newspaper style, I should think," retorted Mr. Blunt, with +one of his grins that made me doubt the stability of his feelings and the +consistency of his outlook in regard to his whole tale. "My mother's +maid took it in a fiacre very late one evening to the Pavilion and +brought an answer scrawled on a scrap of paper: 'Write your messages at +once' and signed with a big capital R. So my mother sat down again to +her charming writing desk and the maid made another journey in a fiacre +just before midnight; and ten days later or so I got a letter thrust into +my hand at the _avanzadas_ just as I was about to start on a night +patrol, together with a note asking me to call on the writer so that she +might allay my mother's anxieties by telling her how I looked. + +"It was signed R only, but I guessed at once and nearly fell off my horse +with surprise." + +"You mean to say that Dona Rita was actually at the Royal Headquarters +lately?" exclaimed Mills, with evident surprise. "Why, +we--everybody--thought that all this affair was over and done with." + +"Absolutely. Nothing in the world could be more done with than that +episode. Of course the rooms in the hotel at Tolosa were retained for +her by an order from Royal Headquarters. Two garret-rooms, the place was +so full of all sorts of court people; but I can assure you that for the +three days she was there she never put her head outside the door. +General Mongroviejo called on her officially from the King. A general, +not anybody of the household, you see. That's a distinct shade of the +present relation. He stayed just five minutes. Some personage from the +Foreign department at Headquarters was closeted for about a couple of +hours. That was of course business. Then two officers from the staff +came together with some explanations or instructions to her. Then Baron +H., a fellow with a pretty wife, who had made so many sacrifices for the +cause, raised a great to-do about seeing her and she consented to receive +him for a moment. They say he was very much frightened by her arrival, +but after the interview went away all smiles. Who else? Yes, the +Archbishop came. Half an hour. This is more than is necessary to give a +blessing, and I can't conceive what else he had to give her. But I am +sure he got something out of her. Two peasants from the upper valley +were sent for by military authorities and she saw them, too. That friar +who hangs about the court has been in and out several times. Well, and +lastly, I myself. I got leave from the outposts. That was the first +time I talked to her. I would have gone that evening back to the +regiment, but the friar met me in the corridor and informed me that I +would be ordered to escort that most loyal and noble lady back to the +French frontier as a personal mission of the highest honour. I was +inclined to laugh at him. He himself is a cheery and jovial person and +he laughed with me quite readily--but I got the order before dark all +right. It was rather a job, as the Alphonsists were attacking the right +flank of our whole front and there was some considerable disorder there. +I mounted her on a mule and her maid on another. We spent one night in a +ruined old tower occupied by some of our infantry and got away at +daybreak under the Alphonsist shells. The maid nearly died of fright and +one of the troopers with us was wounded. To smuggle her back across the +frontier was another job but it wasn't my job. It wouldn't have done for +her to appear in sight of French frontier posts in the company of Carlist +uniforms. She seems to have a fearless streak in her nature. At one +time as we were climbing a slope absolutely exposed to artillery fire I +asked her on purpose, being provoked by the way she looked about at the +scenery, 'A little emotion, eh?' And she answered me in a low voice: +'Oh, yes! I am moved. I used to run about these hills when I was +little.' And note, just then the trooper close behind us had been +wounded by a shell fragment. He was swearing awfully and fighting with +his horse. The shells were falling around us about two to the minute. + +"Luckily the Alphonsist shells are not much better than our own. But +women are funny. I was afraid the maid would jump down and clear out +amongst the rocks, in which case we should have had to dismount and catch +her. But she didn't do that; she sat perfectly still on her mule and +shrieked. Just simply shrieked. Ultimately we came to a curiously +shaped rock at the end of a short wooded valley. It was very still there +and the sunshine was brilliant. I said to Dona Rita: 'We will have to +part in a few minutes. I understand that my mission ends at this rock.' +And she said: 'I know this rock well. This is my country.' + +"Then she thanked me for bringing her there and presently three peasants +appeared, waiting for us, two youths and one shaven old man, with a thin +nose like a sword blade and perfectly round eyes, a character well known +to the whole Carlist army. The two youths stopped under the trees at a +distance, but the old fellow came quite close up and gazed at her, +screwing up his eyes as if looking at the sun. Then he raised his arm +very slowly and took his red _boina_ off his bald head. I watched her +smiling at him all the time. I daresay she knew him as well as she knew +the old rock. Very old rock. The rock of ages--and the aged +man--landmarks of her youth. Then the mules started walking smartly +forward, with the three peasants striding alongside of them, and vanished +between the trees. These fellows were most likely sent out by her uncle +the Cura. + +"It was a peaceful scene, the morning light, the bit of open country +framed in steep stony slopes, a high peak or two in the distance, the +thin smoke of some invisible _caserios_, rising straight up here and +there. Far away behind us the guns had ceased and the echoes in the +gorges had died out. I never knew what peace meant before. . . + +"Nor since," muttered Mr. Blunt after a pause and then went on. "The +little stone church of her uncle, the holy man of the family, might have +been round the corner of the next spur of the nearest hill. I dismounted +to bandage the shoulder of my trooper. It was only a nasty long scratch. +While I was busy about it a bell began to ring in the distance. The +sound fell deliciously on the ear, clear like the morning light. But it +stopped all at once. You know how a distant bell stops suddenly. I +never knew before what stillness meant. While I was wondering at it the +fellow holding our horses was moved to uplift his voice. He was a +Spaniard, not a Basque, and he trolled out in Castilian that song you +know, + + "'Oh bells of my native village, + I am going away . . . good-bye!' + +He had a good voice. When the last note had floated away I remounted, +but there was a charm in the spot, something particular and individual +because while we were looking at it before turning our horses' heads away +the singer said: 'I wonder what is the name of this place,' and the other +man remarked: 'Why, there is no village here,' and the first one +insisted: 'No, I mean this spot, this very place.' The wounded trooper +decided that it had no name probably. But he was wrong. It had a name. +The hill, or the rock, or the wood, or the whole had a name. I heard of +it by chance later. It was--Lastaola." + +A cloud of tobacco smoke from Mills' pipe drove between my head and the +head of Mr. Blunt, who, strange to say, yawned slightly. It seemed to me +an obvious affectation on the part of that man of perfect manners, and, +moreover, suffering from distressing insomnia. + +"This is how we first met and how we first parted," he said in a weary, +indifferent tone. "It's quite possible that she did see her uncle on the +way. It's perhaps on this occasion that she got her sister to come out +of the wilderness. I have no doubt she had a pass from the French +Government giving her the completest freedom of action. She must have +got it in Paris before leaving." + +Mr. Blunt broke out into worldly, slightly cynical smiles. + +"She can get anything she likes in Paris. She could get a whole army +over the frontier if she liked. She could get herself admitted into the +Foreign Office at one o'clock in the morning if it so pleased her. Doors +fly open before the heiress of Mr. Allegre. She has inherited the old +friends, the old connections . . . Of course, if she were a toothless old +woman . . . But, you see, she isn't. The ushers in all the ministries +bow down to the ground therefore, and voices from the innermost sanctums +take on an eager tone when they say, '_Faites entrer_.' My mother knows +something about it. She has followed her career with the greatest +attention. And Rita herself is not even surprised. She accomplishes +most extraordinary things, as naturally as buying a pair of gloves. +People in the shops are very polite and people in the world are like +people in the shops. What did she know of the world? She had seen it +only from the saddle. Oh, she will get your cargo released for you all +right. How will she do it? . . Well, when it's done--you follow me, +Mills?--when it's done she will hardly know herself." + +"It's hardly possible that she shouldn't be aware," Mills pronounced +calmly. + +"No, she isn't an idiot," admitted Mr. Blunt, in the same matter-of-fact +voice. "But she confessed to myself only the other day that she suffered +from a sense of unreality. I told her that at any rate she had her own +feelings surely. And she said to me: Yes, there was one of them at least +about which she had no doubt; and you will never guess what it was. +Don't try. I happen to know, because we are pretty good friends." + +At that moment we all changed our attitude slightly. Mills' staring eyes +moved for a glance towards Blunt, I, who was occupying the divan, raised +myself on the cushions a little and Mr. Blunt, with half a turn, put his +elbow on the table. + +"I asked her what it was. I don't see," went on Mr. Blunt, with a +perfectly horrible gentleness, "why I should have shown particular +consideration to the heiress of Mr. Allegre. I don't mean to that +particular mood of hers. It was the mood of weariness. And so she told +me. It's fear. I will say it once again: Fear. . . ." + +He added after a pause, "There can be not the slightest doubt of her +courage. But she distinctly uttered the word fear." + +There was under the table the noise of Mills stretching his legs. + +"A person of imagination," he began, "a young, virgin intelligence, +steeped for nearly five years in the talk of Allegre's studio, where +every hard truth had been cracked and every belief had been worried into +shreds. They were like a lot of intellectual dogs, you know . . ." + +"Yes, yes, of course," Blunt interrupted hastily, "the intellectual +personality altogether adrift, a soul without a home . . . but I, who am +neither very fine nor very deep, I am convinced that the fear is +material." + +"Because she confessed to it being that?" insinuated Mills. + +"No, because she didn't," contradicted Blunt, with an angry frown and in +an extremely suave voice. "In fact, she bit her tongue. And considering +what good friends we are (under fire together and all that) I conclude +that there is nothing there to boast of. Neither is my friendship, as a +matter of fact." + +Mills' face was the very perfection of indifference. But I who was +looking at him, in my innocence, to discover what it all might mean, I +had a notion that it was perhaps a shade too perfect. + +"My leave is a farce," Captain Blunt burst out, with a most unexpected +exasperation. "As an officer of Don Carlos, I have no more standing than +a bandit. I ought to have been interned in those filthy old barracks in +Avignon a long time ago. . . Why am I not? Because Dona Rita exists and +for no other reason on earth. Of course it's known that I am about. She +has only to whisper over the wires to the Minister of the Interior, 'Put +that bird in a cage for me,' and the thing would be done without any more +formalities than that. . . Sad world this," he commented in a changed +tone. "Nowadays a gentleman who lives by his sword is exposed to that +sort of thing." + +It was then for the first time I heard Mr. Mills laugh. It was a deep, +pleasant, kindly note, not very loud and altogether free from that +quality of derision that spoils so many laughs and gives away the secret +hardness of hearts. But neither was it a very joyous laugh. + +"But the truth of the matter is that I am '_en mission_,'" continued +Captain Blunt. "I have been instructed to settle some things, to set +other things going, and, by my instructions, Dona Rita is to be the +intermediary for all those objects. And why? Because every bald head in +this Republican Government gets pink at the top whenever her dress +rustles outside the door. They bow with immense deference when the door +opens, but the bow conceals a smirk because of those Venetian days. That +confounded Versoy shoved his nose into that business; he says +accidentally. He saw them together on the Lido and (those writing +fellows are horrible) he wrote what he calls a vignette (I suppose +accidentally, too) under that very title. There was in it a Prince and a +lady and a big dog. He described how the Prince on landing from the +gondola emptied his purse into the hands of a picturesque old beggar, +while the lady, a little way off, stood gazing back at Venice with the +dog romantically stretched at her feet. One of Versoy's beautiful prose +vignettes in a great daily that has a literary column. But some other +papers that didn't care a cent for literature rehashed the mere fact. +And that's the sort of fact that impresses your political man, especially +if the lady is, well, such as she is . . ." + +He paused. His dark eyes flashed fatally, away from us, in the direction +of the shy dummy; and then he went on with cultivated cynicism. + +"So she rushes down here. Overdone, weary, rest for her nerves. +Nonsense. I assure you she has no more nerves than I have." + +I don't know how he meant it, but at that moment, slim and elegant, he +seemed a mere bundle of nerves himself, with the flitting expressions on +his thin, well-bred face, with the restlessness of his meagre brown hands +amongst the objects on the table. With some pipe ash amongst a little +spilt wine his forefinger traced a capital R. Then he looked into an +empty glass profoundly. I have a notion that I sat there staring and +listening like a yokel at a play. Mills' pipe was lying quite a foot +away in front of him, empty, cold. Perhaps he had no more tobacco. Mr. +Blunt assumed his dandified air--nervously. + +"Of course her movements are commented on in the most exclusive +drawing-rooms and also in other places, also exclusive, but where the +gossip takes on another tone. There they are probably saying that she +has got a '_coup de coeur_' for some one. Whereas I think she is utterly +incapable of that sort of thing. That Venetian affair, the beginning of +it and the end of it, was nothing but a _coup de tete_, and all those +activities in which I am involved, as you see (by order of Headquarters, +ha, ha, ha!), are nothing but that, all this connection, all this +intimacy into which I have dropped . . . Not to speak of my mother, who +is delightful, but as irresponsible as one of those crazy princesses that +shock their Royal families. . . " + +He seemed to bite his tongue and I observed that Mills' eyes seemed to +have grown wider than I had ever seen them before. In that tranquil face +it was a great play of feature. "An intimacy," began Mr. Blunt, with an +extremely refined grimness of tone, "an intimacy with the heiress of Mr. +Allegre on the part of . . . on my part, well, it isn't exactly . . . +it's open . . . well, I leave it to you, what does it look like?" + +"Is there anybody looking on?" Mills let fall, gently, through his kindly +lips. + +"Not actually, perhaps, at this moment. But I don't need to tell a man +of the world, like you, that such things cannot remain unseen. And that +they are, well, compromising, because of the mere fact of the fortune." + +Mills got on his feet, looked for his jacket and after getting into it +made himself heard while he looked for his hat. + +"Whereas the woman herself is, so to speak, priceless." + +Mr. Blunt muttered the word "Obviously." + +By then we were all on our feet. The iron stove glowed no longer and the +lamp, surrounded by empty bottles and empty glasses, had grown dimmer. + +I know that I had a great shiver on getting away from the cushions of the +divan. + +"We will meet again in a few hours," said Mr. Blunt. + +"Don't forget to come," he said, addressing me. "Oh, yes, do. Have no +scruples. I am authorized to make invitations." + +He must have noticed my shyness, my surprise, my embarrassment. And +indeed I didn't know what to say. + +"I assure you there isn't anything incorrect in your coming," he +insisted, with the greatest civility. "You will be introduced by two +good friends, Mills and myself. Surely you are not afraid of a very +charming woman. . . ." + +I was not afraid, but my head swam a little and I only looked at him +mutely. + +"Lunch precisely at midday. Mills will bring you along. I am sorry you +two are going. I shall throw myself on the bed for an hour or two, but I +am sure I won't sleep." + +He accompanied us along the passage into the black-and-white hall, where +the low gas flame glimmered forlornly. When he opened the front door the +cold blast of the mistral rushing down the street of the Consuls made me +shiver to the very marrow of my bones. + +Mills and I exchanged but a few words as we walked down towards the +centre of the town. In the chill tempestuous dawn he strolled along +musingly, disregarding the discomfort of the cold, the depressing +influence of the hour, the desolation of the empty streets in which the +dry dust rose in whirls in front of us, behind us, flew upon us from the +side streets. The masks had gone home and our footsteps echoed on the +flagstones with unequal sound as of men without purpose, without hope. + +"I suppose you will come," said Mills suddenly. + +"I really don't know," I said. + +"Don't you? Well, remember I am not trying to persuade you; but I am +staying at the Hotel de Louvre and I shall leave there at a quarter to +twelve for that lunch. At a quarter to twelve, not a minute later. I +suppose you can sleep?" + +I laughed. + +"Charming age, yours," said Mills, as we came out on the quays. Already +dim figures of the workers moved in the biting dawn and the masted forms +of ships were coming out dimly, as far as the eye could reach down the +old harbour. + +"Well," Mills began again, "you may oversleep yourself." + +This suggestion was made in a cheerful tone, just as we shook hands at +the lower end of the Cannebiere. He looked very burly as he walked away +from me. I went on towards my lodgings. My head was very full of +confused images, but I was really too tired to think. + + + + +PART TWO + + +CHAPTER I + + +Sometimes I wonder yet whether Mills wished me to oversleep myself or +not: that is, whether he really took sufficient interest to care. His +uniform kindliness of manner made it impossible for me to tell. And I +can hardly remember my own feelings. Did I care? The whole recollection +of that time of my life has such a peculiar quality that the beginning +and the end of it are merged in one sensation of profound emotion, +continuous and overpowering, containing the extremes of exultation, full +of careless joy and of an invincible sadness--like a day-dream. The +sense of all this having been gone through as if in one great rush of +imagination is all the stronger in the distance of time, because it had +something of that quality even then: of fate unprovoked, of events that +didn't cast any shadow before. + +Not that those events were in the least extraordinary. They were, in +truth, commonplace. What to my backward glance seems startling and a +little awful is their punctualness and inevitability. Mills was +punctual. Exactly at a quarter to twelve he appeared under the lofty +portal of the Hotel de Louvre, with his fresh face, his ill-fitting grey +suit, and enveloped in his own sympathetic atmosphere. + +How could I have avoided him? To this day I have a shadowy conviction of +his inherent distinction of mind and heart, far beyond any man I have +ever met since. He was unavoidable: and of course I never tried to avoid +him. The first sight on which his eyes fell was a victoria pulled up +before the hotel door, in which I sat with no sentiment I can remember +now but that of some slight shyness. He got in without a moment's +hesitation, his friendly glance took me in from head to foot and (such +was his peculiar gift) gave me a pleasurable sensation. + +After we had gone a little way I couldn't help saying to him with a +bashful laugh: "You know, it seems very extraordinary that I should be +driving out with you like this." + +He turned to look at me and in his kind voice: + +"You will find everything extremely simple," he said. "So simple that +you will be quite able to hold your own. I suppose you know that the +world is selfish, I mean the majority of the people in it, often +unconsciously I must admit, and especially people with a mission, with a +fixed idea, with some fantastic object in view, or even with only some +fantastic illusion. That doesn't mean that they have no scruples. And I +don't know that at this moment I myself am not one of them." + +"That, of course, I can't say," I retorted. + +"I haven't seen her for years," he said, "and in comparison with what she +was then she must be very grown up by now. From what we heard from Mr. +Blunt she had experiences which would have matured her more than they +would teach her. There are of course people that are not teachable. I +don't know that she is one of them. But as to maturity that's quite +another thing. Capacity for suffering is developed in every human being +worthy of the name." + +"Captain Blunt doesn't seem to be a very happy person," I said. "He +seems to have a grudge against everybody. People make him wince. The +things they do, the things they say. He must be awfully mature." + +Mills gave me a sidelong look. It met mine of the same character and we +both smiled without openly looking at each other. At the end of the Rue +de Rome the violent chilly breath of the mistral enveloped the victoria +in a great widening of brilliant sunshine without heat. We turned to the +right, circling at a stately pace about the rather mean obelisk which +stands at the entrance to the Prado. + +"I don't know whether you are mature or not," said Mills humorously. +"But I think you will do. You . . . " + +"Tell me," I interrupted, "what is really Captain Blunt's position +there?" + +And I nodded at the alley of the Prado opening before us between the rows +of the perfectly leafless trees. + +"Thoroughly false, I should think. It doesn't accord either with his +illusions or his pretensions, or even with the real position he has in +the world. And so what between his mother and the General Headquarters +and the state of his own feelings he. . . " + +"He is in love with her," I interrupted again. + +"That wouldn't make it any easier. I'm not at all sure of that. But if +so it can't be a very idealistic sentiment. All the warmth of his +idealism is concentrated upon a certain '_Americain_, _Catholique et +gentil-homme_. . . '" + +The smile which for a moment dwelt on his lips was not unkind. + +"At the same time he has a very good grip of the material conditions that +surround, as it were, the situation." + +"What do you mean? That Dona Rita" (the name came strangely familiar to +my tongue) "is rich, that she has a fortune of her own?" + +"Yes, a fortune," said Mills. "But it was Allegre's fortune before. . . +And then there is Blunt's fortune: he lives by his sword. And there is +the fortune of his mother, I assure you a perfectly charming, clever, and +most aristocratic old lady, with the most distinguished connections. I +really mean it. She doesn't live by her sword. She . . . she lives by +her wits. I have a notion that those two dislike each other heartily at +times. . . Here we are." + +The victoria stopped in the side alley, bordered by the low walls of +private grounds. We got out before a wrought-iron gateway which stood +half open and walked up a circular drive to the door of a large villa of +a neglected appearance. The mistral howled in the sunshine, shaking the +bare bushes quite furiously. And everything was bright and hard, the air +was hard, the light was hard, the ground under our feet was hard. + +The door at which Mills rang came open almost at once. The maid who +opened it was short, dark, and slightly pockmarked. For the rest, an +obvious "_femme-de-chambre_," and very busy. She said quickly, "Madame +has just returned from her ride," and went up the stairs leaving us to +shut the front door ourselves. + +The staircase had a crimson carpet. Mr. Blunt appeared from somewhere in +the hall. He was in riding breeches and a black coat with ample square +skirts. This get-up suited him but it also changed him extremely by +doing away with the effect of flexible slimness he produced in his +evening clothes. He looked to me not at all himself but rather like a +brother of the man who had been talking to us the night before. He +carried about him a delicate perfume of scented soap. He gave us a flash +of his white teeth and said: + +"It's a perfect nuisance. We have just dismounted. I will have to lunch +as I am. A lifelong habit of beginning her day on horseback. She +pretends she is unwell unless she does. I daresay, when one thinks there +has been hardly a day for five or six years that she didn't begin with a +ride. That's the reason she is always rushing away from Paris where she +can't go out in the morning alone. Here, of course, it's different. And +as I, too, am a stranger here I can go out with her. Not that I +particularly care to do it." + +These last words were addressed to Mills specially, with the addition of +a mumbled remark: "It's a confounded position." Then calmly to me with a +swift smile: "We have been talking of you this morning. You are expected +with impatience." + +"Thank you very much," I said, "but I can't help asking myself what I am +doing here." + +The upward cast in the eyes of Mills who was facing the staircase made us +both, Blunt and I, turn round. The woman of whom I had heard so much, in +a sort of way in which I had never heard a woman spoken of before, was +coming down the stairs, and my first sensation was that of profound +astonishment at this evidence that she did really exist. And even then +the visual impression was more of colour in a picture than of the forms +of actual life. She was wearing a wrapper, a sort of dressing-gown of +pale blue silk embroidered with black and gold designs round the neck and +down the front, lapped round her and held together by a broad belt of the +same material. Her slippers were of the same colour, with black bows at +the instep. The white stairs, the deep crimson of the carpet, and the +light blue of the dress made an effective combination of colour to set +off the delicate carnation of that face, which, after the first glance +given to the whole person, drew irresistibly your gaze to itself by an +indefinable quality of charm beyond all analysis and made you think of +remote races, of strange generations, of the faces of women sculptured on +immemorial monuments and of those lying unsung in their tombs. While she +moved downwards from step to step with slightly lowered eyes there +flashed upon me suddenly the recollection of words heard at night, of +Allegre's words about her, of there being in her "something of the women +of all time." + +At the last step she raised her eyelids, treated us to an exhibition of +teeth as dazzling as Mr. Blunt's and looking even stronger; and indeed, +as she approached us she brought home to our hearts (but after all I am +speaking only for myself) a vivid sense of her physical perfection in +beauty of limb and balance of nerves, and not so much of grace, probably, +as of absolute harmony. + +She said to us, "I am sorry I kept you waiting." Her voice was low +pitched, penetrating, and of the most seductive gentleness. She offered +her hand to Mills very frankly as to an old friend. Within the +extraordinarily wide sleeve, lined with black silk, I could see the arm, +very white, with a pearly gleam in the shadow. But to me she extended +her hand with a slight stiffening, as it were a recoil of her person, +combined with an extremely straight glance. It was a finely shaped, +capable hand. I bowed over it, and we just touched fingers. I did not +look then at her face. + +Next moment she caught sight of some envelopes lying on the round +marble-topped table in the middle of the hall. She seized one of them +with a wonderfully quick, almost feline, movement and tore it open, +saying to us, "Excuse me, I must . . . Do go into the dining-room. +Captain Blunt, show the way." + +Her widened eyes stared at the paper. Mr. Blunt threw one of the doors +open, but before we passed through it we heard a petulant exclamation +accompanied by childlike stamping with both feet and ending in a laugh +which had in it a note of contempt. + +The door closed behind us; we had been abandoned by Mr. Blunt. He had +remained on the other side, possibly to soothe. The room in which we +found ourselves was long like a gallery and ended in a rotunda with many +windows. It was long enough for two fireplaces of red polished granite. +A table laid out for four occupied very little space. The floor inlaid +in two kinds of wood in a bizarre pattern was highly waxed, reflecting +objects like still water. + +Before very long Dona Rita and Blunt rejoined us and we sat down around +the table; but before we could begin to talk a dramatically sudden ring +at the front door stilled our incipient animation. Dona Rita looked at +us all in turn, with surprise and, as it were, with suspicion. "How did +he know I was here?" she whispered after looking at the card which was +brought to her. She passed it to Blunt, who passed it to Mills, who +made a faint grimace, dropped it on the table-cloth, and only whispered +to me, "A journalist from Paris." + +"He has run me to earth," said Dona Rita. "One would bargain for peace +against hard cash if these fellows weren't always ready to snatch at +one's very soul with the other hand. It frightens me." + +Her voice floated mysterious and penetrating from her lips, which moved +very little. Mills was watching her with sympathetic curiosity. Mr. +Blunt muttered: "Better not make the brute angry." For a moment Dona +Rita's face, with its narrow eyes, its wide brow, and high cheek bones, +became very still; then her colour was a little heightened. "Oh," she +said softly, "let him come in. He would be really dangerous if he had a +mind--you know," she said to Mills. + +The person who had provoked all those remarks and as much hesitation as +though he had been some sort of wild beast astonished me on being +admitted, first by the beauty of his white head of hair and then by his +paternal aspect and the innocent simplicity of his manner. They laid a +cover for him between Mills and Dona Rita, who quite openly removed the +envelopes she had brought with her, to the other side of her plate. As +openly the man's round china-blue eyes followed them in an attempt to +make out the handwriting of the addresses. + +He seemed to know, at least slightly, both Mills and Blunt. To me he +gave a stare of stupid surprise. He addressed our hostess. + +"Resting? Rest is a very good thing. Upon my word, I thought I would +find you alone. But you have too much sense. Neither man nor woman has +been created to live alone. . . ." After this opening he had all the +talk to himself. It was left to him pointedly, and I verily believe that +I was the only one who showed an appearance of interest. I couldn't help +it. The others, including Mills, sat like a lot of deaf and dumb people. +No. It was even something more detached. They sat rather like a very +superior lot of waxworks, with the fixed but indetermined facial +expression and with that odd air wax figures have of being aware of their +existence being but a sham. + +I was the exception; and nothing could have marked better my status of a +stranger, the completest possible stranger in the moral region in which +those people lived, moved, enjoying or suffering their incomprehensible +emotions. I was as much of a stranger as the most hopeless castaway +stumbling in the dark upon a hut of natives and finding them in the grip +of some situation appertaining to the mentalities, prejudices, and +problems of an undiscovered country--of a country of which he had not +even had one single clear glimpse before. + +It was even worse in a way. It ought to have been more disconcerting. +For, pursuing the image of the cast-away blundering upon the +complications of an unknown scheme of life, it was I, the castaway, who +was the savage, the simple innocent child of nature. Those people were +obviously more civilized than I was. They had more rites, more +ceremonies, more complexity in their sensations, more knowledge of evil, +more varied meanings to the subtle phrases of their language. Naturally! +I was still so young! And yet I assure you, that just then I lost all +sense of inferiority. And why? Of course the carelessness and the +ignorance of youth had something to do with that. But there was +something else besides. Looking at Dona Rita, her head leaning on her +hand, with her dark lashes lowered on the slightly flushed cheek, I felt +no longer alone in my youth. That woman of whom I had heard these things +I have set down with all the exactness of unfailing memory, that woman +was revealed to me young, younger than anybody I had ever seen, as young +as myself (and my sensation of my youth was then very acute); revealed +with something peculiarly intimate in the conviction, as if she were +young exactly in the same way in which I felt myself young; and that +therefore no misunderstanding between us was possible and there could be +nothing more for us to know about each other. Of course this sensation +was momentary, but it was illuminating; it was a light which could not +last, but it left no darkness behind. On the contrary, it seemed to have +kindled magically somewhere within me a glow of assurance, of +unaccountable confidence in myself: a warm, steady, and eager sensation +of my individual life beginning for good there, on that spot, in that +sense of solidarity, in that seduction. + + + +CHAPTER II + + +For this, properly speaking wonderful, reason I was the only one of the +company who could listen without constraint to the unbidden guest with +that fine head of white hair, so beautifully kept, so magnificently +waved, so artistically arranged that respect could not be felt for it any +more than for a very expensive wig in the window of a hair-dresser. In +fact, I had an inclination to smile at it. This proves how unconstrained +I felt. My mind was perfectly at liberty; and so of all the eyes in that +room mine was the only pair able to look about in easy freedom. All the +other listeners' eyes were cast down, including Mills' eyes, but that I +am sure was only because of his perfect and delicate sympathy. He could +not have been concerned otherwise. + +The intruder devoured the cutlets--if they were cutlets. Notwithstanding +my perfect liberty of mind I was not aware of what we were eating. I +have a notion that the lunch was a mere show, except of course for the +man with the white hair, who was really hungry and who, besides, must +have had the pleasant sense of dominating the situation. He stooped over +his plate and worked his jaw deliberately while his blue eyes rolled +incessantly; but as a matter of fact he never looked openly at any one of +us. Whenever he laid down his knife and fork he would throw himself back +and start retailing in a light tone some Parisian gossip about prominent +people. + +He talked first about a certain politician of mark. His "dear Rita" knew +him. His costume dated back to '48, he was made of wood and parchment +and still swathed his neck in a white cloth; and even his wife had never +been seen in a low-necked dress. Not once in her life. She was buttoned +up to the chin like her husband. Well, that man had confessed to him +that when he was engaged in political controversy, not on a matter of +principle but on some special measure in debate, he felt ready to kill +everybody. + +He interrupted himself for a comment. "I am something like that myself. +I believe it's a purely professional feeling. Carry one's point whatever +it is. Normally I couldn't kill a fly. My sensibility is too acute for +that. My heart is too tender also. Much too tender. I am a Republican. +I am a Red. As to all our present masters and governors, all those +people you are trying to turn round your little finger, they are all +horrible Royalists in disguise. They are plotting the ruin of all the +institutions to which I am devoted. But I have never tried to spoil your +little game, Rita. After all, it's but a little game. You know very +well that two or three fearless articles, something in my style, you +know, would soon put a stop to all that underhand backing of your king. +I am calling him king because I want to be polite to you. He is an +adventurer, a blood-thirsty, murderous adventurer, for me, and nothing +else. Look here, my dear child, what are you knocking yourself about +for? For the sake of that bandit? _Allons donc_! A pupil of Henry +Allegre can have no illusions of that sort about any man. And such a +pupil, too! Ah, the good old days in the Pavilion! Don't think I claim +any particular intimacy. It was just enough to enable me to offer my +services to you, Rita, when our poor friend died. I found myself handy +and so I came. It so happened that I was the first. You remember, Rita? +What made it possible for everybody to get on with our poor dear Allegre +was his complete, equable, and impartial contempt for all mankind. There +is nothing in that against the purest democratic principles; but that +you, Rita, should elect to throw so much of your life away for the sake +of a Royal adventurer, it really knocks me over. For you don't love him. +You never loved him, you know." + +He made a snatch at her hand, absolutely pulled it away from under her +head (it was quite startling) and retaining it in his grasp, proceeded to +a paternal patting of the most impudent kind. She let him go on with +apparent insensibility. Meanwhile his eyes strayed round the table over +our faces. It was very trying. The stupidity of that wandering stare +had a paralysing power. He talked at large with husky familiarity. + +"Here I come, expecting to find a good sensible girl who had seen at last +the vanity of all those things; half-light in the rooms; surrounded by +the works of her favourite poets, and all that sort of thing. I say to +myself: I must just run in and see the dear wise child, and encourage her +in her good resolutions. . . And I fall into the middle of an _intime_ +lunch-party. For I suppose it is _intime_. Eh? Very? H'm, yes . . . " + +He was really appalling. Again his wandering stare went round the table, +with an expression incredibly incongruous with the words. It was as +though he had borrowed those eyes from some idiot for the purpose of that +visit. He still held Dona Rita's hand, and, now and then, patted it. + +"It's discouraging," he cooed. "And I believe not one of you here is a +Frenchman. I don't know what you are all about. It's beyond me. But if +we were a Republic--you know I am an old Jacobin, sans-culotte and +terrorist--if this were a real Republic with the Convention sitting and a +Committee of Public Safety attending to national business, you would all +get your heads cut off. Ha, ha . . . I am joking, ha, ha! . . . and +serve you right, too. Don't mind my little joke." + +While he was still laughing he released her hand and she leaned her head +on it again without haste. She had never looked at him once. + +During the rather humiliating silence that ensued he got a leather cigar +case like a small valise out of his pocket, opened it and looked with +critical interest at the six cigars it contained. The tireless +_femme-de-chambre_ set down a tray with coffee cups on the table. We +each (glad, I suppose, of something to do) took one, but he, to begin +with, sniffed at his. Dona Rita continued leaning on her elbow, her lips +closed in a reposeful expression of peculiar sweetness. There was +nothing drooping in her attitude. Her face with the delicate carnation +of a rose and downcast eyes was as if veiled in firm immobility and was +so appealing that I had an insane impulse to walk round and kiss the +forearm on which it was leaning; that strong, well-shaped forearm, +gleaming not like marble but with a living and warm splendour. So +familiar had I become already with her in my thoughts! Of course I +didn't do anything of the sort. It was nothing uncontrollable, it was +but a tender longing of a most respectful and purely sentimental kind. I +performed the act in my thought quietly, almost solemnly, while the +creature with the silver hair leaned back in his chair, puffing at his +cigar, and began to speak again. + +It was all apparently very innocent talk. He informed his "dear Rita" +that he was really on his way to Monte Carlo. A lifelong habit of his at +this time of the year; but he was ready to run back to Paris if he could +do anything for his "_chere enfant_," run back for a day, for two days, +for three days, for any time; miss Monte Carlo this year altogether, if +he could be of the slightest use and save her going herself. For +instance he could see to it that proper watch was kept over the Pavilion +stuffed with all these art treasures. What was going to happen to all +those things? . . . Making herself heard for the first time Dona Rita +murmured without moving that she had made arrangements with the police to +have it properly watched. And I was enchanted by the almost +imperceptible play of her lips. + +But the anxious creature was not reassured. He pointed out that things +had been stolen out of the Louvre, which was, he dared say, even better +watched. And there was that marvellous cabinet on the landing, black +lacquer with silver herons, which alone would repay a couple of burglars. +A wheelbarrow, some old sacking, and they could trundle it off under +people's noses. + +"Have you thought it all out?" she asked in a cold whisper, while we +three sat smoking to give ourselves a countenance (it was certainly no +enjoyment) and wondering what we would hear next. + +No, he had not. But he confessed that for years and years he had been in +love with that cabinet. And anyhow what was going to happen to the +things? The world was greatly exercised by that problem. He turned +slightly his beautifully groomed white head so as to address Mr. Blunt +directly. + +"I had the pleasure of meeting your mother lately." + +Mr. Blunt took his time to raise his eyebrows and flash his teeth at him +before he dropped negligently, "I can't imagine where you could have met +my mother." + +"Why, at Bing's, the curio-dealer," said the other with an air of the +heaviest possible stupidity. And yet there was something in these few +words which seemed to imply that if Mr. Blunt was looking for trouble he +would certainly get it. "Bing was bowing her out of his shop, but he was +so angry about something that he was quite rude even to me afterwards. I +don't think it's very good for _Madame votre mere_ to quarrel with Bing. +He is a Parisian personality. He's quite a power in his sphere. All +these fellows' nerves are upset from worry as to what will happen to the +Allegre collection. And no wonder they are nervous. A big art event +hangs on your lips, my dear, great Rita. And by the way, you too ought +to remember that it isn't wise to quarrel with people. What have you +done to that poor Azzolati? Did you really tell him to get out and never +come near you again, or something awful like that? I don't doubt that he +was of use to you or to your king. A man who gets invitations to shoot +with the President at Rambouillet! I saw him only the other evening; I +heard he had been winning immensely at cards; but he looked perfectly +wretched, the poor fellow. He complained of your conduct--oh, very much! +He told me you had been perfectly brutal with him. He said to me: 'I am +no good for anything, _mon cher_. The other day at Rambouillet, whenever +I had a hare at the end of my gun I would think of her cruel words and my +eyes would run full of tears. I missed every shot' . . . You are not fit +for diplomatic work, you know, _ma chere_. You are a mere child at it. +When you want a middle-aged gentleman to do anything for you, you don't +begin by reducing him to tears. I should have thought any woman would +have known that much. A nun would have known that much. What do you +say? Shall I run back to Paris and make it up for you with Azzolati?" + +He waited for her answer. The compression of his thin lips was full of +significance. I was surprised to see our hostess shake her head +negatively the least bit, for indeed by her pose, by the thoughtful +immobility of her face she seemed to be a thousand miles away from us +all, lost in an infinite reverie. + +He gave it up. "Well, I must be off. The express for Nice passes at +four o'clock. I will be away about three weeks and then you shall see me +again. Unless I strike a run of bad luck and get cleaned out, in which +case you shall see me before then." + +He turned to Mills suddenly. + +"Will your cousin come south this year, to that beautiful villa of his at +Cannes?" + +Mills hardly deigned to answer that he didn't know anything about his +cousin's movements. + +"A _grand seigneur_ combined with a great connoisseur," opined the other +heavily. His mouth had gone slack and he looked a perfect and grotesque +imbecile under his wig-like crop of white hair. Positively I thought he +would begin to slobber. But he attacked Blunt next. + +"Are you on your way down, too? A little flutter. . . It seems to me you +haven't been seen in your usual Paris haunts of late. Where have you +been all this time?" + +"Don't you know where I have been?" said Mr. Blunt with great precision. + +"No, I only ferret out things that may be of some use to me," was the +unexpected reply, uttered with an air of perfect vacancy and swallowed by +Mr. Blunt in blank silence. + +At last he made ready to rise from the table. "Think over what I have +said, my dear Rita." + +"It's all over and done with," was Dona Rita's answer, in a louder tone +than I had ever heard her use before. It thrilled me while she +continued: "I mean, this thinking." She was back from the remoteness of +her meditation, very much so indeed. She rose and moved away from the +table, inviting by a sign the other to follow her; which he did at once, +yet slowly and as it were warily. + +It was a conference in the recess of a window. We three remained seated +round the table from which the dark maid was removing the cups and the +plates with brusque movements. I gazed frankly at Dona Rita's profile, +irregular, animated, and fascinating in an undefinable way, at her +well-shaped head with the hair twisted high up and apparently held in its +place by a gold arrow with a jewelled shaft. We couldn't hear what she +said, but the movement of her lips and the play of her features were full +of charm, full of interest, expressing both audacity and gentleness. She +spoke with fire without raising her voice. The man listened +round-shouldered, but seeming much too stupid to understand. I could see +now and then that he was speaking, but he was inaudible. At one moment +Dona Rita turned her head to the room and called out to the maid, "Give +me my hand-bag off the sofa." + +At this the other was heard plainly, "No, no," and then a little lower, +"You have no tact, Rita. . . ." Then came her argument in a low, +penetrating voice which I caught, "Why not? Between such old friends." +However, she waved away the hand-bag, he calmed down, and their voices +sank again. Presently I saw him raise her hand to his lips, while with +her back to the room she continued to contemplate out of the window the +bare and untidy garden. At last he went out of the room, throwing to the +table an airy "_Bonjour, bonjour_," which was not acknowledged by any of +us three. + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Mills got up and approached the figure at the window. To my extreme +surprise, Mr. Blunt, after a moment of obviously painful hesitation, +hastened out after the man with the white hair. + +In consequence of these movements I was left to myself and I began to be +uncomfortably conscious of it when Dona Rita, near the window, addressed +me in a raised voice. + +"We have no confidences to exchange, Mr. Mills and I." + +I took this for an encouragement to join them. They were both looking at +me. Dona Rita added, "Mr. Mills and I are friends from old times, you +know." + +Bathed in the softened reflection of the sunshine, which did not fall +directly into the room, standing very straight with her arms down, before +Mills, and with a faint smile directed to me, she looked extremely young, +and yet mature. There was even, for a moment, a slight dimple in her +cheek. + +"How old, I wonder?" I said, with an answering smile. + +"Oh, for ages, for ages," she exclaimed hastily, frowning a little, then +she went on addressing herself to Mills, apparently in continuation of +what she was saying before. + +. . . "This man's is an extreme case, and yet perhaps it isn't the +worst. But that's the sort of thing. I have no account to render to +anybody, but I don't want to be dragged along all the gutters where that +man picks up his living." + +She had thrown her head back a little but there was no scorn, no angry +flash under the dark-lashed eyelids. The words did not ring. I was +struck for the first time by the even, mysterious quality of her voice. + +"Will you let me suggest," said Mills, with a grave, kindly face, "that +being what you are, you have nothing to fear?" + +"And perhaps nothing to lose," she went on without bitterness. "No. It +isn't fear. It's a sort of dread. You must remember that no nun could +have had a more protected life. Henry Allegre had his greatness. When +he faced the world he also masked it. He was big enough for that. He +filled the whole field of vision for me." + +"You found that enough?" asked Mills. + +"Why ask now?" she remonstrated. "The truth--the truth is that I never +asked myself. Enough or not there was no room for anything else. He was +the shadow and the light and the form and the voice. He would have it +so. The morning he died they came to call me at four o'clock. I ran +into his room bare-footed. He recognized me and whispered, 'You are +flawless.' I was very frightened. He seemed to think, and then said +very plainly, 'Such is my character. I am like that.' These were the +last words he spoke. I hardly noticed them then. I was thinking that he +was lying in a very uncomfortable position and I asked him if I should +lift him up a little higher on the pillows. You know I am very strong. +I could have done it. I had done it before. He raised his hand off the +blanket just enough to make a sign that he didn't want to be touched. It +was the last gesture he made. I hung over him and then--and then I +nearly ran out of the house just as I was, in my night-gown. I think if +I had been dressed I would have run out of the garden, into the +street--run away altogether. I had never seen death. I may say I had +never heard of it. I wanted to run from it." + +She paused for a long, quiet breath. The harmonized sweetness and daring +of her face was made pathetic by her downcast eyes. + +"_Fuir la mort_," she repeated, meditatively, in her mysterious voice. + +Mills' big head had a little movement, nothing more. Her glance glided +for a moment towards me like a friendly recognition of my right to be +there, before she began again. + +"My life might have been described as looking at mankind from a +fourth-floor window for years. When the end came it was like falling out +of a balcony into the street. It was as sudden as that. Once I remember +somebody was telling us in the Pavilion a tale about a girl who jumped +down from a fourth-floor window. . . For love, I believe," she +interjected very quickly, "and came to no harm. Her guardian angel must +have slipped his wings under her just in time. He must have. But as to +me, all I know is that I didn't break anything--not even my heart. Don't +be shocked, Mr. Mills. It's very likely that you don't understand." + +"Very likely," Mills assented, unmoved. "But don't be too sure of that." + +"Henry Allegre had the highest opinion of your intelligence," she said +unexpectedly and with evident seriousness. "But all this is only to tell +you that when he was gone I found myself down there unhurt, but dazed, +bewildered, not sufficiently stunned. It so happened that that creature +was somewhere in the neighbourhood. How he found out. . . But it's his +business to find out things. And he knows, too, how to worm his way in +anywhere. Indeed, in the first days he was useful and somehow he made it +look as if Heaven itself had sent him. In my distress I thought I could +never sufficiently repay. . . Well, I have been paying ever since." + +"What do you mean?" asked Mills softly. "In hard cash?" + +"Oh, it's really so little," she said. "I told you it wasn't the worst +case. I stayed on in that house from which I nearly ran away in my +nightgown. I stayed on because I didn't know what to do next. He +vanished as he had come on the track of something else, I suppose. You +know he really has got to get his living some way or other. But don't +think I was deserted. On the contrary. People were coming and going, +all sorts of people that Henry Allegre used to know--or had refused to +know. I had a sensation of plotting and intriguing around me, all the +time. I was feeling morally bruised, sore all over, when, one day, Don +Rafael de Villarel sent in his card. A grandee. I didn't know him, but, +as you are aware, there was hardly a personality of mark or position that +hasn't been talked about in the Pavilion before me. Of him I had only +heard that he was a very austere and pious person, always at Mass, and +that sort of thing. I saw a frail little man with a long, yellow face +and sunken fanatical eyes, an Inquisitor, an unfrocked monk. One missed +a rosary from his thin fingers. He gazed at me terribly and I couldn't +imagine what he might want. I waited for him to pull out a crucifix and +sentence me to the stake there and then. But no; he dropped his eyes and +in a cold, righteous sort of voice informed me that he had called on +behalf of the prince--he called him His Majesty. I was amazed by the +change. I wondered now why he didn't slip his hands into the sleeves of +his coat, you know, as begging Friars do when they come for a +subscription. He explained that the Prince asked for permission to call +and offer me his condolences in person. We had seen a lot of him our +last two months in Paris that year. Henry Allegre had taken a fancy to +paint his portrait. He used to ride with us nearly every morning. +Almost without thinking I said I should be pleased. Don Rafael was +shocked at my want of formality, but bowed to me in silence, very much as +a monk bows, from the waist. If he had only crossed his hands flat on +his chest it would have been perfect. Then, I don't know why, something +moved me to make him a deep curtsy as he backed out of the room, leaving +me suddenly impressed, not only with him but with myself too. I had my +door closed to everybody else that afternoon and the Prince came with a +very proper sorrowful face, but five minutes after he got into the room +he was laughing as usual, made the whole little house ring with it. You +know his big, irresistible laugh. . . ." + +"No," said Mills, a little abruptly, "I have never seen him." + +"No," she said, surprised, "and yet you . . . " + +"I understand," interrupted Mills. "All this is purely accidental. You +must know that I am a solitary man of books but with a secret taste for +adventure which somehow came out; surprising even me." + +She listened with that enigmatic, still, under the eyelids glance, and a +friendly turn of the head. + +"I know you for a frank and loyal gentleman. . . Adventure--and books? +Ah, the books! Haven't I turned stacks of them over! Haven't I? . . ." + +"Yes," murmured Mills. "That's what one does." + +She put out her hand and laid it lightly on Mills' sleeve. + +"Listen, I don't need to justify myself, but if I had known a single +woman in the world, if I had only had the opportunity to observe a single +one of them, I would have been perhaps on my guard. But you know I +hadn't. The only woman I had anything to do with was myself, and they +say that one can't know oneself. It never entered my head to be on my +guard against his warmth and his terrible obviousness. You and he were +the only two, infinitely different, people, who didn't approach me as if +I had been a precious object in a collection, an ivory carving or a piece +of Chinese porcelain. That's why I have kept you in my memory so well. +Oh! you were not obvious! As to him--I soon learned to regret I was not +some object, some beautiful, carved object of bone or bronze; a rare +piece of porcelain, _pate dure_, not _pate tendre_. A pretty specimen." + +"Rare, yes. Even unique," said Mills, looking at her steadily with a +smile. "But don't try to depreciate yourself. You were never pretty. +You are not pretty. You are worse." + +Her narrow eyes had a mischievous gleam. "Do you find such sayings in +your books?" she asked. + +"As a matter of fact I have," said Mills, with a little laugh, "found +this one in a book. It was a woman who said that of herself. A woman +far from common, who died some few years ago. She was an actress. A +great artist." + +"A great! . . . Lucky person! She had that refuge, that garment, while I +stand here with nothing to protect me from evil fame; a naked temperament +for any wind to blow upon. Yes, greatness in art is a protection. I +wonder if there would have been anything in me if I had tried? But Henry +Allegre would never let me try. He told me that whatever I could achieve +would never be good enough for what I was. The perfection of flattery! +Was it that he thought I had not talent of any sort? It's possible. He +would know. I've had the idea since that he was jealous. He wasn't +jealous of mankind any more than he was afraid of thieves for his +collection; but he may have been jealous of what he could see in me, of +some passion that could be aroused. But if so he never repented. I +shall never forget his last words. He saw me standing beside his bed, +defenceless, symbolic and forlorn, and all he found to say was, 'Well, I +am like that.'" + +I forgot myself in watching her. I had never seen anybody speak with +less play of facial muscles. In the fullness of its life her face +preserved a sort of immobility. The words seemed to form themselves, +fiery or pathetic, in the air, outside her lips. Their design was hardly +disturbed; a design of sweetness, gravity, and force as if born from the +inspiration of some artist; for I had never seen anything to come up to +it in nature before or since. + +All this was part of the enchantment she cast over me; and I seemed to +notice that Mills had the aspect of a man under a spell. If he too was a +captive then I had no reason to feel ashamed of my surrender. + +"And you know," she began again abruptly, "that I have been accustomed to +all the forms of respect." + +"That's true," murmured Mills, as if involuntarily. + +"Well, yes," she reaffirmed. "My instinct may have told me that my only +protection was obscurity, but I didn't know how and where to find it. +Oh, yes, I had that instinct . . . But there were other instincts and +. . . How am I to tell you? I didn't know how to be on guard against myself, +either. Not a soul to speak to, or to get a warning from. Some woman +soul that would have known, in which perhaps I could have seen my own +reflection. I assure you the only woman that ever addressed me directly, +and that was in writing, was . . . " + +She glanced aside, saw Mr. Blunt returning from the hall and added +rapidly in a lowered voice, + +"His mother." + +The bright, mechanical smile of Mr. Blunt gleamed at us right down the +room, but he didn't, as it were, follow it in his body. He swerved to +the nearest of the two big fireplaces and finding some cigarettes on the +mantelpiece remained leaning on his elbow in the warmth of the bright +wood fire. I noticed then a bit of mute play. The heiress of Henry +Allegre, who could secure neither obscurity nor any other alleviation to +that invidious position, looked as if she would speak to Blunt from a +distance; but in a moment the confident eagerness of her face died out as +if killed by a sudden thought. I didn't know then her shrinking from all +falsehood and evasion; her dread of insincerity and disloyalty of every +kind. But even then I felt that at the very last moment her being had +recoiled before some shadow of a suspicion. And it occurred to me, too, +to wonder what sort of business Mr. Blunt could have had to transact with +our odious visitor, of a nature so urgent as to make him run out after +him into the hall? Unless to beat him a little with one of the sticks +that were to be found there? White hair so much like an expensive wig +could not be considered a serious protection. But it couldn't have been +that. The transaction, whatever it was, had been much too quiet. I must +say that none of us had looked out of the window and that I didn't know +when the man did go or if he was gone at all. As a matter of fact he was +already far away; and I may just as well say here that I never saw him +again in my life. His passage across my field of vision was like that of +other figures of that time: not to be forgotten, a little fantastic, +infinitely enlightening for my contempt, darkening for my memory which +struggles still with the clear lights and the ugly shadows of those +unforgotten days. + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +It was past four o'clock before I left the house, together with Mills. +Mr. Blunt, still in his riding costume, escorted us to the very door. He +asked us to send him the first fiacre we met on our way to town. "It's +impossible to walk in this get-up through the streets," he remarked, with +his brilliant smile. + +At this point I propose to transcribe some notes I made at the time in +little black books which I have hunted up in the litter of the past; very +cheap, common little note-books that by the lapse of years have acquired +a touching dimness of aspect, the frayed, worn-out dignity of documents. + +Expression on paper has never been my forte. My life had been a thing of +outward manifestations. I never had been secret or even systematically +taciturn about my simple occupations which might have been foolish but +had never required either caution or mystery. But in those four hours +since midday a complete change had come over me. For good or evil I left +that house committed to an enterprise that could not be talked about; +which would have appeared to many senseless and perhaps ridiculous, but +was certainly full of risks, and, apart from that, commanded discretion +on the ground of simple loyalty. It would not only close my lips but it +would to a certain extent cut me off from my usual haunts and from the +society of my friends; especially of the light-hearted, young, +harum-scarum kind. This was unavoidable. It was because I felt myself +thrown back upon my own thoughts and forbidden to seek relief amongst +other lives--it was perhaps only for that reason at first I started an +irregular, fragmentary record of my days. + +I made these notes not so much to preserve the memory (one cared not for +any to-morrow then) but to help me to keep a better hold of the +actuality. I scribbled them on shore and I scribbled them on the sea; +and in both cases they are concerned not only with the nature of the +facts but with the intensity of my sensations. It may be, too, that I +learned to love the sea for itself only at that time. Woman and the sea +revealed themselves to me together, as it were: two mistresses of life's +values. The illimitable greatness of the one, the unfathomable seduction +of the other working their immemorial spells from generation to +generation fell upon my heart at last: a common fortune, an unforgettable +memory of the sea's formless might and of the sovereign charm in that +woman's form wherein there seemed to beat the pulse of divinity rather +than blood. + +I begin here with the notes written at the end of that very day. + +--Parted with Mills on the quay. We had walked side by side in absolute +silence. The fact is he is too old for me to talk to him freely. For +all his sympathy and seriousness I don't know what note to strike and I +am not at all certain what he thinks of all this. As we shook hands at +parting, I asked him how much longer he expected to stay. And he +answered me that it depended on R. She was making arrangements for him +to cross the frontier. He wanted to see the very ground on which the +Principle of Legitimacy was actually asserting itself arms in hand. It +sounded to my positive mind the most fantastic thing in the world, this +elimination of personalities from what seemed but the merest political, +dynastic adventure. So it wasn't Dona Rita, it wasn't Blunt, it wasn't +the Pretender with his big infectious laugh, it wasn't all that lot of +politicians, archbishops, and generals, of monks, guerrilleros, and +smugglers by sea and land, of dubious agents and shady speculators and +undoubted swindlers, who were pushing their fortunes at the risk of their +precious skins. No. It was the Legitimist Principle asserting itself! +Well, I would accept the view but with one reservation. All the others +might have been merged into the idea, but I, the latest recruit, I would +not be merged in the Legitimist Principle. Mine was an act of +independent assertion. Never before had I felt so intensely aware of my +personality. But I said nothing of that to Mills. I only told him I +thought we had better not be seen very often together in the streets. He +agreed. Hearty handshake. Looked affectionately after his broad back. +It never occurred to him to turn his head. What was I in comparison with +the Principle of Legitimacy? + +Late that night I went in search of Dominic. That Mediterranean sailor +was just the man I wanted. He had a great experience of all unlawful +things that can be done on the seas and he brought to the practice of +them much wisdom and audacity. That I didn't know where he lived was +nothing since I knew where he loved. The proprietor of a small, quiet +cafe on the quay, a certain Madame Leonore, a woman of thirty-five with +an open Roman face and intelligent black eyes, had captivated his heart +years ago. In that cafe with our heads close together over a marble +table, Dominic and I held an earnest and endless confabulation while +Madame Leonore, rustling a black silk skirt, with gold earrings, with her +raven hair elaborately dressed and something nonchalant in her movements, +would take occasion, in passing to and fro, to rest her hand for a moment +on Dominic's shoulder. Later when the little cafe had emptied itself of +its habitual customers, mostly people connected with the work of ships +and cargoes, she came quietly to sit at our table and looking at me very +hard with her black, sparkling eyes asked Dominic familiarly what had +happened to his Signorino. It was her name for me. I was Dominic's +Signorino. She knew me by no other; and our connection has always been +somewhat of a riddle to her. She said that I was somehow changed since +she saw me last. In her rich voice she urged Dominic only to look at my +eyes. I must have had some piece of luck come to me either in love or at +cards, she bantered. But Dominic answered half in scorn that I was not +of the sort that runs after that kind of luck. He stated generally that +there were some young gentlemen very clever in inventing new ways of +getting rid of their time and their money. However, if they needed a +sensible man to help them he had no objection himself to lend a hand. +Dominic's general scorn for the beliefs, and activities, and abilities of +upper-class people covered the Principle of Legitimacy amply; but he +could not resist the opportunity to exercise his special faculties in a +field he knew of old. He had been a desperate smuggler in his younger +days. We settled the purchase of a fast sailing craft. Agreed that it +must be a balancelle and something altogether out of the common. He knew +of one suitable but she was in Corsica. Offered to start for Bastia by +mail-boat in the morning. All the time the handsome and mature Madame +Leonore sat by, smiling faintly, amused at her great man joining like +this in a frolic of boys. She said the last words of that evening: "You +men never grow up," touching lightly the grey hair above his temple. + +A fortnight later. + +. . . In the afternoon to the Prado. Beautiful day. At the moment of +ringing at the door a strong emotion of an anxious kind. Why? Down the +length of the dining-room in the rotunda part full of afternoon light +Dona R., sitting cross-legged on the divan in the attitude of a very old +idol or a very young child and surrounded by many cushions, waves her +hand from afar pleasantly surprised, exclaiming: "What! Back already!" +I give her all the details and we talk for two hours across a large brass +bowl containing a little water placed between us, lighting cigarettes and +dropping them, innumerable, puffed at, yet untasted in the overwhelming +interest of the conversation. Found her very quick in taking the points +and very intelligent in her suggestions. All formality soon vanished +between us and before very long I discovered myself sitting cross-legged, +too, while I held forth on the qualities of different Mediterranean +sailing craft and on the romantic qualifications of Dominic for the task. +I believe I gave her the whole history of the man, mentioning even the +existence of Madame Leonore, since the little cafe would have to be the +headquarters of the marine part of the plot. + +She murmured, "_Ah_! _Une belle Romaine_," thoughtfully. She told me +that she liked to hear people of that sort spoken of in terms of our +common humanity. She observed also that she wished to see Dominic some +day; to set her eyes for once on a man who could be absolutely depended +on. She wanted to know whether he had engaged himself in this adventure +solely for my sake. + +I said that no doubt it was partly that. We had been very close +associates in the West Indies from where we had returned together, and he +had a notion that I could be depended on, too. But mainly, I suppose, it +was from taste. And there was in him also a fine carelessness as to what +he did and a love of venturesome enterprise. + +"And you," she said. "Is it carelessness, too?" + +"In a measure," I said. "Within limits." + +"And very soon you will get tired." + +"When I do I will tell you. But I may also get frightened. I suppose +you know there are risks, I mean apart from the risk of life." + +"As for instance," she said. + +"For instance, being captured, tried, and sentenced to what they call +'the galleys,' in Ceuta." + +"And all this from that love for . . ." + +"Not for Legitimacy," I interrupted the inquiry lightly. "But what's the +use asking such questions? It's like asking the veiled figure of fate. +It doesn't know its own mind nor its own heart. It has no heart. But +what if I were to start asking you--who have a heart and are not veiled +to my sight?" She dropped her charming adolescent head, so firm in +modelling, so gentle in expression. Her uncovered neck was round like +the shaft of a column. She wore the same wrapper of thick blue silk. At +that time she seemed to live either in her riding habit or in that +wrapper folded tightly round her and open low to a point in front. +Because of the absence of all trimming round the neck and from the deep +view of her bare arms in the wide sleeve this garment seemed to be put +directly on her skin and gave one the impression of one's nearness to her +body which would have been troubling but for the perfect unconsciousness +of her manner. That day she carried no barbarous arrow in her hair. It +was parted on one side, brushed back severely, and tied with a black +ribbon, without any bronze mist about her forehead or temple. This +smoothness added to the many varieties of her expression also that of +child-like innocence. + +Great progress in our intimacy brought about unconsciously by our +enthusiastic interest in the matter of our discourse and, in the moments +of silence, by the sympathetic current of our thoughts. And this rapidly +growing familiarity (truly, she had a terrible gift for it) had all the +varieties of earnestness: serious, excited, ardent, and even gay. She +laughed in contralto; but her laugh was never very long; and when it had +ceased, the silence of the room with the light dying in all its many +windows seemed to lie about me warmed by its vibration. + +As I was preparing to take my leave after a longish pause into which we +had fallen as into a vague dream, she came out of it with a start and a +quiet sigh. She said, "I had forgotten myself." I took her hand and was +raising it naturally, without premeditation, when I felt suddenly the arm +to which it belonged become insensible, passive, like a stuffed limb, and +the whole woman go inanimate all over! Brusquely I dropped the hand +before it reached my lips; and it was so lifeless that it fell heavily on +to the divan. + +I remained standing before her. She raised to me not her eyes but her +whole face, inquisitively--perhaps in appeal. + +"No! This isn't good enough for me," I said. + +The last of the light gleamed in her long enigmatic eyes as if they were +precious enamel in that shadowy head which in its immobility suggested a +creation of a distant past: immortal art, not transient life. Her voice +had a profound quietness. She excused herself. + +"It's only habit--or instinct--or what you like. I have had to practise +that in self-defence lest I should be tempted sometimes to cut the arm +off." + +I remembered the way she had abandoned this very arm and hand to the +white-haired ruffian. It rendered me gloomy and idiotically obstinate. + +"Very ingenious. But this sort of thing is of no use to me," I declared. + +"Make it up," suggested her mysterious voice, while her shadowy figure +remained unmoved, indifferent amongst the cushions. + +I didn't stir either. I refused in the same low tone. + +"No. Not before you give it to me yourself some day." + +"Yes--some day," she repeated in a breath in which there was no irony but +rather hesitation, reluctance what did I know? + +I walked away from the house in a curious state of gloomy satisfaction +with myself. + + * * * * * + +And this is the last extract. A month afterwards. + +--This afternoon going up to the Villa I was for the first time +accompanied in my way by some misgivings. To-morrow I sail. + +First trip and therefore in the nature of a trial trip; and I can't +overcome a certain gnawing emotion, for it is a trip that _mustn't_ fail. +In that sort of enterprise there is no room for mistakes. Of all the +individuals engaged in it will every one be intelligent enough, faithful +enough, bold enough? Looking upon them as a whole it seems impossible; +but as each has got only a limited part to play they may be found +sufficient each for his particular trust. And will they be all punctual, +I wonder? An enterprise that hangs on the punctuality of many people, no +matter how well disposed and even heroic, hangs on a thread. This I have +perceived to be also the greatest of Dominic's concerns. He, too, +wonders. And when he breathes his doubts the smile lurking under the +dark curl of his moustaches is not reassuring. + +But there is also something exciting in such speculations and the road to +the Villa seemed to me shorter than ever before. + +Let in by the silent, ever-active, dark lady's maid, who is always on the +spot and always on the way somewhere else, opening the door with one +hand, while she passes on, turning on one for a moment her quick, black +eyes, which just miss being lustrous, as if some one had breathed on them +lightly. + +On entering the long room I perceive Mills established in an armchair +which he had dragged in front of the divan. I do the same to another and +there we sit side by side facing R., tenderly amiable yet somehow distant +among her cushions, with an immemorial seriousness in her long, shaded +eyes and her fugitive smile hovering about but never settling on her +lips. Mills, who is just back from over the frontier, must have been +asking R. whether she had been worried again by her devoted friend with +the white hair. At least I concluded so because I found them talking of +the heart-broken Azzolati. And after having answered their greetings I +sit and listen to Rita addressing Mills earnestly. + +"No, I assure you Azzolati had done nothing to me. I knew him. He was a +frequent visitor at the Pavilion, though I, personally, never talked with +him very much in Henry Allegre's lifetime. Other men were more +interesting, and he himself was rather reserved in his manner to me. He +was an international politician and financier--a nobody. He, like many +others, was admitted only to feed and amuse Henry Allegre's scorn of the +world, which was insatiable--I tell you." + +"Yes," said Mills. "I can imagine." + +"But I know. Often when we were alone Henry Allegre used to pour it into +my ears. If ever anybody saw mankind stripped of its clothes as the +child sees the king in the German fairy tale, it's I! Into my ears! A +child's! Too young to die of fright. Certainly not old enough to +understand--or even to believe. But then his arm was about me. I used +to laugh, sometimes. Laugh! At this destruction--at these ruins!" + +"Yes," said Mills, very steady before her fire. "But you have at your +service the everlasting charm of life; you are a part of the +indestructible." + +"Am I? . . . But there is no arm about me now. The laugh! Where is my +laugh? Give me back my laugh. . . ." + +And she laughed a little on a low note. I don't know about Mills, but +the subdued shadowy vibration of it echoed in my breast which felt empty +for a moment and like a large space that makes one giddy. + +"The laugh is gone out of my heart, which at any rate used to feel +protected. That feeling's gone, too. And I myself will have to die some +day." + +"Certainly," said Mills in an unaltered voice. "As to this body you . . ." + +"Oh, yes! Thanks. It's a very poor jest. Change from body to body as +travellers used to change horses at post houses. I've heard of this +before. . . ." + +"I've no doubt you have," Mills put on a submissive air. "But are we to +hear any more about Azzolati?" + +"You shall. Listen. I had heard that he was invited to shoot at +Rambouillet--a quiet party, not one of these great shoots. I hear a lot +of things. I wanted to have a certain information, also certain hints +conveyed to a diplomatic personage who was to be there, too. A personage +that would never let me get in touch with him though I had tried many +times." + +"Incredible!" mocked Mills solemnly. + +"The personage mistrusts his own susceptibility. Born cautious," +explained Dona Rita crisply with the slightest possible quiver of her +lips. "Suddenly I had the inspiration to make use of Azzolati, who had +been reminding me by a constant stream of messages that he was an old +friend. I never took any notice of those pathetic appeals before. But +in this emergency I sat down and wrote a note asking him to come and dine +with me in my hotel. I suppose you know I don't live in the Pavilion. I +can't bear the Pavilion now. When I have to go there I begin to feel +after an hour or so that it is haunted. I seem to catch sight of +somebody I know behind columns, passing through doorways, vanishing here +and there. I hear light footsteps behind closed doors. . . My own!" + +Her eyes, her half-parted lips, remained fixed till Mills suggested +softly, "Yes, but Azzolati." + +Her rigidity vanished like a flake of snow in the sunshine. "Oh! +Azzolati. It was a most solemn affair. It had occurred to me to make a +very elaborate toilet. It was most successful. Azzolati looked +positively scared for a moment as though he had got into the wrong suite +of rooms. He had never before seen me _en toilette_, you understand. In +the old days once out of my riding habit I would never dress. I draped +myself, you remember, Monsieur Mills. To go about like that suited my +indolence, my longing to feel free in my body, as at that time when I +used to herd goats. . . But never mind. My aim was to impress Azzolati. +I wanted to talk to him seriously." + +There was something whimsical in the quick beat of her eyelids and in the +subtle quiver of her lips. "And behold! the same notion had occurred to +Azzolati. Imagine that for this tete-a-tete dinner the creature had got +himself up as if for a reception at court. He displayed a brochette of +all sorts of decorations on the lapel of his _frac_ and had a broad +ribbon of some order across his shirt front. An orange ribbon. +Bavarian, I should say. Great Roman Catholic, Azzolati. It was always +his ambition to be the banker of all the Bourbons in the world. The last +remnants of his hair were dyed jet black and the ends of his moustache +were like knitting needles. He was disposed to be as soft as wax in my +hands. Unfortunately I had had some irritating interviews during the +day. I was keeping down sudden impulses to smash a glass, throw a plate +on the floor, do something violent to relieve my feelings. His +submissive attitude made me still more nervous. He was ready to do +anything in the world for me providing that I would promise him that he +would never find my door shut against him as long as he lived. You +understand the impudence of it, don't you? And his tone was positively +abject, too. I snapped back at him that I had no door, that I was a +nomad. He bowed ironically till his nose nearly touched his plate but +begged me to remember that to his personal knowledge I had four houses of +my own about the world. And you know this made me feel a homeless +outcast more than ever--like a little dog lost in the street--not knowing +where to go. I was ready to cry and there the creature sat in front of +me with an imbecile smile as much as to say 'here is a poser for you. +. . .' I gnashed my teeth at him. Quietly, you know . . . I suppose you two +think that I am stupid." + +She paused as if expecting an answer but we made no sound and she +continued with a remark. + +"I have days like that. Often one must listen to false protestations, +empty words, strings of lies all day long, so that in the evening one is +not fit for anything, not even for truth if it comes in one's way. That +idiot treated me to a piece of brazen sincerity which I couldn't stand. +First of all he began to take me into his confidence; he boasted of his +great affairs, then started groaning about his overstrained life which +left him no time for the amenities of existence, for beauty, or +sentiment, or any sort of ease of heart. His heart! He wanted me to +sympathize with his sorrows. Of course I ought to have listened. One +must pay for service. Only I was nervous and tired. He bored me. I +told him at last that I was surprised that a man of such immense wealth +should still keep on going like this reaching for more and more. I +suppose he must have been sipping a good deal of wine while we talked and +all at once he let out an atrocity which was too much for me. He had +been moaning and sentimentalizing but then suddenly he showed me his +fangs. 'No,' he cries, 'you can't imagine what a satisfaction it is to +feel all that penniless, beggarly lot of the dear, honest, meritorious +poor wriggling and slobbering under one's boots.' You may tell me that +he is a contemptible animal anyhow, but you should have heard the tone! +I felt my bare arms go cold like ice. A moment before I had been hot and +faint with sheer boredom. I jumped up from the table, rang for Rose, and +told her to bring me my fur cloak. He remained in his chair leering at +me curiously. When I had the fur on my shoulders and the girl had gone +out of the room I gave him the surprise of his life. 'Take yourself off +instantly,' I said. 'Go trample on the poor if you like but never dare +speak to me again.' At this he leaned his head on his arm and sat so +long at the table shading his eyes with his hand that I had to ask, +calmly--you know--whether he wanted me to have him turned out into the +corridor. He fetched an enormous sigh. 'I have only tried to be honest +with you, Rita.' But by the time he got to the door he had regained some +of his impudence. 'You know how to trample on a poor fellow, too,' he +said. 'But I don't mind being made to wriggle under your pretty shoes, +Rita. I forgive you. I thought you were free from all vulgar +sentimentalism and that you had a more independent mind. I was mistaken +in you, that's all.' With that he pretends to dash a tear from his +eye-crocodile!--and goes out, leaving me in my fur by the blazing fire, +my teeth going like castanets. . . Did you ever hear of anything so +stupid as this affair?" she concluded in a tone of extreme candour and a +profound unreadable stare that went far beyond us both. And the +stillness of her lips was so perfect directly she ceased speaking that I +wondered whether all this had come through them or only had formed itself +in my mind. + +Presently she continued as if speaking for herself only. + +"It's like taking the lids off boxes and seeing ugly toads staring at +you. In every one. Every one. That's what it is having to do with men +more than mere--Good-morning--Good evening. And if you try to avoid +meddling with their lids, some of them will take them off themselves. +And they don't even know, they don't even suspect what they are showing +you. Certain confidences--they don't see it--are the bitterest kind of +insult. I suppose Azzolati imagines himself a noble beast of prey. Just +as some others imagine themselves to be most delicate, noble, and refined +gentlemen. And as likely as not they would trade on a woman's +troubles--and in the end make nothing of that either. Idiots!" + +The utter absence of all anger in this spoken meditation gave it a +character of touching simplicity. And as if it had been truly only a +meditation we conducted ourselves as though we had not heard it. Mills +began to speak of his experiences during his visit to the army of the +Legitimist King. And I discovered in his speeches that this man of books +could be graphic and picturesque. His admiration for the devotion and +bravery of the army was combined with the greatest distaste for what he +had seen of the way its great qualities were misused. In the conduct of +this great enterprise he had seen a deplorable levity of outlook, a fatal +lack of decision, an absence of any reasoned plan. + +He shook his head. + +"I feel that you of all people, Dona Rita, ought to be told the truth. I +don't know exactly what you have at stake." + +She was rosy like some impassive statue in a desert in the flush of the +dawn. + +"Not my heart," she said quietly. "You must believe that." + +"I do. Perhaps it would have been better if you. . . " + +"No, _Monsieur le Philosophe_. It would not have been better. Don't +make that serious face at me," she went on with tenderness in a playful +note, as if tenderness had been her inheritance of all time and +playfulness the very fibre of her being. "I suppose you think that a +woman who has acted as I did and has not staked her heart on it is . . . +How do you know to what the heart responds as it beats from day to day?" + +"I wouldn't judge you. What am I before the knowledge you were born to? +You are as old as the world." + +She accepted this with a smile. I who was innocently watching them was +amazed to discover how much a fleeting thing like that could hold of +seduction without the help of any other feature and with that unchanging +glance. + +"With me it is _pun d'onor_. To my first independent friend." + +"You were soon parted," ventured Mills, while I sat still under a sense +of oppression. + +"Don't think for a moment that I have been scared off," she said. "It is +they who were frightened. I suppose you heard a lot of Headquarters +gossip?" + +"Oh, yes," Mills said meaningly. "The fair and the dark are succeeding +each other like leaves blown in the wind dancing in and out. I suppose +you have noticed that leaves blown in the wind have a look of happiness." + +"Yes," she said, "that sort of leaf is dead. Then why shouldn't it look +happy? And so I suppose there is no uneasiness, no occasion for fears +amongst the 'responsibles.'" + +"Upon the whole not. Now and then a leaf seems as if it would stick. +There is for instance Madame . . ." + +"Oh, I don't want to know, I understand it all, I am as old as the +world." + +"Yes," said Mills thoughtfully, "you are not a leaf, you might have been +a tornado yourself." + +"Upon my word," she said, "there was a time that they thought I could +carry him off, away from them all--beyond them all. Verily, I am not +very proud of their fears. There was nothing reckless there worthy of a +great passion. There was nothing sad there worthy of a great +tenderness." + +"And is _this_ the word of the Venetian riddle?" asked Mills, fixing her +with his keen eyes. + +"If it pleases you to think so, Senor," she said indifferently. The +movement of her eyes, their veiled gleam became mischievous when she +asked, "And Don Juan Blunt, have you seen him over there?" + +"I fancy he avoided me. Moreover, he is always with his regiment at the +outposts. He is a most valorous captain. I heard some people describe +him as foolhardy." + +"Oh, he needn't seek death," she said in an indefinable tone. "I mean as +a refuge. There will be nothing in his life great enough for that." + +"You are angry. You miss him, I believe, Dona Rita." + +"Angry? No! Weary. But of course it's very inconvenient. I can't very +well ride out alone. A solitary amazon swallowing the dust and the salt +spray of the Corniche promenade would attract too much attention. And +then I don't mind you two knowing that I am afraid of going out alone." + +"Afraid?" we both exclaimed together. + +"You men are extraordinary. Why do you want me to be courageous? Why +shouldn't I be afraid? Is it because there is no one in the world to +care what would happen to me?" + +There was a deep-down vibration in her tone for the first time. We had +not a word to say. And she added after a long silence: + +"There is a very good reason. There is a danger." + +With wonderful insight Mills affirmed at once: + +"Something ugly." + +She nodded slightly several times. Then Mills said with conviction: + +"Ah! Then it can't be anything in yourself. And if so . . . " + +I was moved to extravagant advice. + +"You should come out with me to sea then. There may be some danger there +but there's nothing ugly to fear." + +She gave me a startled glance quite unusual with her, more than wonderful +to me; and suddenly as though she had seen me for the first time she +exclaimed in a tone of compunction: + +"Oh! And there is this one, too! Why! Oh, why should he run his head +into danger for those things that will all crumble into dust before +long?" + +I said: "_You_ won't crumble into dust." And Mills chimed in: + +"That young enthusiast will always have his sea." + +We were all standing up now. She kept her eyes on me, and repeated with +a sort of whimsical enviousness: + +"The sea! The violet sea--and he is longing to rejoin it! . . . At +night! Under the stars! . . . A lovers' meeting," she went on, thrilling +me from head to foot with those two words, accompanied by a wistful smile +pointed by a suspicion of mockery. She turned away. + +"And you, Monsieur Mills?" she asked. + +"I am going back to my books," he declared with a very serious face. "My +adventure is over." + +"Each one to his love," she bantered us gently. "Didn't I love books, +too, at one time! They seemed to contain all wisdom and hold a magic +power, too. Tell me, Monsieur Mills, have you found amongst them in some +black-letter volume the power of foretelling a poor mortal's destiny, the +power to look into the future? Anybody's future . . ." Mills shook his +head. . . "What, not even mine?" she coaxed as if she really believed in +a magic power to be found in books. + +Mills shook his head again. "No, I have not the power," he said. "I am +no more a great magician, than you are a poor mortal. You have your +ancient spells. You are as old as the world. Of us two it's you that +are more fit to foretell the future of the poor mortals on whom you +happen to cast your eyes." + +At these words she cast her eyes down and in the moment of deep silence I +watched the slight rising and falling of her breast. Then Mills +pronounced distinctly: "Good-bye, old Enchantress." + +They shook hands cordially. "Good-bye, poor Magician," she said. + +Mills made as if to speak but seemed to think better of it. Dona Rita +returned my distant bow with a slight, charmingly ceremonious inclination +of her body. + +"_Bon voyage_ and a happy return," she said formally. + +I was following Mills through the door when I heard her voice behind us +raised in recall: + +"Oh, a moment . . . I forgot . . ." + +I turned round. The call was for me, and I walked slowly back wondering +what she could have forgotten. She waited in the middle of the room with +lowered head, with a mute gleam in her deep blue eyes. When I was near +enough she extended to me without a word her bare white arm and suddenly +pressed the back of her hand against my lips. I was too startled to +seize it with rapture. It detached itself from my lips and fell slowly +by her side. We had made it up and there was nothing to say. She turned +away to the window and I hurried out of the room. + + + + +PART THREE + + +CHAPTER I + + +It was on our return from that first trip that I took Dominic up to the +Villa to be presented to Dona Rita. If she wanted to look on the +embodiment of fidelity, resource, and courage, she could behold it all in +that man. Apparently she was not disappointed. Neither was Dominic +disappointed. During the half-hour's interview they got into touch with +each other in a wonderful way as if they had some common and secret +standpoint in life. Maybe it was their common lawlessness, and their +knowledge of things as old as the world. Her seduction, his +recklessness, were both simple, masterful and, in a sense, worthy of each +other. + +Dominic was, I won't say awed by this interview. No woman could awe +Dominic. But he was, as it were, rendered thoughtful by it, like a man +who had not so much an experience as a sort of revelation vouchsafed to +him. Later, at sea, he used to refer to La Senora in a particular tone +and I knew that henceforth his devotion was not for me alone. And I +understood the inevitability of it extremely well. As to Dona Rita she, +after Dominic left the room, had turned to me with animation and said: +"But he is perfect, this man." Afterwards she often asked after him and +used to refer to him in conversation. More than once she said to me: +"One would like to put the care of one's personal safety into the hands +of that man. He looks as if he simply couldn't fail one." I admitted +that this was very true, especially at sea. Dominic couldn't fail. But +at the same time I rather chaffed Rita on her preoccupation as to +personal safety that so often cropped up in her talk. + +"One would think you were a crowned head in a revolutionary world," I +used to tell her. + +"That would be different. One would be standing then for something, +either worth or not worth dying for. One could even run away then and be +done with it. But I can't run away unless I got out of my skin and left +that behind. Don't you understand? You are very stupid . . ." But she +had the grace to add, "On purpose." + +I don't know about the on purpose. I am not certain about the stupidity. +Her words bewildered one often and bewilderment is a sort of stupidity. +I remedied it by simply disregarding the sense of what she said. The +sound was there and also her poignant heart-gripping presence giving +occupation enough to one's faculties. In the power of those things over +one there was mystery enough. It was more absorbing than the mere +obscurity of her speeches. But I daresay she couldn't understand that. + +Hence, at times, the amusing outbreaks of temper in word and gesture that +only strengthened the natural, the invincible force of the spell. +Sometimes the brass bowl would get upset or the cigarette box would fly +up, dropping a shower of cigarettes on the floor. We would pick them up, +re-establish everything, and fall into a long silence, so close that the +sound of the first word would come with all the pain of a separation. + +It was at that time, too, that she suggested I should take up my quarters +in her house in the street of the Consuls. There were certain advantages +in that move. In my present abode my sudden absences might have been in +the long run subject to comment. On the other hand, the house in the +street of Consuls was a known out-post of Legitimacy. But then it was +covered by the occult influence of her who was referred to in +confidential talks, secret communications, and discreet whispers of +Royalist salons as: "Madame de Lastaola." + +That was the name which the heiress of Henry Allegre had decided to adopt +when, according to her own expression, she had found herself precipitated +at a moment's notice into the crowd of mankind. It is strange how the +death of Henry Allegre, which certainly the poor man had not planned, +acquired in my view the character of a heartless desertion. It gave one +a glimpse of amazing egoism in a sentiment to which one could hardly give +a name, a mysterious appropriation of one human being by another as if in +defiance of unexpressed things and for an unheard-of satisfaction of an +inconceivable pride. If he had hated her he could not have flung that +enormous fortune more brutally at her head. And his unrepentant death +seemed to lift for a moment the curtain on something lofty and sinister +like an Olympian's caprice. + +Dona Rita said to me once with humorous resignation: "You know, it +appears that one must have a name. That's what Henry Allegre's man of +business told me. He was quite impatient with me about it. But my name, +_amigo_, Henry Allegre had taken from me like all the rest of what I had +been once. All that is buried with him in his grave. It wouldn't have +been true. That is how I felt about it. So I took that one." She +whispered to herself: "Lastaola," not as if to test the sound but as if +in a dream. + +To this day I am not quite certain whether it was the name of any human +habitation, a lonely _caserio_ with a half-effaced carving of a coat of +arms over its door, or of some hamlet at the dead end of a ravine with a +stony slope at the back. It might have been a hill for all I know or +perhaps a stream. A wood, or perhaps a combination of all these: just a +bit of the earth's surface. Once I asked her where exactly it was +situated and she answered, waving her hand cavalierly at the dead wall of +the room: "Oh, over there." I thought that this was all that I was going +to hear but she added moodily, "I used to take my goats there, a dozen or +so of them, for the day. From after my uncle had said his Mass till the +ringing of the evening bell." + +I saw suddenly the lonely spot, sketched for me some time ago by a few +words from Mr. Blunt, populated by the agile, bearded beasts with cynical +heads, and a little misty figure dark in the sunlight with a halo of +dishevelled rust-coloured hair about its head. + +The epithet of rust-coloured comes from her. It was really tawny. Once +or twice in my hearing she had referred to "my rust-coloured hair" with +laughing vexation. Even then it was unruly, abhorring the restraints of +civilization, and often in the heat of a dispute getting into the eyes of +Madame de Lastaola, the possessor of coveted art treasures, the heiress +of Henry Allegre. She proceeded in a reminiscent mood, with a faint +flash of gaiety all over her face, except her dark blue eyes that moved +so seldom out of their fixed scrutiny of things invisible to other human +beings. + +"The goats were very good. We clambered amongst the stones together. +They beat me at that game. I used to catch my hair in the bushes." + +"Your rust-coloured hair," I whispered. + +"Yes, it was always this colour. And I used to leave bits of my frock on +thorns here and there. It was pretty thin, I can tell you. There wasn't +much at that time between my skin and the blue of the sky. My legs were +as sunburnt as my face; but really I didn't tan very much. I had plenty +of freckles though. There were no looking-glasses in the Presbytery but +uncle had a piece not bigger than my two hands for his shaving. One +Sunday I crept into his room and had a peep at myself. And wasn't I +startled to see my own eyes looking at me! But it was fascinating, too. +I was about eleven years old then, and I was very friendly with the +goats, and I was as shrill as a cicada and as slender as a match. +Heavens! When I overhear myself speaking sometimes, or look at my limbs, +it doesn't seem to be possible. And yet it is the same one. I do +remember every single goat. They were very clever. Goats are no trouble +really; they don't scatter much. Mine never did even if I had to hide +myself out of their sight for ever so long." + +It was but natural to ask her why she wanted to hide, and she uttered +vaguely what was rather a comment on my question: + +"It was like fate." But I chose to take it otherwise, teasingly, because +we were often like a pair of children. + +"Oh, really," I said, "you talk like a pagan. What could you know of +fate at that time? What was it like? Did it come down from Heaven?" + +"Don't be stupid. It used to come along a cart-track that was there and +it looked like a boy. Wasn't he a little devil though. You understand, +I couldn't know that. He was a wealthy cousin of mine. Round there we +are all related, all cousins--as in Brittany. He wasn't much bigger than +myself but he was older, just a boy in blue breeches and with good shoes +on his feet, which of course interested and impressed me. He yelled to +me from below, I screamed to him from above, he came up and sat down near +me on a stone, never said a word, let me look at him for half an hour +before he condescended to ask me who I was. And the airs he gave +himself! He quite intimidated me sitting there perfectly dumb. I +remember trying to hide my bare feet under the edge of my skirt as I sat +below him on the ground. + +"_C'est comique_, _eh_!" she interrupted herself to comment in a +melancholy tone. I looked at her sympathetically and she went on: + +"He was the only son from a rich farmhouse two miles down the slope. In +winter they used to send him to school at Tolosa. He had an enormous +opinion of himself; he was going to keep a shop in a town by and by and +he was about the most dissatisfied creature I have ever seen. He had an +unhappy mouth and unhappy eyes and he was always wretched about +something: about the treatment he received, about being kept in the +country and chained to work. He was moaning and complaining and +threatening all the world, including his father and mother. He used to +curse God, yes, that boy, sitting there on a piece of rock like a +wretched little Prometheus with a sparrow pecking at his miserable little +liver. And the grand scenery of mountains all round, ha, ha, ha!" + +She laughed in contralto: a penetrating sound with something generous in +it; not infectious, but in others provoking a smile. + +"Of course I, poor little animal, I didn't know what to make of it, and I +was even a little frightened. But at first because of his miserable eyes +I was sorry for him, almost as much as if he had been a sick goat. But, +frightened or sorry, I don't know how it is, I always wanted to laugh at +him, too, I mean from the very first day when he let me admire him for +half an hour. Yes, even then I had to put my hand over my mouth more +than once for the sake of good manners, you understand. And yet, you +know, I was never a laughing child. + +"One day he came up and sat down very dignified a little bit away from me +and told me he had been thrashed for wandering in the hills. + +"'To be with me?' I asked. And he said: 'To be with you! No. My people +don't know what I do.' I can't tell why, but I was annoyed. So instead +of raising a clamour of pity over him, which I suppose he expected me to +do, I asked him if the thrashing hurt very much. He got up, he had a +switch in his hand, and walked up to me, saying, 'I will soon show you.' +I went stiff with fright; but instead of slashing at me he dropped down +by my side and kissed me on the cheek. Then he did it again, and by that +time I was gone dead all over and he could have done what he liked with +the corpse but he left off suddenly and then I came to life again and I +bolted away. Not very far. I couldn't leave the goats altogether. He +chased me round and about the rocks, but of course I was too quick for +him in his nice town boots. When he got tired of that game he started +throwing stones. After that he made my life very lively for me. +Sometimes he used to come on me unawares and then I had to sit still and +listen to his miserable ravings, because he would catch me round the +waist and hold me very tight. And yet, I often felt inclined to laugh. +But if I caught sight of him at a distance and tried to dodge out of the +way he would start stoning me into a shelter I knew of and then sit +outside with a heap of stones at hand so that I daren't show the end of +my nose for hours. He would sit there and rave and abuse me till I would +burst into a crazy laugh in my hole; and then I could see him through the +leaves rolling on the ground and biting his fists with rage. Didn't he +hate me! At the same time I was often terrified. I am convinced now +that if I had started crying he would have rushed in and perhaps +strangled me there. Then as the sun was about to set he would make me +swear that I would marry him when I was grown up. 'Swear, you little +wretched beggar,' he would yell to me. And I would swear. I was hungry, +and I didn't want to be made black and blue all over with stones. Oh, I +swore ever so many times to be his wife. Thirty times a month for two +months. I couldn't help myself. It was no use complaining to my sister +Therese. When I showed her my bruises and tried to tell her a little +about my trouble she was quite scandalized. She called me a sinful girl, +a shameless creature. I assure you it puzzled my head so that, between +Therese my sister and Jose the boy, I lived in a state of idiocy almost. +But luckily at the end of the two months they sent him away from home for +good. Curious story to happen to a goatherd living all her days out +under God's eye, as my uncle the Cura might have said. My sister Therese +was keeping house in the Presbytery. She's a terrible person." + +"I have heard of your sister Therese," I said. + +"Oh, you have! Of my big sister Therese, six, ten years older than +myself perhaps? She just comes a little above my shoulder, but then I +was always a long thing. I never knew my mother. I don't even know how +she looked. There are no paintings or photographs in our farmhouses +amongst the hills. I haven't even heard her described to me. I believe +I was never good enough to be told these things. Therese decided that I +was a lump of wickedness, and now she believes that I will lose my soul +altogether unless I take some steps to save it. Well, I have no +particular taste that way. I suppose it is annoying to have a sister +going fast to eternal perdition, but there are compensations. The +funniest thing is that it's Therese, I believe, who managed to keep me +out of the Presbytery when I went out of my way to look in on them on my +return from my visit to the _Quartel Real_ last year. I couldn't have +stayed much more than half an hour with them anyway, but still I would +have liked to get over the old doorstep. I am certain that Therese +persuaded my uncle to go out and meet me at the bottom of the hill. I +saw the old man a long way off and I understood how it was. I dismounted +at once and met him on foot. We had half an hour together walking up and +down the road. He is a peasant priest, he didn't know how to treat me. +And of course I was uncomfortable, too. There wasn't a single goat about +to keep me in countenance. I ought to have embraced him. I was always +fond of the stern, simple old man. But he drew himself up when I +approached him and actually took off his hat to me. So simple as that! +I bowed my head and asked for his blessing. And he said 'I would never +refuse a blessing to a good Legitimist.' So stern as that! And when I +think that I was perhaps the only girl of the family or in the whole +world that he ever in his priest's life patted on the head! When I think +of that I . . . I believe at that moment I was as wretched as he was +himself. I handed him an envelope with a big red seal which quite +startled him. I had asked the Marquis de Villarel to give me a few words +for him, because my uncle has a great influence in his district; and the +Marquis penned with his own hand some compliments and an inquiry about +the spirit of the population. My uncle read the letter, looked up at me +with an air of mournful awe, and begged me to tell his excellency that +the people were all for God, their lawful King and their old privileges. +I said to him then, after he had asked me about the health of His Majesty +in an awfully gloomy tone--I said then: 'There is only one thing that +remains for me to do, uncle, and that is to give you two pounds of the +very best snuff I have brought here for you.' What else could I have got +for the poor old man? I had no trunks with me. I had to leave behind a +spare pair of shoes in the hotel to make room in my little bag for that +snuff. And fancy! That old priest absolutely pushed the parcel away. I +could have thrown it at his head; but I thought suddenly of that hard, +prayerful life, knowing nothing of any ease or pleasure in the world, +absolutely nothing but a pinch of snuff now and then. I remembered how +wretched he used to be when he lacked a copper or two to get some snuff +with. My face was hot with indignation, but before I could fly out at +him I remembered how simple he was. So I said with great dignity that as +the present came from the King and as he wouldn't receive it from my hand +there was nothing else for me to do but to throw it into the brook; and I +made as if I were going to do it, too. He shouted: 'Stay, unhappy girl! +Is it really from His Majesty, whom God preserve?' I said +contemptuously, 'Of course.' He looked at me with great pity in his +eyes, sighed deeply, and took the little tin from my hand. I suppose he +imagined me in my abandoned way wheedling the necessary cash out of the +King for the purchase of that snuff. You can't imagine how simple he is. +Nothing was easier than to deceive him; but don't imagine I deceived him +from the vainglory of a mere sinner. I lied to the dear man, simply +because I couldn't bear the idea of him being deprived of the only +gratification his big, ascetic, gaunt body ever knew on earth. As I +mounted my mule to go away he murmured coldly: 'God guard you, Senora!' +Senora! What sternness! We were off a little way already when his heart +softened and he shouted after me in a terrible voice: 'The road to Heaven +is repentance!' And then, after a silence, again the great shout +'Repentance!' thundered after me. Was that sternness or simplicity, I +wonder? Or a mere unmeaning superstition, a mechanical thing? If there +lives anybody completely honest in this world, surely it must be my +uncle. And yet--who knows? + +"Would you guess what was the next thing I did? Directly I got over the +frontier I wrote from Bayonne asking the old man to send me out my sister +here. I said it was for the service of the King. You see, I had thought +suddenly of that house of mine in which you once spent the night talking +with Mr. Mills and Don Juan Blunt. I thought it would do extremely well +for Carlist officers coming this way on leave or on a mission. In hotels +they might have been molested, but I knew that I could get protection for +my house. Just a word from the ministry in Paris to the Prefect. But I +wanted a woman to manage it for me. And where was I to find a +trustworthy woman? How was I to know one when I saw her? I don't know +how to talk to women. Of course my Rose would have done for me that or +anything else; but what could I have done myself without her? She has +looked after me from the first. It was Henry Allegre who got her for me +eight years ago. I don't know whether he meant it for a kindness but +she's the only human being on whom I can lean. She knows . . . What +doesn't she know about me! She has never failed to do the right thing +for me unasked. I couldn't part with her. And I couldn't think of +anybody else but my sister. + +"After all it was somebody belonging to me. But it seemed the wildest +idea. Yet she came at once. Of course I took care to send her some +money. She likes money. As to my uncle there is nothing that he +wouldn't have given up for the service of the King. Rose went to meet +her at the railway station. She told me afterwards that there had been +no need for me to be anxious about her recognizing Mademoiselle Therese. +There was nobody else in the train that could be mistaken for her. I +should think not! She had made for herself a dress of some brown stuff +like a nun's habit and had a crooked stick and carried all her belongings +tied up in a handkerchief. She looked like a pilgrim to a saint's +shrine. Rose took her to the house. She asked when she saw it: 'And +does this big place really belong to our Rita?' My maid of course said +that it was mine. 'And how long did our Rita live here?'--'Madame has +never seen it unless perhaps the outside, as far as I know. I believe +Mr. Allegre lived here for some time when he was a young man.'--'The +sinner that's dead?'--'Just so,' says Rose. You know nothing ever +startles Rose. 'Well, his sins are gone with him,' said my sister, and +began to make herself at home. + +"Rose was going to stop with her for a week but on the third day she was +back with me with the remark that Mlle. Therese knew her way about very +well already and preferred to be left to herself. Some little time +afterwards I went to see that sister of mine. The first thing she said +to me, 'I wouldn't have recognized you, Rita,' and I said, 'What a funny +dress you have, Therese, more fit for the portress of a convent than for +this house.'--'Yes,' she said, 'and unless you give this house to me, +Rita, I will go back to our country. I will have nothing to do with your +life, Rita. Your life is no secret for me.' + +"I was going from room to room and Therese was following me. 'I don't +know that my life is a secret to anybody,' I said to her, 'but how do you +know anything about it?' And then she told me that it was through a +cousin of ours, that horrid wretch of a boy, you know. He had finished +his schooling and was a clerk in a Spanish commercial house of some kind, +in Paris, and apparently had made it his business to write home whatever +he could hear about me or ferret out from those relations of mine with +whom I lived as a girl. I got suddenly very furious. I raged up and +down the room (we were alone upstairs), and Therese scuttled away from me +as far as the door. I heard her say to herself, 'It's the evil spirit in +her that makes her like this.' She was absolutely convinced of that. +She made the sign of the cross in the air to protect herself. I was +quite astounded. And then I really couldn't help myself. I burst into a +laugh. I laughed and laughed; I really couldn't stop till Therese ran +away. I went downstairs still laughing and found her in the hall with +her face to the wall and her fingers in her ears kneeling in a corner. I +had to pull her out by the shoulders from there. I don't think she was +frightened; she was only shocked. But I don't suppose her heart is +desperately bad, because when I dropped into a chair feeling very tired +she came and knelt in front of me and put her arms round my waist and +entreated me to cast off from me my evil ways with the help of saints and +priests. Quite a little programme for a reformed sinner. I got away at +last. I left her sunk on her heels before the empty chair looking after +me. 'I pray for you every night and morning, Rita,' she said.--'Oh, yes. +I know you are a good sister,' I said to her. I was letting myself out +when she called after me, 'And what about this house, Rita?' I said to +her, 'Oh, you may keep it till the day I reform and enter a convent.' +The last I saw of her she was still on her knees looking after me with +her mouth open. I have seen her since several times, but our intercourse +is, at any rate on her side, as of a frozen nun with some great lady. +But I believe she really knows how to make men comfortable. Upon my word +I think she likes to look after men. They don't seem to be such great +sinners as women are. I think you could do worse than take up your +quarters at number 10. She will no doubt develop a saintly sort of +affection for you, too." + +I don't know that the prospect of becoming a favourite of Dona Rita's +peasant sister was very fascinating to me. If I went to live very +willingly at No. 10 it was because everything connected with Dona Rita +had for me a peculiar fascination. She had only passed through the house +once as far as I knew; but it was enough. She was one of those beings +that leave a trace. I am not unreasonable--I mean for those that knew +her. That is, I suppose, because she was so unforgettable. Let us +remember the tragedy of Azzolati the ruthless, the ridiculous financier +with a criminal soul (or shall we say heart) and facile tears. No +wonder, then, that for me, who may flatter myself without undue vanity +with being much finer than that grotesque international intriguer, the +mere knowledge that Dona Rita had passed through the very rooms in which +I was going to live between the strenuous times of the sea-expeditions, +was enough to fill my inner being with a great content. Her glance, her +darkly brilliant blue glance, had run over the walls of that room which +most likely would be mine to slumber in. Behind me, somewhere near the +door, Therese, the peasant sister, said in a funnily compassionate tone +and in an amazingly landlady-of-a-boarding-house spirit of false +persuasiveness: + +"You will be very comfortable here, Senor. It is so peaceful here in the +street. Sometimes one may think oneself in a village. It's only a +hundred and twenty-five francs for the friends of the King. And I shall +take such good care of you that your very heart will be able to rest." + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Dona Rita was curious to know how I got on with her peasant sister and +all I could say in return for that inquiry was that the peasant sister +was in her own way amiable. At this she clicked her tongue amusingly and +repeated a remark she had made before: "She likes young men. The younger +the better." The mere thought of those two women being sisters aroused +one's wonder. Physically they were altogether of different design. It +was also the difference between living tissue of glowing loveliness with +a divine breath, and a hard hollow figure of baked clay. + +Indeed Therese did somehow resemble an achievement, wonderful enough in +its way, in unglazed earthenware. The only gleam perhaps that one could +find on her was that of her teeth, which one used to get between her dull +lips unexpectedly, startlingly, and a little inexplicably, because it was +never associated with a smile. She smiled with compressed mouth. It was +indeed difficult to conceive of those two birds coming from the same +nest. And yet . . . Contrary to what generally happens, it was when one +saw those two women together that one lost all belief in the possibility +of their relationship near or far. It extended even to their common +humanity. One, as it were, doubted it. If one of the two was +representative, then the other was either something more or less than +human. One wondered whether these two women belonged to the same scheme +of creation. One was secretly amazed to see them standing together, +speaking to each other, having words in common, understanding each other. +And yet! . . . Our psychological sense is the crudest of all; we don't +know, we don't perceive how superficial we are. The simplest shades +escape us, the secret of changes, of relations. No, upon the whole, the +only feature (and yet with enormous differences) which Therese had in +common with her sister, as I told Dona Rita, was amiability. + +"For, you know, you are a most amiable person yourself," I went on. +"It's one of your characteristics, of course much more precious than in +other people. You transmute the commonest traits into gold of your own; +but after all there are no new names. You are amiable. You were most +amiable to me when I first saw you." + +"Really. I was not aware. Not specially . . . " + +"I had never the presumption to think that it was special. Moreover, my +head was in a whirl. I was lost in astonishment first of all at what I +had been listening to all night. Your history, you know, a wonderful +tale with a flavour of wine in it and wreathed in clouds, with that +amazing decapitated, mutilated dummy of a woman lurking in a corner, and +with Blunt's smile gleaming through a fog, the fog in my eyes, from +Mills' pipe, you know. I was feeling quite inanimate as to body and +frightfully stimulated as to mind all the time. I had never heard +anything like that talk about you before. Of course I wasn't sleepy, but +still I am not used to do altogether without sleep like Blunt . . ." + +"Kept awake all night listening to my story!" She marvelled. + +"Yes. You don't think I am complaining, do you? I wouldn't have missed +it for the world. Blunt in a ragged old jacket and a white tie and that +incisive polite voice of his seemed strange and weird. It seemed as +though he were inventing it all rather angrily. I had doubts as to your +existence." + +"Mr. Blunt is very much interested in my story." + +"Anybody would be," I said. "I was. I didn't sleep a wink. I was +expecting to see you soon--and even then I had my doubts." + +"As to my existence?" + +"It wasn't exactly that, though of course I couldn't tell that you +weren't a product of Captain Blunt's sleeplessness. He seemed to dread +exceedingly to be left alone and your story might have been a device to +detain us . . ." + +"He hasn't enough imagination for that," she said. + +"It didn't occur to me. But there was Mills, who apparently believed in +your existence. I could trust Mills. My doubts were about the +propriety. I couldn't see any good reason for being taken to see you. +Strange that it should be my connection with the sea which brought me +here to the Villa." + +"Unexpected perhaps." + +"No. I mean particularly strange and significant." + +"Why?" + +"Because my friends are in the habit of telling me (and each other) that +the sea is my only love. They were always chaffing me because they +couldn't see or guess in my life at any woman, open or secret. . ." + +"And is that really so?" she inquired negligently. + +"Why, yes. I don't mean to say that I am like an innocent shepherd in +one of those interminable stories of the eighteenth century. But I don't +throw the word love about indiscriminately. It may be all true about the +sea; but some people would say that they love sausages." + +"You are horrible." + +"I am surprised." + +"I mean your choice of words." + +"And you have never uttered a word yet that didn't change into a pearl as +it dropped from your lips. At least not before me." + +She glanced down deliberately and said, "This is better. But I don't see +any of them on the floor." + +"It's you who are horrible in the implications of your language. Don't +see any on the floor! Haven't I caught up and treasured them all in my +heart? I am not the animal from which sausages are made." + +She looked at me suavely and then with the sweetest possible smile +breathed out the word: "No." + +And we both laughed very loud. O! days of innocence! On this occasion +we parted from each other on a light-hearted note. But already I had +acquired the conviction that there was nothing more lovable in the world +than that woman; nothing more life-giving, inspiring, and illuminating +than the emanation of her charm. I meant it absolutely--not excepting +the light of the sun. + +From this there was only one step further to take. The step into a +conscious surrender; the open perception that this charm, warming like a +flame, was also all-revealing like a great light; giving new depth to +shades, new brilliance to colours, an amazing vividness to all sensations +and vitality to all thoughts: so that all that had been lived before +seemed to have been lived in a drab world and with a languid pulse. + +A great revelation this. I don't mean to say it was soul-shaking. The +soul was already a captive before doubt, anguish, or dismay could touch +its surrender and its exaltation. But all the same the revelation turned +many things into dust; and, amongst others, the sense of the careless +freedom of my life. If that life ever had any purpose or any aim outside +itself I would have said that it threw a shadow across its path. But it +hadn't. There had been no path. But there was a shadow, the inseparable +companion of all light. No illumination can sweep all mystery out of the +world. After the departed darkness the shadows remain, more mysterious +because as if more enduring; and one feels a dread of them from which one +was free before. What if they were to be victorious at the last? They, +or what perhaps lurks in them: fear, deception, desire, disillusion--all +silent at first before the song of triumphant love vibrating in the +light. Yes. Silent. Even desire itself! All silent. But not for +long! + +This was, I think, before the third expedition. Yes, it must have been +the third, for I remember that it was boldly planned and that it was +carried out without a hitch. The tentative period was over; all our +arrangements had been perfected. There was, so to speak, always an +unfailing smoke on the hill and an unfailing lantern on the shore. Our +friends, mostly bought for hard cash and therefore valuable, had acquired +confidence in us. This, they seemed to say, is no unfathomable roguery +of penniless adventurers. This is but the reckless enterprise of men of +wealth and sense and needn't be inquired into. The young _caballero_ has +got real gold pieces in the belt he wears next his skin; and the man with +the heavy moustaches and unbelieving eyes is indeed very much of a man. +They gave to Dominic all their respect and to me a great show of +deference; for I had all the money, while they thought that Dominic had +all the sense. That judgment was not exactly correct. I had my share of +judgment and audacity which surprises me now that the years have chilled +the blood without dimming the memory. I remember going about the +business with light-hearted, clear-headed recklessness which, according +as its decisions were sudden or considered, made Dominic draw his breath +through his clenched teeth, or look hard at me before he gave me either a +slight nod of assent or a sarcastic "Oh, certainly"--just as the humour +of the moment prompted him. + +One night as we were lying on a bit of dry sand under the lee of a rock, +side by side, watching the light of our little vessel dancing away at sea +in the windy distance, Dominic spoke suddenly to me. + +"I suppose Alphonso and Carlos, Carlos and Alphonso, they are nothing to +you, together or separately?" + +I said: "Dominic, if they were both to vanish from the earth together or +separately it would make no difference to my feelings." + +He remarked: "Just so. A man mourns only for his friends. I suppose +they are no more friends to you than they are to me. Those Carlists make +a great consumption of cartridges. That is well. But why should we do +all those mad things that you will insist on us doing till my hair," he +pursued with grave, mocking exaggeration, "till my hair tries to stand up +on my head? and all for that Carlos, let God and the devil each guard his +own, for that Majesty as they call him, but after all a man like another +and--no friend." + +"Yes, why?" I murmured, feeling my body nestled at ease in the sand. + +It was very dark under the overhanging rock on that night of clouds and +of wind that died and rose and died again. Dominic's voice was heard +speaking low between the short gusts. + +"Friend of the Senora, eh?" + +"That's what the world says, Dominic." + +"Half of what the world says are lies," he pronounced dogmatically. "For +all his majesty he may be a good enough man. Yet he is only a king in +the mountains and to-morrow he may be no more than you. Still a woman +like that--one, somehow, would grudge her to a better king. She ought to +be set up on a high pillar for people that walk on the ground to raise +their eyes up to. But you are otherwise, you gentlemen. You, for +instance, Monsieur, you wouldn't want to see her set up on a pillar." + +"That sort of thing, Dominic," I said, "that sort of thing, you +understand me, ought to be done early." + +He was silent for a time. And then his manly voice was heard in the +shadow of the rock. + +"I see well enough what you mean. I spoke of the multitude, that only +raise their eyes. But for kings and suchlike that is not enough. Well, +no heart need despair; for there is not a woman that wouldn't at some +time or other get down from her pillar for no bigger bribe perhaps than +just a flower which is fresh to-day and withered to-morrow. And then, +what's the good of asking how long any woman has been up there? There is +a true saying that lips that have been kissed do not lose their +freshness." + +I don't know what answer I could have made. I imagine Dominic thought +himself unanswerable. As a matter of fact, before I could speak, a voice +came to us down the face of the rock crying secretly, "Ola, down there! +All is safe ashore." + +It was the boy who used to hang about the stable of a muleteer's inn in a +little shallow valley with a shallow little stream in it, and where we +had been hiding most of the day before coming down to the shore. We both +started to our feet and Dominic said, "A good boy that. You didn't hear +him either come or go above our heads. Don't reward him with more than +one peseta, Senor, whatever he does. If you were to give him two he +would go mad at the sight of so much wealth and throw up his job at the +Fonda, where he is so useful to run errands, in that way he has of +skimming along the paths without displacing a stone." + +Meantime he was busying himself with striking a fire to set alight a +small heap of dry sticks he had made ready beforehand on that spot which +in all the circuit of the Bay was perfectly screened from observation +from the land side. + +The clear flame shooting up revealed him in the black cloak with a hood +of a Mediterranean sailor. His eyes watched the dancing dim light to +seaward. And he talked the while. + +"The only fault you have, Senor, is being too generous with your money. +In this world you must give sparingly. The only things you may deal out +without counting, in this life of ours which is but a little fight and a +little love, is blows to your enemy and kisses to a woman. . . . Ah! here +they are coming in." + +I noticed the dancing light in the dark west much closer to the shore +now. Its motion had altered. It swayed slowly as it ran towards us, +and, suddenly, the darker shadow as of a great pointed wing appeared +gliding in the night. Under it a human voice shouted something +confidently. + +"_Bueno_," muttered Dominic. From some receptacle I didn't see he poured +a lot of water on the blaze, like a magician at the end of a successful +incantation that had called out a shadow and a voice from the immense +space of the sea. And his hooded figure vanished from my sight in a +great hiss and the warm feel of ascending steam. + +"That's all over," he said, "and now we go back for more work, more toil, +more trouble, more exertion with hands and feet, for hours and hours. +And all the time the head turned over the shoulder, too." + +We were climbing a precipitous path sufficiently dangerous in the dark, +Dominic, more familiar with it, going first and I scrambling close behind +in order that I might grab at his cloak if I chanced to slip or miss my +footing. I remonstrated against this arrangement as we stopped to rest. +I had no doubt I would grab at his cloak if I felt myself falling. I +couldn't help doing that. But I would probably only drag him down with +me. + +With one hand grasping a shadowy bush above his head he growled that all +this was possible, but that it was all in the bargain, and urged me +onwards. + +When we got on to the level that man whose even breathing no exertion, no +danger, no fear or anger could disturb, remarked as we strode side by +side: + +"I will say this for us, that we are carrying out all this deadly +foolishness as conscientiously as though the eyes of the Senora were on +us all the time. And as to risk, I suppose we take more than she would +approve of, I fancy, if she ever gave a moment's thought to us out here. +Now, for instance, in the next half hour, we may come any moment on three +carabineers who would let off their pieces without asking questions. +Even your way of flinging money about cannot make safety for men set on +defying a whole big country for the sake of--what is it exactly?--the +blue eyes, or the white arms of the Senora." + +He kept his voice equably low. It was a lonely spot and but for a vague +shape of a dwarf tree here and there we had only the flying clouds for +company. Very far off a tiny light twinkled a little way up the seaward +shoulder of an invisible mountain. Dominic moved on. + +"Fancy yourself lying here, on this wild spot, with a leg smashed by a +shot or perhaps with a bullet in your side. It might happen. A star +might fall. I have watched stars falling in scores on clear nights in +the Atlantic. And it was nothing. The flash of a pinch of gunpowder in +your face may be a bigger matter. Yet somehow it's pleasant as we +stumble in the dark to think of our Senora in that long room with a shiny +floor and all that lot of glass at the end, sitting on that divan, you +call it, covered with carpets as if expecting a king indeed. And very +still . . ." + +He remembered her--whose image could not be dismissed. + +I laid my hand on his shoulder. + +"That light on the mountain side flickers exceedingly, Dominic. Are we +in the path?" + +He addressed me then in French, which was between us the language of more +formal moments. + +"_Prenez mon bras_, _monsieur_. Take a firm hold, or I will have you +stumbling again and falling into one of those beastly holes, with a good +chance to crack your head. And there is no need to take offence. For, +speaking with all respect, why should you, and I with you, be here on +this lonely spot, barking our shins in the dark on the way to a +confounded flickering light where there will be no other supper but a +piece of a stale sausage and a draught of leathery wine out of a stinking +skin. Pah!" + +I had good hold of his arm. Suddenly he dropped the formal French and +pronounced in his inflexible voice: + +"For a pair of white arms, Senor. _Bueno_." + +He could understand. + + + +CHAPTER III + + +On our return from that expedition we came gliding into the old harbour +so late that Dominic and I, making for the cafe kept by Madame Leonore, +found it empty of customers, except for two rather sinister fellows +playing cards together at a corner table near the door. The first thing +done by Madame Leonore was to put her hands on Dominic's shoulders and +look at arm's length into the eyes of that man of audacious deeds and +wild stratagems who smiled straight at her from under his heavy and, at +that time, uncurled moustaches. + +Indeed we didn't present a neat appearance, our faces unshaven, with the +traces of dried salt sprays on our smarting skins and the sleeplessness +of full forty hours filming our eyes. At least it was so with me who saw +as through a mist Madame Leonore moving with her mature nonchalant grace, +setting before us wine and glasses with a faint swish of her ample black +skirt. Under the elaborate structure of black hair her jet-black eyes +sparkled like good-humoured stars and even I could see that she was +tremendously excited at having this lawless wanderer Dominic within her +reach and as it were in her power. Presently she sat down by us, touched +lightly Dominic's curly head silvered on the temples (she couldn't really +help it), gazed at me for a while with a quizzical smile, observed that I +looked very tired, and asked Dominic whether for all that I was likely to +sleep soundly to-night. + +"I don't know," said Dominic, "He's young. And there is always the +chance of dreams." + +"What do you men dream of in those little barques of yours tossing for +months on the water?" + +"Mostly of nothing," said Dominic. "But it has happened to me to dream +of furious fights." + +"And of furious loves, too, no doubt," she caught him up in a mocking +voice. + +"No, that's for the waking hours," Dominic drawled, basking sleepily with +his head between his hands in her ardent gaze. "The waking hours are +longer." + +"They must be, at sea," she said, never taking her eyes off him. "But I +suppose you do talk of your loves sometimes." + +"You may be sure, Madame Leonore," I interjected, noticing the hoarseness +of my voice, "that you at any rate are talked about a lot at sea." + +"I am not so sure of that now. There is that strange lady from the Prado +that you took him to see, Signorino. She went to his head like a glass +of wine into a tender youngster's. He is such a child, and I suppose +that I am another. Shame to confess it, the other morning I got a friend +to look after the cafe for a couple of hours, wrapped up my head, and +walked out there to the other end of the town. . . . Look at these two +sitting up! And I thought they were so sleepy and tired, the poor +fellows!" + +She kept our curiosity in suspense for a moment. + +"Well, I have seen your marvel, Dominic," she continued in a calm voice. +"She came flying out of the gate on horseback and it would have been all +I would have seen of her if--and this is for you, Signorino--if she +hadn't pulled up in the main alley to wait for a very good-looking +cavalier. He had his moustaches so, and his teeth were very white when +he smiled at her. But his eyes are too deep in his head for my taste. I +didn't like it. It reminded me of a certain very severe priest who used +to come to our village when I was young; younger even than your marvel, +Dominic." + +"It was no priest in disguise, Madame Leonore," I said, amused by her +expression of disgust. "That's an American." + +"Ah! _Un Americano_! Well, never mind him. It was her that I went to +see." + +"What! Walked to the other end of the town to see Dona Rita!" Dominic +addressed her in a low bantering tone. "Why, you were always telling me +you couldn't walk further than the end of the quay to save your life--or +even mine, you said." + +"Well, I did; and I walked back again and between the two walks I had a +good look. And you may be sure--that will surprise you both--that on the +way back--oh, Santa Madre, wasn't it a long way, too--I wasn't thinking +of any man at sea or on shore in that connection." + +"No. And you were not thinking of yourself, either, I suppose," I said. +Speaking was a matter of great effort for me, whether I was too tired or +too sleepy, I can't tell. "No, you were not thinking of yourself. You +were thinking of a woman, though." + +"_Si_. As much a woman as any of us that ever breathed in the world. +Yes, of her! Of that very one! You see, we women are not like you men, +indifferent to each other unless by some exception. Men say we are +always against one another but that's only men's conceit. What can she +be to me? I am not afraid of the big child here," and she tapped +Dominic's forearm on which he rested his head with a fascinated stare. +"With us two it is for life and death, and I am rather pleased that there +is something yet in him that can catch fire on occasion. I would have +thought less of him if he hadn't been able to get out of hand a little, +for something really fine. As for you, Signorino," she turned on me with +an unexpected and sarcastic sally, "I am not in love with you yet." She +changed her tone from sarcasm to a soft and even dreamy note. "A head +like a gem," went on that woman born in some by-street of Rome, and a +plaything for years of God knows what obscure fates. "Yes, Dominic! +_Antica_. I haven't been haunted by a face since--since I was sixteen +years old. It was the face of a young cavalier in the street. He was on +horseback, too. He never looked at me, I never saw him again, and I +loved him for--for days and days and days. That was the sort of face he +had. And her face is of the same sort. She had a man's hat, too, on her +head. So high!" + +"A man's hat on her head," remarked with profound displeasure Dominic, to +whom this wonder, at least, of all the wonders of the earth, was +apparently unknown. + +"_Si_. And her face has haunted me. Not so long as that other but more +touchingly because I am no longer sixteen and this is a woman. Yes, I +did think of her, I myself was once that age and I, too, had a face of my +own to show to the world, though not so superb. And I, too, didn't know +why I had come into the world any more than she does." + +"And now you know," Dominic growled softly, with his head still between +his hands. + +She looked at him for a long time, opened her lips but in the end only +sighed lightly. + +"And what do you know of her, you who have seen her so well as to be +haunted by her face?" I asked. + +I wouldn't have been surprised if she had answered me with another sigh. +For she seemed only to be thinking of herself and looked not in my +direction. But suddenly she roused up. + +"Of her?" she repeated in a louder voice. "Why should I talk of another +woman? And then she is a great lady." + +At this I could not repress a smile which she detected at once. + +"Isn't she? Well, no, perhaps she isn't; but you may be sure of one +thing, that she is both flesh and shadow more than any one that I have +seen. Keep that well in your mind: She is for no man! She would be +vanishing out of their hands like water that cannot be held." + +I caught my breath. "Inconstant," I whispered. + +"I don't say that. Maybe too proud, too wilful, too full of pity. +Signorino, you don't know much about women. And you may learn something +yet or you may not; but what you learn from her you will never forget." + +"Not to be held," I murmured; and she whom the quayside called Madame +Leonore closed her outstretched hand before my face and opened it at once +to show its emptiness in illustration of her expressed opinion. Dominic +never moved. + +I wished good-night to these two and left the cafe for the fresh air and +the dark spaciousness of the quays augmented by all the width of the old +Port where between the trails of light the shadows of heavy hulls +appeared very black, merging their outlines in a great confusion. I left +behind me the end of the Cannebiere, a wide vista of tall houses and +much-lighted pavements losing itself in the distance with an extinction +of both shapes and lights. I slunk past it with only a side glance and +sought the dimness of quiet streets away from the centre of the usual +night gaieties of the town. The dress I wore was just that of a sailor +come ashore from some coaster, a thick blue woollen shirt or rather a +sort of jumper with a knitted cap like a tam-o'-shanter worn very much on +one side and with a red tuft of wool in the centre. This was even the +reason why I had lingered so long in the cafe. I didn't want to be +recognized in the streets in that costume and still less to be seen +entering the house in the street of the Consuls. At that hour when the +performances were over and all the sensible citizens in their beds I +didn't hesitate to cross the Place of the Opera. It was dark, the +audience had already dispersed. The rare passers-by I met hurrying on +their last affairs of the day paid no attention to me at all. The street +of the Consuls I expected to find empty, as usual at that time of the +night. But as I turned a corner into it I overtook three people who must +have belonged to the locality. To me, somehow, they appeared strange. +Two girls in dark cloaks walked ahead of a tall man in a top hat. I +slowed down, not wishing to pass them by, the more so that the door of +the house was only a few yards distant. But to my intense surprise those +people stopped at it and the man in the top hat, producing a latchkey, +let his two companions through, followed them, and with a heavy slam cut +himself off from my astonished self and the rest of mankind. + +In the stupid way people have I stood and meditated on the sight, before +it occurred to me that this was the most useless thing to do. After +waiting a little longer to let the others get away from the hall I +entered in my turn. The small gas-jet seemed not to have been touched +ever since that distant night when Mills and I trod the black-and-white +marble hall for the first time on the heels of Captain Blunt--who lived +by his sword. And in the dimness and solitude which kept no more trace +of the three strangers than if they had been the merest ghosts I seemed +to hear the ghostly murmur, "_Americain_, _Catholique et gentilhomme_. +_Amer. . . _" Unseen by human eye I ran up the flight of steps swiftly +and on the first floor stepped into my sitting-room of which the door was +open . . . "_et gentilhomme_." I tugged at the bell pull and somewhere +down below a bell rang as unexpected for Therese as a call from a ghost. + +I had no notion whether Therese could hear me. I seemed to remember that +she slept in any bed that happened to be vacant. For all I knew she +might have been asleep in mine. As I had no matches on me I waited for a +while in the dark. The house was perfectly still. Suddenly without the +slightest preliminary sound light fell into the room and Therese stood in +the open door with a candlestick in her hand. + +She had on her peasant brown skirt. The rest of her was concealed in a +black shawl which covered her head, her shoulders, arms, and elbows +completely, down to her waist. The hand holding the candle protruded +from that envelope which the other invisible hand clasped together under +her very chin. And her face looked like a face in a painting. She said +at once: + +"You startled me, my young Monsieur." + +She addressed me most frequently in that way as though she liked the very +word "young." Her manner was certainly peasant-like with a sort of +plaint in the voice, while the face was that of a serving Sister in some +small and rustic convent. + +"I meant to do it," I said. "I am a very bad person." + +"The young are always full of fun," she said as if she were gloating over +the idea. "It is very pleasant." + +"But you are very brave," I chaffed her, "for you didn't expect a ring, +and after all it might have been the devil who pulled the bell." + +"It might have been. But a poor girl like me is not afraid of the devil. +I have a pure heart. I have been to confession last evening. No. But +it might have been an assassin that pulled the bell ready to kill a poor +harmless woman. This is a very lonely street. What could prevent you to +kill me now and then walk out again free as air?" + +While she was talking like this she had lighted the gas and with the last +words she glided through the bedroom door leaving me thunderstruck at the +unexpected character of her thoughts. + +I couldn't know that there had been during my absence a case of atrocious +murder which had affected the imagination of the whole town; and though +Therese did not read the papers (which she imagined to be full of +impieties and immoralities invented by godless men) yet if she spoke at +all with her kind, which she must have done at least in shops, she could +not have helped hearing of it. It seems that for some days people could +talk of nothing else. She returned gliding from the bedroom hermetically +sealed in her black shawl just as she had gone in, with the protruding +hand holding the lighted candle and relieved my perplexity as to her +morbid turn of mind by telling me something of the murder story in a +strange tone of indifference even while referring to its most horrible +features. "That's what carnal sin (_peche de chair_) leads to," she +commented severely and passed her tongue over her thin lips. "And then +the devil furnishes the occasion." + +"I can't imagine the devil inciting me to murder you, Therese," I said, +"and I didn't like that ready way you took me for an example, as it were. +I suppose pretty near every lodger might be a potential murderer, but I +expected to be made an exception." + +With the candle held a little below her face, with that face of one tone +and without relief she looked more than ever as though she had come out +of an old, cracked, smoky painting, the subject of which was altogether +beyond human conception. And she only compressed her lips. + +"All right," I said, making myself comfortable on a sofa after pulling +off my boots. "I suppose any one is liable to commit murder all of a +sudden. Well, have you got many murderers in the house?" + +"Yes," she said, "it's pretty good. Upstairs and downstairs," she +sighed. "God sees to it." + +"And by the by, who is that grey-headed murderer in a tall hat whom I saw +shepherding two girls into this house?" + +She put on a candid air in which one could detect a little of her peasant +cunning. + +"Oh, yes. They are two dancing girls at the Opera, sisters, as different +from each other as I and our poor Rita. But they are both virtuous and +that gentleman, their father, is very severe with them. Very severe +indeed, poor motherless things. And it seems to be such a sinful +occupation." + +"I bet you make them pay a big rent, Therese. With an occupation like +that . . ." + +She looked at me with eyes of invincible innocence and began to glide +towards the door, so smoothly that the flame of the candle hardly swayed. +"Good-night," she murmured. + +"Good-night, Mademoiselle." + +Then in the very doorway she turned right round as a marionette would +turn. + +"Oh, you ought to know, my dear young Monsieur, that Mr. Blunt, the dear +handsome man, has arrived from Navarre three days ago or more. Oh," she +added with a priceless air of compunction, "he is such a charming +gentleman." + +And the door shut after her. + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +That night I passed in a state, mostly open-eyed, I believe, but always +on the border between dreams and waking. The only thing absolutely +absent from it was the feeling of rest. The usual sufferings of a youth +in love had nothing to do with it. I could leave her, go away from her, +remain away from her, without an added pang or any augmented +consciousness of that torturing sentiment of distance so acute that often +it ends by wearing itself out in a few days. Far or near was all one to +me, as if one could never get any further but also never any nearer to +her secret: the state like that of some strange wild faiths that get hold +of mankind with the cruel mystic grip of unattainable perfection, robbing +them of both liberty and felicity on earth. A faith presents one with +some hope, though. But I had no hope, and not even desire as a thing +outside myself, that would come and go, exhaust or excite. It was in me +just like life was in me; that life of which a popular saying affirms +that "it is sweet." For the general wisdom of mankind will always stop +short on the limit of the formidable. + +What is best in a state of brimful, equable suffering is that it does +away with the gnawings of petty sensations. Too far gone to be sensible +to hope and desire I was spared the inferior pangs of elation and +impatience. Hours with her or hours without her were all alike, all in +her possession! But still there are shades and I will admit that the +hours of that morning were perhaps a little more difficult to get through +than the others. I had sent word of my arrival of course. I had written +a note. I had rung the bell. Therese had appeared herself in her brown +garb and as monachal as ever. I had said to her: + +"Have this sent off at once." + +She had gazed at the addressed envelope, smiled (I was looking up at her +from my desk), and at last took it up with an effort of sanctimonious +repugnance. But she remained with it in her hand looking at me as though +she were piously gloating over something she could read in my face. + +"Oh, that Rita, that Rita," she murmured. "And you, too! Why are you +trying, you, too, like the others, to stand between her and the mercy of +God? What's the good of all this to you? And you such a nice, dear, +young gentleman. For no earthly good only making all the kind saints in +heaven angry, and our mother ashamed in her place amongst the blessed." + +"Mademoiselle Therese," I said, "_vous etes folle_." + +I believed she was crazy. She was cunning, too. I added an imperious: +"_Allez_," and with a strange docility she glided out without another +word. All I had to do then was to get dressed and wait till eleven +o'clock. + +The hour struck at last. If I could have plunged into a light wave and +been transported instantaneously to Dona Rita's door it would no doubt +have saved me an infinity of pangs too complex for analysis; but as this +was impossible I elected to walk from end to end of that long way. My +emotions and sensations were childlike and chaotic inasmuch that they +were very intense and primitive, and that I lay very helpless in their +unrelaxing grasp. If one could have kept a record of one's physical +sensations it would have been a fine collection of absurdities and +contradictions. Hardly touching the ground and yet leaden-footed; with a +sinking heart and an excited brain; hot and trembling with a secret +faintness, and yet as firm as a rock and with a sort of indifference to +it all, I did reach the door which was frightfully like any other +commonplace door, but at the same time had a fateful character: a few +planks put together--and an awful symbol; not to be approached without +awe--and yet coming open in the ordinary way to the ring of the bell. + +It came open. Oh, yes, very much as usual. But in the ordinary course +of events the first sight in the hall should have been the back of the +ubiquitous, busy, silent maid hurrying off and already distant. But not +at all! She actually waited for me to enter. I was extremely taken +aback and I believe spoke to her for the first time in my life. + +"_Bonjour_, Rose." + +She dropped her dark eyelids over those eyes that ought to have been +lustrous but were not, as if somebody had breathed on them the first +thing in the morning. She was a girl without smiles. She shut the door +after me, and not only did that but in the incredible idleness of that +morning she, who had never a moment to spare, started helping me off with +my overcoat. It was positively embarrassing from its novelty. While +busying herself with those trifles she murmured without any marked +intention: + +"Captain Blunt is with Madame." + +This didn't exactly surprise me. I knew he had come up to town; I only +happened to have forgotten his existence for the moment. I looked at the +girl also without any particular intention. But she arrested my movement +towards the dining-room door by a low, hurried, if perfectly unemotional +appeal: + +"Monsieur George!" + +That of course was not my name. It served me then as it will serve for +this story. In all sorts of strange places I was alluded to as "that +young gentleman they call Monsieur George." Orders came from "Monsieur +George" to men who nodded knowingly. Events pivoted about "Monsieur +George." I haven't the slightest doubt that in the dark and tortuous +streets of the old Town there were fingers pointed at my back: there goes +"Monsieur George." I had been introduced discreetly to several +considerable persons as "Monsieur George." I had learned to answer to +the name quite naturally; and to simplify matters I was also "Monsieur +George" in the street of the Consuls and in the Villa on the Prado. I +verily believe that at that time I had the feeling that the name of +George really belonged to me. I waited for what the girl had to say. I +had to wait some time, though during that silence she gave no sign of +distress or agitation. It was for her obviously a moment of reflection. +Her lips were compressed a little in a characteristic, capable manner. I +looked at her with a friendliness I really felt towards her slight, +unattractive, and dependable person. + +"Well," I said at last, rather amused by this mental hesitation. I never +took it for anything else. I was sure it was not distrust. She +appreciated men and things and events solely in relation to Dona Rita's +welfare and safety. And as to that I believed myself above suspicion. +At last she spoke. + +"Madame is not happy." This information was given to me not emotionally +but as it were officially. It hadn't even a tone of warning. A mere +statement. Without waiting to see the effect she opened the dining-room +door, not to announce my name in the usual way but to go in and shut it +behind her. In that short moment I heard no voices inside. Not a sound +reached me while the door remained shut; but in a few seconds it came +open again and Rose stood aside to let me pass. + +Then I heard something: Dona Rita's voice raised a little on an impatient +note (a very, very rare thing) finishing some phrase of protest with the +words " . . . Of no consequence." + +I heard them as I would have heard any other words, for she had that kind +of voice which carries a long distance. But the maid's statement +occupied all my mind. "_Madame n'est pas heureuse_." It had a dreadful +precision . . . "Not happy . . ." This unhappiness had almost a concrete +form--something resembling a horrid bat. I was tired, excited, and +generally overwrought. My head felt empty. What were the appearances of +unhappiness? I was still naive enough to associate them with tears, +lamentations, extraordinary attitudes of the body and some sort of facial +distortion, all very dreadful to behold. I didn't know what I should +see; but in what I did see there was nothing startling, at any rate from +that nursery point of view which apparently I had not yet outgrown. + +With immense relief the apprehensive child within me beheld Captain Blunt +warming his back at the more distant of the two fireplaces; and as to +Dona Rita there was nothing extraordinary in her attitude either, except +perhaps that her hair was all loose about her shoulders. I hadn't the +slightest doubt they had been riding together that morning, but she, with +her impatience of all costume (and yet she could dress herself admirably +and wore her dresses triumphantly), had divested herself of her riding +habit and sat cross-legged enfolded in that ample blue robe like a young +savage chieftain in a blanket. It covered her very feet. And before the +normal fixity of her enigmatical eyes the smoke of the cigarette ascended +ceremonially, straight up, in a slender spiral. + +"How are you," was the greeting of Captain Blunt with the usual smile +which would have been more amiable if his teeth hadn't been, just then, +clenched quite so tight. How he managed to force his voice through that +shining barrier I could never understand. Dona Rita tapped the couch +engagingly by her side but I sat down instead in the armchair nearly +opposite her, which, I imagine, must have been just vacated by Blunt. +She inquired with that particular gleam of the eyes in which there was +something immemorial and gay: + +"Well?" + +"Perfect success." + +"I could hug you." + +At any time her lips moved very little but in this instance the intense +whisper of these words seemed to form itself right in my very heart; not +as a conveyed sound but as an imparted emotion vibrating there with an +awful intimacy of delight. And yet it left my heart heavy. + +"Oh, yes, for joy," I said bitterly but very low; "for your Royalist, +Legitimist, joy." Then with that trick of very precise politeness which +I must have caught from Mr. Blunt I added: + +"I don't want to be embraced--for the King." + +And I might have stopped there. But I didn't. With a perversity which +should be forgiven to those who suffer night and day and are as if drunk +with an exalted unhappiness, I went on: "For the sake of an old cast-off +glove; for I suppose a disdained love is not much more than a soiled, +flabby thing that finds itself on a private rubbish heap because it has +missed the fire." + +She listened to me unreadable, unmoved, narrowed eyes, closed lips, +slightly flushed face, as if carved six thousand years ago in order to +fix for ever that something secret and obscure which is in all women. +Not the gross immobility of a Sphinx proposing roadside riddles but the +finer immobility, almost sacred, of a fateful figure seated at the very +source of the passions that have moved men from the dawn of ages. + +Captain Blunt, with his elbow on the high mantelpiece, had turned away a +little from us and his attitude expressed excellently the detachment of a +man who does not want to hear. As a matter of fact, I don't suppose he +could have heard. He was too far away, our voices were too contained. +Moreover, he didn't want to hear. There could be no doubt about it; but +she addressed him unexpectedly. + +"As I was saying to you, Don Juan, I have the greatest difficulty in +getting myself, I won't say understood, but simply believed." + +No pose of detachment could avail against the warm waves of that voice. +He had to hear. After a moment he altered his position as it were +reluctantly, to answer her. + +"That's a difficulty that women generally have." + +"Yet I have always spoken the truth." + +"All women speak the truth," said Blunt imperturbably. And this annoyed +her. + +"Where are the men I have deceived?" she cried. + +"Yes, where?" said Blunt in a tone of alacrity as though he had been +ready to go out and look for them outside. + +"No! But show me one. I say--where is he?" + +He threw his affectation of detachment to the winds, moved his shoulders +slightly, very slightly, made a step nearer to the couch, and looked down +on her with an expression of amused courtesy. + +"Oh, I don't know. Probably nowhere. But if such a man could be found I +am certain he would turn out a very stupid person. You can't be expected +to furnish every one who approaches you with a mind. To expect that +would be too much, even from you who know how to work wonders at such +little cost to yourself." + +"To myself," she repeated in a loud tone. + +"Why this indignation? I am simply taking your word for it." + +"Such little cost!" she exclaimed under her breath. + +"I mean to your person." + +"Oh, yes," she murmured, glanced down, as it were upon herself, then +added very low: "This body." + +"Well, it is you," said Blunt with visibly contained irritation. "You +don't pretend it's somebody else's. It can't be. You haven't borrowed +it. . . . It fits you too well," he ended between his teeth. + +"You take pleasure in tormenting yourself," she remonstrated, suddenly +placated; "and I would be sorry for you if I didn't think it's the mere +revolt of your pride. And you know you are indulging your pride at my +expense. As to the rest of it, as to my living, acting, working wonders +at a little cost. . . . it has all but killed me morally. Do you hear? +Killed." + +"Oh, you are not dead yet," he muttered, + +"No," she said with gentle patience. "There is still some feeling left +in me; and if it is any satisfaction to you to know it, you may be +certain that I shall be conscious of the last stab." + +He remained silent for a while and then with a polite smile and a +movement of the head in my direction he warned her. + +"Our audience will get bored." + +"I am perfectly aware that Monsieur George is here, and that he has been +breathing a very different atmosphere from what he gets in this room. +Don't you find this room extremely confined?" she asked me. + +The room was very large but it is a fact that I felt oppressed at that +moment. This mysterious quarrel between those two people, revealing +something more close in their intercourse than I had ever before +suspected, made me so profoundly unhappy that I didn't even attempt to +answer. And she continued: + +"More space. More air. Give me air, air." She seized the embroidered +edges of her blue robe under her white throat and made as if to tear them +apart, to fling it open on her breast, recklessly, before our eyes. We +both remained perfectly still. Her hands dropped nervelessly by her +side. "I envy you, Monsieur George. If I am to go under I should prefer +to be drowned in the sea with the wind on my face. What luck, to feel +nothing less than all the world closing over one's head!" + +A short silence ensued before Mr. Blunt's drawing-room voice was heard +with playful familiarity. + +"I have often asked myself whether you weren't really a very ambitious +person, Dona Rita." + +"And I ask myself whether you have any heart." She was looking straight +at him and he gratified her with the usual cold white flash of his even +teeth before he answered. + +"Asking yourself? That means that you are really asking me. But why do +it so publicly? I mean it. One single, detached presence is enough to +make a public. One alone. Why not wait till he returns to those regions +of space and air--from which he came." + +His particular trick of speaking of any third person as of a lay figure +was exasperating. Yet at the moment I did not know how to resent it, +but, in any case, Dona Rita would not have given me time. Without a +moment's hesitation she cried out: + +"I only wish he could take me out there with him." + +For a moment Mr. Blunt's face became as still as a mask and then instead +of an angry it assumed an indulgent expression. As to me I had a rapid +vision of Dominic's astonishment, awe, and sarcasm which was always as +tolerant as it is possible for sarcasm to be. But what a charming, +gentle, gay, and fearless companion she would have made! I believed in +her fearlessness in any adventure that would interest her. It would be a +new occasion for me, a new viewpoint for that faculty of admiration she +had awakened in me at sight--at first sight--before she opened her +lips--before she ever turned her eyes on me. She would have to wear some +sort of sailor costume, a blue woollen shirt open at the throat. . . . +Dominic's hooded cloak would envelop her amply, and her face under the +black hood would have a luminous quality, adolescent charm, and an +enigmatic expression. The confined space of the little vessel's +quarterdeck would lend itself to her cross-legged attitudes, and the blue +sea would balance gently her characteristic immobility that seemed to +hide thoughts as old and profound as itself. As restless, too--perhaps. + +But the picture I had in my eye, coloured and simple like an illustration +to a nursery-book tale of two venturesome children's escapade, was what +fascinated me most. Indeed I felt that we two were like children under +the gaze of a man of the world--who lived by his sword. And I said +recklessly: + +"Yes, you ought to come along with us for a trip. You would see a lot of +things for yourself." + +Mr. Blunt's expression had grown even more indulgent if that were +possible. Yet there was something ineradicably ambiguous about that man. +I did not like the indefinable tone in which he observed: + +"You are perfectly reckless in what you say, Dona Rita. It has become a +habit with you of late." + +"While with you reserve is a second nature, Don Juan." + +This was uttered with the gentlest, almost tender, irony. Mr. Blunt +waited a while before he said: + +"Certainly. . . . Would you have liked me to be otherwise?" + +She extended her hand to him on a sudden impulse. + +"Forgive me! I may have been unjust, and you may only have been loyal. +The falseness is not in us. The fault is in life itself, I suppose. I +have been always frank with you." + +"And I obedient," he said, bowing low over her hand. He turned away, +paused to look at me for some time and finally gave me the correct sort +of nod. But he said nothing and went out, or rather lounged out with his +worldly manner of perfect ease under all conceivable circumstances. With +her head lowered Dona Rita watched him till he actually shut the door +behind him. I was facing her and only heard the door close. + +"Don't stare at me," were the first words she said. + +It was difficult to obey that request. I didn't know exactly where to +look, while I sat facing her. So I got up, vaguely full of goodwill, +prepared even to move off as far as the window, when she commanded: + +"Don't turn your back on me." + +I chose to understand it symbolically. + +"You know very well I could never do that. I couldn't. Not even if I +wanted to." And I added: "It's too late now." + +"Well, then, sit down. Sit down on this couch." + +I sat down on the couch. Unwillingly? Yes. I was at that stage when +all her words, all her gestures, all her silences were a heavy trial to +me, put a stress on my resolution, on that fidelity to myself and to her +which lay like a leaden weight on my untried heart. But I didn't sit +down very far away from her, though that soft and billowy couch was big +enough, God knows! No, not very far from her. Self-control, dignity, +hopelessness itself, have their limits. The halo of her tawny hair +stirred as I let myself drop by her side. Whereupon she flung one arm +round my neck, leaned her temple against my shoulder and began to sob; +but that I could only guess from her slight, convulsive movements because +in our relative positions I could only see the mass of her tawny hair +brushed back, yet with a halo of escaped hair which as I bent my head +over her tickled my lips, my cheek, in a maddening manner. + +We sat like two venturesome children in an illustration to a tale, scared +by their adventure. But not for long. As I instinctively, yet timidly, +sought for her other hand I felt a tear strike the back of mine, big and +heavy as if fallen from a great height. It was too much for me. I must +have given a nervous start. At once I heard a murmur: "You had better go +away now." + +I withdrew myself gently from under the light weight of her head, from +this unspeakable bliss and inconceivable misery, and had the absurd +impression of leaving her suspended in the air. And I moved away on +tiptoe. + +Like an inspired blind man led by Providence I found my way out of the +room but really I saw nothing, till in the hall the maid appeared by +enchantment before me holding up my overcoat. I let her help me into it. +And then (again as if by enchantment) she had my hat in her hand. + +"No. Madame isn't happy," I whispered to her distractedly. + +She let me take my hat out of her hand and while I was putting it on my +head I heard an austere whisper: + +"Madame should listen to her heart." + +Austere is not the word; it was almost freezing, this unexpected, +dispassionate rustle of words. I had to repress a shudder, and as coldly +as herself I murmured: + +"She has done that once too often." + +Rose was standing very close to me and I caught distinctly the note of +scorn in her indulgent compassion. + +"Oh, that! . . . Madame is like a child." It was impossible to get the +bearing of that utterance from that girl who, as Dona Rita herself had +told me, was the most taciturn of human beings; and yet of all human +beings the one nearest to herself. I seized her head in my hands and +turning up her face I looked straight down into her black eyes which +should have been lustrous. Like a piece of glass breathed upon they +reflected no light, revealed no depths, and under my ardent gaze remained +tarnished, misty, unconscious. + +"Will Monsieur kindly let me go. Monsieur shouldn't play the child, +either." (I let her go.) "Madame could have the world at her feet. +Indeed she has it there only she doesn't care for it." + +How talkative she was, this maid with unsealed lips! For some reason or +other this last statement of hers brought me immense comfort. + +"Yes?" I whispered breathlessly. + +"Yes! But in that case what's the use of living in fear and torment?" +she went on, revealing a little more of herself to my astonishment. She +opened the door for me and added: + +"Those that don't care to stoop ought at least make themselves happy." + +I turned in the very doorway: "There is something which prevents that?" I +suggested. + +"To be sure there is. _Bonjour_, Monsieur." + + + + +PART FOUR + + +CHAPTER I + + +"Such a charming lady in a grey silk dress and a hand as white as snow. +She looked at me through such funny glasses on the end of a long handle. +A very great lady but her voice was as kind as the voice of a saint. I +have never seen anything like that. She made me feel so timid." + +The voice uttering these words was the voice of Therese and I looked at +her from a bed draped heavily in brown silk curtains fantastically looped +up from ceiling to floor. The glow of a sunshiny day was toned down by +closed jalousies to a mere transparency of darkness. In this thin medium +Therese's form appeared flat, without detail, as if cut out of black +paper. It glided towards the window and with a click and a scrape let in +the full flood of light which smote my aching eyeballs painfully. + +In truth all that night had been the abomination of desolation to me. +After wrestling with my thoughts, if the acute consciousness of a woman's +existence may be called a thought, I had apparently dropped off to sleep +only to go on wrestling with a nightmare, a senseless and terrifying +dream of being in bonds which, even after waking, made me feel powerless +in all my limbs. I lay still, suffering acutely from a renewed sense of +existence, unable to lift an arm, and wondering why I was not at sea, how +long I had slept, how long Therese had been talking before her voice had +reached me in that purgatory of hopeless longing and unanswerable +questions to which I was condemned. + +It was Therese's habit to begin talking directly she entered the room +with the tray of morning coffee. This was her method for waking me up. +I generally regained the consciousness of the external world on some +pious phrase asserting the spiritual comfort of early mass, or on angry +lamentations about the unconscionable rapacity of the dealers in fish and +vegetables; for after mass it was Therese's practice to do the marketing +for the house. As a matter of fact the necessity of having to pay, to +actually give money to people, infuriated the pious Therese. But the +matter of this morning's speech was so extraordinary that it might have +been the prolongation of a nightmare: a man in bonds having to listen to +weird and unaccountable speeches against which, he doesn't know why, his +very soul revolts. + +In sober truth my soul remained in revolt though I was convinced that I +was no longer dreaming. I watched Therese coming away from the window +with that helpless dread a man bound hand and foot may be excused to +feel. For in such a situation even the absurd may appear ominous. She +came up close to the bed and folding her hands meekly in front of her +turned her eyes up to the ceiling. + +"If I had been her daughter she couldn't have spoken more softly to me," +she said sentimentally. + +I made a great effort to speak. + +"Mademoiselle Therese, you are raving." + +"She addressed me as Mademoiselle, too, so nicely. I was struck with +veneration for her white hair but her face, believe me, my dear young +Monsieur, has not so many wrinkles as mine." + +She compressed her lips with an angry glance at me as if I could help her +wrinkles, then she sighed. + +"God sends wrinkles, but what is our face?" she digressed in a tone of +great humility. "We shall have glorious faces in Paradise. But meantime +God has permitted me to preserve a smooth heart." + +"Are you going to keep on like this much longer?" I fairly shouted at +her. "What are you talking about?" + +"I am talking about the sweet old lady who came in a carriage. Not a +fiacre. I can tell a fiacre. In a little carriage shut in with glass +all in front. I suppose she is very rich. The carriage was very shiny +outside and all beautiful grey stuff inside. I opened the door to her +myself. She got out slowly like a queen. I was struck all of a heap. +Such a shiny beautiful little carriage. There were blue silk tassels +inside, beautiful silk tassels." + +Obviously Therese had been very much impressed by a brougham, though she +didn't know the name for it. Of all the town she knew nothing but the +streets which led to a neighbouring church frequented only by the poorer +classes and the humble quarter around, where she did her marketing. +Besides, she was accustomed to glide along the walls with her eyes cast +down; for her natural boldness would never show itself through that +nun-like mien except when bargaining, if only on a matter of threepence. +Such a turn-out had never been presented to her notice before. The +traffic in the street of the Consuls was mostly pedestrian and far from +fashionable. And anyhow Therese never looked out of the window. She +lurked in the depths of the house like some kind of spider that shuns +attention. She used to dart at one from some dark recesses which I never +explored. + +Yet it seemed to me that she exaggerated her raptures for some reason or +other. With her it was very difficult to distinguish between craft and +innocence. + +"Do you mean to say," I asked suspiciously, "that an old lady wants to +hire an apartment here? I hope you told her there was no room, because, +you know, this house is not exactly the thing for venerable old ladies." + +"Don't make me angry, my dear young Monsieur. I have been to confession +this morning. Aren't you comfortable? Isn't the house appointed richly +enough for anybody?" + +That girl with a peasant-nun's face had never seen the inside of a house +other than some half-ruined _caserio_ in her native hills. + +I pointed out to her that this was not a matter of splendour or comfort +but of "convenances." She pricked up her ears at that word which +probably she had never heard before; but with woman's uncanny intuition I +believe she understood perfectly what I meant. Her air of saintly +patience became so pronounced that with my own poor intuition I perceived +that she was raging at me inwardly. Her weather-tanned complexion, +already affected by her confined life, took on an extraordinary clayey +aspect which reminded me of a strange head painted by El Greco which my +friend Prax had hung on one of his walls and used to rail at; yet not +without a certain respect. + +Therese, with her hands still meekly folded about her waist, had mastered +the feelings of anger so unbecoming to a person whose sins had been +absolved only about three hours before, and asked me with an insinuating +softness whether she wasn't an honest girl enough to look after any old +lady belonging to a world which after all was sinful. She reminded me +that she had kept house ever since she was "so high" for her uncle the +priest: a man well-known for his saintliness in a large district +extending even beyond Pampeluna. The character of a house depended upon +the person who ruled it. She didn't know what impenitent wretches had +been breathing within these walls in the time of that godless and wicked +man who had planted every seed of perdition in "our Rita's" ill-disposed +heart. But he was dead and she, Therese, knew for certain that +wickedness perished utterly, because of God's anger (_la colere du bon +Dieu_). She would have no hesitation in receiving a bishop, if need be, +since "our, Rita," with her poor, wretched, unbelieving heart, had +nothing more to do with the house. + +All this came out of her like an unctuous trickle of some acrid oil. The +low, voluble delivery was enough by itself to compel my attention. + +"You think you know your sister's heart," I asked. + +She made small eyes at me to discover if I was angry. She seemed to have +an invincible faith in the virtuous dispositions of young men. And as I +had spoken in measured tones and hadn't got red in the face she let +herself go. + +"Black, my dear young Monsieur. Black. I always knew it. Uncle, poor +saintly man, was too holy to take notice of anything. He was too busy +with his thoughts to listen to anything I had to say to him. For +instance as to her shamelessness. She was always ready to run half naked +about the hills. . . " + +"Yes. After your goats. All day long. Why didn't you mend her frocks?" + +"Oh, you know about the goats. My dear young Monsieur, I could never +tell when she would fling over her pretended sweetness and put her tongue +out at me. Did she tell you about a boy, the son of pious and rich +parents, whom she tried to lead astray into the wildness of thoughts like +her own, till the poor dear child drove her off because she outraged his +modesty? I saw him often with his parents at Sunday mass. The grace of +God preserved him and made him quite a gentleman in Paris. Perhaps it +will touch Rita's heart, too, some day. But she was awful then. When I +wouldn't listen to her complaints she would say: 'All right, sister, I +would just as soon go clothed in rain and wind.' And such a bag of +bones, too, like the picture of a devil's imp. Ah, my dear young +Monsieur, you don't know how wicked her heart is. You aren't bad enough +for that yourself. I don't believe you are evil at all in your innocent +little heart. I never heard you jeer at holy things. You are only +thoughtless. For instance, I have never seen you make the sign of the +cross in the morning. Why don't you make a practice of crossing yourself +directly you open your eyes. It's a very good thing. It keeps Satan off +for the day." + +She proffered that advice in a most matter-of-fact tone as if it were a +precaution against a cold, compressed her lips, then returning to her +fixed idea, "But the house is mine," she insisted very quietly with an +accent which made me feel that Satan himself would never manage to tear +it out of her hands. + +"And so I told the great lady in grey. I told her that my sister had +given it to me and that surely God would not let her take it away again." + +"You told that grey-headed lady, an utter stranger! You are getting more +crazy every day. You have neither good sense nor good feeling, +Mademoiselle Therese, let me tell you. Do you talk about your sister to +the butcher and the greengrocer, too? A downright savage would have more +restraint. What's your object? What do you expect from it? What +pleasure do you get from it? Do you think you please God by abusing your +sister? What do you think you are?" + +"A poor lone girl amongst a lot of wicked people. Do you think I wanted +to go forth amongst those abominations? it's that poor sinful Rita that +wouldn't let me be where I was, serving a holy man, next door to a +church, and sure of my share of Paradise. I simply obeyed my uncle. +It's he who told me to go forth and attempt to save her soul, bring her +back to us, to a virtuous life. But what would be the good of that? She +is given over to worldly, carnal thoughts. Of course we are a good +family and my uncle is a great man in the country, but where is the +reputable farmer or God-fearing man of that kind that would dare to bring +such a girl into his house to his mother and sisters. No, let her give +her ill-gotten wealth up to the deserving and devote the rest of her life +to repentance." + +She uttered these righteous reflections and presented this programme for +the salvation of her sister's soul in a reasonable convinced tone which +was enough to give goose flesh to one all over. + +"Mademoiselle Therese," I said, "you are nothing less than a monster." + +She received that true expression of my opinion as though I had given her +a sweet of a particularly delicious kind. She liked to be abused. It +pleased her to be called names. I did let her have that satisfaction to +her heart's content. At last I stopped because I could do no more, +unless I got out of bed to beat her. I have a vague notion that she +would have liked that, too, but I didn't try. After I had stopped she +waited a little before she raised her downcast eyes. + +"You are a dear, ignorant, flighty young gentleman," she said. "Nobody +can tell what a cross my sister is to me except the good priest in the +church where I go every day." + +"And the mysterious lady in grey," I suggested sarcastically. + +"Such a person might have guessed it," answered Therese, seriously, "but +I told her nothing except that this house had been given me in full +property by our Rita. And I wouldn't have done that if she hadn't spoken +to me of my sister first. I can't tell too many people about that. One +can't trust Rita. I know she doesn't fear God but perhaps human respect +may keep her from taking this house back from me. If she doesn't want me +to talk about her to people why doesn't she give me a properly stamped +piece of paper for it?" + +She said all this rapidly in one breath and at the end had a sort of +anxious gasp which gave me the opportunity to voice my surprise. It was +immense. + +"That lady, the strange lady, spoke to you of your sister first!" I +cried. + +"The lady asked me, after she had been in a little time, whether really +this house belonged to Madame de Lastaola. She had been so sweet and +kind and condescending that I did not mind humiliating my spirit before +such a good Christian. I told her that I didn't know how the poor sinner +in her mad blindness called herself, but that this house had been given +to me truly enough by my sister. She raised her eyebrows at that but she +looked at me at the same time so kindly, as much as to say, 'Don't trust +much to that, my dear girl,' that I couldn't help taking up her hand, +soft as down, and kissing it. She took it away pretty quick but she was +not offended. But she only said, 'That's very generous on your sister's +part,' in a way that made me run cold all over. I suppose all the world +knows our Rita for a shameless girl. It was then that the lady took up +those glasses on a long gold handle and looked at me through them till I +felt very much abashed. She said to me, 'There is nothing to be unhappy +about. Madame de Lastaola is a very remarkable person who has done many +surprising things. She is not to be judged like other people and as far +as I know she has never wronged a single human being. . . .' That put +heart into me, I can tell you; and the lady told me then not to disturb +her son. She would wait till he woke up. She knew he was a bad sleeper. +I said to her: 'Why, I can hear the dear sweet gentleman this moment +having his bath in the fencing-room,' and I took her into the studio. +They are there now and they are going to have their lunch together at +twelve o'clock." + +"Why on earth didn't you tell me at first that the lady was Mrs. Blunt?" + +"Didn't I? I thought I did," she said innocently. I felt a sudden +desire to get out of that house, to fly from the reinforced Blunt element +which was to me so oppressive. + +"I want to get up and dress, Mademoiselle Therese," I said. + +She gave a slight start and without looking at me again glided out of the +room, the many folds of her brown skirt remaining undisturbed as she +moved. + +I looked at my watch; it was ten o'clock. Therese had been late with my +coffee. The delay was clearly caused by the unexpected arrival of Mr. +Blunt's mother, which might or might not have been expected by her son. +The existence of those Blunts made me feel uncomfortable in a peculiar +way as though they had been the denizens of another planet with a subtly +different point of view and something in the intelligence which was bound +to remain unknown to me. It caused in me a feeling of inferiority which +I intensely disliked. This did not arise from the actual fact that those +people originated in another continent. I had met Americans before. And +the Blunts were Americans. But so little! That was the trouble. +Captain Blunt might have been a Frenchman as far as languages, tones, and +manners went. But you could not have mistaken him for one. . . . Why? +You couldn't tell. It was something indefinite. It occurred to me while +I was towelling hard my hair, face, and the back of my neck, that I could +not meet J. K. Blunt on equal terms in any relation of life except +perhaps arms in hand, and in preference with pistols, which are less +intimate, acting at a distance--but arms of some sort. For physically +his life, which could be taken away from him, was exactly like mine, held +on the same terms and of the same vanishing quality. + +I would have smiled at my absurdity if all, even the most intimate, +vestige of gaiety had not been crushed out of my heart by the intolerable +weight of my love for Rita. It crushed, it overshadowed, too, it was +immense. If there were any smiles in the world (which I didn't believe) +I could not have seen them. Love for Rita . . . if it was love, I asked +myself despairingly, while I brushed my hair before a glass. It did not +seem to have any sort of beginning as far as I could remember. A thing +the origin of which you cannot trace cannot be seriously considered. It +is an illusion. Or perhaps mine was a physical state, some sort of +disease akin to melancholia which is a form of insanity? The only +moments of relief I could remember were when she and I would start +squabbling like two passionate infants in a nursery, over anything under +heaven, over a phrase, a word sometimes, in the great light of the glass +rotunda, disregarding the quiet entrances and exits of the ever-active +Rose, in great bursts of voices and peals of laughter. . . . + +I felt tears come into my eyes at the memory of her laughter, the true +memory of the senses almost more penetrating than the reality itself. It +haunted me. All that appertained to her haunted me with the same awful +intimacy, her whole form in the familiar pose, her very substance in its +colour and texture, her eyes, her lips, the gleam of her teeth, the tawny +mist of her hair, the smoothness of her forehead, the faint scent that +she used, the very shape, feel, and warmth of her high-heeled slipper +that would sometimes in the heat of the discussion drop on the floor with +a crash, and which I would (always in the heat of the discussion) pick up +and toss back on the couch without ceasing to argue. And besides being +haunted by what was Rita on earth I was haunted also by her waywardness, +her gentleness and her flame, by that which the high gods called Rita +when speaking of her amongst themselves. Oh, yes, certainly I was +haunted by her but so was her sister Therese--who was crazy. It proved +nothing. As to her tears, since I had not caused them, they only aroused +my indignation. To put her head on my shoulder, to weep these strange +tears, was nothing short of an outrageous liberty. It was a mere +emotional trick. She would have just as soon leaned her head against the +over-mantel of one of those tall, red granite chimney-pieces in order to +weep comfortably. And then when she had no longer any need of support +she dispensed with it by simply telling me to go away. How convenient! +The request had sounded pathetic, almost sacredly so, but then it might +have been the exhibition of the coolest possible impudence. With her one +could not tell. Sorrow, indifference, tears, smiles, all with her seemed +to have a hidden meaning. Nothing could be trusted. . . Heavens! Am I +as crazy as Therese I asked myself with a passing chill of fear, while +occupied in equalizing the ends of my neck-tie. + +I felt suddenly that "this sort of thing" would kill me. The definition +of the cause was vague, but the thought itself was no mere morbid +artificiality of sentiment but a genuine conviction. "That sort of +thing" was what I would have to die from. It wouldn't be from the +innumerable doubts. Any sort of certitude would be also deadly. It +wouldn't be from a stab--a kiss would kill me as surely. It would not be +from a frown or from any particular word or any particular act--but from +having to bear them all, together and in succession--from having to live +with "that sort of thing." About the time I finished with my neck-tie I +had done with life too. I absolutely did not care because I couldn't +tell whether, mentally and physically, from the roots of my hair to the +soles of my feet--whether I was more weary or unhappy. + +And now my toilet was finished, my occupation was gone. An immense +distress descended upon me. It has been observed that the routine of +daily life, that arbitrary system of trifles, is a great moral support. +But my toilet was finished, I had nothing more to do of those things +consecrated by usage and which leave you no option. The exercise of any +kind of volition by a man whose consciousness is reduced to the sensation +that he is being killed by "that sort of thing" cannot be anything but +mere trifling with death, an insincere pose before himself. I wasn't +capable of it. It was then that I discovered that being killed by "that +sort of thing," I mean the absolute conviction of it, was, so to speak, +nothing in itself. The horrible part was the waiting. That was the +cruelty, the tragedy, the bitterness of it. "Why the devil don't I drop +dead now?" I asked myself peevishly, taking a clean handkerchief out of +the drawer and stuffing it in my pocket. + +This was absolutely the last thing, the last ceremony of an imperative +rite. I was abandoned to myself now and it was terrible. Generally I +used to go out, walk down to the port, take a look at the craft I loved +with a sentiment that was extremely complex, being mixed up with the +image of a woman; perhaps go on board, not because there was anything for +me to do there but just for nothing, for happiness, simply as a man will +sit contented in the companionship of the beloved object. For lunch I +had the choice of two places, one Bohemian, the other select, even +aristocratic, where I had still my reserved table in the _petit salon_, +up the white staircase. In both places I had friends who treated my +erratic appearances with discretion, in one case tinged with respect, in +the other with a certain amused tolerance. I owed this tolerance to the +most careless, the most confirmed of those Bohemians (his beard had +streaks of grey amongst its many other tints) who, once bringing his +heavy hand down on my shoulder, took my defence against the charge of +being disloyal and even foreign to that milieu of earnest visions taking +beautiful and revolutionary shapes in the smoke of pipes, in the jingle +of glasses. + +"That fellow (_ce garcon_) is a primitive nature, but he may be an artist +in a sense. He has broken away from his conventions. He is trying to +put a special vibration and his own notion of colour into his life; and +perhaps even to give it a modelling according to his own ideas. And for +all you know he may be on the track of a masterpiece; but observe: if it +happens to be one nobody will see it. It can be only for himself. And +even he won't be able to see it in its completeness except on his +death-bed. There is something fine in that." + +I had blushed with pleasure; such fine ideas had never entered my head. +But there was something fine. . . . How far all this seemed! How mute +and how still! What a phantom he was, that man with a beard of at least +seven tones of brown. And those shades of the other kind such as +Baptiste with the shaven diplomatic face, the _maitre d'hotel_ in charge +of the _petit salon_, taking my hat and stick from me with a deferential +remark: "Monsieur is not very often seen nowadays." And those other +well-groomed heads raised and nodding at my passage--"_Bonjour_." +"_Bonjour_"--following me with interested eyes; these young X.s and Z.s, +low-toned, markedly discreet, lounging up to my table on their way out +with murmurs: "Are you well?"--"Will one see you anywhere this +evening?"--not from curiosity, God forbid, but just from friendliness; +and passing on almost without waiting for an answer. What had I to do +with them, this elegant dust, these moulds of provincial fashion? + +I also often lunched with Dona Rita without invitation. But that was now +unthinkable. What had I to do with a woman who allowed somebody else to +make her cry and then with an amazing lack of good feeling did her +offensive weeping on my shoulder? Obviously I could have nothing to do +with her. My five minutes' meditation in the middle of the bedroom came +to an end without even a sigh. The dead don't sigh, and for all +practical purposes I was that, except for the final consummation, the +growing cold, the _rigor mortis_--that blessed state! With measured +steps I crossed the landing to my sitting-room. + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The windows of that room gave out on the street of the Consuls which as +usual was silent. And the house itself below me and above me was +soundless, perfectly still. In general the house was quiet, dumbly +quiet, without resonances of any sort, something like what one would +imagine the interior of a convent would be. I suppose it was very +solidly built. Yet that morning I missed in the stillness that feeling +of security and peace which ought to have been associated with it. It +is, I believe, generally admitted that the dead are glad to be at rest. +But I wasn't at rest. What was wrong with that silence? There was +something incongruous in that peace. What was it that had got into that +stillness? Suddenly I remembered: the mother of Captain Blunt. + +Why had she come all the way from Paris? And why should I bother my head +about it? H'm--the Blunt atmosphere, the reinforced Blunt vibration +stealing through the walls, through the thick walls and the almost more +solid stillness. Nothing to me, of course--the movements of Mme. Blunt, +_mere_. It was maternal affection which had brought her south by either +the evening or morning Rapide, to take anxious stock of the ravages of +that insomnia. Very good thing, insomnia, for a cavalry officer +perpetually on outpost duty, a real godsend, so to speak; but on leave a +truly devilish condition to be in. + +The above sequence of thoughts was entirely unsympathetic and it was +followed by a feeling of satisfaction that I, at any rate, was not +suffering from insomnia. I could always sleep in the end. In the end. +Escape into a nightmare. Wouldn't he revel in that if he could! But +that wasn't for him. He had to toss about open-eyed all night and get up +weary, weary. But oh, wasn't I weary, too, waiting for a sleep without +dreams. + +I heard the door behind me open. I had been standing with my face to the +window and, I declare, not knowing what I was looking at across the +road--the Desert of Sahara or a wall of bricks, a landscape of rivers and +forests or only the Consulate of Paraguay. But I had been thinking, +apparently, of Mr. Blunt with such intensity that when I saw him enter +the room it didn't really make much difference. When I turned about the +door behind him was already shut. He advanced towards me, correct, +supple, hollow-eyed, and smiling; and as to his costume ready to go out +except for the old shooting jacket which he must have affectioned +particularly, for he never lost any time in getting into it at every +opportunity. Its material was some tweed mixture; it had gone +inconceivably shabby, it was shrunk from old age, it was ragged at the +elbows; but any one could see at a glance that it had been made in London +by a celebrated tailor, by a distinguished specialist. Blunt came +towards me in all the elegance of his slimness and affirming in every +line of his face and body, in the correct set of his shoulders and the +careless freedom of his movements, the superiority, the inexpressible +superiority, the unconscious, the unmarked, the not-to-be-described, and +even not-to-be-caught, superiority of the naturally born and the +perfectly finished man of the world, over the simple young man. He was +smiling, easy, correct, perfectly delightful, fit to kill. + +He had come to ask me, if I had no other engagement, to lunch with him +and his mother in about an hour's time. He did it in a most _degage_ +tone. His mother had given him a surprise. The completest . . . The +foundation of his mother's psychology was her delightful unexpectedness. +She could never let things be (this in a peculiar tone which he checked +at once) and he really would take it very kindly of me if I came to break +the tete-a-tete for a while (that is if I had no other engagement. Flash +of teeth). His mother was exquisitely and tenderly absurd. She had +taken it into her head that his health was endangered in some way. And +when she took anything into her head . . . Perhaps I might find something +to say which would reassure her. His mother had two long conversations +with Mills on his passage through Paris and had heard of me (I knew how +that thick man could speak of people, he interjected ambiguously) and his +mother, with an insatiable curiosity for anything that was rare (filially +humorous accent here and a softer flash of teeth), was very anxious to +have me presented to her (courteous intonation, but no teeth). He hoped +I wouldn't mind if she treated me a little as an "interesting young man." +His mother had never got over her seventeenth year, and the manner of the +spoilt beauty of at least three counties at the back of the Carolinas. +That again got overlaid by the _sans-facon_ of a _grande dame_ of the +Second Empire. + +I accepted the invitation with a worldly grin and a perfectly just +intonation, because I really didn't care what I did. I only wondered +vaguely why that fellow required all the air in the room for himself. +There did not seem enough left to go down my throat. I didn't say that I +would come with pleasure or that I would be delighted, but I said that I +would come. He seemed to forget his tongue in his head, put his hands in +his pockets and moved about vaguely. "I am a little nervous this +morning," he said in French, stopping short and looking me straight in +the eyes. His own were deep sunk, dark, fatal. I asked with some +malice, that no one could have detected in my intonation, "How's that +sleeplessness?" + +He muttered through his teeth, "_Mal_. _Je ne dors plus_." He moved off +to stand at the window with his back to the room. I sat down on a sofa +that was there and put my feet up, and silence took possession of the +room. + +"Isn't this street ridiculous?" said Blunt suddenly, and crossing the +room rapidly waved his hand to me, "_A bientot donc_," and was gone. He +had seared himself into my mind. I did not understand him nor his mother +then; which made them more impressive; but I have discovered since that +those two figures required no mystery to make them memorable. Of course +it isn't every day that one meets a mother that lives by her wits and a +son that lives by his sword, but there was a perfect finish about their +ambiguous personalities which is not to be met twice in a life-time. I +shall never forget that grey dress with ample skirts and long corsage yet +with infinite style, the ancient as if ghostly beauty of outlines, the +black lace, the silver hair, the harmonious, restrained movements of +those white, soft hands like the hands of a queen--or an abbess; and in +the general fresh effect of her person the brilliant eyes like two stars +with the calm reposeful way they had of moving on and off one, as if +nothing in the world had the right to veil itself before their once +sovereign beauty. Captain Blunt with smiling formality introduced me by +name, adding with a certain relaxation of the formal tone the comment: +"The Monsieur George! whose fame you tell me has reached even Paris." +Mrs. Blunt's reception of me, glance, tones, even to the attitude of the +admirably corseted figure, was most friendly, approaching the limit of +half-familiarity. I had the feeling that I was beholding in her a +captured ideal. No common experience! But I didn't care. It was very +lucky perhaps for me that in a way I was like a very sick man who has yet +preserved all his lucidity. I was not even wondering to myself at what +on earth I was doing there. She breathed out: "_Comme c'est +romantique_," at large to the dusty studio as it were; then pointing to a +chair at her right hand, and bending slightly towards me she said: + +"I have heard this name murmured by pretty lips in more than one royalist +salon." + +I didn't say anything to that ingratiating speech. I had only an odd +thought that she could not have had such a figure, nothing like it, when +she was seventeen and wore snowy muslin dresses on the family plantation +in South Carolina, in pre-abolition days. + +"You won't mind, I am sure, if an old woman whose heart is still young +elects to call you by it," she declared. + +"Certainly, Madame. It will be more romantic," I assented with a +respectful bow. + +She dropped a calm: "Yes--there is nothing like romance while one is +young. So I will call you Monsieur George," she paused and then added, +"I could never get old," in a matter-of-fact final tone as one would +remark, "I could never learn to swim," and I had the presence of mind to +say in a tone to match, "_C'est evident_, Madame." It was evident. She +couldn't get old; and across the table her thirty-year-old son who +couldn't get sleep sat listening with courteous detachment and the +narrowest possible line of white underlining his silky black moustache. + +"Your services are immensely appreciated," she said with an amusing touch +of importance as of a great official lady. "Immensely appreciated by +people in a position to understand the great significance of the Carlist +movement in the South. There it has to combat anarchism, too. I who +have lived through the Commune . . ." + +Therese came in with a dish, and for the rest of the lunch the +conversation so well begun drifted amongst the most appalling inanities +of the religious-royalist-legitimist order. The ears of all the Bourbons +in the world must have been burning. Mrs. Blunt seemed to have come into +personal contact with a good many of them and the marvellous insipidity +of her recollections was astonishing to my inexperience. I looked at her +from time to time thinking: She has seen slavery, she has seen the +Commune, she knows two continents, she has seen a civil war, the glory of +the Second Empire, the horrors of two sieges; she has been in contact +with marked personalities, with great events, she has lived on her +wealth, on her personality, and there she is with her plumage unruffled, +as glossy as ever, unable to get old:--a sort of Phoenix free from the +slightest signs of ashes and dust, all complacent amongst those inanities +as if there had been nothing else in the world. In my youthful haste I +asked myself what sort of airy soul she had. + +At last Therese put a dish of fruit on the table, a small collection of +oranges, raisins, and nuts. No doubt she had bought that lot very cheap +and it did not look at all inviting. Captain Blunt jumped up. "My +mother can't stand tobacco smoke. Will you keep her company, _mon cher_, +while I take a turn with a cigar in that ridiculous garden. The brougham +from the hotel will be here very soon." + +He left us in the white flash of an apologetic grin. Almost directly he +reappeared, visible from head to foot through the glass side of the +studio, pacing up and down the central path of that "ridiculous" garden: +for its elegance and its air of good breeding the most remarkable figure +that I have ever seen before or since. He had changed his coat. Madame +Blunt _mere_ lowered the long-handled glasses through which she had been +contemplating him with an appraising, absorbed expression which had +nothing maternal in it. But what she said to me was: + +"You understand my anxieties while he is campaigning with the King." + +She had spoken in French and she had used the expression "_mes transes_" +but for all the rest, intonation, bearing, solemnity, she might have been +referring to one of the Bourbons. I am sure that not a single one of +them looked half as aristocratic as her son. + +"I understand perfectly, Madame. But then that life is so romantic." + +"Hundreds of young men belonging to a certain sphere are doing that," she +said very distinctly, "only their case is different. They have their +positions, their families to go back to; but we are different. We are +exiles, except of course for the ideals, the kindred spirit, the +friendships of old standing we have in France. Should my son come out +unscathed he has no one but me and I have no one but him. I have to +think of his life. Mr. Mills (what a distinguished mind that is!) has +reassured me as to my son's health. But he sleeps very badly, doesn't +he?" + +I murmured something affirmative in a doubtful tone and she remarked +quaintly, with a certain curtness, "It's so unnecessary, this worry! The +unfortunate position of an exile has its advantages. At a certain height +of social position (wealth has got nothing to do with it, we have been +ruined in a most righteous cause), at a certain established height one +can disregard narrow prejudices. You see examples in the aristocracies +of all the countries. A chivalrous young American may offer his life for +a remote ideal which yet may belong to his familial tradition. We, in +our great country, have every sort of tradition. But a young man of good +connections and distinguished relations must settle down some day, +dispose of his life." + +"No doubt, Madame," I said, raising my eyes to the figure +outside--"_Americain_, _Catholique et gentilhomme_"--walking up and down +the path with a cigar which he was not smoking. "For myself, I don't +know anything about those necessities. I have broken away for ever from +those things." + +"Yes, Mr. Mills talked to me about you. What a golden heart that is. +His sympathies are infinite." + +I thought suddenly of Mills pronouncing on Mme. Blunt, whatever his text +on me might have been: "She lives by her wits." Was she exercising her +wits on me for some purpose of her own? And I observed coldly: + +"I really know your son so very little." + +"Oh, _voyons_," she protested. "I am aware that you are very much +younger, but the similitudes of opinions, origins and perhaps at bottom, +faintly, of character, of chivalrous devotion--no, you must be able to +understand him in a measure. He is infinitely scrupulous and recklessly +brave." + +I listened deferentially to the end yet with every nerve in my body +tingling in hostile response to the Blunt vibration, which seemed to have +got into my very hair. + +"I am convinced of it, Madame. I have even heard of your son's bravery. +It's extremely natural in a man who, in his own words, 'lives by his +sword.'" + +She suddenly departed from her almost inhuman perfection, betrayed +"nerves" like a common mortal, of course very slightly, but in her it +meant more than a blaze of fury from a vessel of inferior clay. Her +admirable little foot, marvellously shod in a black shoe, tapped the +floor irritably. But even in that display there was something +exquisitely delicate. The very anger in her voice was silvery, as it +were, and more like the petulance of a seventeen-year-old beauty. + +"What nonsense! A Blunt doesn't hire himself." + +"Some princely families," I said, "were founded by men who have done that +very thing. The great Condottieri, you know." + +It was in an almost tempestuous tone that she made me observe that we +were not living in the fifteenth century. She gave me also to understand +with some spirit that there was no question here of founding a family. +Her son was very far from being the first of the name. His importance +lay rather in being the last of a race which had totally perished, she +added in a completely drawing-room tone, "in our Civil War." + +She had mastered her irritation and through the glass side of the room +sent a wistful smile to his address, but I noticed the yet unextinguished +anger in her eyes full of fire under her beautiful white eyebrows. For +she was growing old! Oh, yes, she was growing old, and secretly weary, +and perhaps desperate. + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Without caring much about it I was conscious of sudden illumination. I +said to myself confidently that these two people had been quarrelling all +the morning. I had discovered the secret of my invitation to that lunch. +They did not care to face the strain of some obstinate, inconclusive +discussion for fear, maybe, of it ending in a serious quarrel. And so +they had agreed that I should be fetched downstairs to create a +diversion. I cannot say I felt annoyed. I didn't care. My perspicacity +did not please me either. I wished they had left me alone--but nothing +mattered. They must have been in their superiority accustomed to make +use of people, without compunction. From necessity, too. She +especially. She lived by her wits. The silence had grown so marked that +I had at last to raise my eyes; and the first thing I observed was that +Captain Blunt was no longer to be seen in the garden. Must have gone +indoors. Would rejoin us in a moment. Then I would leave mother and son +to themselves. + +The next thing I noticed was that a great mellowness had descended upon +the mother of the last of his race. But these terms, irritation, +mellowness, appeared gross when applied to her. It is impossible to give +an idea of the refinement and subtlety of all her transformations. She +smiled faintly at me. + +"But all this is beside the point. The real point is that my son, like +all fine natures, is a being of strange contradictions which the trials +of life have not yet reconciled in him. With me it is a little +different. The trials fell mainly to my share--and of course I have +lived longer. And then men are much more complex than women, much more +difficult, too. And you, Monsieur George? Are you complex, with +unexpected resistances and difficulties in your _etre intime_--your inner +self? I wonder now . . ." + +The Blunt atmosphere seemed to vibrate all over my skin. I disregarded +the symptom. "Madame," I said, "I have never tried to find out what sort +of being I am." + +"Ah, that's very wrong. We ought to reflect on what manner of beings we +are. Of course we are all sinners. My John is a sinner like the +others," she declared further, with a sort of proud tenderness as though +our common lot must have felt honoured and to a certain extent purified +by this condescending recognition. + +"You are too young perhaps as yet . . . But as to my John," she broke +off, leaning her elbow on the table and supporting her head on her old, +impeccably shaped, white fore-arm emerging from a lot of precious, still +older, lace trimming the short sleeve. "The trouble is that he suffers +from a profound discord between the necessary reactions to life and even +the impulses of nature and the lofty idealism of his feelings; I may say, +of his principles. I assure you that he won't even let his heart speak +uncontradicted." + +I am sure I don't know what particular devil looks after the associations +of memory, and I can't even imagine the shock which it would have been +for Mrs. Blunt to learn that the words issuing from her lips had awakened +in me the visual perception of a dark-skinned, hard-driven lady's maid +with tarnished eyes; even of the tireless Rose handing me my hat while +breathing out the enigmatic words: "Madame should listen to her heart." +A wave from the atmosphere of another house rolled in, overwhelming and +fiery, seductive and cruel, through the Blunt vibration, bursting through +it as through tissue paper and filling my heart with sweet murmurs and +distracting images, till it seemed to break, leaving an empty stillness +in my breast. + +After that for a long time I heard Mme. Blunt _mere_ talking with extreme +fluency and I even caught the individual words, but I could not in the +revulsion of my feelings get hold of the sense. She talked apparently of +life in general, of its difficulties, moral and physical, of its +surprising turns, of its unexpected contacts, of the choice and rare +personalities that drift on it as if on the sea; of the distinction that +letters and art gave to it, the nobility and consolations there are in +aesthetics, of the privileges they confer on individuals and (this was +the first connected statement I caught) that Mills agreed with her in the +general point of view as to the inner worth of individualities and in the +particular instance of it on which she had opened to him her innermost +heart. Mills had a universal mind. His sympathy was universal, too. He +had that large comprehension--oh, not cynical, not at all cynical, in +fact rather tender--which was found in its perfection only in some rare, +very rare Englishmen. The dear creature was romantic, too. Of course he +was reserved in his speech but she understood Mills perfectly. Mills +apparently liked me very much. + +It was time for me to say something. There was a challenge in the +reposeful black eyes resting upon my face. I murmured that I was very +glad to hear it. She waited a little, then uttered meaningly, "Mr. Mills +is a little bit uneasy about you." + +"It's very good of him," I said. And indeed I thought that it was very +good of him, though I did ask myself vaguely in my dulled brain why he +should be uneasy. + +Somehow it didn't occur to me to ask Mrs. Blunt. Whether she had +expected me to do so or not I don't know but after a while she changed +the pose she had kept so long and folded her wonderfully preserved white +arms. She looked a perfect picture in silver and grey, with touches of +black here and there. Still I said nothing more in my dull misery. She +waited a little longer, then she woke me up with a crash. It was as if +the house had fallen, and yet she had only asked me: + +"I believe you are received on very friendly terms by Madame de Lastaola +on account of your common exertions for the cause. Very good friends, +are you not?" + +"You mean Rita," I said stupidly, but I felt stupid, like a man who wakes +up only to be hit on the head. + +"Oh, Rita," she repeated with unexpected acidity, which somehow made me +feel guilty of an incredible breach of good manners. "H'm, Rita. . . . +Oh, well, let it be Rita--for the present. Though why she should be +deprived of her name in conversation about her, really I don't +understand. Unless a very special intimacy . . ." + +She was distinctly annoyed. I said sulkily, "It isn't her name." + +"It is her choice, I understand, which seems almost a better title to +recognition on the part of the world. It didn't strike you so before? +Well, it seems to me that choice has got more right to be respected than +heredity or law. Moreover, Mme. de Lastaola," she continued in an +insinuating voice, "that most rare and fascinating young woman is, as a +friend like you cannot deny, outside legality altogether. Even in that +she is an exceptional creature. For she is exceptional--you agree?" + +I had gone dumb, I could only stare at her. + +"Oh, I see, you agree. No friend of hers could deny." + +"Madame," I burst out, "I don't know where a question of friendship comes +in here with a person whom you yourself call so exceptional. I really +don't know how she looks upon me. Our intercourse is of course very +close and confidential. Is that also talked about in Paris?" + +"Not at all, not in the least," said Mrs. Blunt, easy, equable, but with +her calm, sparkling eyes holding me in angry subjection. "Nothing of the +sort is being talked about. The references to Mme. de Lastaola are in a +very different tone, I can assure you, thanks to her discretion in +remaining here. And, I must say, thanks to the discreet efforts of her +friends. I am also a friend of Mme. de Lastaola, you must know. Oh, no, +I have never spoken to her in my life and have seen her only twice, I +believe. I wrote to her though, that I admit. She or rather the image +of her has come into my life, into that part of it where art and letters +reign undisputed like a sort of religion of beauty to which I have been +faithful through all the vicissitudes of my existence. Yes, I did write +to her and I have been preoccupied with her for a long time. It arose +from a picture, from two pictures and also from a phrase pronounced by a +man, who in the science of life and in the perception of aesthetic truth +had no equal in the world of culture. He said that there was something +in her of the women of all time. I suppose he meant the inheritance of +all the gifts that make up an irresistible fascination--a great +personality. Such women are not born often. Most of them lack +opportunities. They never develop. They end obscurely. Here and there +one survives to make her mark even in history. . . . And even that is not +a very enviable fate. They are at another pole from the so-called +dangerous women who are merely coquettes. A coquette has got to work for +her success. The others have nothing to do but simply exist. You +perceive the view I take of the difference?" + +I perceived the view. I said to myself that nothing in the world could +be more aristocratic. This was the slave-owning woman who had never +worked, even if she had been reduced to live by her wits. She was a +wonderful old woman. She made me dumb. She held me fascinated by the +well-bred attitude, something sublimely aloof in her air of wisdom. + +I just simply let myself go admiring her as though I had been a mere +slave of aesthetics: the perfect grace, the amazing poise of that +venerable head, the assured as if royal--yes, royal even flow of the +voice. . . . But what was it she was talking about now? These were no +longer considerations about fatal women. She was talking about her son +again. My interest turned into mere bitterness of contemptuous +attention. For I couldn't withhold it though I tried to let the stuff go +by. Educated in the most aristocratic college in Paris . . . at eighteen +. . . call of duty . . . with General Lee to the very last cruel minute +. . . after that catastrophe end of the world--return to France--to old +friendships, infinite kindness--but a life hollow, without occupation +. . . Then 1870--and chivalrous response to adopted country's call and again +emptiness, the chafing of a proud spirit without aim and handicapped not +exactly by poverty but by lack of fortune. And she, the mother, having +to look on at this wasting of a most accomplished man, of a most +chivalrous nature that practically had no future before it. + +"You understand me well, Monsieur George. A nature like this! It is the +most refined cruelty of fate to look at. I don't know whether I suffered +more in times of war or in times of peace. You understand?" + +I bowed my head in silence. What I couldn't understand was why he +delayed so long in joining us again. Unless he had had enough of his +mother? I thought without any great resentment that I was being +victimized; but then it occurred to me that the cause of his absence was +quite simple. I was familiar enough with his habits by this time to know +that he often managed to snatch an hour's sleep or so during the day. He +had gone and thrown himself on his bed. + +"I admire him exceedingly," Mrs. Blunt was saying in a tone which was not +at all maternal. "His distinction, his fastidiousness, the earnest +warmth of his heart. I know him well. I assure you that I would never +have dared to suggest," she continued with an extraordinary haughtiness +of attitude and tone that aroused my attention, "I would never have dared +to put before him my views of the extraordinary merits and the uncertain +fate of the exquisite woman of whom we speak, if I had not been certain +that, partly by my fault, I admit, his attention has been attracted to +her and his--his--his heart engaged." + +It was as if some one had poured a bucket of cold water over my head. I +woke up with a great shudder to the acute perception of my own feelings +and of that aristocrat's incredible purpose. How it could have +germinated, grown and matured in that exclusive soil was inconceivable. +She had been inciting her son all the time to undertake wonderful salvage +work by annexing the heiress of Henry Allegre--the woman and the fortune. + +There must have been an amazed incredulity in my eyes, to which her own +responded by an unflinching black brilliance which suddenly seemed to +develop a scorching quality even to the point of making me feel extremely +thirsty all of a sudden. For a time my tongue literally clove to the +roof of my mouth. I don't know whether it was an illusion but it seemed +to me that Mrs. Blunt had nodded at me twice as if to say: "You are +right, that's so." I made an effort to speak but it was very poor. If +she did hear me it was because she must have been on the watch for the +faintest sound. + +"His heart engaged. Like two hundred others, or two thousand, all +around," I mumbled. + +"Altogether different. And it's no disparagement to a woman surely. Of +course her great fortune protects her in a certain measure." + +"Does it?" I faltered out and that time I really doubt whether she heard +me. Her aspect in my eyes had changed. Her purpose being disclosed, her +well-bred ease appeared sinister, her aristocratic repose a treacherous +device, her venerable graciousness a mask of unbounded contempt for all +human beings whatever. She was a terrible old woman with those straight, +white wolfish eye-brows. How blind I had been! Those eyebrows alone +ought to have been enough to give her away. Yet they were as beautifully +smooth as her voice when she admitted: "That protection naturally is only +partial. There is the danger of her own self, poor girl. She requires +guidance." + +I marvelled at the villainy of my tone as I spoke, but it was only +assumed. + +"I don't think she has done badly for herself, so far," I forced myself +to say. "I suppose you know that she began life by herding the village +goats." + +In the course of that phrase I noticed her wince just the least bit. Oh, +yes, she winced; but at the end of it she smiled easily. + +"No, I didn't know. So she told you her story! Oh, well, I suppose you +are very good friends. A goatherd--really? In the fairy tale I believe +the girl that marries the prince is--what is it?--a _gardeuse d'oies_. +And what a thing to drag out against a woman. One might just as soon +reproach any of them for coming unclothed into the world. They all do, +you know. And then they become--what you will discover when you have +lived longer, Monsieur George--for the most part futile creatures, +without any sense of truth and beauty, drudges of all sorts, or else +dolls to dress. In a word--ordinary." + +The implication of scorn in her tranquil manner was immense. It seemed +to condemn all those that were not born in the Blunt connection. It was +the perfect pride of Republican aristocracy, which has no gradations and +knows no limit, and, as if created by the grace of God, thinks it +ennobles everything it touches: people, ideas, even passing tastes! + +"How many of them," pursued Mrs. Blunt, "have had the good fortune, the +leisure to develop their intelligence and their beauty in aesthetic +conditions as this charming woman had? Not one in a million. Perhaps +not one in an age." + +"The heiress of Henry Allegre," I murmured. + +"Precisely. But John wouldn't be marrying the heiress of Henry Allegre." + +It was the first time that the frank word, the clear idea, came into the +conversation and it made me feel ill with a sort of enraged faintness. + +"No," I said. "It would be Mme. de Lastaola then." + +"Mme. la Comtesse de Lastaola as soon as she likes after the success of +this war." + +"And you believe in its success?" + +"Do you?" + +"Not for a moment," I declared, and was surprised to see her look +pleased. + +She was an aristocrat to the tips of her fingers; she really didn't care +for anybody. She had passed through the Empire, she had lived through a +siege, had rubbed shoulders with the Commune, had seen everything, no +doubt, of what men are capable in the pursuit of their desires or in the +extremity of their distress, for love, for money, and even for honour; +and in her precarious connection with the very highest spheres she had +kept her own honourability unscathed while she had lost all her +prejudices. She was above all that. Perhaps "the world" was the only +thing that could have the slightest checking influence; but when I +ventured to say something about the view it might take of such an +alliance she looked at me for a moment with visible surprise. + +"My dear Monsieur George, I have lived in the great world all my life. +It's the best that there is, but that's only because there is nothing +merely decent anywhere. It will accept anything, forgive anything, +forget anything in a few days. And after all who will he be marrying? A +charming, clever, rich and altogether uncommon woman. What did the world +hear of her? Nothing. The little it saw of her was in the Bois for a +few hours every year, riding by the side of a man of unique distinction +and of exclusive tastes, devoted to the cult of aesthetic impressions; a +man of whom, as far as aspect, manner, and behaviour goes, she might have +been the daughter. I have seen her myself. I went on purpose. I was +immensely struck. I was even moved. Yes. She might have been--except +for that something radiant in her that marked her apart from all the +other daughters of men. The few remarkable personalities that count in +society and who were admitted into Henry Allegre's Pavilion treated her +with punctilious reserve. I know that, I have made enquiries. I know +she sat there amongst them like a marvellous child, and for the rest what +can they say about her? That when abandoned to herself by the death of +Allegre she has made a mistake? I think that any woman ought to be +allowed one mistake in her life. The worst they can say of her is that +she discovered it, that she had sent away a man in love directly she +found out that his love was not worth having; that she had told him to go +and look for his crown, and that, after dismissing him she had remained +generously faithful to his cause, in her person and fortune. And this, +you will allow, is rather uncommon upon the whole." + +"You make her out very magnificent," I murmured, looking down upon the +floor. + +"Isn't she?" exclaimed the aristocratic Mrs. Blunt, with an almost +youthful ingenuousness, and in those black eyes which looked at me so +calmly there was a flash of the Southern beauty, still naive and +romantic, as if altogether untouched by experience. "I don't think there +is a single grain of vulgarity in all her enchanting person. Neither is +there in my son. I suppose you won't deny that he is uncommon." She +paused. + +"Absolutely," I said in a perfectly conventional tone, I was now on my +mettle that she should not discover what there was humanly common in my +nature. She took my answer at her own valuation and was satisfied. + +"They can't fail to understand each other on the very highest level of +idealistic perceptions. Can you imagine my John thrown away on some +enamoured white goose out of a stuffy old salon? Why, she couldn't even +begin to understand what he feels or what he needs." + +"Yes," I said impenetrably, "he is not easy to understand." + +"I have reason to think," she said with a suppressed smile, "that he has +a certain power over women. Of course I don't know anything about his +intimate life but a whisper or two have reached me, like that, floating +in the air, and I could hardly suppose that he would find an exceptional +resistance in that quarter of all others. But I should like to know the +exact degree." + +I disregarded an annoying tendency to feel dizzy that came over me and +was very careful in managing my voice. + +"May I ask, Madame, why you are telling me all this?" + +"For two reasons," she condescended graciously. "First of all because +Mr. Mills told me that you were much more mature than one would expect. +In fact you look much younger than I was prepared for." + +"Madame," I interrupted her, "I may have a certain capacity for action +and for responsibility, but as to the regions into which this very +unexpected conversation has taken me I am a great novice. They are +outside my interest. I have had no experience." + +"Don't make yourself out so hopeless," she said in a spoilt-beauty tone. +"You have your intuitions. At any rate you have a pair of eyes. You are +everlastingly over there, so I understand. Surely you have seen how far +they are . . ." + +I interrupted again and this time bitterly, but always in a tone of +polite enquiry: + +"You think her facile, Madame?" + +She looked offended. "I think her most fastidious. It is my son who is +in question here." + +And I understood then that she looked on her son as irresistible. For my +part I was just beginning to think that it would be impossible for me to +wait for his return. I figured him to myself lying dressed on his bed +sleeping like a stone. But there was no denying that the mother was +holding me with an awful, tortured interest. Twice Therese had opened +the door, had put her small head in and drawn it back like a tortoise. +But for some time I had lost the sense of us two being quite alone in the +studio. I had perceived the familiar dummy in its corner but it lay now +on the floor as if Therese had knocked it down angrily with a broom for a +heathen idol. It lay there prostrate, handless, without its head, +pathetic, like the mangled victim of a crime. + +"John is fastidious, too," began Mrs. Blunt again. "Of course you +wouldn't suppose anything vulgar in his resistances to a very real +sentiment. One has got to understand his psychology. He can't leave +himself in peace. He is exquisitely absurd." + +I recognized the phrase. Mother and son talked of each other in +identical terms. But perhaps "exquisitely absurd" was the Blunt family +saying? There are such sayings in families and generally there is some +truth in them. Perhaps this old woman was simply absurd. She continued: + +"We had a most painful discussion all this morning. He is angry with me +for suggesting the very thing his whole being desires. I don't feel +guilty. It's he who is tormenting himself with his infinite +scrupulosity." + +"Ah," I said, looking at the mangled dummy like the model of some +atrocious murder. "Ah, the fortune. But that can be left alone." + +"What nonsense! How is it possible? It isn't contained in a bag, you +can't throw it into the sea. And moreover, it isn't her fault. I am +astonished that you should have thought of that vulgar hypocrisy. No, it +isn't her fortune that cheeks my son; it's something much more subtle. +Not so much her history as her position. He is absurd. It isn't what +has happened in her life. It's her very freedom that makes him torment +himself and her, too--as far as I can understand." + +I suppressed a groan and said to myself that I must really get away from +there. + +Mrs. Blunt was fairly launched now. + +"For all his superiority he is a man of the world and shares to a certain +extent its current opinions. He has no power over her. She intimidates +him. He wishes he had never set eyes on her. Once or twice this morning +he looked at me as if he could find it in his heart to hate his old +mother. There is no doubt about it--he loves her, Monsieur George. He +loves her, this poor, luckless, perfect _homme du monde_." + +The silence lasted for some time and then I heard a murmur: "It's a +matter of the utmost delicacy between two beings so sensitive, so proud. +It has to be managed." + +I found myself suddenly on my feet and saying with the utmost politeness +that I had to beg her permission to leave her alone as I had an +engagement; but she motioned me simply to sit down--and I sat down again. + +"I told you I had a request to make," she said. "I have understood from +Mr. Mills that you have been to the West Indies, that you have some +interests there." + +I was astounded. "Interests! I certainly have been there," I said, "but +. . ." + +She caught me up. "Then why not go there again? I am speaking to you +frankly because . . ." + +"But, Madame, I am engaged in this affair with Dona Rita, even if I had +any interests elsewhere. I won't tell you about the importance of my +work. I didn't suspect it but you brought the news of it to me, and so I +needn't point it out to you." + +And now we were frankly arguing with each other. + +"But where will it lead you in the end? You have all your life before +you, all your plans, prospects, perhaps dreams, at any rate your own +tastes and all your life-time before you. And would you sacrifice all +this to--the Pretender? A mere figure for the front page of illustrated +papers."' + +"I never think of him," I said curtly, "but I suppose Dona Rita's +feelings, instincts, call it what you like--or only her chivalrous +fidelity to her mistakes--" + +"Dona Rita's presence here in this town, her withdrawal from the possible +complications of her life in Paris has produced an excellent effect on my +son. It simplifies infinite difficulties, I mean moral as well as +material. It's extremely to the advantage of her dignity, of her future, +and of her peace of mind. But I am thinking, of course, mainly of my +son. He is most exacting." + +I felt extremely sick at heart. "And so I am to drop everything and +vanish," I said, rising from my chair again. And this time Mrs. Blunt +got up, too, with a lofty and inflexible manner but she didn't dismiss me +yet. + +"Yes," she said distinctly. "All this, my dear Monsieur George, is such +an accident. What have you got to do here? You look to me like somebody +who would find adventures wherever he went as interesting and perhaps +less dangerous than this one." + +She slurred over the word dangerous but I picked it up. + +"What do you know of its dangers, Madame, may I ask?" But she did not +condescend to hear. + +"And then you, too, have your chivalrous feelings," she went on, +unswerving, distinct, and tranquil. "You are not absurd. But my son is. +He would shut her up in a convent for a time if he could." + +"He isn't the only one," I muttered. + +"Indeed!" she was startled, then lower, "Yes. That woman must be the +centre of all sorts of passions," she mused audibly. "But what have you +got to do with all this? It's nothing to you." + +She waited for me to speak. + +"Exactly, Madame," I said, "and therefore I don't see why I should +concern myself in all this one way or another." + +"No," she assented with a weary air, "except that you might ask yourself +what is the good of tormenting a man of noble feelings, however absurd. +His Southern blood makes him very violent sometimes. I fear--" And then +for the first time during this conversation, for the first time since I +left Dona Rita the day before, for the first time I laughed. + +"Do you mean to hint, Madame, that Southern gentlemen are dead shots? I +am aware of that--from novels." + +I spoke looking her straight in the face and I made that exquisite, +aristocratic old woman positively blink by my directness. There was a +faint flush on her delicate old cheeks but she didn't move a muscle of +her face. I made her a most respectful bow and went out of the studio. + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Through the great arched window of the hall I saw the hotel brougham +waiting at the door. On passing the door of the front room (it was +originally meant for a drawing-room but a bed for Blunt was put in there) +I banged with my fist on the panel and shouted: "I am obliged to go out. +Your mother's carriage is at the door." I didn't think he was asleep. +My view now was that he was aware beforehand of the subject of the +conversation, and if so I did not wish to appear as if I had slunk away +from him after the interview. But I didn't stop--I didn't want to see +him--and before he could answer I was already half way up the stairs +running noiselessly up the thick carpet which also covered the floor of +the landing. Therefore opening the door of my sitting-room quickly I +caught by surprise the person who was in there watching the street half +concealed by the window curtain. It was a woman. A totally unexpected +woman. A perfect stranger. She came away quickly to meet me. Her face +was veiled and she was dressed in a dark walking costume and a very +simple form of hat. She murmured: "I had an idea that Monsieur was in +the house," raising a gloved hand to lift her veil. It was Rose and she +gave me a shock. I had never seen her before but with her little black +silk apron and a white cap with ribbons on her head. This outdoor dress +was like a disguise. I asked anxiously: + +"What has happened to Madame?" + +"Nothing. I have a letter," she murmured, and I saw it appear between +the fingers of her extended hand, in a very white envelope which I tore +open impatiently. It consisted of a few lines only. It began abruptly: + +"If you are gone to sea then I can't forgive you for not sending the +usual word at the last moment. If you are not gone why don't you come? +Why did you leave me yesterday? You leave me crying--I who haven't cried +for years and years, and you haven't the sense to come back within the +hour, within twenty hours! This conduct is idiotic"--and a sprawling +signature of the four magic letters at the bottom. + +While I was putting the letter in my pocket the girl said in an earnest +undertone: "I don't like to leave Madame by herself for any length of +time." + +"How long have you been in my room?" I asked. + +"The time seemed long. I hope Monsieur won't mind the liberty. I sat +for a little in the hall but then it struck me I might be seen. In fact, +Madame told me not to be seen if I could help it." + +"Why did she tell you that?" + +"I permitted myself to suggest that to Madame. It might have given a +false impression. Madame is frank and open like the day but it won't do +with everybody. There are people who would put a wrong construction on +anything. Madame's sister told me Monsieur was out." + +"And you didn't believe her?" + +"_Non_, Monsieur. I have lived with Madame's sister for nearly a week +when she first came into this house. She wanted me to leave the message, +but I said I would wait a little. Then I sat down in the big porter's +chair in the hall and after a while, everything being very quiet, I stole +up here. I know the disposition of the apartments. I reckoned Madame's +sister would think that I got tired of waiting and let myself out." + +"And you have been amusing yourself watching the street ever since?" + +"The time seemed long," she answered evasively. "An empty _coupe_ came +to the door about an hour ago and it's still waiting," she added, looking +at me inquisitively. + +"It seems strange." + +"There are some dancing girls staying in the house," I said negligently. +"Did you leave Madame alone?" + +"There's the gardener and his wife in the house." + +"Those people keep at the back. Is Madame alone? That's what I want to +know." + +"Monsieur forgets that I have been three hours away; but I assure +Monsieur that here in this town it's perfectly safe for Madame to be +alone." + +"And wouldn't it be anywhere else? It's the first I hear of it." + +"In Paris, in our apartments in the hotel, it's all right, too; but in +the Pavilion, for instance, I wouldn't leave Madame by herself, not for +half an hour." + +"What is there in the Pavilion?" I asked. + +"It's a sort of feeling I have," she murmured reluctantly . . . "Oh! +There's that _coupe_ going away." + +She made a movement towards the window but checked herself. I hadn't +moved. The rattle of wheels on the cobble-stones died out almost at +once. + +"Will Monsieur write an answer?" Rose suggested after a short silence. + +"Hardly worth while," I said. "I will be there very soon after you. +Meantime, please tell Madame from me that I am not anxious to see any +more tears. Tell her this just like that, you understand. I will take +the risk of not being received." + +She dropped her eyes, said: "_Oui_, Monsieur," and at my suggestion +waited, holding the door of the room half open, till I went downstairs to +see the road clear. + +It was a kind of deaf-and-dumb house. The black-and-white hall was empty +and everything was perfectly still. Blunt himself had no doubt gone away +with his mother in the brougham, but as to the others, the dancing girls, +Therese, or anybody else that its walls may have contained, they might +have been all murdering each other in perfect assurance that the house +would not betray them by indulging in any unseemly murmurs. I emitted a +low whistle which didn't seem to travel in that peculiar atmosphere more +than two feet away from my lips, but all the same Rose came tripping down +the stairs at once. With just a nod to my whisper: "Take a fiacre," she +glided out and I shut the door noiselessly behind her. + +The next time I saw her she was opening the door of the house on the +Prado to me, with her cap and the little black silk apron on, and with +that marked personality of her own, which had been concealed so perfectly +in the dowdy walking dress, very much to the fore. + +"I have given Madame the message," she said in her contained voice, +swinging the door wide open. Then after relieving me of my hat and coat +she announced me with the simple words: "_Voila_ Monsieur," and hurried +away. Directly I appeared Dona Rita, away there on the couch, passed the +tips of her fingers over her eyes and holding her hands up palms outwards +on each side of her head, shouted to me down the whole length of the +room: "The dry season has set in." I glanced at the pink tips of her +fingers perfunctorily and then drew back. She let her hands fall +negligently as if she had no use for them any more and put on a serious +expression. + +"So it seems," I said, sitting down opposite her. "For how long, I +wonder." + +"For years and years. One gets so little encouragement. First you bolt +away from my tears, then you send an impertinent message, and then when +you come at last you pretend to behave respectfully, though you don't +know how to do it. You should sit much nearer the edge of the chair and +hold yourself very stiff, and make it quite clear that you don't know +what to do with your hands." + +All this in a fascinating voice with a ripple of badinage that seemed to +play upon the sober surface of her thoughts. Then seeing that I did not +answer she altered the note a bit. + +"_Amigo_ George," she said, "I take the trouble to send for you and here +I am before you, talking to you and you say nothing." + +"What am I to say?" + +"How can I tell? You might say a thousand things. You might, for +instance, tell me that you were sorry for my tears." + +"I might also tell you a thousand lies. What do I know about your tears? +I am not a susceptible idiot. It all depends upon the cause. There are +tears of quiet happiness. Peeling onions also will bring tears." + +"Oh, you are not susceptible," she flew out at me. "But you are an idiot +all the same." + +"Is it to tell me this that you have written to me to come?" I asked with +a certain animation. + +"Yes. And if you had as much sense as the talking parrot I owned once +you would have read between the lines that all I wanted you here for was +to tell you what I think of you." + +"Well, tell me what you think of me." + +"I would in a moment if I could be half as impertinent as you are." + +"What unexpected modesty," I said. + +"These, I suppose, are your sea manners." + +"I wouldn't put up with half that nonsense from anybody at sea. Don't +you remember you told me yourself to go away? What was I to do?" + +"How stupid you are. I don't mean that you pretend. You really are. Do +you understand what I say? I will spell it for you. S-t-u-p-i-d. Ah, +now I feel better. Oh, _amigo_ George, my dear fellow-conspirator for +the king--the king. Such a king! _Vive le Roi_! Come, why don't you +shout _Vive le Roi_, too?" + +"I am not your parrot," I said. + +"No, he never sulked. He was a charming, good-mannered bird, accustomed +to the best society, whereas you, I suppose, are nothing but a heartless +vagabond like myself." + +"I daresay you are, but I suppose nobody had the insolence to tell you +that to your face." + +"Well, very nearly. It was what it amounted to. I am not stupid. There +is no need to spell out simple words for me. It just came out. Don Juan +struggled desperately to keep the truth in. It was most pathetic. And +yet he couldn't help himself. He talked very much like a parrot." + +"Of the best society," I suggested. + +"Yes, the most honourable of parrots. I don't like parrot-talk. It +sounds so uncanny. Had I lived in the Middle Ages I am certain I would +have believed that a talking bird must be possessed by the devil. I am +sure Therese would believe that now. My own sister! She would cross +herself many times and simply quake with terror." + +"But you were not terrified," I said. "May I ask when that interesting +communication took place?" + +"Yesterday, just before you blundered in here of all days in the year. I +was sorry for him." + +"Why tell me this? I couldn't help noticing it. I regretted I hadn't my +umbrella with me." + +"Those unforgiven tears! Oh, you simple soul! Don't you know that +people never cry for anybody but themselves? . . . _Amigo_ George, tell +me--what are we doing in this world?" + +"Do you mean all the people, everybody?" + +"No, only people like you and me. Simple people, in this world which is +eaten up with charlatanism of all sorts so that even we, the simple, +don't know any longer how to trust each other." + +"Don't we? Then why don't you trust him? You are dying to do so, don't +you know?" + +She dropped her chin on her breast and from under her straight eyebrows +the deep blue eyes remained fixed on me, impersonally, as if without +thought. + +"What have you been doing since you left me yesterday?" she asked. + +"The first thing I remember I abused your sister horribly this morning." + +"And how did she take it?" + +"Like a warm shower in spring. She drank it all in and unfolded her +petals." + +"What poetical expressions he uses! That girl is more perverted than one +would think possible, considering what she is and whence she came. It's +true that I, too, come from the same spot." + +"She is slightly crazy. I am a great favourite with her. I don't say +this to boast." + +"It must be very comforting." + +"Yes, it has cheered me immensely. Then after a morning of delightful +musings on one thing and another I went to lunch with a charming lady and +spent most of the afternoon talking with her." + +Dona Rita raised her head. + +"A lady! Women seem such mysterious creatures to me. I don't know them. +Did you abuse her? Did she--how did you say that?--unfold her petals, +too? Was she really and truly . . .?" + +"She is simply perfection in her way and the conversation was by no means +banal. I fancy that if your late parrot had heard it, he would have +fallen off his perch. For after all, in that Allegre Pavilion, my dear +Rita, you were but a crowd of glorified _bourgeois_." + +She was beautifully animated now. In her motionless blue eyes like +melted sapphires, around those red lips that almost without moving could +breathe enchanting sounds into the world, there was a play of light, that +mysterious ripple of gaiety that seemed always to run and faintly quiver +under her skin even in her gravest moods; just as in her rare moments of +gaiety its warmth and radiance seemed to come to one through infinite +sadness, like the sunlight of our life hiding the invincible darkness in +which the universe must work out its impenetrable destiny. + +"Now I think of it! . . . Perhaps that's the reason I never could feel +perfectly serious while they were demolishing the world about my ears. I +fancy now that I could tell beforehand what each of them was going to +say. They were repeating the same words over and over again, those great +clever men, very much like parrots who also seem to know what they say. +That doesn't apply to the master of the house, who never talked much. He +sat there mostly silent and looming up three sizes bigger than any of +them." + +"The ruler of the aviary," I muttered viciously. + +"It annoys you that I should talk of that time?" she asked in a tender +voice. "Well, I won't, except for once to say that you must not make a +mistake: in that aviary he was the man. I know because he used to talk +to me afterwards sometimes. Strange! For six years he seemed to carry +all the world and me with it in his hand. . . . " + +"He dominates you yet," I shouted. + +She shook her head innocently as a child would do. + +"No, no. You brought him into the conversation yourself. You think of +him much more than I do." Her voice drooped sadly to a hopeless note. +"I hardly ever do. He is not the sort of person to merely flit through +one's mind and so I have no time. Look. I had eleven letters this +morning and there were also five telegrams before midday, which have +tangled up everything. I am quite frightened." + +And she explained to me that one of them--the long one on the top of the +pile, on the table over there--seemed to contain ugly inferences directed +at herself in a menacing way. She begged me to read it and see what I +could make of it. + +I knew enough of the general situation to see at a glance that she had +misunderstood it thoroughly and even amazingly. I proved it to her very +quickly. But her mistake was so ingenious in its wrongheadedness and +arose so obviously from the distraction of an acute mind, that I couldn't +help looking at her admiringly. + +"Rita," I said, "you are a marvellous idiot." + +"Am I? Imbecile," she retorted with an enchanting smile of relief. "But +perhaps it only seems so to you in contrast with the lady so perfect in +her way. What is her way?" + +"Her way, I should say, lies somewhere between her sixtieth and +seventieth year, and I have walked tete-a-tete with her for some little +distance this afternoon." + +"Heavens," she whispered, thunderstruck. "And meantime I had the son +here. He arrived about five minutes after Rose left with that note for +you," she went on in a tone of awe. "As a matter of fact, Rose saw him +across the street but she thought she had better go on to you." + +"I am furious with myself for not having guessed that much," I said +bitterly. "I suppose you got him out of the house about five minutes +after you heard I was coming here. Rose ought to have turned back when +she saw him on his way to cheer your solitude. That girl is stupid after +all, though she has got a certain amount of low cunning which no doubt is +very useful at times." + +"I forbid you to talk like this about Rose. I won't have it. Rose is +not to be abused before me." + +"I only mean to say that she failed in this instance to read your mind, +that's all." + +"This is, without exception, the most unintelligent thing you have said +ever since I have known you. You may understand a lot about running +contraband and about the minds of a certain class of people, but as to +Rose's mind let me tell you that in comparison with hers yours is +absolutely infantile, my adventurous friend. It would be contemptible if +it weren't so--what shall I call it?--babyish. You ought to be slapped +and put to bed." There was an extraordinary earnestness in her tone and +when she ceased I listened yet to the seductive inflexions of her voice, +that no matter in what mood she spoke seemed only fit for tenderness and +love. And I thought suddenly of Azzolati being ordered to take himself +off from her presence for ever, in that voice the very anger of which +seemed to twine itself gently round one's heart. No wonder the poor +wretch could not forget the scene and couldn't restrain his tears on the +plain of Rambouillet. My moods of resentment against Rita, hot as they +were, had no more duration than a blaze of straw. So I only said: + +"Much _you_ know about the management of children." The corners of her +lips stirred quaintly; her animosity, especially when provoked by a +personal attack upon herself, was always tinged by a sort of wistful +humour of the most disarming kind. + +"Come, _amigo_ George, let us leave poor Rose alone. You had better tell +me what you heard from the lips of the charming old lady. Perfection, +isn't she? I have never seen her in my life, though she says she has +seen me several times. But she has written to me on three separate +occasions and every time I answered her as if I were writing to a queen. +_Amigo_ George, how does one write to a queen? How should a goatherd +that could have been mistress of a king, how should she write to an old +queen from very far away; from over the sea?" + +"I will ask you as I have asked the old queen: why do you tell me all +this, Dona Rita?" + +"To discover what's in your mind," she said, a little impatiently. + +"If you don't know that yet!" I exclaimed under my breath. + +"No, not in your mind. Can any one ever tell what is in a man's mind? +But I see you won't tell." + +"What's the good? You have written to her before, I understand. Do you +think of continuing the correspondence?" + +"Who knows?" she said in a profound tone. "She is the only woman that +ever wrote to me. I returned her three letters to her with my last +answer, explaining humbly that I preferred her to burn them herself. And +I thought that would be the end of it. But an occasion may still arise." + +"Oh, if an occasion arises," I said, trying to control my rage, "you may +be able to begin your letter by the words '_Chere Maman_.'" + +The cigarette box, which she had taken up without removing her eyes from +me, flew out of her hand and opening in mid-air scattered cigarettes for +quite a surprising distance all over the room. I got up at once and +wandered off picking them up industriously. Dona Rita's voice behind me +said indifferently: + +"Don't trouble, I will ring for Rose." + +"No need," I growled, without turning my head, "I can find my hat in the +hall by myself, after I've finished picking up . . . " + +"Bear!" + +I returned with the box and placed it on the divan near her. She sat +cross-legged, leaning back on her arms, in the blue shimmer of her +embroidered robe and with the tawny halo of her unruly hair about her +face which she raised to mine with an air of resignation. + +"George, my friend," she said, "we have no manners." + +"You would never have made a career at court, Dona Rita," I observed. +"You are too impulsive." + +"This is not bad manners, that's sheer insolence. This has happened to +you before. If it happens again, as I can't be expected to wrestle with +a savage and desperate smuggler single-handed, I will go upstairs and +lock myself in my room till you leave the house. Why did you say this to +me?" + +"Oh, just for nothing, out of a full heart." + +"If your heart is full of things like that, then my dear friend, you had +better take it out and give it to the crows. No! you said that for the +pleasure of appearing terrible. And you see you are not terrible at all, +you are rather amusing. Go on, continue to be amusing. Tell me +something of what you heard from the lips of that aristocratic old lady +who thinks that all men are equal and entitled to the pursuit of +happiness." + +"I hardly remember now. I heard something about the unworthiness of +certain white geese out of stuffy drawing-rooms. It sounds mad, but the +lady knows exactly what she wants. I also heard your praises sung. I +sat there like a fool not knowing what to say." + +"Why? You might have joined in the singing." + +"I didn't feel in the humour, because, don't you see, I had been +incidentally given to understand that I was an insignificant and +superfluous person who had better get out of the way of serious people." + +"Ah, _par exemple_!" + +"In a sense, you know, it was flattering; but for the moment it made me +feel as if I had been offered a pot of mustard to sniff." + +She nodded with an amused air of understanding and I could see that she +was interested. "Anything more?" she asked, with a flash of radiant +eagerness in all her person and bending slightly forward towards me. + +"Oh, it's hardly worth mentioning. It was a sort of threat wrapped up, I +believe, in genuine anxiety as to what might happen to my youthful +insignificance. If I hadn't been rather on the alert just then I +wouldn't even have perceived the meaning. But really an allusion to 'hot +Southern blood' I could have only one meaning. Of course I laughed at +it, but only '_pour l'honneur_' and to show I understood perfectly. In +reality it left me completely indifferent." + +Dona Rita looked very serious for a minute. + +"Indifferent to the whole conversation?" + +I looked at her angrily. + +"To the whole . . . You see I got up rather out of sorts this morning. +Unrefreshed, you know. As if tired of life." + +The liquid blue in her eyes remained directed at me without any +expression except that of its usual mysterious immobility, but all her +face took on a sad and thoughtful cast. Then as if she had made up her +mind under the pressure of necessity: + +"Listen, _amigo_," she said, "I have suffered domination and it didn't +crush me because I have been strong enough to live with it; I have known +caprice, you may call it folly if you like, and it left me unharmed +because I was great enough not to be captured by anything that wasn't +really worthy of me. My dear, it went down like a house of cards before +my breath. There is something in me that will not be dazzled by any sort +of prestige in this world, worthy or unworthy. I am telling you this +because you are younger than myself." + +"If you want me to say that there is nothing petty or mean about you, +Dona Rita, then I do say it." + +She nodded at me with an air of accepting the rendered justice and went +on with the utmost simplicity. + +"And what is it that is coming to me now with all the airs of virtue? +All the lawful conventions are coming to me, all the glamours of +respectability! And nobody can say that I have made as much as the +slightest little sign to them. Not so much as lifting my little finger. +I suppose you know that?" + +"I don't know. I do not doubt your sincerity in anything you say. I am +ready to believe. You are not one of those who have to work." + +"Have to work--what do you mean?" + +"It's a phrase I have heard. What I meant was that it isn't necessary +for you to make any signs." + +She seemed to meditate over this for a while. + +"Don't be so sure of that," she said, with a flash of mischief, which +made her voice sound more melancholy than before. "I am not so sure +myself," she continued with a curious, vanishing, intonation of despair. +"I don't know the truth about myself because I never had an opportunity +to compare myself to anything in the world. I have been offered mock +adulation, treated with mock reserve or with mock devotion, I have been +fawned upon with an appalling earnestness of purpose, I can tell you; but +these later honours, my dear, came to me in the shape of a very loyal and +very scrupulous gentleman. For he is all that. And as a matter of fact +I was touched." + +"I know. Even to tears," I said provokingly. But she wasn't provoked, +she only shook her head in negation (which was absurd) and pursued the +trend of her spoken thoughts. + +"That was yesterday," she said. "And yesterday he was extremely correct +and very full of extreme self-esteem which expressed itself in the +exaggerated delicacy with which he talked. But I know him in all his +moods. I have known him even playful. I didn't listen to him. I was +thinking of something else. Of things that were neither correct nor +playful and that had to be looked at steadily with all the best that was +in me. And that was why, in the end--I cried--yesterday." + +"I saw it yesterday and I had the weakness of being moved by those tears +for a time." + +"If you want to make me cry again I warn you you won't succeed." + +"No, I know. He has been here to-day and the dry season has set in." + +"Yes, he has been here. I assure you it was perfectly unexpected. +Yesterday he was railing at the world at large, at me who certainly have +not made it, at himself and even at his mother. All this rather in +parrot language, in the words of tradition and morality as understood by +the members of that exclusive club to which he belongs. And yet when I +thought that all this, those poor hackneyed words, expressed a sincere +passion I could have found in my heart to be sorry for him. But he ended +by telling me that one couldn't believe a single word I said, or +something like that. You were here then, you heard it yourself." + +"And it cut you to the quick," I said. "It made you depart from your +dignity to the point of weeping on any shoulder that happened to be +there. And considering that it was some more parrot talk after all (men +have been saying that sort of thing to women from the beginning of the +world) this sensibility seems to me childish." + +"What perspicacity," she observed, with an indulgent, mocking smile, then +changed her tone. "Therefore he wasn't expected to-day when he turned +up, whereas you, who were expected, remained subject to the charms of +conversation in that studio. It never occurred to you . . . did it? No! +What had become of your perspicacity?" + +"I tell you I was weary of life," I said in a passion. + +She had another faint smile of a fugitive and unrelated kind as if she +had been thinking of far-off things, then roused herself to grave +animation. + +"He came in full of smiling playfulness. How well I know that mood! +Such self-command has its beauty; but it's no great help for a man with +such fateful eyes. I could see he was moved in his correct, restrained +way, and in his own way, too, he tried to move me with something that +would be very simple. He told me that ever since we became friends, we +two, he had not an hour of continuous sleep, unless perhaps when coming +back dead-tired from outpost duty, and that he longed to get back to it +and yet hadn't the courage to tear himself away from here. He was as +simple as that. He's a _tres galant homme_ of absolute probity, even +with himself. I said to him: The trouble is, Don Juan, that it isn't +love but mistrust that keeps you in torment. I might have said jealousy, +but I didn't like to use that word. A parrot would have added that I had +given him no right to be jealous. But I am no parrot. I recognized the +rights of his passion which I could very well see. He is jealous. He is +not jealous of my past or of the future; but he is jealously mistrustful +of me, of what I am, of my very soul. He believes in a soul in the same +way Therese does, as something that can be touched with grace or go to +perdition; and he doesn't want to be damned with me before his own +judgment seat. He is a most noble and loyal gentleman, but I have my own +Basque peasant soul and don't want to think that every time he goes away +from my feet--yes, _mon cher_, on this carpet, look for the marks of +scorching--that he goes away feeling tempted to brush the dust off his +moral sleeve. That! Never!" + +With brusque movements she took a cigarette out of the box, held it in +her fingers for a moment, then dropped it unconsciously. + +"And then, I don't love him," she uttered slowly as if speaking to +herself and at the same time watching the very quality of that thought. +"I never did. At first he fascinated me with his fatal aspect and his +cold society smiles. But I have looked into those eyes too often. There +are too many disdains in this aristocratic republican without a home. +His fate may be cruel, but it will always be commonplace. While he sat +there trying in a worldly tone to explain to me the problems, the +scruples, of his suffering honour, I could see right into his heart and I +was sorry for him. I was sorry enough for him to feel that if he had +suddenly taken me by the throat and strangled me slowly, _avec delices_, +I could forgive him while I choked. How correct he was! But bitterness +against me peeped out of every second phrase. At last I raised my hand +and said to him, 'Enough.' I believe he was shocked by my plebeian +abruptness but he was too polite to show it. His conventions will always +stand in the way of his nature. I told him that everything that had been +said and done during the last seven or eight months was inexplicable +unless on the assumption that he was in love with me,--and yet in +everything there was an implication that he couldn't forgive me my very +existence. I did ask him whether he didn't think that it was absurd on +his part . . . " + +"Didn't you say that it was exquisitely absurd?" I asked. + +"Exquisitely! . . . " Dona Rita was surprised at my question. "No. Why +should I say that?" + +"It would have reconciled him to your abruptness. It's their family +expression. It would have come with a familiar sound and would have been +less offensive." + +"Offensive," Dona Rita repeated earnestly. "I don't think he was +offended; he suffered in another way, but I didn't care for that. It was +I that had become offended in the end, without spite, you understand, but +past bearing. I didn't spare him. I told him plainly that to want a +woman formed in mind and body, mistress of herself, free in her choice, +independent in her thoughts; to love her apparently for what she is and +at the same time to demand from her the candour and the innocence that +could be only a shocking pretence; to know her such as life had made her +and at the same time to despise her secretly for every touch with which +her life had fashioned her--that was neither generous nor high minded; it +was positively frantic. He got up and went away to lean against the +mantelpiece, there, on his elbow and with his head in his hand. You have +no idea of the charm and the distinction of his pose. I couldn't help +admiring him: the expression, the grace, the fatal suggestion of his +immobility. Oh, yes, I am sensible to aesthetic impressions, I have been +educated to believe that there is a soul in them." + +With that enigmatic, under the eyebrows glance fixed on me she laughed +her deep contralto laugh without mirth but also without irony, and +profoundly moving by the mere purity of the sound. + +"I suspect he was never so disgusted and appalled in his life. His +self-command is the most admirable worldly thing I have ever seen. What +made it beautiful was that one could feel in it a tragic suggestion as in +a great work of art." + +She paused with an inscrutable smile that a great painter might have put +on the face of some symbolic figure for the speculation and wonder of +many generations. I said: + +"I always thought that love for you could work great wonders. And now I +am certain." + +"Are you trying to be ironic?" she said sadly and very much as a child +might have spoken. + +"I don't know," I answered in a tone of the same simplicity. "I find it +very difficult to be generous." + +"I, too," she said with a sort of funny eagerness. "I didn't treat him +very generously. Only I didn't say much more. I found I didn't care +what I said--and it would have been like throwing insults at a beautiful +composition. He was well inspired not to move. It has spared him some +disagreeable truths and perhaps I would even have said more than the +truth. I am not fair. I am no more fair than other people. I would +have been harsh. My very admiration was making me more angry. It's +ridiculous to say of a man got up in correct tailor clothes, but there +was a funereal grace in his attitude so that he might have been +reproduced in marble on a monument to some woman in one of those +atrocious Campo Santos: the bourgeois conception of an aristocratic +mourning lover. When I came to that conclusion I became glad that I was +angry or else I would have laughed right out before him." + +"I have heard a woman say once, a woman of the people--do you hear me, +Dona Rita?--therefore deserving your attention, that one should never +laugh at love." + +"My dear," she said gently, "I have been taught to laugh at most things +by a man who never laughed himself; but it's true that he never spoke of +love to me, love as a subject that is. So perhaps . . . But why?" + +"Because (but maybe that old woman was crazy), because, she said, there +was death in the mockery of love." + +Dona Rita moved slightly her beautiful shoulders and went on: + +"I am glad, then, I didn't laugh. And I am also glad I said nothing +more. I was feeling so little generous that if I had known something +then of his mother's allusion to 'white geese' I would have advised him +to get one of them and lead it away on a beautiful blue ribbon. Mrs. +Blunt was wrong, you know, to be so scornful. A white goose is exactly +what her son wants. But look how badly the world is arranged. Such +white birds cannot be got for nothing and he has not enough money even to +buy a ribbon. Who knows! Maybe it was this which gave that tragic +quality to his pose by the mantelpiece over there. Yes, that was it. +Though no doubt I didn't see it then. As he didn't offer to move after I +had done speaking I became quite unaffectedly sorry and advised him very +gently to dismiss me from his mind definitely. He moved forward then and +said to me in his usual voice and with his usual smile that it would have +been excellent advice but unfortunately I was one of those women who +can't be dismissed at will. And as I shook my head he insisted rather +darkly: 'Oh, yes, Dona Rita, it is so. Cherish no illusions about that +fact.' It sounded so threatening that in my surprise I didn't even +acknowledge his parting bow. He went out of that false situation like a +wounded man retreating after a fight. No, I have nothing to reproach +myself with. I did nothing. I led him into nothing. Whatever illusions +have passed through my head I kept my distance, and he was so loyal to +what he seemed to think the redeeming proprieties of the situation that +he has gone from me for good without so much as kissing the tips of my +fingers. He must have felt like a man who had betrayed himself for +nothing. It's horrible. It's the fault of that enormous fortune of +mine, and I wish with all my heart that I could give it to him; for he +couldn't help his hatred of the thing that is: and as to his love, which +is just as real, well--could I have rushed away from him to shut myself +up in a convent? Could I? After all I have a right to my share of +daylight." + + + +CHAPTER V + + +I took my eyes from her face and became aware that dusk was beginning to +steal into the room. How strange it seemed. Except for the glazed +rotunda part its long walls, divided into narrow panels separated by an +order of flat pilasters, presented, depicted on a black background and in +vivid colours, slender women with butterfly wings and lean youths with +narrow birds' wings. The effect was supposed to be Pompeiian and Rita +and I had often laughed at the delirious fancy of some enriched +shopkeeper. But still it was a display of fancy, a sign of grace; but at +that moment these figures appeared to me weird and intrusive and +strangely alive in their attenuated grace of unearthly beings concealing +a power to see and hear. + +Without words, without gestures, Dona Rita was heard again. "It may have +been as near coming to pass as this." She showed me the breadth of her +little finger nail. "Yes, as near as that. Why? How? Just like that, +for nothing. Because it had come up. Because a wild notion had entered +a practical old woman's head. Yes. And the best of it is that I have +nothing to complain of. Had I surrendered I would have been perfectly +safe with these two. It is they or rather he who couldn't trust me, or +rather that something which I express, which I stand for. Mills would +never tell me what it was. Perhaps he didn't know exactly himself. He +said it was something like genius. My genius! Oh, I am not conscious of +it, believe me, I am not conscious of it. But if I were I wouldn't pluck +it out and cast it away. I am ashamed of nothing, of nothing! Don't be +stupid enough to think that I have the slightest regret. There is no +regret. First of all because I am I--and then because . . . My dear, +believe me, I have had a horrible time of it myself lately." + +This seemed to be the last word. Outwardly quiet, all the time, it was +only then that she became composed enough to light an enormous cigarette +of the same pattern as those made specially for the king--_por el Rey_! +After a time, tipping the ash into the bowl on her left hand, she asked +me in a friendly, almost tender, tone: + +"What are you thinking of, _amigo_?" + +"I was thinking of your immense generosity. You want to give a crown to +one man, a fortune to another. That is very fine. But I suppose there +is a limit to your generosity somewhere." + +"I don't see why there should be any limit--to fine intentions! Yes, one +would like to pay ransom and be done with it all." + +"That's the feeling of a captive; and yet somehow I can't think of you as +ever having been anybody's captive." + +"You do display some wonderful insight sometimes. My dear, I begin to +suspect that men are rather conceited about their powers. They think +they dominate us. Even exceptional men will think that; men too great +for mere vanity, men like Henry Allegre for instance, who by his +consistent and serene detachment was certainly fit to dominate all sorts +of people. Yet for the most part they can only do it because women +choose more or less consciously to let them do so. Henry Allegre, if any +man, might have been certain of his own power; and yet, look: I was a +chit of a girl, I was sitting with a book where I had no business to be, +in his own garden, when he suddenly came upon me, an ignorant girl of +seventeen, a most uninviting creature with a tousled head, in an old +black frock and shabby boots. I could have run away. I was perfectly +capable of it. But I stayed looking up at him and--in the end it was HE +who went away and it was I who stayed." + +"Consciously?" I murmured. + +"Consciously? You may just as well ask my shadow that lay so still by me +on the young grass in that morning sunshine. I never knew before how +still I could keep. It wasn't the stillness of terror. I remained, +knowing perfectly well that if I ran he was not the man to run after me. +I remember perfectly his deep-toned, politely indifferent '_Restez +donc_.' He was mistaken. Already then I hadn't the slightest intention +to move. And if you ask me again how far conscious all this was the +nearest answer I can make you is this: that I remained on purpose, but I +didn't know for what purpose I remained. Really, that couldn't be +expected. . . . Why do you sigh like this? Would you have preferred me +to be idiotically innocent or abominably wise?" + +"These are not the questions that trouble me," I said. "If I sighed it +is because I am weary." + +"And getting stiff, too, I should say, in this Pompeiian armchair. You +had better get out of it and sit on this couch as you always used to do. +That, at any rate, is not Pompeiian. You have been growing of late +extremely formal, I don't know why. If it is a pose then for goodness' +sake drop it. Are you going to model yourself on Captain Blunt? You +couldn't, you know. You are too young." + +"I don't want to model myself on anybody," I said. "And anyway Blunt is +too romantic; and, moreover, he has been and is yet in love with you--a +thing that requires some style, an attitude, something of which I am +altogether incapable." + +"You know it isn't so stupid, this what you have just said. Yes, there +is something in this." + +"I am not stupid," I protested, without much heat. + +"Oh, yes, you are. You don't know the world enough to judge. You don't +know how wise men can be. Owls are nothing to them. Why do you try to +look like an owl? There are thousands and thousands of them waiting for +me outside the door: the staring, hissing beasts. You don't know what a +relief of mental ease and intimacy you have been to me in the frankness +of gestures and speeches and thoughts, sane or insane, that we have been +throwing at each other. I have known nothing of this in my life but with +you. There had always been some fear, some constraint, lurking in the +background behind everybody, everybody--except you, my friend." + +"An unmannerly, Arcadian state of affairs. I am glad you like it. +Perhaps it's because you were intelligent enough to perceive that I was +not in love with you in any sort of style." + +"No, you were always your own self, unwise and reckless and with +something in it kindred to mine, if I may say so without offence." + +"You may say anything without offence. But has it never occurred to your +sagacity that I just, simply, loved you?" + +"Just--simply," she repeated in a wistful tone. + +"You didn't want to trouble your head about it, is that it?" + +"My poor head. From your tone one might think you yearned to cut it off. +No, my dear, I have made up my mind not to lose my head." + +"You would be astonished to know how little I care for your mind." + +"Would I? Come and sit on the couch all the same," she said after a +moment of hesitation. Then, as I did not move at once, she added with +indifference: "You may sit as far away as you like, it's big enough, +goodness knows." + +The light was ebbing slowly out of the rotunda and to my bodily eyes she +was beginning to grow shadowy. I sat down on the couch and for a long +time no word passed between us. We made no movement. We did not even +turn towards each other. All I was conscious of was the softness of the +seat which seemed somehow to cause a relaxation of my stern mood, I won't +say against my will but without any will on my part. Another thing I was +conscious of, strangely enough, was the enormous brass bowl for cigarette +ends. Quietly, with the least possible action, Dona Rita moved it to the +other side of her motionless person. Slowly, the fantastic women with +butterflies' wings and the slender-limbed youths with the gorgeous +pinions on their shoulders were vanishing into their black backgrounds +with an effect of silent discretion, leaving us to ourselves. + +I felt suddenly extremely exhausted, absolutely overcome with fatigue +since I had moved; as if to sit on that Pompeiian chair had been a task +almost beyond human strength, a sort of labour that must end in collapse. +I fought against it for a moment and then my resistance gave way. Not +all at once but as if yielding to an irresistible pressure (for I was not +conscious of any irresistible attraction) I found myself with my head +resting, with a weight I felt must be crushing, on Dona Rita's shoulder +which yet did not give way, did not flinch at all. A faint scent of +violets filled the tragic emptiness of my head and it seemed impossible +to me that I should not cry from sheer weakness. But I remained +dry-eyed. I only felt myself slipping lower and lower and I caught her +round the waist clinging to her not from any intention but purely by +instinct. All that time she hadn't stirred. There was only the slight +movement of her breathing that showed her to be alive; and with closed +eyes I imagined her to be lost in thought, removed by an incredible +meditation while I clung to her, to an immense distance from the earth. +The distance must have been immense because the silence was so perfect, +the feeling as if of eternal stillness. I had a distinct impression of +being in contact with an infinity that had the slightest possible rise +and fall, was pervaded by a warm, delicate scent of violets and through +which came a hand from somewhere to rest lightly on my head. Presently +my ear caught the faint and regular pulsation of her heart, firm and +quick, infinitely touching in its persistent mystery, disclosing itself +into my very ear--and my felicity became complete. + +It was a dreamlike state combined with a dreamlike sense of insecurity. +Then in that warm and scented infinity, or eternity, in which I rested +lost in bliss but ready for any catastrophe, I heard the distant, hardly +audible, and fit to strike terror into the heart, ringing of a bell. At +this sound the greatness of spaces departed. I felt the world close +about me; the world of darkened walls, of very deep grey dusk against the +panes, and I asked in a pained voice: + +"Why did you ring, Rita?" + +There was a bell rope within reach of her hand. I had not felt her move, +but she said very low: + +"I rang for the lights." + +"You didn't want the lights." + +"It was time," she whispered secretly. + +Somewhere within the house a door slammed. I got away from her feeling +small and weak as if the best part of me had been torn away and +irretrievably lost. Rose must have been somewhere near the door. + +"It's abominable," I murmured to the still, idol-like shadow on the +couch. + +The answer was a hurried, nervous whisper: "I tell you it was time. I +rang because I had no strength to push you away." + +I suffered a moment of giddiness before the door opened, light streamed +in, and Rose entered, preceding a man in a green baize apron whom I had +never seen, carrying on an enormous tray three Argand lamps fitted into +vases of Pompeiian form. Rose distributed them over the room. In the +flood of soft light the winged youths and the butterfly women reappeared +on the panels, affected, gorgeous, callously unconscious of anything +having happened during their absence. Rose attended to the lamp on the +nearest mantelpiece, then turned about and asked in a confident +undertone. + +"_Monsieur dine_?" + +I had lost myself with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands, but +I heard the words distinctly. I heard also the silence which ensued. I +sat up and took the responsibility of the answer on myself. + +"Impossible. I am going to sea this evening." + +This was perfectly true only I had totally forgotten it till then. For +the last two days my being was no longer composed of memories but +exclusively of sensations of the most absorbing, disturbing, exhausting +nature. I was like a man who has been buffeted by the sea or by a mob +till he loses all hold on the world in the misery of his helplessness. +But now I was recovering. And naturally the first thing I remembered was +the fact that I was going to sea. + +"You have heard, Rose," Dona Rita said at last with some impatience. + +The girl waited a moment longer before she said: + +"Oh, yes! There is a man waiting for Monsieur in the hall. A seaman." + +It could be no one but Dominic. It dawned upon me that since the evening +of our return I had not been near him or the ship, which was completely +unusual, unheard of, and well calculated to startle Dominic. + +"I have seen him before," continued Rose, "and as he told me he has been +pursuing Monsieur all the afternoon and didn't like to go away without +seeing Monsieur for a moment, I proposed to him to wait in the hall till +Monsieur was at liberty." + +I said: "Very well," and with a sudden resumption of her extremely busy, +not-a-moment-to-lose manner Rose departed from the room. I lingered in +an imaginary world full of tender light, of unheard-of colours, with a +mad riot of flowers and an inconceivable happiness under the sky arched +above its yawning precipices, while a feeling of awe enveloped me like +its own proper atmosphere. But everything vanished at the sound of Dona +Rita's loud whisper full of boundless dismay, such as to make one's hair +stir on one's head. + +"_Mon Dieu_! And what is going to happen now?" + +She got down from the couch and walked to a window. When the lights had +been brought into the room all the panes had turned inky black; for the +night had come and the garden was full of tall bushes and trees screening +off the gas lamps of the main alley of the Prado. Whatever the question +meant she was not likely to see an answer to it outside. But her whisper +had offended me, had hurt something infinitely deep, infinitely subtle +and infinitely clear-eyed in my nature. I said after her from the couch +on which I had remained, "Don't lose your composure. You will always +have some sort of bell at hand." + +I saw her shrug her uncovered shoulders impatiently. Her forehead was +against the very blackness of the panes; pulled upward from the +beautiful, strong nape of her neck, the twisted mass of her tawny hair +was held high upon her head by the arrow of gold. + +"You set up for being unforgiving," she said without anger. + +I sprang to my feet while she turned about and came towards me bravely, +with a wistful smile on her bold, adolescent face. + +"It seems to me," she went on in a voice like a wave of love itself, +"that one should try to understand before one sets up for being +unforgiving. Forgiveness is a very fine word. It is a fine invocation." + +"There are other fine words in the language such as fascination, +fidelity, also frivolity; and as for invocations there are plenty of +them, too; for instance: alas, heaven help me." + +We stood very close together, her narrow eyes were as enigmatic as ever, +but that face, which, like some ideal conception of art, was incapable of +anything like untruth and grimace, expressed by some mysterious means +such a depth of infinite patience that I felt profoundly ashamed of +myself. + +"This thing is beyond words altogether," I said. "Beyond forgiveness, +beyond forgetting, beyond anger or jealousy. . . . There is nothing +between us two that could make us act together." + +"Then we must fall back perhaps on something within us, that--you admit +it?--we have in common." + +"Don't be childish," I said. "You give one with a perpetual and intense +freshness feelings and sensations that are as old as the world itself, +and you imagine that your enchantment can be broken off anywhere, at any +time! But it can't be broken. And forgetfulness, like everything else, +can only come from you. It's an impossible situation to stand up +against." + +She listened with slightly parted lips as if to catch some further +resonances. + +"There is a sort of generous ardour about you," she said, "which I don't +really understand. No, I don't know it. Believe me, it is not of myself +I am thinking. And you--you are going out to-night to make another +landing." + +"Yes, it is a fact that before many hours I will be sailing away from you +to try my luck once more." + +"Your wonderful luck," she breathed out. + +"Oh, yes, I am wonderfully lucky. Unless the luck really is yours--in +having found somebody like me, who cares at the same time so much and so +little for what you have at heart." + +"What time will you be leaving the harbour?" she asked. + +"Some time between midnight and daybreak. Our men may be a little late +in joining, but certainly we will be gone before the first streak of +light." + +"What freedom!" she murmured enviously. "It's something I shall never +know. . . ." + +"Freedom!" I protested. "I am a slave to my word. There will be a +siring of carts and mules on a certain part of the coast, and a most +ruffianly lot of men, men you understand, men with wives and children and +sweethearts, who from the very moment they start on a trip risk a bullet +in the head at any moment, but who have a perfect conviction that I will +never fail them. That's my freedom. I wonder what they would think if +they knew of your existence." + +"I don't exist," she said. + +"That's easy to say. But I will go as if you didn't exist--yet only +because you do exist. You exist in me. I don't know where I end and you +begin. You have got into my heart and into my veins and into my brain." + +"Take this fancy out and trample it down in the dust," she said in a tone +of timid entreaty. + +"Heroically," I suggested with the sarcasm of despair. + +"Well, yes, heroically," she said; and there passed between us dim +smiles, I have no doubt of the most touching imbecility on earth. We +were standing by then in the middle of the room with its vivid colours on +a black background, with its multitude of winged figures with pale limbs, +with hair like halos or flames, all strangely tense in their strained, +decorative attitudes. Dona Rita made a step towards me, and as I +attempted to seize her hand she flung her arms round my neck. I felt +their strength drawing me towards her and by a sort of blind and +desperate effort I resisted. And all the time she was repeating with +nervous insistence: + +"But it is true that you will go. You will surely. Not because of those +people but because of me. You will go away because you feel you must." + +With every word urging me to get away, her clasp tightened, she hugged my +head closer to her breast. I submitted, knowing well that I could free +myself by one more effort which it was in my power to make. But before I +made it, in a sort of desperation, I pressed a long kiss into the hollow +of her throat. And lo--there was no need for any effort. With a stifled +cry of surprise her arms fell off me as if she had been shot. I must +have been giddy, and perhaps we both were giddy, but the next thing I +knew there was a good foot of space between us in the peaceful glow of +the ground-glass globes, in the everlasting stillness of the winged +figures. Something in the quality of her exclamation, something utterly +unexpected, something I had never heard before, and also the way she was +looking at me with a sort of incredulous, concentrated attention, +disconcerted me exceedingly. I knew perfectly well what I had done and +yet I felt that I didn't understand what had happened. I became suddenly +abashed and I muttered that I had better go and dismiss that poor +Dominic. She made no answer, gave no sign. She stood there lost in a +vision--or was it a sensation?--of the most absorbing kind. I hurried +out into the hall, shamefaced, as if I were making my escape while she +wasn't looking. And yet I felt her looking fixedly at me, with a sort of +stupefaction on her features--in her whole attitude--as though she had +never even heard of such a thing as a kiss in her life. + +A dim lamp (of Pompeiian form) hanging on a long chain left the hall +practically dark. Dominic, advancing towards me from a distant corner, +was but a little more opaque shadow than the others. He had expected me +on board every moment till about three o'clock, but as I didn't turn up +and gave no sign of life in any other way he started on his hunt. He +sought news of me from the _garcons_ at the various cafes, from the +_cochers de fiacre_ in front of the Exchange, from the tobacconist lady +at the counter of the fashionable _Debit de Tabac_, from the old man who +sold papers outside the _cercle_, and from the flower-girl at the door of +the fashionable restaurant where I had my table. That young woman, whose +business name was Irma, had come on duty about mid-day. She said to +Dominic: "I think I've seen all his friends this morning but I haven't +seen him for a week. What has become of him?" + +"That's exactly what I want to know," Dominic replied in a fury and then +went back to the harbour on the chance that I might have called either on +board or at Madame Leonore's cafe. + +I expressed to him my surprise that he should fuss about me like an old +hen over a chick. It wasn't like him at all. And he said that "_en +effet_" it was Madame Leonore who wouldn't give him any peace. He hoped +I wouldn't mind, it was best to humour women in little things; and so he +started off again, made straight for the street of the Consuls, was told +there that I wasn't at home but the woman of the house looked so funny +that he didn't know what to make of it. Therefore, after some +hesitation, he took the liberty to inquire at this house, too, and being +told that I couldn't be disturbed, had made up his mind not to go on +board without actually setting his eyes on me and hearing from my own +lips that nothing was changed as to sailing orders. + +"There is nothing changed, Dominic," I said. + +"No change of any sort?" he insisted, looking very sombre and speaking +gloomily from under his black moustaches in the dim glow of the alabaster +lamp hanging above his head. He peered at me in an extraordinary manner +as if he wanted to make sure that I had all my limbs about me. I asked +him to call for my bag at the other house, on his way to the harbour, and +he departed reassured, not, however, without remarking ironically that +ever since she saw that American cavalier Madame Leonore was not easy in +her mind about me. + +As I stood alone in the hall, without a sound of any sort, Rose appeared +before me. + +"Monsieur will dine after all," she whispered calmly. + +"My good girl, I am going to sea to-night." + +"What am I going to do with Madame?" she murmured to herself. "She will +insist on returning to Paris." + +"Oh, have you heard of it?" + +"I never get more than two hours' notice," she said. "But I know how it +will be," her voice lost its calmness. "I can look after Madame up to a +certain point but I cannot be altogether responsible. There is a +dangerous person who is everlastingly trying to see Madame alone. I have +managed to keep him off several times but there is a beastly old +journalist who is encouraging him in his attempts, and I daren't even +speak to Madame about it." + +"What sort of person do you mean?" + +"Why, a man," she said scornfully. + +I snatched up my coat and hat. + +"Aren't there dozens of them?" + +"Oh! But this one is dangerous. Madame must have given him a hold on +her in some way. I ought not to talk like this about Madame and I +wouldn't to anybody but Monsieur. I am always on the watch, but what is +a poor girl to do? . . . Isn't Monsieur going back to Madame?" + +"No, I am not going back. Not this time." A mist seemed to fall before +my eyes. I could hardly see the girl standing by the closed door of the +Pempeiian room with extended hand, as if turned to stone. But my voice +was firm enough. "Not this time," I repeated, and became aware of the +great noise of the wind amongst the trees, with the lashing of a rain +squall against the door. + +"Perhaps some other time," I added. + +I heard her say twice to herself: "_Mon Dieu_! _Mon_, _Dieu_!" and then +a dismayed: "What can Monsieur expect me to do?" But I had to appear +insensible to her distress and that not altogether because, in fact, I +had no option but to go away. I remember also a distinct wilfulness in +my attitude and something half-contemptuous in my words as I laid my hand +on the knob of the front door. + +"You will tell Madame that I am gone. It will please her. Tell her that +I am gone--heroically." + +Rose had come up close to me. She met my words by a despairing outward +movement of her hands as though she were giving everything up. + +"I see it clearly now that Madame has no friends," she declared with such +a force of restrained bitterness that it nearly made me pause. But the +very obscurity of actuating motives drove me on and I stepped out through +the doorway muttering: "Everything is as Madame wishes it." + +She shot at me a swift: "You should resist," of an extraordinary +intensity, but I strode on down the path. Then Rose's schooled temper +gave way at last and I heard her angry voice screaming after me furiously +through the wind and rain: "No! Madame has no friends. Not one!" + + + + +PART FIVE + + +CHAPTER I + + +That night I didn't get on board till just before midnight and Dominic +could not conceal his relief at having me safely there. Why he should +have been so uneasy it was impossible to say but at the time I had a sort +of impression that my inner destruction (it was nothing less) had +affected my appearance, that my doom was as it were written on my face. +I was a mere receptacle for dust and ashes, a living testimony to the +vanity of all things. My very thoughts were like a ghostly rustle of +dead leaves. But we had an extremely successful trip, and for most of +the time Dominic displayed an unwonted jocularity of a dry and biting +kind with which, he maintained, he had been infected by no other person +than myself. As, with all his force of character, he was very responsive +to the moods of those he liked I have no doubt he spoke the truth. But I +know nothing about it. The observer, more or less alert, whom each of us +carries in his own consciousness, failed me altogether, had turned away +his face in sheer horror, or else had fainted from the strain. And thus +I had to live alone, unobserved even by myself. + +But the trip had been successful. We re-entered the harbour very quietly +as usual and when our craft had been moored unostentatiously amongst the +plebeian stone-carriers, Dominic, whose grim joviality had subsided in +the last twenty-four hours of our homeward run, abandoned me to myself as +though indeed I had been a doomed man. He only stuck his head for a +moment into our little cuddy where I was changing my clothes and being +told in answer to his question that I had no special orders to give went +ashore without waiting for me. + +Generally we used to step on the quay together and I never failed to +enter for a moment Madame Leonore's cafe. But this time when I got on +the quay Dominic was nowhere to be seen. What was it? +Abandonment--discretion--or had he quarrelled with his Leonore before +leaving on the trip? + +My way led me past the cafe and through the glass panes I saw that he was +already there. On the other side of the little marble table Madame +Leonore, leaning with mature grace on her elbow, was listening to him +absorbed. Then I passed on and--what would you have!--I ended by making +my way into the street of the Consuls. I had nowhere else to go. There +were my things in the apartment on the first floor. I couldn't bear the +thought of meeting anybody I knew. + +The feeble gas flame in the hall was still there, on duty, as though it +had never been turned off since I last crossed the hall at half-past +eleven in the evening to go to the harbour. The small flame had watched +me letting myself out; and now, exactly of the same size, the poor little +tongue of light (there was something wrong with that burner) watched me +letting myself in, as indeed it had done many times before. Generally +the impression was that of entering an untenanted house, but this time +before I could reach the foot of the stairs Therese glided out of the +passage leading into the studio. After the usual exclamations she +assured me that everything was ready for me upstairs, had been for days, +and offered to get me something to eat at once. I accepted and said I +would be down in the studio in half an hour. I found her there by the +side of the laid table ready for conversation. She began by telling +me--the dear, poor young Monsieur--in a sort of plaintive chant, that +there were no letters for me, no letters of any kind, no letters from +anybody. Glances of absolutely terrifying tenderness mingled with +flashes of cunning swept over me from head to foot while I tried to eat. + +"Are you giving me Captain Blunt's wine to drink?" I asked, noting the +straw-coloured liquid in my glass. + +She screwed up her mouth as if she had a twinge of toothache and assured +me that the wine belonged to the house. I would have to pay her for it. +As far as personal feelings go, Blunt, who addressed her always with +polite seriousness, was not a favourite with her. The "charming, brave +Monsieur" was now fighting for the King and religion against the impious +Liberals. He went away the very morning after I had left and, oh! she +remembered, he had asked her before going away whether I was still in the +house. Wanted probably to say good-bye to me, shake my hand, the dear, +polite Monsieur. + +I let her run on in dread expectation of what she would say next but she +stuck to the subject of Blunt for some time longer. He had written to +her once about some of his things which he wanted her to send to Paris to +his mother's address; but she was going to do nothing of the kind. She +announced this with a pious smile; and in answer to my questions I +discovered that it was a stratagem to make Captain Blunt return to the +house. + +"You will get yourself into trouble with the police, Mademoiselle +Therese, if you go on like that," I said. But she was as obstinate as a +mule and assured me with the utmost confidence that many people would be +ready to defend a poor honest girl. There was something behind this +attitude which I could not fathom. Suddenly she fetched a deep sigh. + +"Our Rita, too, will end by coming to her sister." + +The name for which I had been waiting deprived me of speech for the +moment. The poor mad sinner had rushed off to some of her wickednesses +in Paris. Did I know? No? How could she tell whether I did know or +not? Well! I had hardly left the house, so to speak, when Rita was down +with her maid behaving as if the house did really still belong to her +. . . + +"What time was it?" I managed to ask. And with the words my life itself +was being forced out through my lips. But Therese, not noticing anything +strange about me, said it was something like half-past seven in the +morning. The "poor sinner" was all in black as if she were going to +church (except for her expression, which was enough to shock any honest +person), and after ordering her with frightful menaces not to let anybody +know she was in the house she rushed upstairs and locked herself up in my +bedroom, while "that French creature" (whom she seemed to love more than +her own sister) went into my salon and hid herself behind the window +curtain. + +I had recovered sufficiently to ask in a quiet natural voice whether Dona +Rita and Captain Blunt had seen each other. Apparently they had not seen +each other. The polite captain had looked so stern while packing up his +kit that Therese dared not speak to him at all. And he was in a hurry, +too. He had to see his dear mother off to Paris before his own +departure. Very stern. But he shook her hand with a very nice bow. + +Therese elevated her right hand for me to see. It was broad and short +with blunt fingers, as usual. The pressure of Captain Blunt's handshake +had not altered its unlovely shape. + +"What was the good of telling him that our Rita was here?" went on +Therese. "I would have been ashamed of her coming here and behaving as +if the house belonged to her! I had already said some prayers at his +intention at the half-past six mass, the brave gentleman. That maid of +my sister Rita was upstairs watching him drive away with her evil eyes, +but I made a sign of the cross after the fiacre, and then I went upstairs +and banged at your door, my dear kind young Monsieur, and shouted to Rita +that she had no right to lock herself in any of my _locataires_' rooms. +At last she opened it--and what do you think? All her hair was loose +over her shoulders. I suppose it all came down when she flung her hat on +your bed. I noticed when she arrived that her hair wasn't done properly. +She used your brushes to do it up again in front of your glass." + +"Wait a moment," I said, and jumped up, upsetting my wine to run upstairs +as fast as I could. I lighted the gas, all the three jets in the middle +of the room, the jet by the bedside and two others flanking the +dressing-table. I had been struck by the wild hope of finding a trace of +Rita's passage, a sign or something. I pulled out all the drawers +violently, thinking that perhaps she had hidden there a scrap of paper, a +note. It was perfectly mad. Of course there was no chance of that. +Therese would have seen to it. I picked up one after another all the +various objects on the dressing-table. On laying my hands on the brushes +I had a profound emotion, and with misty eyes I examined them +meticulously with the new hope of finding one of Rita's tawny hairs +entangled amongst the bristles by a miraculous chance. But Therese would +have done away with that chance, too. There was nothing to be seen, +though I held them up to the light with a beating heart. It was written +that not even that trace of her passage on the earth should remain with +me; not to help but, as it were, to soothe the memory. Then I lighted a +cigarette and came downstairs slowly. My unhappiness became dulled, as +the grief of those who mourn for the dead gets dulled in the overwhelming +sensation that everything is over, that a part of themselves is lost +beyond recall taking with it all the savour of life. + +I discovered Therese still on the very same spot of the floor, her hands +folded over each other and facing my empty chair before which the spilled +wine had soaked a large portion of the table-cloth. She hadn't moved at +all. She hadn't even picked up the overturned glass. But directly I +appeared she began to speak in an ingratiating voice. + +"If you have missed anything of yours upstairs, my dear young Monsieur, +you mustn't say it's me. You don't know what our Rita is." + +"I wish to goodness," I said, "that she had taken something." + +And again I became inordinately agitated as though it were my absolute +fate to be everlastingly dying and reviving to the tormenting fact of her +existence. Perhaps she had taken something? Anything. Some small +object. I thought suddenly of a Rhenish-stone match-box. Perhaps it was +that. I didn't remember having seen it when upstairs. I wanted to make +sure at once. At once. But I commanded myself to sit still. + +"And she so wealthy," Therese went on. "Even you with your dear generous +little heart can do nothing for our Rita. No man can do anything for +her--except perhaps one, but she is so evilly disposed towards him that +she wouldn't even see him, if in the goodness of his forgiving heart he +were to offer his hand to her. It's her bad conscience that frightens +her. He loves her more than his life, the dear, charitable man." + +"You mean some rascal in Paris that I believe persecutes Dona Rita. +Listen, Mademoiselle Therese, if you know where he hangs out you had +better let him have word to be careful. I believe he, too, is mixed up +in the Carlist intrigue. Don't you know that your sister can get him +shut up any day or get him expelled by the police?" + +Therese sighed deeply and put on a look of pained virtue. + +"Oh, the hardness of her heart. She tried to be tender with me. She is +awful. I said to her, 'Rita, have you sold your soul to the Devil?' and +she shouted like a fiend: 'For happiness! Ha, ha, ha!' She threw +herself backwards on that couch in your room and laughed and laughed and +laughed as if I had been tickling her, and she drummed on the floor with +the heels of her shoes. She is possessed. Oh, my dear innocent young +Monsieur, you have never seen anything like that. That wicked girl who +serves her rushed in with a tiny glass bottle and put it to her nose; but +I had a mind to run out and fetch the priest from the church where I go +to early mass. Such a nice, stout, severe man. But that false, cheating +creature (I am sure she is robbing our Rita from morning to night), she +talked to our Rita very low and quieted her down. I am sure I don't know +what she said. She must be leagued with the devil. And then she asked +me if I would go down and make a cup of chocolate for her Madame. +Madame--that's our Rita. Madame! It seems they were going off directly +to Paris and her Madame had had nothing to eat since the morning of the +day before. Fancy me being ordered to make chocolate for our Rita! +However, the poor thing looked so exhausted and white-faced that I went. +Ah! the devil can give you an awful shake up if he likes." + +Therese fetched another deep sigh and raising her eyes looked at me with +great attention. I preserved an inscrutable expression, for I wanted to +hear all she had to tell me of Rita. I watched her with the greatest +anxiety composing her face into a cheerful expression. + +"So Dona Rita is gone to Paris?" I asked negligently. + +"Yes, my dear Monsieur. I believe she went straight to the railway +station from here. When she first got up from the couch she could hardly +stand. But before, while she was drinking the chocolate which I made for +her, I tried to get her to sign a paper giving over the house to me, but +she only closed her eyes and begged me to try and be a good sister and +leave her alone for half an hour. And she lying there looking as if she +wouldn't live a day. But she always hated me." + +I said bitterly, "You needn't have worried her like this. If she had not +lived for another day you would have had this house and everything else +besides; a bigger bit than even your wolfish throat can swallow, +Mademoiselle Therese." + +I then said a few more things indicative of my disgust with her rapacity, +but they were quite inadequate, as I wasn't able to find words strong +enough to express my real mind. But it didn't matter really because I +don't think Therese heard me at all. She seemed lost in rapt amazement. + +"What do you say, my dear Monsieur? What! All for me without any sort +of paper?" + +She appeared distracted by my curt: "Yes." Therese believed in my +truthfulness. She believed me implicitly, except when I was telling her +the truth about herself, mincing no words, when she used to stand +smilingly bashful as if I were overwhelming her with compliments. I +expected her to continue the horrible tale but apparently she had found +something to think about which checked the flow. She fetched another +sigh and muttered: + +"Then the law can be just, if it does not require any paper. After all, +I am her sister." + +"It's very difficult to believe that--at sight," I said roughly. + +"Ah, but that I could prove. There are papers for that." + +After this declaration she began to clear the table, preserving a +thoughtful silence. + +I was not very surprised at the news of Dona Rita's departure for Paris. +It was not necessary to ask myself why she had gone. I didn't even ask +myself whether she had left the leased Villa on the Prado for ever. +Later talking again with Therese, I learned that her sister had given it +up for the use of the Carlist cause and that some sort of unofficial +Consul, a Carlist agent of some sort, either was going to live there or +had already taken possession. This, Rita herself had told her before her +departure on that agitated morning spent in the house--in my rooms. A +close investigation demonstrated to me that there was nothing missing +from them. Even the wretched match-box which I really hoped was gone +turned up in a drawer after I had, delightedly, given it up. It was a +great blow. She might have taken that at least! She knew I used to +carry it about with me constantly while ashore. She might have taken it! +Apparently she meant that there should be no bond left even of that kind; +and yet it was a long time before I gave up visiting and revisiting all +the corners of all possible receptacles for something that she might have +left behind on purpose. It was like the mania of those disordered minds +who spend their days hunting for a treasure. I hoped for a forgotten +hairpin, for some tiny piece of ribbon. Sometimes at night I reflected +that such hopes were altogether insensate; but I remember once getting up +at two in the morning to search for a little cardboard box in the +bathroom, into which, I remembered, I had not looked before. Of course +it was empty; and, anyway, Rita could not possibly have known of its +existence. I got back to bed shivering violently, though the night was +warm, and with a distinct impression that this thing would end by making +me mad. It was no longer a question of "this sort of thing" killing me. +The moral atmosphere of this torture was different. It would make me +mad. And at that thought great shudders ran down my prone body, because, +once, I had visited a famous lunatic asylum where they had shown me a +poor wretch who was mad, apparently, because he thought he had been +abominably fooled by a woman. They told me that his grievance was quite +imaginary. He was a young man with a thin fair beard, huddled up on the +edge of his bed, hugging himself forlornly; and his incessant and +lamentable wailing filled the long bare corridor, striking a chill into +one's heart long before one came to the door of his cell. + +And there was no one from whom I could hear, to whom I could speak, with +whom I could evoke the image of Rita. Of course I could utter that word +of four letters to Therese; but Therese for some reason took it into her +head to avoid all topics connected with her sister. I felt as if I could +pull out great handfuls of her hair hidden modestly under the black +handkerchief of which the ends were sometimes tied under her chin. But, +really, I could not have given her any intelligible excuse for that +outrage. Moreover, she was very busy from the very top to the very +bottom of the house, which she persisted in running alone because she +couldn't make up her mind to part with a few francs every month to a +servant. It seemed to me that I was no longer such a favourite with her +as I used to be. That, strange to say, was exasperating, too. It was as +if some idea, some fruitful notion had killed in her all the softer and +more humane emotions. She went about with brooms and dusters wearing an +air of sanctimonious thoughtfulness. + +The man who to a certain extent took my place in Therese's favour was the +old father of the dancing girls inhabiting the ground floor. In a tall +hat and a well-to-do dark blue overcoat he allowed himself to be +button-holed in the hall by Therese who would talk to him interminably +with downcast eyes. He smiled gravely down at her, and meanwhile tried +to edge towards the front door. I imagine he didn't put a great value on +Therese's favour. Our stay in harbour was prolonged this time and I kept +indoors like an invalid. One evening I asked that old man to come in and +drink and smoke with me in the studio. He made no difficulties to +accept, brought his wooden pipe with him, and was very entertaining in a +pleasant voice. One couldn't tell whether he was an uncommon person or +simply a ruffian, but in any case with his white beard he looked quite +venerable. Naturally he couldn't give me much of his company as he had +to look closely after his girls and their admirers; not that the girls +were unduly frivolous, but of course being very young they had no +experience. They were friendly creatures with pleasant, merry voices and +he was very much devoted to them. He was a muscular man with a high +colour and silvery locks curling round his bald pate and over his ears, +like a _barocco_ apostle. I had an idea that he had had a lurid past and +had seen some fighting in his youth. The admirers of the two girls stood +in great awe of him, from instinct no doubt, because his behaviour to +them was friendly and even somewhat obsequious, yet always with a certain +truculent glint in his eye that made them pause in everything but their +generosity--which was encouraged. I sometimes wondered whether those two +careless, merry hard-working creatures understood the secret moral beauty +of the situation. + +My real company was the dummy in the studio and I can't say it was +exactly satisfying. After taking possession of the studio I had raised +it tenderly, dusted its mangled limbs and insensible, hard-wood bosom, +and then had propped it up in a corner where it seemed to take on, of +itself, a shy attitude. I knew its history. It was not an ordinary +dummy. One day, talking with Dona Rita about her sister, I had told her +that I thought Therese used to knock it down on purpose with a broom, and +Dona Rita had laughed very much. This, she had said, was an instance of +dislike from mere instinct. That dummy had been made to measure years +before. It had to wear for days and days the Imperial Byzantine robes in +which Dona Rita sat only once or twice herself; but of course the folds +and bends of the stuff had to be preserved as in the first sketch. Dona +Rita described amusingly how she had to stand in the middle of her room +while Rose walked around her with a tape measure noting the figures down +on a small piece of paper which was then sent to the maker, who presently +returned it with an angry letter stating that those proportions were +altogether impossible in any woman. Apparently Rose had muddled them all +up; and it was a long time before the figure was finished and sent to the +Pavilion in a long basket to take on itself the robes and the hieratic +pose of the Empress. Later, it wore with the same patience the +marvellous hat of the "Girl in the Hat." But Dona Rita couldn't +understand how the poor thing ever found its way to Marseilles minus its +turnip head. Probably it came down with the robes and a quantity of +precious brocades which she herself had sent down from Paris. The +knowledge of its origin, the contempt of Captain Blunt's references to +it, with Therese's shocked dislike of the dummy, invested that summary +reproduction with a sort of charm, gave me a faint and miserable illusion +of the original, less artificial than a photograph, less precise, too. +. . . But it can't be explained. I felt positively friendly to it as if it +had been Rita's trusted personal attendant. I even went so far as to +discover that it had a sort of grace of its own. But I never went so far +as to address set speeches to it where it lurked shyly in its corner, or +drag it out from there for contemplation. I left it in peace. I wasn't +mad. I was only convinced that I soon would be. + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Notwithstanding my misanthropy I had to see a few people on account of +all these Royalist affairs which I couldn't very well drop, and in truth +did not wish to drop. They were my excuse for remaining in Europe, which +somehow I had not the strength of mind to leave for the West Indies, or +elsewhere. On the other hand, my adventurous pursuit kept me in contact +with the sea where I found occupation, protection, consolation, the +mental relief of grappling with concrete problems, the sanity one +acquires from close contact with simple mankind, a little self-confidence +born from the dealings with the elemental powers of nature. I couldn't +give all that up. And besides all this was related to Dona Rita. I had, +as it were, received it all from her own hand, from that hand the clasp +of which was as frank as a man's and yet conveyed a unique sensation. +The very memory of it would go through me like a wave of heat. It was +over that hand that we first got into the habit of quarrelling, with the +irritability of sufferers from some obscure pain and yet half unconscious +of their disease. Rita's own spirit hovered over the troubled waters of +Legitimity. But as to the sound of the four magic letters of her name I +was not very likely to hear it fall sweetly on my ear. For instance, the +distinguished personality in the world of finance with whom I had to +confer several times, alluded to the irresistible seduction of the power +which reigned over my heart and my mind; which had a mysterious and +unforgettable face, the brilliance of sunshine together with the +unfathomable splendour of the night as--Madame de Lastaola. That's how +that steel-grey man called the greatest mystery of the universe. When +uttering that assumed name he would make for himself a guardedly solemn +and reserved face as though he were afraid lest I should presume to +smile, lest he himself should venture to smile, and the sacred formality +of our relations should be outraged beyond mending. + +He would refer in a studiously grave tone to Madame de Lastaola's wishes, +plans, activities, instructions, movements; or picking up a letter from +the usual litter of paper found on such men's desks, glance at it to +refresh his memory; and, while the very sight of the handwriting would +make my lips go dry, would ask me in a bloodless voice whether perchance +I had "a direct communication from--er--Paris lately." And there would +be other maddening circumstances connected with those visits. He would +treat me as a serious person having a clear view of certain +eventualities, while at the very moment my vision could see nothing but +streaming across the wall at his back, abundant and misty, unearthly and +adorable, a mass of tawny hair that seemed to have hot sparks tangled in +it. Another nuisance was the atmosphere of Royalism, of Legitimacy, that +pervaded the room, thin as air, intangible, as though no Legitimist of +flesh and blood had ever existed to the man's mind except perhaps myself. +He, of course, was just simply a banker, a very distinguished, a very +influential, and a very impeccable banker. He persisted also in +deferring to my judgment and sense with an over-emphasis called out by +his perpetual surprise at my youth. Though he had seen me many times (I +even knew his wife) he could never get over my immature age. He himself +was born about fifty years old, all complete, with his iron-grey whiskers +and his bilious eyes, which he had the habit of frequently closing during +a conversation. On one occasion he said to me. "By the by, the Marquis +of Villarel is here for a time. He inquired after you the last time he +called on me. May I let him know that you are in town?" + +I didn't say anything to that. The Marquis of Villarel was the Don +Rafael of Rita's own story. What had I to do with Spanish grandees? And +for that matter what had she, the woman of all time, to do with all the +villainous or splendid disguises human dust takes upon itself? All this +was in the past, and I was acutely aware that for me there was no +present, no future, nothing but a hollow pain, a vain passion of such +magnitude that being locked up within my breast it gave me an illusion of +lonely greatness with my miserable head uplifted amongst the stars. But +when I made up my mind (which I did quickly, to be done with it) to call +on the banker's wife, almost the first thing she said to me was that the +Marquis de Villarel was "amongst us." She said it joyously. If in her +husband's room at the bank legitimism was a mere unpopulated principle, +in her salon Legitimacy was nothing but persons. "_Il m'a cause beaucoup +de vous_," she said as if there had been a joke in it of which I ought to +be proud. I slunk away from her. I couldn't believe that the grandee +had talked to her about me. I had never felt myself part of the great +Royalist enterprise. I confess that I was so indifferent to everything, +so profoundly demoralized, that having once got into that drawing-room I +hadn't the strength to get away; though I could see perfectly well my +volatile hostess going from one to another of her acquaintances in order +to tell them with a little gesture, "Look! Over there--in that corner. +That's the notorious Monsieur George." At last she herself drove me out +by coming to sit by me vivaciously and going into ecstasies over "_ce +cher_ Monsieur Mills" and that magnificent Lord X; and ultimately, with a +perfectly odious snap in the eyes and drop in the voice, dragging in the +name of Madame de Lastaola and asking me whether I was really so much in +the confidence of that astonishing person. "_Vous devez bien regretter +son depart pour Paris_," she cooed, looking with affected bashfulness at +her fan. . . . How I got out of the room I really don't know. There was +also a staircase. I did not fall down it head first--that much I am +certain of; and I also remember that I wandered for a long time about the +seashore and went home very late, by the way of the Prado, giving in +passing a fearful glance at the Villa. It showed not a gleam of light +through the thin foliage of its trees. + +I spent the next day with Dominic on board the little craft watching the +shipwrights at work on her deck. From the way they went about their +business those men must have been perfectly sane; and I felt greatly +refreshed by my company during the day. Dominic, too, devoted himself to +his business, but his taciturnity was sardonic. Then I dropped in at the +cafe and Madame Leonore's loud "Eh, Signorino, here you are at last!" +pleased me by its resonant friendliness. But I found the sparkle of her +black eyes as she sat down for a moment opposite me while I was having my +drink rather difficult to bear. That man and that woman seemed to know +something. What did they know? At parting she pressed my hand +significantly. What did she mean? But I didn't feel offended by these +manifestations. The souls within these people's breasts were not +volatile in the manner of slightly scented and inflated bladders. +Neither had they the impervious skins which seem the rule in the fine +world that wants only to get on. Somehow they had sensed that there was +something wrong; and whatever impression they might have formed for +themselves I had the certitude that it would not be for them a matter of +grins at my expense. + +That day on returning home I found Therese looking out for me, a very +unusual occurrence of late. She handed me a card bearing the name of the +Marquis de Villarel. + +"How did you come by this?" I asked. She turned on at once the tap of +her volubility and I was not surprised to learn that the grandee had not +done such an extraordinary thing as to call upon me in person. A young +gentleman had brought it. Such a nice young gentleman, she interjected +with her piously ghoulish expression. He was not very tall. He had a +very smooth complexion (that woman was incorrigible) and a nice, tiny +black moustache. Therese was sure that he must have been an officer _en +las filas legitimas_. With that notion in her head she had asked him +about the welfare of that other model of charm and elegance, Captain +Blunt. To her extreme surprise the charming young gentleman with +beautiful eyes had apparently never heard of Blunt. But he seemed very +much interested in his surroundings, looked all round the hall, noted the +costly wood of the door panels, paid some attention to the silver +statuette holding up the defective gas burner at the foot of the stairs, +and, finally, asked whether this was in very truth the house of the most +excellent Senora Dona Rita de Lastaola. The question staggered Therese, +but with great presence of mind she answered the young gentleman that she +didn't know what excellence there was about it, but that the house was +her property, having been given to her by her own sister. At this the +young gentleman looked both puzzled and angry, turned on his heel, and +got back into his fiacre. Why should people be angry with a poor girl +who had never done a single reprehensible thing in her whole life? + +"I suppose our Rita does tell people awful lies about her poor sister." +She sighed deeply (she had several kinds of sighs and this was the +hopeless kind) and added reflectively, "Sin on sin, wickedness on +wickedness! And the longer she lives the worse it will be. It would be +better for our Rita to be dead." + +I told "Mademoiselle Therese" that it was really impossible to tell +whether she was more stupid or atrocious; but I wasn't really very much +shocked. These outbursts did not signify anything in Therese. One got +used to them. They were merely the expression of her rapacity and her +righteousness; so that our conversation ended by my asking her whether +she had any dinner ready for me that evening. + +"What's the good of getting you anything to eat, my dear young Monsieur," +she quizzed me tenderly. "You just only peck like a little bird. Much +better let me save the money for you." It will show the +super-terrestrial nature of my misery when I say that I was quite +surprised at Therese's view of my appetite. Perhaps she was right. I +certainly did not know. I stared hard at her and in the end she admitted +that the dinner was in fact ready that very moment. + +The new young gentleman within Therese's horizon didn't surprise me very +much. Villarel would travel with some sort of suite, a couple of +secretaries at least. I had heard enough of Carlist headquarters to know +that the man had been (very likely was still) Captain General of the +Royal Bodyguard and was a person of great political (and domestic) +influence at Court. The card was, under its social form, a mere command +to present myself before the grandee. No Royalist devoted by conviction, +as I must have appeared to him, could have mistaken the meaning. I put +the card in my pocket and after dining or not dining--I really don't +remember--spent the evening smoking in the studio, pursuing thoughts of +tenderness and grief, visions exalting and cruel. From time to time I +looked at the dummy. I even got up once from the couch on which I had +been writhing like a worm and walked towards it as if to touch it, but +refrained, not from sudden shame but from sheer despair. By and by +Therese drifted in. It was then late and, I imagine, she was on her way +to bed. She looked the picture of cheerful, rustic innocence and started +propounding to me a conundrum which began with the words: + +"If our Rita were to die before long . . ." + +She didn't get any further because I had jumped up and frightened her by +shouting: "Is she ill? What has happened? Have you had a letter?" + +She had had a letter. I didn't ask her to show it to me, though I +daresay she would have done so. I had an idea that there was no meaning +in anything, at least no meaning that mattered. But the interruption had +made Therese apparently forget her sinister conundrum. She observed me +with her shrewd, unintelligent eyes for a bit, and then with the fatuous +remark about the Law being just she left me to the horrors of the studio. +I believe I went to sleep there from sheer exhaustion. Some time during +the night I woke up chilled to the bone and in the dark. These were +horrors and no mistake. I dragged myself upstairs to bed past the +indefatigable statuette holding up the ever-miserable light. The +black-and-white hall was like an ice-house. + +The main consideration which induced me to call on the Marquis of +Villarel was the fact that after all I was a discovery of Dona Rita's, +her own recruit. My fidelity and steadfastness had been guaranteed by +her and no one else. I couldn't bear the idea of her being criticized by +every empty-headed chatterer belonging to the Cause. And as, apart from +that, nothing mattered much, why, then--I would get this over. + +But it appeared that I had not reflected sufficiently on all the +consequences of that step. First of all the sight of the Villa looking +shabbily cheerful in the sunshine (but not containing her any longer) was +so perturbing that I very nearly went away from the gate. Then when I +got in after much hesitation--being admitted by the man in the green +baize apron who recognized me--the thought of entering that room, out of +which she was gone as completely as if she had been dead, gave me such an +emotion that I had to steady myself against the table till the faintness +was past. Yet I was irritated as at a treason when the man in the baize +apron instead of letting me into the Pompeiian dining-room crossed the +hall to another door not at all in the Pompeiian style (more Louis XV +rather--that Villa was like a _Salade Russe_ of styles) and introduced me +into a big, light room full of very modern furniture. The portrait _en +pied_ of an officer in a sky-blue uniform hung on the end wall. The +officer had a small head, a black beard cut square, a robust body, and +leaned with gauntleted hands on the simple hilt of a straight sword. +That striking picture dominated a massive mahogany desk, and, in front of +this desk, a very roomy, tall-backed armchair of dark green velvet. I +thought I had been announced into an empty room till glancing along the +extremely loud carpet I detected a pair of feet under the armchair. + +I advanced towards it and discovered a little man, who had made no sound +or movement till I came into his view, sunk deep in the green velvet. He +altered his position slowly and rested his hollow, black, quietly burning +eyes on my face in prolonged scrutiny. I detected something comminatory +in his yellow, emaciated countenance, but I believe now he was simply +startled by my youth. I bowed profoundly. He extended a meagre little +hand. + +"Take a chair, Don Jorge." + +He was very small, frail, and thin, but his voice was not languid, though +he spoke hardly above his breath. Such was the envelope and the voice of +the fanatical soul belonging to the Grand-master of Ceremonies and +Captain General of the Bodyguard at the Headquarters of the Legitimist +Court, now detached on a special mission. He was all fidelity, +inflexibility, and sombre conviction, but like some great saints he had +very little body to keep all these merits in. + +"You are very young," he remarked, to begin with. "The matters on which +I desired to converse with you are very grave." + +"I was under the impression that your Excellency wished to see me at +once. But if your Excellency prefers it I will return in, say, seven +years' time when I may perhaps be old enough to talk about grave +matters." + +He didn't stir hand or foot and not even the quiver of an eyelid proved +that he had heard my shockingly unbecoming retort. + +"You have been recommended to us by a noble and loyal lady, in whom His +Majesty--whom God preserve--reposes an entire confidence. God will +reward her as she deserves and you, too, Senor, according to the +disposition you bring to this great work which has the blessing (here he +crossed himself) of our Holy Mother the Church." + +"I suppose your Excellency understands that in all this I am not looking +for reward of any kind." + +At this he made a faint, almost ethereal grimace. + +"I was speaking of the spiritual blessing which rewards the service of +religion and will be of benefit to your soul," he explained with a slight +touch of acidity. "The other is perfectly understood and your fidelity +is taken for granted. His Majesty--whom God preserve--has been already +pleased to signify his satisfaction with your services to the most noble +and loyal Dona Rita by a letter in his own hand." + +Perhaps he expected me to acknowledge this announcement in some way, +speech, or bow, or something, because before my immobility he made a +slight movement in his chair which smacked of impatience. "I am afraid, +Senor, that you are affected by the spirit of scoffing and irreverence +which pervades this unhappy country of France in which both you and I are +strangers, I believe. Are you a young man of that sort?" + +"I am a very good gun-runner, your Excellency," I answered quietly. + +He bowed his head gravely. "We are aware. But I was looking for the +motives which ought to have their pure source in religion." + +"I must confess frankly that I have not reflected on my motives," I said. +"It is enough for me to know that they are not dishonourable and that +anybody can see they are not the motives of an adventurer seeking some +sordid advantage." + +He had listened patiently and when he saw that there was nothing more to +come he ended the discussion. + +"Senor, we should reflect upon our motives. It is salutary for our +conscience and is recommended (he crossed himself) by our Holy Mother the +Church. I have here certain letters from Paris on which I would consult +your young sagacity which is accredited to us by the most loyal Dona +Rita." + +The sound of that name on his lips was simply odious. I was convinced +that this man of forms and ceremonies and fanatical royalism was +perfectly heartless. Perhaps he reflected on his motives; but it seemed +to me that his conscience could be nothing else but a monstrous thing +which very few actions could disturb appreciably. Yet for the credit of +Dona Rita I did not withhold from him my young sagacity. What he thought +of it I don't know. The matters we discussed were not of course of high +policy, though from the point of view of the war in the south they were +important enough. We agreed on certain things to be done, and finally, +always out of regard for Dona Rita's credit, I put myself generally at +his disposition or of any Carlist agent he would appoint in his place; +for I did not suppose that he would remain very long in Marseilles. He +got out of the chair laboriously, like a sick child might have done. The +audience was over but he noticed my eyes wandering to the portrait and he +said in his measured, breathed-out tones: + +"I owe the pleasure of having this admirable work here to the gracious +attention of Madame de Lastaola, who, knowing my attachment to the royal +person of my Master, has sent it down from Paris to greet me in this +house which has been given up for my occupation also through her +generosity to the Royal Cause. Unfortunately she, too, is touched by the +infection of this irreverent and unfaithful age. But she is young yet. +She is young." + +These last words were pronounced in a strange tone of menace as though he +were supernaturally aware of some suspended disasters. With his burning +eyes he was the image of an Inquisitor with an unconquerable soul in that +frail body. But suddenly he dropped his eyelids and the conversation +finished as characteristically as it had begun: with a slow, dismissing +inclination of the head and an "Adios, Senor--may God guard you from +sin." + + + +CHAPTER III + + +I must say that for the next three months I threw myself into my unlawful +trade with a sort of desperation, dogged and hopeless, like a fairly +decent fellow who takes deliberately to drink. The business was getting +dangerous. The bands in the South were not very well organized, worked +with no very definite plan, and now were beginning to be pretty closely +hunted. The arrangements for the transport of supplies were going to +pieces; our friends ashore were getting scared; and it was no joke to +find after a day of skilful dodging that there was no one at the landing +place and have to go out again with our compromising cargo, to slink and +lurk about the coast for another week or so, unable to trust anybody and +looking at every vessel we met with suspicion. Once we were ambushed by +a lot of "rascally Carabineers," as Dominic called them, who hid +themselves among the rocks after disposing a train of mules well in view +on the seashore. Luckily, on evidence which I could never understand, +Dominic detected something suspicious. Perhaps it was by virtue of some +sixth sense that men born for unlawful occupations may be gifted with. +"There is a smell of treachery about this," he remarked suddenly, turning +at his oar. (He and I were pulling alone in a little boat to +reconnoitre.) I couldn't detect any smell and I regard to this day our +escape on that occasion as, properly speaking, miraculous. Surely some +supernatural power must have struck upwards the barrels of the +Carabineers' rifles, for they missed us by yards. And as the Carabineers +have the reputation of shooting straight, Dominic, after swearing most +horribly, ascribed our escape to the particular guardian angel that looks +after crazy young gentlemen. Dominic believed in angels in a +conventional way, but laid no claim to having one of his own. Soon +afterwards, while sailing quietly at night, we found ourselves suddenly +near a small coasting vessel, also without lights, which all at once +treated us to a volley of rifle fire. Dominic's mighty and inspired +yell: "_A plat ventre_!" and also an unexpected roll to windward saved +all our lives. Nobody got a scratch. We were past in a moment and in a +breeze then blowing we had the heels of anything likely to give us chase. +But an hour afterwards, as we stood side by side peering into the +darkness, Dominic was heard to mutter through his teeth: "_Le metier se +gate_." I, too, had the feeling that the trade, if not altogether +spoiled, had seen its best days. But I did not care. In fact, for my +purpose it was rather better, a more potent influence; like the stronger +intoxication of raw spirit. A volley in the dark after all was not such +a bad thing. Only a moment before we had received it, there, in that +calm night of the sea full of freshness and soft whispers, I had been +looking at an enchanting turn of a head in a faint light of its own, the +tawny hair with snared red sparks brushed up from the nape of a white +neck and held up on high by an arrow of gold feathered with brilliants +and with ruby gleams all along its shaft. That jewelled ornament, which +I remember often telling Rita was of a very Philistinish conception (it +was in some way connected with a tortoiseshell comb) occupied an undue +place in my memory, tried to come into some sort of significance even in +my sleep. Often I dreamed of her with white limbs shimmering in the +gloom like a nymph haunting a riot of foliage, and raising a perfect +round arm to take an arrow of gold out of her hair to throw it at me by +hand, like a dart. It came on, a whizzing trail of light, but I always +woke up before it struck. Always. Invariably. It never had a chance. +A volley of small arms was much more likely to do the business some +day--or night. + + * * * * * + +At last came the day when everything slipped out of my grasp. The little +vessel, broken and gone like the only toy of a lonely child, the sea +itself, which had swallowed it, throwing me on shore after a shipwreck +that instead of a fair fight left in me the memory of a suicide. It took +away all that there was in me of independent life, but just failed to +take me out of the world, which looked then indeed like Another World fit +for no one else but unrepentant sinners. Even Dominic failed me, his +moral entity destroyed by what to him was a most tragic ending of our +common enterprise. The lurid swiftness of it all was like a stunning +thunder-clap--and, one evening, I found myself weary, heartsore, my brain +still dazed and with awe in my heart entering Marseilles by way of the +railway station, after many adventures, one more disagreeable than +another, involving privations, great exertions, a lot of difficulties +with all sorts of people who looked upon me evidently more as a +discreditable vagabond deserving the attentions of gendarmes than a +respectable (if crazy) young gentleman attended by a guardian angel of +his own. I must confess that I slunk out of the railway station shunning +its many lights as if, invariably, failure made an outcast of a man. I +hadn't any money in my pocket. I hadn't even the bundle and the stick of +a destitute wayfarer. I was unshaven and unwashed, and my heart was +faint within me. My attire was such that I daren't approach the rank of +fiacres, where indeed I could perceive only two pairs of lamps, of which +one suddenly drove away while I looked. The other I gave up to the +fortunate of this earth. I didn't believe in my power of persuasion. I +had no powers. I slunk on and on, shivering with cold, through the +uproarious streets. Bedlam was loose in them. It was the time of +Carnival. + +Small objects of no value have the secret of sticking to a man in an +astonishing way. I had nearly lost my liberty and even my life, I had +lost my ship, a money-belt full of gold, I had lost my companions, had +parted from my friend; my occupation, my only link with life, my touch +with the sea, my cap and jacket were gone--but a small penknife and a +latchkey had never parted company with me. With the latchkey I opened +the door of refuge. The hall wore its deaf-and-dumb air, its +black-and-white stillness. + +The sickly gas-jet still struggled bravely with adversity at the end of +the raised silver arm of the statuette which had kept to a hair's breadth +its graceful pose on the toes of its left foot; and the staircase lost +itself in the shadows above. Therese was parsimonious with the lights. +To see all this was surprising. It seemed to me that all the things I +had known ought to have come down with a crash at the moment of the final +catastrophe on the Spanish coast. And there was Therese herself +descending the stairs, frightened but plucky. Perhaps she thought that +she would be murdered this time for certain. She had a strange, +unemotional conviction that the house was particularly convenient for a +crime. One could never get to the bottom of her wild notions which she +held with the stolidity of a peasant allied to the outward serenity of a +nun. She quaked all over as she came down to her doom, but when she +recognized me she got such a shock that she sat down suddenly on the +lowest step. She did not expect me for another week at least, and, +besides, she explained, the state I was in made her blood take "one +turn." + +Indeed my plight seemed either to have called out or else repressed her +true nature. But who had ever fathomed her nature! There was none of +her treacly volubility. There were none of her "dear young gentlemans" +and "poor little hearts" and references to sin. In breathless silence +she ran about the house getting my room ready, lighting fires and +gas-jets and even hauling at me to help me up the stairs. Yes, she did +lay hands on me for that charitable purpose. They trembled. Her pale +eyes hardly left my face. "What brought you here like this?" she +whispered once. + +"If I were to tell you, Mademoiselle Therese, you would see there the +hand of God." + +She dropped the extra pillow she was carrying and then nearly fell over +it. "Oh, dear heart," she murmured, and ran off to the kitchen. + +I sank into bed as into a cloud and Therese reappeared very misty and +offering me something in a cup. I believe it was hot milk, and after I +drank it she took the cup and stood looking at me fixedly. I managed to +say with difficulty: "Go away," whereupon she vanished as if by magic +before the words were fairly out of my mouth. Immediately afterwards the +sunlight forced through the slats of the jalousies its diffused glow, and +Therese was there again as if by magic, saying in a distant voice: "It's +midday". . . Youth will have its rights. I had slept like a stone for +seventeen hours. + +I suppose an honourable bankrupt would know such an awakening: the sense +of catastrophe, the shrinking from the necessity of beginning life again, +the faint feeling that there are misfortunes which must be paid for by a +hanging. In the course of the morning Therese informed me that the +apartment usually occupied by Mr. Blunt was vacant and added mysteriously +that she intended to keep it vacant for a time, because she had been +instructed to do so. I couldn't imagine why Blunt should wish to return +to Marseilles. She told me also that the house was empty except for +myself and the two dancing girls with their father. Those people had +been away for some time as the girls had engagements in some Italian +summer theatres, but apparently they had secured a re-engagement for the +winter and were now back. I let Therese talk because it kept my +imagination from going to work on subjects which, I had made up my mind, +were no concern of mine. But I went out early to perform an unpleasant +task. It was only proper that I should let the Carlist agent ensconced +in the Prado Villa know of the sudden ending of my activities. It would +be grave enough news for him, and I did not like to be its bearer for +reasons which were mainly personal. I resembled Dominic in so far that +I, too, disliked failure. + +The Marquis of Villarel had of course gone long before. The man who was +there was another type of Carlist altogether, and his temperament was +that of a trader. He was the chief purveyor of the Legitimist armies, an +honest broker of stores, and enjoyed a great reputation for cleverness. +His important task kept him, of course, in France, but his young wife, +whose beauty and devotion to her King were well known, represented him +worthily at Headquarters, where his own appearances were extremely rare. +The dissimilar but united loyalties of those two people had been rewarded +by the title of baron and the ribbon of some order or other. The gossip +of the Legitimist circles appreciated those favours with smiling +indulgence. He was the man who had been so distressed and frightened by +Dona Rita's first visit to Tolosa. He had an extreme regard for his +wife. And in that sphere of clashing arms and unceasing intrigue nobody +would have smiled then at his agitation if the man himself hadn't been +somewhat grotesque. + +He must have been startled when I sent in my name, for he didn't of +course expect to see me yet--nobody expected me. He advanced soft-footed +down the room. With his jutting nose, flat-topped skull and sable +garments he recalled an obese raven, and when he heard of the disaster he +manifested his astonishment and concern in a most plebeian manner by a +low and expressive whistle. I, of course, could not share his +consternation. My feelings in that connection were of a different order; +but I was annoyed at his unintelligent stare. + +"I suppose," I said, "you will take it on yourself to advise Dona Rita, +who is greatly interested in this affair." + +"Yes, but I was given to understand that Madame de Lastaola was to leave +Paris either yesterday or this morning." + +It was my turn to stare dumbly before I could manage to ask: "For +Tolosa?" in a very knowing tone. + +Whether it was the droop of his head, play of light, or some other subtle +cause, his nose seemed to have grown perceptibly longer. + +"That, Senor, is the place where the news has got to be conveyed without +undue delay," he said in an agitated wheeze. "I could, of course, +telegraph to our agent in Bayonne who would find a messenger. But I +don't like, I don't like! The Alphonsists have agents, too, who hang +about the telegraph offices. It's no use letting the enemy get that +news." + +He was obviously very confused, unhappy, and trying to think of two +different things at once. + +"Sit down, Don George, sit down." He absolutely forced a cigar on me. +"I am extremely distressed. That--I mean Dona Rita is undoubtedly on her +way to Tolosa. This is very frightful." + +I must say, however, that there was in the man some sense of duty. He +mastered his private fears. After some cogitation he murmured: "There is +another way of getting the news to Headquarters. Suppose you write me a +formal letter just stating the facts, the unfortunate facts, which I will +be able to forward. There is an agent of ours, a fellow I have been +employing for purchasing supplies, a perfectly honest man. He is coming +here from the north by the ten o'clock train with some papers for me of a +confidential nature. I was rather embarrassed about it. It wouldn't do +for him to get into any sort of trouble. He is not very intelligent. I +wonder, Don George, whether you would consent to meet him at the station +and take care of him generally till to-morrow. I don't like the idea of +him going about alone. Then, to-morrow night, we would send him on to +Tolosa by the west coast route, with the news; and then he can also call +on Dona Rita who will no doubt be already there. . . ." He became again +distracted all in a moment and actually went so far as to wring his fat +hands. "Oh, yes, she will be there!" he exclaimed in most pathetic +accents. + +I was not in the humour to smile at anything, and he must have been +satisfied with the gravity with which I beheld his extraordinary antics. +My mind was very far away. I thought: Why not? Why shouldn't I also +write a letter to Dona Rita, telling her that now nothing stood in the +way of my leaving Europe, because, really, the enterprise couldn't be +begun again; that things that come to an end can never be begun again. +The idea--never again--had complete possession of my mind. I could think +of nothing else. Yes, I would write. The worthy Commissary General of +the Carlist forces was under the impression that I was looking at him; +but what I had in my eye was a jumble of butterfly women and winged +youths and the soft sheen of Argand lamps gleaming on an arrow of gold in +the hair of a head that seemed to evade my outstretched hand. + +"Oh, yes," I said, "I have nothing to do and even nothing to think of +just now, I will meet your man as he gets off the train at ten o'clock +to-night. What's he like?" + +"Oh, he has a black moustache and whiskers, and his chin is shaved," said +the newly-fledged baron cordially. "A very honest fellow. I always +found him very useful. His name is Jose Ortega." + +He was perfectly self-possessed now, and walking soft-footed accompanied +me to the door of the room. He shook hands with a melancholy smile. +"This is a very frightful situation. My poor wife will be quite +distracted. She is such a patriot. Many thanks, Don George. You +relieve me greatly. The fellow is rather stupid and rather bad-tempered. +Queer creature, but very honest! Oh, very honest!" + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +It was the last evening of Carnival. The same masks, the same yells, the +same mad rushes, the same bedlam of disguised humanity blowing about the +streets in the great gusts of mistral that seemed to make them dance like +dead leaves on an earth where all joy is watched by death. + +It was exactly twelve months since that other carnival evening when I had +felt a little weary and a little lonely but at peace with all mankind. +It must have been--to a day or two. But on this evening it wasn't merely +loneliness that I felt. I felt bereaved with a sense of a complete and +universal loss in which there was perhaps more resentment than mourning; +as if the world had not been taken away from me by an august decree but +filched from my innocence by an underhand fate at the very moment when it +had disclosed to my passion its warm and generous beauty. This +consciousness of universal loss had this advantage that it induced +something resembling a state of philosophic indifference. I walked up to +the railway station caring as little for the cold blasts of wind as +though I had been going to the scaffold. The delay of the train did not +irritate me in the least. I had finally made up my mind to write a +letter to Dona Rita; and this "honest fellow" for whom I was waiting +would take it to her. He would have no difficulty in Tolosa in finding +Madame de Lastaola. The General Headquarters, which was also a Court, +would be buzzing with comments on her presence. Most likely that "honest +fellow" was already known to Dona Rita. For all I knew he might have +been her discovery just as I was. Probably I, too, was regarded as an +"honest fellow" enough; but stupid--since it was clear that my luck was +not inexhaustible. I hoped that while carrying my letter the man would +not let himself be caught by some Alphonsist guerilla who would, of +course, shoot him. But why should he? I, for instance, had escaped with +my life from a much more dangerous enterprise than merely passing through +the frontier line in charge of some trustworthy guide. I pictured the +fellow to myself trudging over the stony slopes and scrambling down wild +ravines with my letter to Dona Rita in his pocket. It would be such a +letter of farewell as no lover had ever written, no woman in the world +had ever read, since the beginning of love on earth. It would be worthy +of the woman. No experience, no memories, no dead traditions of passion +or language would inspire it. She herself would be its sole inspiration. +She would see her own image in it as in a mirror; and perhaps then she +would understand what it was I was saying farewell to on the very +threshold of my life. A breath of vanity passed through my brain. A +letter as moving as her mere existence was moving would be something +unique. I regretted I was not a poet. + +I woke up to a great noise of feet, a sudden influx of people through the +doors of the platform. I made out my man's whiskers at once--not that +they were enormous, but because I had been warned beforehand of their +existence by the excellent Commissary General. At first I saw nothing of +him but his whiskers: they were black and cut somewhat in the shape of a +shark's fin and so very fine that the least breath of air animated them +into a sort of playful restlessness. The man's shoulders were hunched up +and when he had made his way clear of the throng of passengers I +perceived him as an unhappy and shivery being. Obviously he didn't +expect to be met, because when I murmured an enquiring, "Senor Ortega?" +into his ear he swerved away from me and nearly dropped a little handbag +he was carrying. His complexion was uniformly pale, his mouth was red, +but not engaging. His social status was not very definite. He was +wearing a dark blue overcoat of no particular cut, his aspect had no +relief; yet those restless side-whiskers flanking his red mouth and the +suspicious expression of his black eyes made him noticeable. This I +regretted the more because I caught sight of two skulking fellows, +looking very much like policemen in plain clothes, watching us from a +corner of the great hall. I hurried my man into a fiacre. He had been +travelling from early morning on cross-country lines and after we got on +terms a little confessed to being very hungry and cold. His red lips +trembled and I noted an underhand, cynical curiosity when he had occasion +to raise his eyes to my face. I was in some doubt how to dispose of him +but as we rolled on at a jog trot I came to the conclusion that the best +thing to do would be to organize for him a shake-down in the studio. +Obscure lodging houses are precisely the places most looked after by the +police, and even the best hotels are bound to keep a register of +arrivals. I was very anxious that nothing should stop his projected +mission of courier to headquarters. As we passed various street corners +where the mistral blast struck at us fiercely I could feel him shivering +by my side. However, Therese would have lighted the iron stove in the +studio before retiring for the night, and, anyway, I would have to turn +her out to make up a bed on the couch. Service of the King! I must say +that she was amiable and didn't seem to mind anything one asked her to +do. Thus while the fellow slumbered on the divan I would sit upstairs in +my room setting down on paper those great words of passion and sorrow +that seethed in my brain and even must have forced themselves in murmurs +on to my lips, because the man by my side suddenly asked me: "What did +you say?"--"Nothing," I answered, very much surprised. In the shifting +light of the street lamps he looked the picture of bodily misery with his +chattering teeth and his whiskers blown back flat over his ears. But +somehow he didn't arouse my compassion. He was swearing to himself, in +French and Spanish, and I tried to soothe him by the assurance that we +had not much farther to go. "I am starving," he remarked acidly, and I +felt a little compunction. Clearly, the first thing to do was to feed +him. We were then entering the Cannebiere and as I didn't care to show +myself with him in the fashionable restaurant where a new face (and such +a face, too) would be remarked, I pulled up the fiacre at the door of the +Maison Doree. That was more of a place of general resort where, in the +multitude of casual patrons, he would pass unnoticed. + +For this last night of carnival the big house had decorated all its +balconies with rows of coloured paper lanterns right up to the roof. I +led the way to the grand salon, for as to private rooms they had been all +retained days before. There was a great crowd of people in costume, but +by a piece of good luck we managed to secure a little table in a corner. +The revellers, intent on their pleasure, paid no attention to us. Senor +Ortega trod on my heels and after sitting down opposite me threw an +ill-natured glance at the festive scene. It might have been about +half-past ten, then. + +Two glasses of wine he drank one after another did not improve his +temper. He only ceased to shiver. After he had eaten something it must +have occurred to him that he had no reason to bear me a grudge and he +tried to assume a civil and even friendly manner. His mouth, however, +betrayed an abiding bitterness. I mean when he smiled. In repose it was +a very expressionless mouth, only it was too red to be altogether +ordinary. The whole of him was like that: the whiskers too black, the +hair too shiny, the forehead too white, the eyes too mobile; and he lent +you his attention with an air of eagerness which made you uncomfortable. +He seemed to expect you to give yourself away by some unconsidered word +that he would snap up with delight. It was that peculiarity that somehow +put me on my guard. I had no idea who I was facing across the table and +as a matter of fact I did not care. All my impressions were blurred; and +even the promptings of my instinct were the haziest thing imaginable. +Now and then I had acute hallucinations of a woman with an arrow of gold +in her hair. This caused alternate moments of exaltation and depression +from which I tried to take refuge in conversation; but Senor Ortega was +not stimulating. He was preoccupied with personal matters. When +suddenly he asked me whether I knew why he had been called away from his +work (he had been buying supplies from peasants somewhere in Central +France), I answered that I didn't know what the reason was originally, +but I had an idea that the present intention was to make of him a +courier, bearing certain messages from Baron H. to the Quartel Real in +Tolosa. + +He glared at me like a basilisk. "And why have I been met like this?" he +enquired with an air of being prepared to hear a lie. + +I explained that it was the Baron's wish, as a matter of prudence and to +avoid any possible trouble which might arise from enquiries by the +police. + +He took it badly. "What nonsense." He was--he said--an employe (for +several years) of Hernandez Brothers in Paris, an importing firm, and he +was travelling on their business--as he could prove. He dived into his +side pocket and produced a handful of folded papers of all sorts which he +plunged back again instantly. + +And even then I didn't know whom I had there, opposite me, busy now +devouring a slice of pate de foie gras. Not in the least. It never +entered my head. How could it? The Rita that haunted me had no history; +she was but the principle of life charged with fatality. Her form was +only a mirage of desire decoying one step by step into despair. + +Senor Ortega gulped down some more wine and suggested I should tell him +who I was. "It's only right I should know," he added. + +This could not be gainsaid; and to a man connected with the Carlist +organization the shortest way was to introduce myself as that "Monsieur +George" of whom he had probably heard. + +He leaned far over the table, till his very breast-bone was over the +edge, as though his eyes had been stilettos and he wanted to drive them +home into my brain. It was only much later that I understood how near +death I had been at that moment. But the knives on the tablecloth were +the usual restaurant knives with rounded ends and about as deadly as +pieces of hoop-iron. Perhaps in the very gust of his fury he remembered +what a French restaurant knife is like and something sane within him made +him give up the sudden project of cutting my heart out where I sat. For +it could have been nothing but a sudden impulse. His settled purpose was +quite other. It was not my heart that he was after. His fingers indeed +were groping amongst the knife handles by the side of his plate but what +captivated my attention for a moment were his red lips which were formed +into an odd, sly, insinuating smile. Heard! To be sure he had heard! +The chief of the great arms smuggling organization! + +"Oh!" I said, "that's giving me too much importance." The person +responsible and whom I looked upon as chief of all the business was, as +he might have heard, too, a certain noble and loyal lady. + +"I am as noble as she is," he snapped peevishly, and I put him down at +once as a very offensive beast. "And as to being loyal, what is that? +It is being truthful! It is being faithful! I know all about her." + +I managed to preserve an air of perfect unconcern. He wasn't a fellow to +whom one could talk of Dona Rita. + +"You are a Basque," I said. + +He admitted rather contemptuously that he was a Basque and even then the +truth did not dawn upon me. I suppose that with the hidden egoism of a +lover I was thinking of myself, of myself alone in relation to Dona Rita, +not of Dona Rita herself. He, too, obviously. He said: "I am an +educated man, but I know her people, all peasants. There is a sister, an +uncle, a priest, a peasant, too, and perfectly unenlightened. One can't +expect much from a priest (I am a free-thinker of course), but he is +really too bad, more like a brute beast. As to all her people, mostly +dead now, they never were of any account. There was a little land, but +they were always working on other people's farms, a barefooted gang, a +starved lot. I ought to know because we are distant relations. +Twentieth cousins or something of the sort. Yes, I am related to that +most loyal lady. And what is she, after all, but a Parisian woman with +innumerable lovers, as I have been told." + +"I don't think your information is very correct," I said, affecting to +yawn slightly. "This is mere gossip of the gutter and I am surprised at +you, who really know nothing about it--" + +But the disgusting animal had fallen into a brown study. The hair of his +very whiskers was perfectly still. I had now given up all idea of the +letter to Rita. Suddenly he spoke again: + +"Women are the origin of all evil. One should never trust them. They +have no honour. No honour!" he repeated, striking his breast with his +closed fist on which the knuckles stood out very white. "I left my +village many years ago and of course I am perfectly satisfied with my +position and I don't know why I should trouble my head about this loyal +lady. I suppose that's the way women get on in the world." + +I felt convinced that he was no proper person to be a messenger to +headquarters. He struck me as altogether untrustworthy and perhaps not +quite sane. This was confirmed by him saying suddenly with no visible +connection and as if it had been forced from him by some agonizing +process: "I was a boy once," and then stopping dead short with a smile. +He had a smile that frightened one by its association of malice and +anguish. + +"Will you have anything more to eat?" I asked. + +He declined dully. He had had enough. But he drained the last of a +bottle into his glass and accepted a cigar which I offered him. While he +was lighting it I had a sort of confused impression that he wasn't such a +stranger to me as I had assumed he was; and yet, on the other hand, I was +perfectly certain I had never seen him before. Next moment I felt that I +could have knocked him down if he hadn't looked so amazingly unhappy, +while he came out with the astounding question: "Senor, have you ever +been a lover in your young days?" + +"What do you mean?" I asked. "How old do you think I am?" + +"That's true," he said, gazing at me in a way in which the damned gaze +out of their cauldrons of boiling pitch at some soul walking scot free in +the place of torment. "It's true, you don't seem to have anything on +your mind." He assumed an air of ease, throwing an arm over the back of +his chair and blowing the smoke through the gash of his twisted red +mouth. "Tell me," he said, "between men, you know, has this--wonderful +celebrity--what does she call herself? How long has she been your +mistress?" + +I reflected rapidly that if I knocked him over, chair and all, by a +sudden blow from the shoulder it would bring about infinite complications +beginning with a visit to the Commissaire de Police on night-duty, and +ending in God knows what scandal and disclosures of political kind; +because there was no telling what, or how much, this outrageous brute +might choose to say and how many people he might not involve in a most +undesirable publicity. He was smoking his cigar with a poignantly +mocking air and not even looking at me. One can't hit like that a man +who isn't even looking at one; and then, just as I was looking at him +swinging his leg with a caustic smile and stony eyes, I felt sorry for +the creature. It was only his body that was there in that chair. It was +manifest to me that his soul was absent in some hell of its own. At that +moment I attained the knowledge of who it was I had before me. This was +the man of whom both Dona Rita and Rose were so much afraid. It remained +then for me to look after him for the night and then arrange with Baron +H. that he should be sent away the very next day--and anywhere but to +Tolosa. Yes, evidently, I mustn't lose sight of him. I proposed in the +calmest tone that we should go on where he could get his much-needed +rest. He rose with alacrity, picked up his little hand-bag, and, walking +out before me, no doubt looked a very ordinary person to all eyes but +mine. It was then past eleven, not much, because we had not been in that +restaurant quite an hour, but the routine of the town's night-life being +upset during the Carnival the usual row of fiacres outside the Maison +Doree was not there; in fact, there were very few carriages about. +Perhaps the coachmen had assumed Pierrot costumes and were rushing about +the streets on foot yelling with the rest of the population. "We will +have to walk," I said after a while.--"Oh, yes, let us walk," assented +Senor Ortega, "or I will be frozen here." It was like a plaint of +unutterable wretchedness. I had a fancy that all his natural heat had +abandoned his limbs and gone to his brain. It was otherwise with me; my +head was cool but I didn't find the night really so very cold. We +stepped out briskly side by side. My lucid thinking was, as it were, +enveloped by the wide shouting of the consecrated Carnival gaiety. I +have heard many noises since, but nothing that gave me such an intimate +impression of the savage instincts hidden in the breast of mankind; these +yells of festivity suggested agonizing fear, rage of murder, ferocity of +lust, and the irremediable joylessness of human condition: yet they were +emitted by people who were convinced that they were amusing themselves +supremely, traditionally, with the sanction of ages, with the approval of +their conscience--and no mistake about it whatever! Our appearance, the +soberness of our gait made us conspicuous. Once or twice, by common +inspiration, masks rushed forward and forming a circle danced round us +uttering discordant shouts of derision; for we were an outrage to the +peculiar proprieties of the hour, and besides we were obviously lonely +and defenceless. On those occasions there was nothing for it but to +stand still till the flurry was over. My companion, however, would stamp +his feet with rage, and I must admit that I myself regretted not having +provided for our wearing a couple of false noses, which would have been +enough to placate the just resentment of those people. We might have +also joined in the dance, but for some reason or other it didn't occur to +us; and I heard once a high, clear woman's voice stigmatizing us for a +"species of swelled heads" (_espece d'enfles_). We proceeded sedately, +my companion muttered with rage, and I was able to resume my thinking. +It was based on the deep persuasion that the man at my side was insane +with quite another than Carnivalesque lunacy which comes on at one stated +time of the year. He was fundamentally mad, though not perhaps +completely; which of course made him all the greater, I won't say danger +but, nuisance. + +I remember once a young doctor expounding the theory that most +catastrophes in family circles, surprising episodes in public affairs and +disasters in private life, had their origin in the fact that the world +was full of half-mad people. He asserted that they were the real +majority. When asked whether he considered himself as belonging to the +majority, he said frankly that he didn't think so; unless the folly of +voicing this view in a company, so utterly unable to appreciate all its +horror, could be regarded as the first symptom of his own fate. We +shouted down him and his theory, but there is no doubt that it had thrown +a chill on the gaiety of our gathering. + +We had now entered a quieter quarter of the town and Senor Ortega had +ceased his muttering. For myself I had not the slightest doubt of my own +sanity. It was proved to me by the way I could apply my intelligence to +the problem of what was to be done with Senor Ortega. Generally, he was +unfit to be trusted with any mission whatever. The unstability of his +temper was sure to get him into a scrape. Of course carrying a letter to +Headquarters was not a very complicated matter; and as to that I would +have trusted willingly a properly trained dog. My private letter to Dona +Rita, the wonderful, the unique letter of farewell, I had given up for +the present. Naturally I thought of the Ortega problem mainly in the +terms of Dona Rita's safety. Her image presided at every council, at +every conflict of my mind, and dominated every faculty of my senses. It +floated before my eyes, it touched my elbow, it guarded my right side and +my left side; my ears seemed to catch the sound of her footsteps behind +me, she enveloped me with passing whiffs of warmth and perfume, with +filmy touches of the hair on my face. She penetrated me, my head was +full of her . . . And his head, too, I thought suddenly with a side +glance at my companion. He walked quietly with hunched-up shoulders +carrying his little hand-bag and he looked the most commonplace figure +imaginable. + +Yes. There was between us a most horrible fellowship; the association of +his crazy torture with the sublime suffering of my passion. We hadn't +been a quarter of an hour together when that woman had surged up fatally +between us; between this miserable wretch and myself. We were haunted by +the same image. But I was sane! I was sane! Not because I was certain +that the fellow must not be allowed to go to Tolosa, but because I was +perfectly alive to the difficulty of stopping him from going there, since +the decision was absolutely in the hands of Baron H. + +If I were to go early in the morning and tell that fat, bilious man: +"Look here, your Ortega's mad," he would certainly think at once that I +was, get very frightened, and . . . one couldn't tell what course he +would take. He would eliminate me somehow out of the affair. And yet I +could not let the fellow proceed to where Dona Rita was, because, +obviously, he had been molesting her, had filled her with uneasiness and +even alarm, was an unhappy element and a disturbing influence in her +life--incredible as the thing appeared! I couldn't let him go on to make +himself a worry and a nuisance, drive her out from a town in which she +wished to be (for whatever reason) and perhaps start some explosive +scandal. And that girl Rose seemed to fear something graver even than a +scandal. But if I were to explain the matter fully to H. he would simply +rejoice in his heart. Nothing would please him more than to have Dona +Rita driven out of Tolosa. What a relief from his anxieties (and his +wife's, too); and if I were to go further, if I even went so far as to +hint at the fears which Rose had not been able to conceal from me, why +then--I went on thinking coldly with a stoical rejection of the most +elementary faith in mankind's rectitude--why then, that accommodating +husband would simply let the ominous messenger have his chance. He would +see there only his natural anxieties being laid to rest for ever. +Horrible? Yes. But I could not take the risk. In a twelvemonth I had +travelled a long way in my mistrust of mankind. + +We paced on steadily. I thought: "How on earth am I going to stop you?" +Had this arisen only a month before, when I had the means at hand and +Dominic to confide in, I would have simply kidnapped the fellow. A +little trip to sea would not have done Senor Ortega any harm; though no +doubt it would have been abhorrent to his feelings. But now I had not +the means. I couldn't even tell where my poor Dominic was hiding his +diminished head. + +Again I glanced at him sideways. I was the taller of the two and as it +happened I met in the light of the street lamp his own stealthy glance +directed up at me with an agonized expression, an expression that made me +fancy I could see the man's very soul writhing in his body like an +impaled worm. In spite of my utter inexperience I had some notion of the +images that rushed into his mind at the sight of any man who had +approached Dona Rita. It was enough to awaken in any human being a +movement of horrified compassion; but my pity went out not to him but to +Dona Rita. It was for her that I felt sorry; I pitied her for having +that damned soul on her track. I pitied her with tenderness and +indignation, as if this had been both a danger and a dishonour. + +I don't mean to say that those thoughts passed through my head +consciously. I had only the resultant, settled feeling. I had, however, +a thought, too. It came on me suddenly, and I asked myself with rage and +astonishment: "Must I then kill that brute?" There didn't seem to be any +alternative. Between him and Dona Rita I couldn't hesitate. I believe I +gave a slight laugh of desperation. The suddenness of this sinister +conclusion had in it something comic and unbelievable. It loosened my +grip on my mental processes. A Latin tag came into my head about the +facile descent into the abyss. I marvelled at its aptness, and also that +it should have come to me so pat. But I believe now that it was +suggested simply by the actual declivity of the street of the Consuls +which lies on a gentle slope. We had just turned the corner. All the +houses were dark and in a perspective of complete solitude our two +shadows dodged and wheeled about our feet. + +"Here we are," I said. + +He was an extraordinarily chilly devil. When we stopped I could hear his +teeth chattering again. I don't know what came over me, I had a sort of +nervous fit, was incapable of finding my pockets, let alone the latchkey. +I had the illusion of a narrow streak of light on the wall of the house +as if it had been cracked. "I hope we will be able to get in," I +murmured. + +Senor Ortega stood waiting patiently with his handbag, like a rescued +wayfarer. "But you live in this house, don't you?" he observed. + +"No," I said, without hesitation. I didn't know how that man would +behave if he were aware that I was staying under the same roof. He was +half mad. He might want to talk all night, try crazily to invade my +privacy. How could I tell? Moreover, I wasn't so sure that I would +remain in the house. I had some notion of going out again and walking up +and down the street of the Consuls till daylight. "No, an absent friend +lets me use . . . I had that latchkey this morning . . . Ah! here it is." + +I let him go in first. The sickly gas flame was there on duty, +undaunted, waiting for the end of the world to come and put it out. I +think that the black-and-white hall surprised Ortega. I had closed the +front door without noise and stood for a moment listening, while he +glanced about furtively. There were only two other doors in the hall, +right and left. Their panels of ebony were decorated with bronze +applications in the centre. The one on the left was of course Blunt's +door. As the passage leading beyond it was dark at the further end I +took Senor Ortega by the hand and led him along, unresisting, like a +child. For some reason or other I moved on tip-toe and he followed my +example. The light and the warmth of the studio impressed him +favourably; he laid down his little bag, rubbed his hands together, and +produced a smile of satisfaction; but it was such a smile as a totally +ruined man would perhaps force on his lips, or a man condemned to a short +shrift by his doctor. I begged him to make himself at home and said that +I would go at once and hunt up the woman of the house who would make him +up a bed on the big couch there. He hardly listened to what I said. +What were all those things to him! He knew that his destiny was to sleep +on a bed of thorns, to feed on adders. But he tried to show a sort of +polite interest. He asked: "What is this place?" + +"It used to belong to a painter," I mumbled. + +"Ah, your absent friend," he said, making a wry mouth. "I detest all +those artists, and all those writers, and all politicos who are thieves; +and I would go even farther and higher, laying a curse on all idle lovers +of women. You think perhaps I am a Royalist? No. If there was anybody +in heaven or hell to pray to I would pray for a revolution--a red +revolution everywhere." + +"You astonish me," I said, just to say something. + +"No! But there are half a dozen people in the world with whom I would +like to settle accounts. One could shoot them like partridges and no +questions asked. That's what revolution would mean to me." + +"It's a beautifully simple view," I said. "I imagine you are not the +only one who holds it; but I really must look after your comforts. You +mustn't forget that we have to see Baron H. early to-morrow morning." +And I went out quietly into the passage wondering in what part of the +house Therese had elected to sleep that night. But, lo and behold, when +I got to the foot of the stairs there was Therese coming down from the +upper regions in her nightgown, like a sleep-walker. However, it wasn't +that, because, before I could exclaim, she vanished off the first floor +landing like a streak of white mist and without the slightest sound. Her +attire made it perfectly clear that she could not have heard us coming +in. In fact, she must have been certain that the house was empty, +because she was as well aware as myself that the Italian girls after +their work at the opera were going to a masked ball to dance for their +own amusement, attended of course by their conscientious father. But +what thought, need, or sudden impulse had driven Therese out of bed like +this was something I couldn't conceive. + +I didn't call out after her. I felt sure that she would return. I went +up slowly to the first floor and met her coming down again, this time +carrying a lighted candle. She had managed to make herself presentable +in an extraordinarily short time. + +"Oh, my dear young Monsieur, you have given me a fright." + +"Yes. And I nearly fainted, too," I said. "You looked perfectly awful. +What's the matter with you? Are you ill?" + +She had lighted by then the gas on the landing and I must say that I had +never seen exactly that manner of face on her before. She wriggled, +confused and shifty-eyed, before me; but I ascribed this behaviour to her +shocked modesty and without troubling myself any more about her feelings +I informed her that there was a Carlist downstairs who must be put up for +the night. Most unexpectedly she betrayed a ridiculous consternation, +but only for a moment. Then she assumed at once that I would give him +hospitality upstairs where there was a camp-bedstead in my dressing-room. +I said: + +"No. Give him a shake-down in the studio, where he is now. It's warm in +there. And remember! I charge you strictly not to let him know that I +sleep in this house. In fact, I don't know myself that I will; I have +certain matters to attend to this very night. You will also have to +serve him his coffee in the morning. I will take him away before ten +o'clock." + +All this seemed to impress her more than I had expected. As usual when +she felt curious, or in some other way excited, she assumed a saintly, +detached expression, and asked: + +"The dear gentleman is your friend, I suppose?" + +"I only know he is a Spaniard and a Carlist," I said: "and that ought to +be enough for you." + +Instead of the usual effusive exclamations she murmured: "Dear me, dear +me," and departed upstairs with the candle to get together a few blankets +and pillows, I suppose. As for me I walked quietly downstairs on my way +to the studio. I had a curious sensation that I was acting in a +preordained manner, that life was not at all what I had thought it to be, +or else that I had been altogether changed sometime during the day, and +that I was a different person from the man whom I remembered getting out +of my bed in the morning. + +Also feelings had altered all their values. The words, too, had become +strange. It was only the inanimate surroundings that remained what they +had always been. For instance the studio. . . . + +During my absence Senor Ortega had taken off his coat and I found him as +it were in the air, sitting in his shirt sleeves on a chair which he had +taken pains to place in the very middle of the floor. I repressed an +absurd impulse to walk round him as though he had been some sort of +exhibit. His hands were spread over his knees and he looked perfectly +insensible. I don't mean strange, or ghastly, or wooden, but just +insensible--like an exhibit. And that effect persisted even after he +raised his black suspicious eyes to my face. He lowered them almost at +once. It was very mechanical. I gave him up and became rather concerned +about myself. My thought was that I had better get out of that before +any more queer notions came into my head. So I only remained long enough +to tell him that the woman of the house was bringing down some bedding +and that I hoped that he would have a good night's rest. And directly I +spoke it struck me that this was the most extraordinary speech that ever +was addressed to a figure of that sort. He, however, did not seem +startled by it or moved in any way. He simply said: + +"Thank you." + +In the darkest part of the long passage outside I met Therese with her +arms full of pillows and blankets. + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Coming out of the bright light of the studio I didn't make out Therese +very distinctly. She, however, having groped in dark cupboards, must +have had her pupils sufficiently dilated to have seen that I had my hat +on my head. This has its importance because after what I had said to her +upstairs it must have convinced her that I was going out on some midnight +business. I passed her without a word and heard behind me the door of +the studio close with an unexpected crash. It strikes me now that under +the circumstances I might have without shame gone back to listen at the +keyhole. But truth to say the association of events was not so clear in +my mind as it may be to the reader of this story. Neither were the exact +connections of persons present to my mind. And, besides, one doesn't +listen at a keyhole but in pursuance of some plan; unless one is +afflicted by a vulgar and fatuous curiosity. But that vice is not in my +character. As to plan, I had none. I moved along the passage between +the dead wall and the black-and-white marble elevation of the staircase +with hushed footsteps, as though there had been a mortally sick person +somewhere in the house. And the only person that could have answered to +that description was Senor Ortega. I moved on, stealthy, absorbed, +undecided; asking myself earnestly: "What on earth am I going to do with +him?" That exclusive preoccupation of my mind was as dangerous to Senor +Ortega as typhoid fever would have been. It strikes me that this +comparison is very exact. People recover from typhoid fever, but +generally the chance is considered poor. This was precisely his case. +His chance was poor; though I had no more animosity towards him than a +virulent disease has against the victim it lays low. He really would +have nothing to reproach me with; he had run up against me, unwittingly, +as a man enters an infected place, and now he was very ill, very ill +indeed. No, I had no plans against him. I had only the feeling that he +was in mortal danger. + +I believe that men of the most daring character (and I make no claim to +it) often do shrink from the logical processes of thought. It is only +the devil, they say, that loves logic. But I was not a devil. I was not +even a victim of the devil. It was only that I had given up the +direction of my intelligence before the problem; or rather that the +problem had dispossessed my intelligence and reigned in its stead side by +side with a superstitious awe. A dreadful order seemed to lurk in the +darkest shadows of life. The madness of that Carlist with the soul of a +Jacobin, the vile fears of Baron H., that excellent organizer of +supplies, the contact of their two ferocious stupidities, and last, by a +remote disaster at sea, my love brought into direct contact with the +situation: all that was enough to make one shudder--not at the chance, +but at the design. + +For it was my love that was called upon to act here, and nothing else. +And love which elevates us above all safeguards, above restraining +principles, above all littlenesses of self-possession, yet keeps its feet +always firmly on earth, remains marvellously practical in its +suggestions. + +I discovered that however much I had imagined I had given up Rita, that +whatever agonies I had gone through, my hope of her had never been lost. +Plucked out, stamped down, torn to shreds, it had remained with me +secret, intact, invincible. Before the danger of the situation it +sprang, full of life, up in arms--the undying child of immortal love. +What incited me was independent of honour and compassion; it was the +prompting of a love supreme, practical, remorseless in its aim; it was +the practical thought that no woman need be counted as lost for ever, +unless she be dead! + +This excluded for the moment all considerations of ways and means and +risks and difficulties. Its tremendous intensity robbed it of all +direction and left me adrift in the big black-and-white hall as on a +silent sea. It was not, properly speaking, irresolution. It was merely +hesitation as to the next immediate step, and that step even of no great +importance: hesitation merely as to the best way I could spend the rest +of the night. I didn't think further forward for many reasons, more or +less optimistic, but mainly because I have no homicidal vein in my +composition. The disposition to gloat over homicide was in that +miserable creature in the studio, the potential Jacobin; in that +confounded buyer of agricultural produce, the punctual employe of +Hernandez Brothers, the jealous wretch with an obscene tongue and an +imagination of the same kind to drive him mad. I thought of him without +pity but also without contempt. I reflected that there were no means of +sending a warning to Dona Rita in Tolosa; for of course no postal +communication existed with the Headquarters. And moreover what would a +warning be worth in this particular case, supposing it would reach her, +that she would believe it, and that she would know what to do? How could +I communicate to another that certitude which was in my mind, the more +absolute because without proofs that one could produce? + +The last expression of Rose's distress rang again in my ears: "Madame has +no friends. Not one!" and I saw Dona Rita's complete loneliness beset by +all sorts of insincerities, surrounded by pitfalls; her greatest dangers +within herself, in her generosity, in her fears, in her courage, too. +What I had to do first of all was to stop that wretch at all costs. I +became aware of a great mistrust of Therese. I didn't want her to find +me in the hall, but I was reluctant to go upstairs to my rooms from an +unreasonable feeling that there I would be too much out of the way; not +sufficiently on the spot. There was the alternative of a live-long night +of watching outside, before the dark front of the house. It was a most +distasteful prospect. And then it occurred to me that Blunt's former +room would be an extremely good place to keep a watch from. I knew that +room. When Henry Allegre gave the house to Rita in the early days (long +before he made his will) he had planned a complete renovation and this +room had been meant for the drawing-room. Furniture had been made for it +specially, upholstered in beautiful ribbed stuff, made to order, of dull +gold colour with a pale blue tracery of arabesques and oval medallions +enclosing Rita's monogram, repeated on the backs of chairs and sofas, and +on the heavy curtains reaching from ceiling to floor. To the same time +belonged the ebony and bronze doors, the silver statuette at the foot of +the stairs, the forged iron balustrade reproducing right up the marble +staircase Rita's decorative monogram in its complicated design. +Afterwards the work was stopped and the house had fallen into disrepair. +When Rita devoted it to the Carlist cause a bed was put into that +drawing-room, just simply the bed. The room next to that yellow salon +had been in Allegre's young days fitted as a fencing-room containing also +a bath, and a complicated system of all sorts of shower and jet +arrangements, then quite up to date. That room was very large, lighted +from the top, and one wall of it was covered by trophies of arms of all +sorts, a choice collection of cold steel disposed on a background of +Indian mats and rugs: Blunt used it as a dressing-room. It communicated +by a small door with the studio. + +I had only to extend my hand and make one step to reach the magnificent +bronze handle of the ebony door, and if I didn't want to be caught by +Therese there was no time to lose. I made the step and extended the +hand, thinking that it would be just like my luck to find the door +locked. But the door came open to my push. In contrast to the dark hall +the room was most unexpectedly dazzling to my eyes, as if illuminated _a +giorno_ for a reception. No voice came from it, but nothing could have +stopped me now. As I turned round to shut the door behind me noiselessly +I caught sight of a woman's dress on a chair, of other articles of +apparel scattered about. The mahogany bed with a piece of light silk +which Therese found somewhere and used for a counterpane was a +magnificent combination of white and crimson between the gleaming +surfaces of dark wood; and the whole room had an air of splendour with +marble consoles, gilt carvings, long mirrors and a sumptuous Venetian +lustre depending from the ceiling: a darkling mass of icy pendants +catching a spark here and there from the candles of an eight-branched +candelabra standing on a little table near the head of a sofa which had +been dragged round to face the fireplace. The faintest possible whiff of +a familiar perfume made my head swim with its suggestion. + +I grabbed the back of the nearest piece of furniture and the splendour of +marbles and mirrors, of cut crystals and carvings, swung before my eyes +in the golden mist of walls and draperies round an extremely conspicuous +pair of black stockings thrown over a music stool which remained +motionless. The silence was profound. It was like being in an enchanted +place. Suddenly a voice began to speak, clear, detached, infinitely +touching in its calm weariness. + +"Haven't you tormented me enough to-day?" it said. . . . My head was +steady now but my heart began to beat violently. I listened to the end +without moving, "Can't you make up your mind to leave me alone for +to-night?" It pleaded with an accent of charitable scorn. + +The penetrating quality of these tones which I had not heard for so many, +many days made my eyes run full of tears. I guessed easily that the +appeal was addressed to the atrocious Therese. The speaker was concealed +from me by the high back of the sofa, but her apprehension was perfectly +justified. For was it not I who had turned back Therese the pious, the +insatiable, coming downstairs in her nightgown to torment her sister some +more? Mere surprise at Dona Rita's presence in the house was enough to +paralyze me; but I was also overcome by an enormous sense of relief, by +the assurance of security for her and for myself. I didn't even ask +myself how she came there. It was enough for me that she was not in +Tolosa. I could have smiled at the thought that all I had to do now was +to hasten the departure of that abominable lunatic--for Tolosa: an easy +task, almost no task at all. Yes, I would have smiled, had not I felt +outraged by the presence of Senor Ortega under the same roof with Dona +Rita. The mere fact was repugnant to me, morally revolting; so that I +should have liked to rush at him and throw him out into the street. But +that was not to be done for various reasons. One of them was pity. I +was suddenly at peace with all mankind, with all nature. I felt as if I +couldn't hurt a fly. The intensity of my emotion sealed my lips. With a +fearful joy tugging at my heart I moved round the head of the couch +without a word. + +In the wide fireplace on a pile of white ashes the logs had a deep +crimson glow; and turned towards them Dona Rita reclined on her side +enveloped in the skins of wild beasts like a charming and savage young +chieftain before a camp fire. She never even raised her eyes, giving me +the opportunity to contemplate mutely that adolescent, delicately +masculine head, so mysteriously feminine in the power of instant +seduction, so infinitely suave in its firm design, almost childlike in +the freshness of detail: altogether ravishing in the inspired strength of +the modelling. That precious head reposed in the palm of her hand; the +face was slightly flushed (with anger perhaps). She kept her eyes +obstinately fixed on the pages of a book which she was holding with her +other hand. I had the time to lay my infinite adoration at her feet +whose white insteps gleamed below the dark edge of the fur out of quilted +blue silk bedroom slippers, embroidered with small pearls. I had never +seen them before; I mean the slippers. The gleam of the insteps, too, +for that matter. I lost myself in a feeling of deep content, something +like a foretaste of a time of felicity which must be quiet or it couldn't +be eternal. I had never tasted such perfect quietness before. It was +not of this earth. I had gone far beyond. It was as if I had reached +the ultimate wisdom beyond all dreams and all passions. She was That +which is to be contemplated to all Infinity. + +The perfect stillness and silence made her raise her eyes at last, +reluctantly, with a hard, defensive expression which I had never seen in +them before. And no wonder! The glance was meant for Therese and +assumed in self-defence. For some time its character did not change and +when it did it turned into a perfectly stony stare of a kind which I also +had never seen before. She had never wished so much to be left in peace. +She had never been so astonished in her life. She had arrived by the +evening express only two hours before Senor Ortega, had driven to the +house, and after having something to eat had become for the rest of the +evening the helpless prey of her sister who had fawned and scolded and +wheedled and threatened in a way that outraged all Rita's feelings. +Seizing this unexpected occasion Therese had displayed a distracting +versatility of sentiment: rapacity, virtue, piety, spite, and false +tenderness--while, characteristically enough, she unpacked the +dressing-bag, helped the sinner to get ready for bed, brushed her hair, +and finally, as a climax, kissed her hands, partly by surprise and partly +by violence. After that she had retired from the field of battle slowly, +undefeated, still defiant, firing as a last shot the impudent question: +"Tell me only, have you made your will, Rita?" To this poor Dona Rita +with the spirit of opposition strung to the highest pitch answered: "No, +and I don't mean to"--being under the impression that this was what her +sister wanted her to do. There can be no doubt, however, that all +Therese wanted was the information. + +Rita, much too agitated to expect anything but a sleepless night, had not +the courage to get into bed. She thought she would remain on the sofa +before the fire and try to compose herself with a book. As she had no +dressing-gown with her she put on her long fur coat over her night-gown, +threw some logs on the fire, and lay down. She didn't hear the slightest +noise of any sort till she heard me shut the door gently. Quietness of +movement was one of Therese's accomplishments, and the harassed heiress +of the Allegre millions naturally thought it was her sister coming again +to renew the scene. Her heart sank within her. In the end she became a +little frightened at the long silence, and raised her eyes. She didn't +believe them for a long time. She concluded that I was a vision. In +fact, the first word which I heard her utter was a low, awed "No," which, +though I understood its meaning, chilled my blood like an evil omen. + +It was then that I spoke. "Yes," I said, "it's me that you see," and +made a step forward. She didn't start; only her other hand flew to the +edges of the fur coat, gripping them together over her breast. Observing +this gesture I sat down in the nearest chair. The book she had been +reading slipped with a thump on the floor. + +"How is it possible that you should be here?" she said, still in a +doubting voice. + +"I am really here," I said. "Would you like to touch my hand?" + +She didn't move at all; her fingers still clutched the fur coat. + +"What has happened?" + +"It's a long story, but you may take it from me that all is over. The +tie between us is broken. I don't know that it was ever very close. It +was an external thing. The true misfortune is that I have ever seen +you." + +This last phrase was provoked by an exclamation of sympathy on her part. +She raised herself on her elbow and looked at me intently. "All over," +she murmured. + +"Yes, we had to wreck the little vessel. It was awful. I feel like a +murderer. But she had to be killed." + +"Why?" + +"Because I loved her too much. Don't you know that love and death go +very close together?" + +"I could feel almost happy that it is all over, if you hadn't had to lose +your love. Oh, _amigo_ George, it was a safe love for you." + +"Yes," I said. "It was a faithful little vessel. She would have saved +us all from any plain danger. But this was a betrayal. It was--never +mind. All that's past. The question is what will the next one be." + +"Why should it be that?" + +"I don't know. Life seems but a series of betrayals. There are so many +kinds of them. This was a betrayed plan, but one can betray confidence, +and hope and--desire, and the most sacred . . ." + +"But what are you doing here?" she interrupted. + +"Oh, yes! The eternal why. Till a few hours ago I didn't know what I +was here for. And what are you here for?" I asked point blank and with a +bitterness she disregarded. She even answered my question quite readily +with many words out of which I could make very little. I only learned +that for at least five mixed reasons, none of which impressed me +profoundly, Dona Rita had started at a moment's notice from Paris with +nothing but a dressing-bag, and permitting Rose to go and visit her aged +parents for two days, and then follow her mistress. That girl of late +had looked so perturbed and worried that the sensitive Rita, fearing that +she was tired of her place, proposed to settle a sum of money on her +which would have enabled her to devote herself entirely to her aged +parents. And did I know what that extraordinary girl said? She had +said: "Don't let Madame think that I would be too proud to accept +anything whatever from her; but I can't even dream of leaving Madame. I +believe Madame has no friends. Not one." So instead of a large sum of +money Dona Rita gave the girl a kiss and as she had been worried by +several people who wanted her to go to Tolosa she bolted down this way +just to get clear of all those busybodies. "Hide from them," she went on +with ardour. "Yes, I came here to hide," she repeated twice as if +delighted at last to have hit on that reason among so many others. "How +could I tell that you would be here?" Then with sudden fire which only +added to the delight with which I had been watching the play of her +physiognomy she added: "Why did you come into this room?" + +She enchanted me. The ardent modulations of the sound, the slight play +of the beautiful lips, the still, deep sapphire gleam in those long eyes +inherited from the dawn of ages and that seemed always to watch +unimaginable things, that underlying faint ripple of gaiety that played +under all her moods as though it had been a gift from the high gods moved +to pity for this lonely mortal, all this within the four walls and +displayed for me alone gave me the sense of almost intolerable joy. The +words didn't matter. They had to be answered, of course. + +"I came in for several reasons. One of them is that I didn't know you +were here." + +"Therese didn't tell you?" + +"No." + +"Never talked to you about me?" + +I hesitated only for a moment. "Never," I said. Then I asked in my +turn, "Did she tell you I was here?" + +"No," she said. + +"It's very clear she did not mean us to come together again." + +"Neither did I, my dear." + +"What do you mean by speaking like this, in this tone, in these words? +You seem to use them as if they were a sort of formula. Am I a dear to +you? Or is anybody? . . . or everybody? . . ." + +She had been for some time raised on her elbow, but then as if something +had happened to her vitality she sank down till her head rested again on +the sofa cushion. + +"Why do you try to hurt my feelings?" she asked. + +"For the same reason for which you call me dear at the end of a sentence +like that: for want of something more amusing to do. You don't pretend +to make me believe that you do it for any sort of reason that a decent +person would confess to." + +The colour had gone from her face; but a fit of wickedness was on me and +I pursued, "What are the motives of your speeches? What prompts your +actions? On your own showing your life seems to be a continuous running +away. You have just run away from Paris. Where will you run to-morrow? +What are you everlastingly running from--or is it that you are running +after something? What is it? A man, a phantom--or some sensation that +you don't like to own to?" + +Truth to say, I was abashed by the silence which was her only answer to +this sally. I said to myself that I would not let my natural anger, my +just fury be disarmed by any assumption of pathos or dignity. I suppose +I was really out of my mind and what in the middle ages would have been +called "possessed" by an evil spirit. I went on enjoying my own +villainy. + +"Why aren't you in Tolosa? You ought to be in Tolosa. Isn't Tolosa the +proper field for your abilities, for your sympathies, for your +profusions, for your generosities--the king without a crown, the man +without a fortune! But here there is nothing worthy of your talents. +No, there is no longer anything worth any sort of trouble here. There +isn't even that ridiculous Monsieur George. I understand that the talk +of the coast from here to Cette is that Monsieur George is drowned. Upon +my word I believe he is. And serve him right, too. There's Therese, but +I don't suppose that your love for your sister . . ." + +"For goodness' sake don't let her come in and find you here." + +Those words recalled me to myself, exorcised the evil spirit by the mere +enchanting power of the voice. They were also impressive by their +suggestion of something practical, utilitarian, and remote from +sentiment. The evil spirit left me and I remained taken aback slightly. + +"Well," I said, "if you mean that you want me to leave the room I will +confess to you that I can't very well do it yet. But I could lock both +doors if you don't mind that." + +"Do what you like as long as you keep her out. You two together would be +too much for me to-night. Why don't you go and lock those doors? I have +a feeling she is on the prowl." + +I got up at once saying, "I imagine she has gone to bed by this time." I +felt absolutely calm and responsible. I turned the keys one after +another so gently that I couldn't hear the click of the locks myself. +This done I recrossed the room with measured steps, with downcast eyes, +and approaching the couch without raising them from the carpet I sank +down on my knees and leaned my forehead on its edge. That penitential +attitude had but little remorse in it. I detected no movement and heard +no sound from her. In one place a bit of the fur coat touched my cheek +softly, but no forgiving hand came to rest on my bowed head. I only +breathed deeply the faint scent of violets, her own particular fragrance +enveloping my body, penetrating my very heart with an inconceivable +intimacy, bringing me closer to her than the closest embrace, and yet so +subtle that I sensed her existence in me only as a great, glowing, +indeterminate tenderness, something like the evening light disclosing +after the white passion of the day infinite depths in the colours of the +sky and an unsuspected soul of peace in the protean forms of life. I had +not known such quietness for months; and I detected in myself an immense +fatigue, a longing to remain where I was without changing my position to +the end of time. Indeed to remain seemed to me a complete solution for +all the problems that life presents--even as to the very death itself. + +Only the unwelcome reflection that this was impossible made me get up at +last with a sigh of deep grief at the end of the dream. But I got up +without despair. She didn't murmur, she didn't stir. There was +something august in the stillness of the room. It was a strange peace +which she shared with me in this unexpected shelter full of disorder in +its neglected splendour. What troubled me was the sudden, as it were +material, consciousness of time passing as water flows. It seemed to me +that it was only the tenacity of my sentiment that held that woman's +body, extended and tranquil above the flood. But when I ventured at last +to look at her face I saw her flushed, her teeth clenched--it was +visible--her nostrils dilated, and in her narrow, level-glancing eyes a +look of inward and frightened ecstasy. The edges of the fur coat had +fallen open and I was moved to turn away. I had the same impression as +on the evening we parted that something had happened which I did not +understand; only this time I had not touched her at all. I really didn't +understand. At the slightest whisper I would now have gone out without a +murmur, as though that emotion had given her the right to be obeyed. But +there was no whisper; and for a long time I stood leaning on my arm, +looking into the fire and feeling distinctly between the four walls of +that locked room the unchecked time flow past our two stranded +personalities. + +And suddenly she spoke. She spoke in that voice that was so profoundly +moving without ever being sad, a little wistful perhaps and always the +supreme expression of her grace. She asked as if nothing had happened: + +"What are you thinking of, _amigo_?" + +I turned about. She was lying on her side, tranquil above the smooth +flow of time, again closely wrapped up in her fur, her head resting on +the old-gold sofa cushion bearing like everything else in that room the +decoratively enlaced letters of her monogram; her face a little pale now, +with the crimson lobe of her ear under the tawny mist of her loose hair, +the lips a little parted, and her glance of melted sapphire level and +motionless, darkened by fatigue. + +"Can I think of anything but you?" I murmured, taking a seat near the +foot of the couch. "Or rather it isn't thinking, it is more like the +consciousness of you always being present in me, complete to the last +hair, to the faintest shade of expression, and that not only when we are +apart but when we are together, alone, as close as this. I see you now +lying on this couch but that is only the insensible phantom of the real +you that is in me. And it is the easier for me to feel this because that +image which others see and call by your name--how am I to know that it is +anything else but an enchanting mist? You have always eluded me except +in one or two moments which seem still more dream-like than the rest. +Since I came into this room you have done nothing to destroy my +conviction of your unreality apart from myself. You haven't offered me +your hand to touch. Is it because you suspect that apart from me you are +but a mere phantom, and that you fear to put it to the test?" + +One of her hands was under the fur and the other under her cheek. She +made no sound. She didn't offer to stir. She didn't move her eyes, not +even after I had added after waiting for a while, + +"Just what I expected. You are a cold illusion." + +She smiled mysteriously, right away from me, straight at the fire, and +that was all. + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +I had a momentary suspicion that I had said something stupid. Her smile +amongst many other things seemed to have meant that, too. And I answered +it with a certain resignation: + +"Well, I don't know that you are so much mist. I remember once hanging +on to you like a drowning man . . . But perhaps I had better not speak of +this. It wasn't so very long ago, and you may . . . " + +"I don't mind. Well . . ." + +"Well, I have kept an impression of great solidity. I'll admit that. A +woman of granite." + +"A doctor once told me that I was made to last for ever," she said. + +"But essentially it's the same thing," I went on. "Granite, too, is +insensible." + +I watched her profile against the pillow and there came on her face an +expression I knew well when with an indignation full of suppressed +laughter she used to throw at me the word "Imbecile." I expected it to +come, but it didn't come. I must say, though, that I was swimmy in my +head and now and then had a noise as of the sea in my ears, so I might +not have heard it. The woman of granite, built to last for ever, +continued to look at the glowing logs which made a sort of fiery ruin on +the white pile of ashes. "I will tell you how it is," I said. "When I +have you before my eyes there is such a projection of my whole being +towards you that I fail to see you distinctly. It was like that from the +beginning. I may say that I never saw you distinctly till after we had +parted and I thought you had gone from my sight for ever. It was then +that you took body in my imagination and that my mind seized on a +definite form of you for all its adorations--for its profanations, too. +Don't imagine me grovelling in spiritual abasement before a mere image. +I got a grip on you that nothing can shake now." + +"Don't speak like this," she said. "It's too much for me. And there is +a whole long night before us." + +"You don't think that I dealt with you sentimentally enough perhaps? But +the sentiment was there; as clear a flame as ever burned on earth from +the most remote ages before that eternal thing which is in you, which is +your heirloom. And is it my fault that what I had to give was real +flame, and not a mystic's incense? It is neither your fault nor mine. +And now whatever we say to each other at night or in daylight, that +sentiment must be taken for granted. It will be there on the day I +die--when you won't be there." + +She continued to look fixedly at the red embers; and from her lips that +hardly moved came the quietest possible whisper: "Nothing would be easier +than to die for you." + +"Really," I cried. "And you expect me perhaps after this to kiss your +feet in a transport of gratitude while I hug the pride of your words to +my breast. But as it happens there is nothing in me but contempt for +this sublime declaration. How dare you offer me this charlatanism of +passion? What has it got to do between you and me who are the only two +beings in the world that may safely say that we have no need of shams +between ourselves? Is it possible that you are a charlatan at heart? +Not from egoism, I admit, but from some sort of fear. Yet, should you be +sincere, then--listen well to me--I would never forgive you. I would +visit your grave every day to curse you for an evil thing." + +"Evil thing," she echoed softly. + +"Would you prefer to be a sham--that one could forget?" + +"You will never forget me," she said in the same tone at the glowing +embers. "Evil or good. But, my dear, I feel neither an evil nor a sham. +I have got to be what I am, and that, _amigo_, is not so easy; because I +may be simple, but like all those on whom there is no peace I am not One. +No, I am not One!" + +"You are all the women in the world," I whispered bending over her. She +didn't seem to be aware of anything and only spoke--always to the glow. + +"If I were that I would say: God help them then. But that would be more +appropriate for Therese. For me, I can only give them my infinite +compassion. I have too much reverence in me to invoke the name of a God +of whom clever men have robbed me a long time ago. How could I help it? +For the talk was clever and--and I had a mind. And I am also, as Therese +says, naturally sinful. Yes, my dear, I may be naturally wicked but I am +not evil and I could die for you." + +"You!" I said. "You are afraid to die." + +"Yes. But not for you." + +The whole structure of glowing logs fell down, raising a small turmoil of +white ashes and sparks. The tiny crash seemed to wake her up thoroughly. +She turned her head upon the cushion to look at me. + +"It's a very extraordinary thing, we two coming together like this," she +said with conviction. "You coming in without knowing I was here and then +telling me that you can't very well go out of the room. That sounds +funny. I wouldn't have been angry if you had said that you wouldn't. It +would have hurt me. But nobody ever paid much attention to my feelings. +Why do you smile like this?" + +"At a thought. Without any charlatanism of passion I am able to tell you +of something to match your devotion. I was not afraid for your sake to +come within a hair's breadth of what to all the world would have been a +squalid crime. Note that you and I are persons of honour. And there +might have been a criminal trial at the end of it for me. Perhaps the +scaffold." + +"Do you say these horrors to make me tremble?" + +"Oh, you needn't tremble. There shall be no crime. I need not risk the +scaffold, since now you are safe. But I entered this room meditating +resolutely on the ways of murder, calculating possibilities and chances +without the slightest compunction. It's all over now. It was all over +directly I saw you here, but it had been so near that I shudder yet." + +She must have been very startled because for a time she couldn't speak. +Then in a faint voice: + +"For me! For me!" she faltered out twice. + +"For you--or for myself? Yet it couldn't have been selfish. What would +it have been to me that you remained in the world? I never expected to +see you again. I even composed a most beautiful letter of farewell. +Such a letter as no woman had ever received." + +Instantly she shot out a hand towards me. The edges of the fur cloak +fell apart. A wave of the faintest possible scent floated into my +nostrils. + +"Let me have it," she said imperiously. + +"You can't have it. It's all in my head. No woman will read it. I +suspect it was something that could never have been written. But what a +farewell! And now I suppose we shall say good-bye without even a +handshake. But you are safe! Only I must ask you not to come out of +this room till I tell you you may." + +I was extremely anxious that Senor Ortega should never even catch a +glimpse of Dona Rita, never guess how near he had been to her. I was +extremely anxious the fellow should depart for Tolosa and get shot in a +ravine; or go to the Devil in his own way, as long as he lost the track +of Dona Rita completely. He then, probably, would get mad and get shut +up, or else get cured, forget all about it, and devote himself to his +vocation, whatever it was--keep a shop and grow fat. All this flashed +through my mind in an instant and while I was still dazzled by those +comforting images, the voice of Dona Rita pulled me up with a jerk. + +"You mean not out of the house?" + +"No, I mean not out of this room," I said with some embarrassment. + +"What do you mean? Is there something in the house then? This is most +extraordinary! Stay in this room? And you, too, it seems? Are you also +afraid for yourself?" + +"I can't even give you an idea how afraid I was. I am not so much now. +But you know very well, Dona Rita, that I never carry any sort of weapon +in my pocket." + +"Why don't you, then?" she asked in a flash of scorn which bewitched me +so completely for an instant that I couldn't even smile at it. + +"Because if I am unconventionalized I am an old European," I murmured +gently. "No, _Excellentissima_, I shall go through life without as much +as a switch in my hand. It's no use you being angry. Adapting to this +great moment some words you've heard before: I am like that. Such is my +character!" + +Dona Rita frankly stared at me--a most unusual expression for her to +have. Suddenly she sat up. + +"Don George," she said with lovely animation, "I insist upon knowing who +is in my house." + +"You insist! . . . But Therese says it is _her_ house." + +Had there been anything handy, such as a cigarette box, for instance, it +would have gone sailing through the air spouting cigarettes as it went. +Rosy all over, cheeks, neck, shoulders, she seemed lighted up softly from +inside like a beautiful transparency. But she didn't raise her voice. + +"You and Therese have sworn my ruin. If you don't tell me what you mean +I will go outside and shout up the stairs to make her come down. I know +there is no one but the three of us in the house." + +"Yes, three; but not counting my Jacobin. There is a Jacobin in the +house." + +"A Jac . . .! Oh, George, is this the time to jest?" she began in +persuasive tones when a faint but peculiar noise stilled her lips as +though they had been suddenly frozen. She became quiet all over +instantly. I, on the contrary, made an involuntary movement before I, +too, became as still as death. We strained our ears; but that peculiar +metallic rattle had been so slight and the silence now was so perfect +that it was very difficult to believe one's senses. Dona Rita looked +inquisitively at me. I gave her a slight nod. We remained looking into +each other's eyes while we listened and listened till the silence became +unbearable. Dona Rita whispered composedly: "Did you hear?" + +"I am asking myself . . . I almost think I didn't." + +"Don't shuffle with me. It was a scraping noise." + +"Something fell." + +"Something! What thing? What are the things that fall by themselves? +Who is that man of whom you spoke? Is there a man?" + +"No doubt about it whatever. I brought him here myself." + +"What for?" + +"Why shouldn't I have a Jacobin of my own? Haven't you one, too? But +mine is a different problem from that white-haired humbug of yours. He +is a genuine article. There must be plenty like him about. He has +scores to settle with half a dozen people, he says, and he clamours for +revolutions to give him a chance." + +"But why did you bring him here?" + +"I don't know--from sudden affection . . . " + +All this passed in such low tones that we seemed to make out the words +more by watching each other's lips than through our sense of hearing. +Man is a strange animal. I didn't care what I said. All I wanted was to +keep her in her pose, excited and still, sitting up with her hair loose, +softly glowing, the dark brown fur making a wonderful contrast with the +white lace on her breast. All I was thinking of was that she was +adorable and too lovely for words! I cared for nothing but that +sublimely aesthetic impression. It summed up all life, all joy, all +poetry! It had a divine strain. I am certain that I was not in my right +mind. I suppose I was not quite sane. I am convinced that at that +moment of the four people in the house it was Dona Rita who upon the +whole was the most sane. She observed my face and I am sure she read +there something of my inward exaltation. She knew what to do. In the +softest possible tone and hardly above her breath she commanded: "George, +come to yourself." + +Her gentleness had the effect of evening light. I was soothed. Her +confidence in her own power touched me profoundly. I suppose my love was +too great for madness to get hold of me. I can't say that I passed to a +complete calm, but I became slightly ashamed of myself. I whispered: + +"No, it was not from affection, it was for the love of you that I brought +him here. That imbecile H. was going to send him to Tolosa." + +"That Jacobin!" Dona Rita was immensely surprised, as she might well have +been. Then resigned to the incomprehensible: "Yes," she breathed out, +"what did you do with him?" + +"I put him to bed in the studio." + +How lovely she was with the effort of close attention depicted in the +turn of her head and in her whole face honestly trying to approve. "And +then?" she inquired. + +"Then I came in here to face calmly the necessity of doing away with a +human life. I didn't shirk it for a moment. That's what a short +twelvemonth has brought me to. Don't think I am reproaching you, O blind +force! You are justified because you _are_. Whatever had to happen you +would not even have heard of it." + +Horror darkened her marvellous radiance. Then her face became utterly +blank with the tremendous effort to understand. Absolute silence reigned +in the house. It seemed to me that everything had been said now that +mattered in the world; and that the world itself had reached its ultimate +stage, had reached its appointed end of an eternal, phantom-like silence. +Suddenly Dona Rita raised a warning finger. I had heard nothing and +shook my head; but she nodded hers and murmured excitedly, + +"Yes, yes, in the fencing-room, as before." + +In the same way I answered her: "Impossible! The door is locked and +Therese has the key." She asked then in the most cautious manner, + +"Have you seen Therese to-night?" + +"Yes," I confessed without misgiving. "I left her making up the fellow's +bed when I came in here." + +"The bed of the Jacobin?" she said in a peculiar tone as if she were +humouring a lunatic. + +"I think I had better tell you he is a Spaniard--that he seems to know +you from early days. . . ." I glanced at her face, it was extremely +tense, apprehensive. For myself I had no longer any doubt as to the man +and I hoped she would reach the correct conclusion herself. But I +believe she was too distracted and worried to think consecutively. She +only seemed to feel some terror in the air. In very pity I bent down and +whispered carefully near her ear, "His name is Ortega." + +I expected some effect from that name but I never expected what happened. +With the sudden, free, spontaneous agility of a young animal she leaped +off the sofa, leaving her slippers behind, and in one bound reached +almost the middle of the room. The vigour, the instinctive precision of +that spring, were something amazing. I just escaped being knocked over. +She landed lightly on her bare feet with a perfect balance, without the +slightest suspicion of swaying in her instant immobility. It lasted less +than a second, then she spun round distractedly and darted at the first +door she could see. My own agility was just enough to enable me to grip +the back of the fur coat and then catch her round the body before she +could wriggle herself out of the sleeves. She was muttering all the +time, "No, no, no." She abandoned herself to me just for an instant +during which I got her back to the middle of the room. There she +attempted to free herself and I let her go at once. With her face very +close to mine, but apparently not knowing what she was looking at she +repeated again twice, "No--No," with an intonation which might well have +brought dampness to my eyes but which only made me regret that I didn't +kill the honest Ortega at sight. Suddenly Dona Rita swung round and +seizing her loose hair with both hands started twisting it up before one +of the sumptuous mirrors. The wide fur sleeves slipped down her white +arms. In a brusque movement like a downward stab she transfixed the +whole mass of tawny glints and sparks with the arrow of gold which she +perceived lying there, before her, on the marble console. Then she +sprang away from the glass muttering feverishly, "Out--out--out of this +house," and trying with an awful, senseless stare to dodge past me who +had put myself in her way with open arms. At last I managed to seize her +by the shoulders and in the extremity of my distress I shook her roughly. +If she hadn't quieted down then I believe my heart would have broken. I +spluttered right into her face: "I won't let you. Here you stay." She +seemed to recognize me at last, and suddenly still, perfectly firm on her +white feet, she let her arms fall and, from an abyss of desolation, +whispered, "O! George! No! No! Not Ortega." + +There was a passion of mature grief in this tone of appeal. And yet she +remained as touching and helpless as a distressed child. It had all the +simplicity and depth of a child's emotion. It tugged at one's +heart-strings in the same direct way. But what could one do? How could +one soothe her? It was impossible to pat her on the head, take her on +the knee, give her a chocolate or show her a picture-book. I found +myself absolutely without resource. Completely at a loss. + +"Yes, Ortega. Well, what of it?" I whispered with immense assurance. + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +My brain was in a whirl. I am safe to say that at this precise moment +there was nobody completely sane in the house. Setting apart Therese and +Ortega, both in the grip of unspeakable passions, all the moral economy +of Dona Rita had gone to pieces. Everything was gone except her strong +sense of life with all its implied menaces. The woman was a mere chaos +of sensations and vitality. I, too, suffered most from inability to get +hold of some fundamental thought. The one on which I could best build +some hopes was the thought that, of course, Ortega did not know anything. +I whispered this into the ear of Dona Rita, into her precious, her +beautifully shaped ear. + +But she shook her head, very much like an inconsolable child and very +much with a child's complete pessimism she murmured, "Therese has told +him." + +The words, "Oh, nonsense," never passed my lips, because I could not +cheat myself into denying that there had been a noise; and that the noise +was in the fencing-room. I knew that room. There was nothing there that +by the wildest stretch of imagination could be conceived as falling with +that particular sound. There was a table with a tall strip of +looking-glass above it at one end; but since Blunt took away his +campaigning kit there was no small object of any sort on the console or +anywhere else that could have been jarred off in some mysterious manner. +Along one of the walls there was the whole complicated apparatus of solid +brass pipes, and quite close to it an enormous bath sunk into the floor. +The greatest part of the room along its whole length was covered with +matting and had nothing else but a long, narrow leather-upholstered bench +fixed to the wall. And that was all. And the door leading to the studio +was locked. And Therese had the key. And it flashed on my mind, +independently of Dona Rita's pessimism, by the force of personal +conviction, that, of course, Therese would tell him. I beheld the whole +succession of events perfectly connected and tending to that particular +conclusion. Therese would tell him! I could see the contrasted heads of +those two formidable lunatics close together in a dark mist of whispers +compounded of greed, piety, and jealousy, plotting in a sense of perfect +security as if under the very wing of Providence. So at least Therese +would think. She could not be but under the impression that +(providentially) I had been called out for the rest of the night. + +And now there was one sane person in the house, for I had regained +complete command of my thoughts. Working in a logical succession of +images they showed me at last as clearly as a picture on a wall, Therese +pressing with fervour the key into the fevered palm of the rich, +prestigious, virtuous cousin, so that he should go and urge his +self-sacrificing offer to Rita, and gain merit before Him whose Eye sees +all the actions of men. And this image of those two with the key in the +studio seemed to me a most monstrous conception of fanaticism, of a +perfectly horrible aberration. For who could mistake the state that made +Jose Ortega the figure he was, inspiring both pity and fear? I could not +deny that I understood, not the full extent but the exact nature of his +suffering. Young as I was I had solved for myself that grotesque and +sombre personality. His contact with me, the personal contact with (as +he thought) one of the actual lovers of that woman who brought to him as +a boy the curse of the gods, had tipped over the trembling scales. No +doubt I was very near death in the "grand salon" of the Maison Doree, +only that his torture had gone too far. It seemed to me that I ought to +have heard his very soul scream while we were seated at supper. But in a +moment he had ceased to care for me. I was nothing. To the crazy +exaggeration of his jealousy I was but one amongst a hundred thousand. +What was my death? Nothing. All mankind had possessed that woman. I +knew what his wooing of her would be: Mine--or Dead. + +All this ought to have had the clearness of noon-day, even to the veriest +idiot that ever lived; and Therese was, properly speaking, exactly that. +An idiot. A one-ideaed creature. Only the idea was complex; therefore +it was impossible really to say what she wasn't capable of. This was +what made her obscure processes so awful. She had at times the most +amazing perceptions. Who could tell where her simplicity ended and her +cunning began? She had also the faculty of never forgetting any fact +bearing upon her one idea; and I remembered now that the conversation +with me about the will had produced on her an indelible impression of the +Law's surprising justice. Recalling her naive admiration of the "just" +law that required no "paper" from a sister, I saw her casting loose the +raging fate with a sanctimonious air. And Therese would naturally give +the key of the fencing-room to her dear, virtuous, grateful, +disinterested cousin, to that damned soul with delicate whiskers, because +she would think it just possible that Rita might have locked the door +leading front her room into the hall; whereas there was no earthly +reason, not the slightest likelihood, that she would bother about the +other. Righteousness demanded that the erring sister should be taken +unawares. + +All the above is the analysis of one short moment. Images are to words +like light to sound--incomparably swifter. And all this was really one +flash of light through my mind. A comforting thought succeeded it: that +both doors were locked and that really there was no danger. + +However, there had been that noise--the why and the how of it? Of course +in the dark he might have fallen into the bath, but that wouldn't have +been a faint noise. It wouldn't have been a rattle. There was +absolutely nothing he could knock over. He might have dropped a +candle-stick if Therese had left him her own. That was possible, but +then those thick mats--and then, anyway, why should he drop it? and, hang +it all, why shouldn't he have gone straight on and tried the door? I had +suddenly a sickening vision of the fellow crouching at the key-hole, +listening, listening, listening, for some movement or sigh of the sleeper +he was ready to tear away from the world, alive or dead. I had a +conviction that he was still listening. Why? Goodness knows! He may +have been only gloating over the assurance that the night was long and +that he had all these hours to himself. + +I was pretty certain that he could have heard nothing of our whispers, +the room was too big for that and the door too solid. I hadn't the same +confidence in the efficiency of the lock. Still I . . . Guarding my lips +with my hand I urged Dona Rita to go back to the sofa. She wouldn't +answer me and when I got hold of her arm I discovered that she wouldn't +move. She had taken root in that thick-pile Aubusson carpet; and she was +so rigidly still all over that the brilliant stones in the shaft of the +arrow of gold, with the six candles at the head of the sofa blazing full +on them, emitted no sparkle. + +I was extremely anxious that she shouldn't betray herself. I reasoned, +save the mark, as a psychologist. I had no doubt that the man knew of +her being there; but he only knew it by hearsay. And that was bad +enough. I could not help feeling that if he obtained some evidence for +his senses by any sort of noise, voice, or movement, his madness would +gain strength enough to burst the lock. I was rather ridiculously +worried about the locks. A horrid mistrust of the whole house possessed +me. I saw it in the light of a deadly trap. I had no weapon, I couldn't +say whether he had one or not. I wasn't afraid of a struggle as far as +I, myself, was concerned, but I was afraid of it for Dona Rita. To be +rolling at her feet, locked in a literally tooth-and-nail struggle with +Ortega would have been odious. I wanted to spare her feelings, just as I +would have been anxious to save from any contact with mud the feet of +that goatherd of the mountains with a symbolic face. I looked at her +face. For immobility it might have been a carving. I wished I knew how +to deal with that embodied mystery, to influence it, to manage it. Oh, +how I longed for the gift of authority! In addition, since I had become +completely sane, all my scruples against laying hold of her had returned. +I felt shy and embarrassed. My eyes were fixed on the bronze handle of +the fencing-room door as if it were something alive. I braced myself up +against the moment when it would move. This was what was going to happen +next. It would move very gently. My heart began to thump. But I was +prepared to keep myself as still as death and I hoped Dona Rita would +have sense enough to do the same. I stole another glance at her face and +at that moment I heard the word: "Beloved!" form itself in the still air +of the room, weak, distinct, piteous, like the last request of the dying. + +With great presence of mind I whispered into Dona Rita's ear: "Perfect +silence!" and was overjoyed to discover that she had heard me, understood +me; that she even had command over her rigid lips. She answered me in a +breath (our cheeks were nearly touching): "Take me out of this house." + +I glanced at all her clothing scattered about the room and hissed +forcibly the warning "Perfect immobility"; noticing with relief that she +didn't offer to move, though animation was returning to her and her lips +had remained parted in an awful, unintended effect of a smile. And I +don't know whether I was pleased when she, who was not to be touched, +gripped my wrist suddenly. It had the air of being done on purpose +because almost instantly another: "Beloved!" louder, more agonized if +possible, got into the room and, yes, went home to my heart. It was +followed without any transition, preparation, or warning, by a positively +bellowed: "Speak, perjured beast!" which I felt pass in a thrill right +through Dona Rita like an electric shock, leaving her as motionless as +before. + +Till he shook the door handle, which he did immediately afterwards, I +wasn't certain through which door he had spoken. The two doors (in +different walls) were rather near each other. It was as I expected. He +was in the fencing-room, thoroughly aroused, his senses on the alert to +catch the slightest sound. A situation not to be trifled with. Leaving +the room was for us out of the question. It was quite possible for him +to dash round into the hall before we could get clear of the front door. +As to making a bolt of it upstairs there was the same objection; and to +allow ourselves to be chased all over the empty house by this maniac +would have been mere folly. There was no advantage in locking ourselves +up anywhere upstairs where the original doors and locks were much +lighter. No, true safety was in absolute stillness and silence, so that +even his rage should be brought to doubt at last and die expended, or +choke him before it died; I didn't care which. + +For me to go out and meet him would have been stupid. Now I was certain +that he was armed. I had remembered the wall in the fencing-room +decorated with trophies of cold steel in all the civilized and savage +forms; sheaves of assegais, in the guise of columns and grouped between +them stars and suns of choppers, swords, knives; from Italy, from +Damascus, from Abyssinia, from the ends of the world. Ortega had only to +make his barbarous choice. I suppose he had got up on the bench, and +fumbling about amongst them must have brought one down, which, falling, +had produced that rattling noise. But in any case to go to meet him +would have been folly, because, after all, I might have been overpowered +(even with bare hands) and then Dona Rita would have been left utterly +defenceless. + +"He will speak," came to me the ghostly, terrified murmur of her voice. +"Take me out of the house before he begins to speak." + +"Keep still," I whispered. "He will soon get tired of this." + +"You don't know him." + +"Oh, yes, I do. Been with him two hours." + +At this she let go my wrist and covered her face with her hands +passionately. When she dropped them she had the look of one morally +crushed. + +"What did he say to you?" + +"He raved." + +"Listen to me. It was all true!" + +"I daresay, but what of that?" + +These ghostly words passed between us hardly louder than thoughts; but +after my last answer she ceased and gave me a searching stare, then drew +in a long breath. The voice on the other side of the door burst out with +an impassioned request for a little pity, just a little, and went on +begging for a few words, for two words, for one word--one poor little +word. Then it gave up, then repeated once more, "Say you are there, +Rita, Say one word, just one word. Say 'yes.' Come! Just one little +yes." + +"You see," I said. She only lowered her eyelids over the anxious glance +she had turned on me. + +For a minute we could have had the illusion that he had stolen away, +unheard, on the thick mats. But I don't think that either of us was +deceived. The voice returned, stammering words without connection, +pausing and faltering, till suddenly steadied it soared into impassioned +entreaty, sank to low, harsh tones, voluble, lofty sometimes and +sometimes abject. When it paused it left us looking profoundly at each +other. + +"It's almost comic," I whispered. + +"Yes. One could laugh," she assented, with a sort of sinister +conviction. Never had I seen her look exactly like that, for an instant +another, an incredible Rita! "Haven't I laughed at him innumerable +times?" she added in a sombre whisper. + +He was muttering to himself out there, and unexpectedly shouted: "What?" +as though he had fancied he had heard something. He waited a while +before he started up again with a loud: "Speak up, Queen of the goats, +with your goat tricks. . ." All was still for a time, then came a most +awful bang on the door. He must have stepped back a pace to hurl himself +bodily against the panels. The whole house seemed to shake. He repeated +that performance once more, and then varied it by a prolonged drumming +with his fists. It _was_ comic. But I felt myself struggling mentally +with an invading gloom as though I were no longer sure of myself. + +"Take me out," whispered Dona Rita feverishly, "take me out of this house +before it is too late." + +"You will have to stand it," I answered. + +"So be it; but then you must go away yourself. Go now, before it is too +late." + +I didn't condescend to answer this. The drumming on the panels stopped +and the absurd thunder of it died out in the house. I don't know why +precisely then I had the acute vision of the red mouth of Jose Ortega +wriggling with rage between his funny whiskers. He began afresh but in a +tired tone: + +"Do you expect a fellow to forget your tricks, you wicked little devil? +Haven't you ever seen me dodging about to get a sight of you amongst +those pretty gentlemen, on horseback, like a princess, with pure cheeks +like a carved saint? I wonder I didn't throw stones at you, I wonder I +didn't run after you shouting the tale--curse my timidity! But I daresay +they knew as much as I did. More. All the new tricks--if that were +possible." + +While he was making this uproar, Dona Rita put her fingers in her ears +and then suddenly changed her mind and clapped her hands over my ears. +Instinctively I disengaged my head but she persisted. We had a short +tussle without moving from the spot, and suddenly I had my head free, and +there was complete silence. He had screamed himself out of breath, but +Dona Rita muttering: "Too late, too late," got her hands away from my +grip and slipping altogether out of her fur coat seized some garment +lying on a chair near by (I think it was her skirt), with the intention +of dressing herself, I imagine, and rushing out of the house. Determined +to prevent this, but indeed without thinking very much what I was doing, +I got hold of her arm. That struggle was silent, too; but I used the +least force possible and she managed to give me an unexpected push. +Stepping back to save myself from falling I overturned the little table, +bearing the six-branched candlestick. It hit the floor, rebounded with a +dull ring on the carpet, and by the time it came to a rest every single +candle was out. He on the other side of the door naturally heard the +noise and greeted it with a triumphant screech: "Aha! I've managed to +wake you up," the very savagery of which had a laughable effect. I felt +the weight of Dona Rita grow on my arm and thought it best to let her +sink on the floor, wishing to be free in my movements and really afraid +that now he had actually heard a noise he would infallibly burst the +door. But he didn't even thump it. He seemed to have exhausted himself +in that scream. There was no other light in the room but the darkened +glow of the embers and I could hardly make out amongst the shadows of +furniture Dona Rita sunk on her knees in a penitential and despairing +attitude. Before this collapse I, who had been wrestling desperately +with her a moment before, felt that I dare not touch her. This emotion, +too, I could not understand; this abandonment of herself, this +conscience-stricken humility. A humbly imploring request to open the +door came from the other side. Ortega kept on repeating: "Open the door, +open the door," in such an amazing variety of intonations, imperative, +whining, persuasive, insinuating, and even unexpectedly jocose, that I +really stood there smiling to myself, yet with a gloomy and uneasy heart. +Then he remarked, parenthetically as it were, "Oh, you know how to +torment a man, you brown-skinned, lean, grinning, dishevelled imp, you. +And mark," he expounded further, in a curiously doctoral tone--"you are +in all your limbs hateful: your eyes are hateful and your mouth is +hateful, and your hair is hateful, and your body is cold and vicious like +a snake--and altogether you are perdition." + +This statement was astonishingly deliberate. He drew a moaning breath +after it and uttered in a heart-rending tone, "You know, Rita, that I +cannot live without you. I haven't lived. I am not living now. This +isn't life. Come, Rita, you can't take a boy's soul away and then let +him grow up and go about the world, poor devil, while you go amongst the +rich from one pair of arms to another, showing all your best tricks. But +I will forgive you if you only open the door," he ended in an inflated +tone: "You remember how you swore time after time to be my wife. You are +more fit to be Satan's wife but I don't mind. You shall be my wife!" + +A sound near the floor made me bend down hastily with a stern: "Don't +laugh," for in his grotesque, almost burlesque discourses there seemed to +me to be truth, passion, and horror enough to move a mountain. + +Suddenly suspicion seized him out there. With perfectly farcical +unexpectedness he yelled shrilly: "Oh, you deceitful wretch! You won't +escape me! I will have you. . . ." + +And in a manner of speaking he vanished. Of course I couldn't see him +but somehow that was the impression. I had hardly time to receive it +when crash! . . . he was already at the other door. I suppose he thought +that his prey was escaping him. His swiftness was amazing, almost +inconceivable, more like the effect of a trick or of a mechanism. The +thump on the door was awful as if he had not been able to stop himself in +time. The shock seemed enough to stun an elephant. It was really funny. +And after the crash there was a moment of silence as if he were +recovering himself. The next thing was a low grunt, and at once he +picked up the thread of his fixed idea. + +"You will have to be my wife. I have no shame. You swore you would be +and so you will have to be." Stifled low sounds made me bend down again +to the kneeling form, white in the flush of the dark red glow. "For +goodness' sake don't," I whispered down. She was struggling with an +appalling fit of merriment, repeating to herself, "Yes, every day, for +two months. Sixty times at least, sixty times at least." Her voice was +rising high. She was struggling against laughter, but when I tried to +put my hand over her lips I felt her face wet with tears. She turned it +this way and that, eluding my hand with repressed low, little moans. I +lost my caution and said, "Be quiet," so sharply as to startle myself +(and her, too) into expectant stillness. + +Ortega's voice in the hall asked distinctly: "Eh? What's this?" and then +he kept still on his side listening, but he must have thought that his +ears had deceived him. He was getting tired, too. He was keeping quiet +out there--resting. Presently he sighed deeply; then in a harsh +melancholy tone he started again. + +"My love, my soul, my life, do speak to me. What am I that you should +take so much trouble to pretend that you aren't there? Do speak to me," +he repeated tremulously, following this mechanical appeal with a string +of extravagantly endearing names, some of them quite childish, which all +of a sudden stopped dead; and then after a pause there came a distinct, +unutterably weary: "What shall I do now?" as though he were speaking to +himself. + +I shuddered to hear rising from the floor, by my side, a vibrating, +scornful: "Do! Why, slink off home looking over your shoulder as you +used to years ago when I had done with you--all but the laughter." + +"Rita," I murmured, appalled. He must have been struck dumb for a +moment. Then, goodness only knows why, in his dismay or rage he was +moved to speak in French with a most ridiculous accent. + +"So you have found your tongue at last--_Catin_! You were that from the +cradle. Don't you remember how . . ." + +Dona Rita sprang to her feet at my side with a loud cry, "No, George, +no," which bewildered me completely. The suddenness, the loudness of it +made the ensuing silence on both sides of the door perfectly awful. It +seemed to me that if I didn't resist with all my might something in me +would die on the instant. In the straight, falling folds of the +night-dress she looked cold like a block of marble; while I, too, was +turned into stone by the terrific clamour in the hall. + +"Therese, Therese," yelled Ortega. "She has got a man in there." He ran +to the foot of the stairs and screamed again, "Therese, Therese! There +is a man with her. A man! Come down, you miserable, starved peasant, +come down and see." + +I don't know where Therese was but I am sure that this voice reached her, +terrible, as if clamouring to heaven, and with a shrill over-note which +made me certain that if she was in bed the only thing she would think of +doing would be to put her head under the bed-clothes. With a final yell: +"Come down and see," he flew back at the door of the room and started +shaking it violently. + +It was a double door, very tall, and there must have been a lot of things +loose about its fittings, bolts, latches, and all those brass +applications with broken screws, because it rattled, it clattered, it +jingled; and produced also the sound as of thunder rolling in the big, +empty hall. It was deafening, distressing, and vaguely alarming as if it +could bring the house down. At the same time the futility of it had, it +cannot be denied, a comic effect. The very magnitude of the racket he +raised was funny. But he couldn't keep up that violent exertion +continuously, and when he stopped to rest we could hear him shouting to +himself in vengeful tones. He saw it all! He had been decoyed there! +(Rattle, rattle, rattle.) He had been decoyed into that town, he +screamed, getting more and more excited by the noise he made himself, in +order to be exposed to this! (Rattle, rattle.) By this shameless +"_Catin_! _Catin_! _Catin_!" + +He started at the door again with superhuman vigour. Behind me I heard +Dona Rita laughing softly, statuesque, turned all dark in the fading +glow. I called out to her quite openly, "Do keep your self-control." +And she called back to me in a clear voice: "Oh, my dear, will you ever +consent to speak to me after all this? But don't ask for the impossible. +He was born to be laughed at." + +"Yes," I cried. "But don't let yourself go." + +I don't know whether Ortega heard us. He was exerting then his utmost +strength of lung against the infamous plot to expose him to the derision +of the fiendish associates of that obscene woman! . . . Then he began +another interlude upon the door, so sustained and strong that I had the +thought that this was growing absurdly impossible, that either the +plaster would begin to fall off the ceiling or he would drop dead next +moment, out there. + +He stopped, uttered a few curses at the door, and seemed calmer from +sheer exhaustion. + +"This story will be all over the world," we heard him begin. "Deceived, +decoyed, inveighed, in order to be made a laughing-stock before the most +debased of all mankind, that woman and her associates." This was really +a meditation. And then he screamed: "I will kill you all." Once more he +started worrying the door but it was a startlingly feeble effort which he +abandoned almost at once. He must have been at the end of his strength. +Dona Rita from the middle of the room asked me recklessly loud: "Tell me! +Wasn't he born to be laughed at?" I didn't answer her. I was so near +the door that I thought I ought to hear him panting there. He was +terrifying, but he was not serious. He was at the end of his strength, +of his breath, of every kind of endurance, but I did not know it. He was +done up, finished; but perhaps he did not know it himself. How still he +was! Just as I began to wonder at it, I heard him distinctly give a slap +to his forehead. "I see it all!" he cried. "That miserable, canting +peasant-woman upstairs has arranged it all. No doubt she consulted her +priests. I must regain my self-respect. Let her die first." I heard +him make a dash for the foot of the stairs. I was appalled; yet to think +of Therese being hoisted with her own petard was like a turn of affairs +in a farce. A very ferocious farce. Instinctively I unlocked the door. +Dona Rita's contralto laugh rang out loud, bitter, and contemptuous; and +I heard Ortega's distracted screaming as if under torture. "It hurts! +It hurts! It hurts!" I hesitated just an instant, half a second, no +more, but before I could open the door wide there was in the hall a short +groan and the sound of a heavy fall. + +The sight of Ortega lying on his back at the foot of the stairs arrested +me in the doorway. One of his legs was drawn up, the other extended +fully, his foot very near the pedestal of the silver statuette holding +the feeble and tenacious gleam which made the shadows so heavy in that +hall. One of his arms lay across his breast. The other arm was extended +full length on the white-and-black pavement with the hand palm upwards +and the fingers rigidly spread out. The shadow of the lowest step +slanted across his face but one whisker and part of his chin could be +made out. He appeared strangely flattened. He didn't move at all. He +was in his shirt-sleeves. I felt an extreme distaste for that sight. +The characteristic sound of a key worrying in the lock stole into my +ears. I couldn't locate it but I didn't attend much to that at first. I +was engaged in watching Senor Ortega. But for his raised leg he clung so +flat to the floor and had taken on himself such a distorted shape that he +might have been the mere shadow of Senor Ortega. It was rather +fascinating to see him so quiet at the end of all that fury, clamour, +passion, and uproar. Surely there was never anything so still in the +world as this Ortega. I had a bizarre notion that he was not to be +disturbed. + +A noise like the rattling of chain links, a small grind and click +exploded in the stillness of the hall and a voice began to swear in +Italian. These surprising sounds were quite welcome, they recalled me to +myself, and I perceived they came from the front door which seemed pushed +a little ajar. Was somebody trying to get in? I had no objection, I +went to the door and said: "Wait a moment, it's on the chain." The deep +voice on the other side said: "What an extraordinary thing," and I +assented mentally. It was extraordinary. The chain was never put up, +but Therese was a thorough sort of person, and on this night she had put +it up to keep no one out except myself. It was the old Italian and his +daughters returning from the ball who were trying to get in. + +Suddenly I became intensely alive to the whole situation. I bounded +back, closed the door of Blunt's room, and the next moment was speaking +to the Italian. "A little patience." My hands trembled but I managed to +take down the chain and as I allowed the door to swing open a little more +I put myself in his way. He was burly, venerable, a little indignant, +and full of thanks. Behind him his two girls, in short-skirted costumes, +white stockings, and low shoes, their heads powdered and earrings +sparkling in their ears, huddled together behind their father, wrapped up +in their light mantles. One had kept her little black mask on her face, +the other held hers in her hand. + +The Italian was surprised at my blocking the way and remarked pleasantly, +"It's cold outside, Signor." I said, "Yes," and added in a hurried +whisper: "There is a dead man in the hall." He didn't say a single word +but put me aside a little, projected his body in for one searching +glance. "Your daughters," I murmured. He said kindly, "_Va bene_, _va +bene_." And then to them, "Come in, girls." + +There is nothing like dealing with a man who has had a long past of +out-of-the-way experiences. The skill with which he rounded up and drove +the girls across the hall, paternal and irresistible, venerable and +reassuring, was a sight to see. They had no time for more than one +scared look over the shoulder. He hustled them in and locked them up +safely in their part of the house, then crossed the hall with a quick, +practical stride. When near Senor Ortega he trod short just in time and +said: "In truth, blood"; then selecting the place, knelt down by the body +in his tall hat and respectable overcoat, his white beard giving him +immense authority somehow. "But--this man is not dead," he exclaimed, +looking up at me. With profound sagacity, inherent as it were in his +great beard, he never took the trouble to put any questions to me and +seemed certain that I had nothing to do with the ghastly sight. "He +managed to give himself an enormous gash in his side," was his calm +remark. "And what a weapon!" he exclaimed, getting it out from under the +body. It was an Abyssinian or Nubian production of a bizarre shape; the +clumsiest thing imaginable, partaking of a sickle and a chopper with a +sharp edge and a pointed end. A mere cruel-looking curio of +inconceivable clumsiness to European eyes. + +The old man let it drop with amused disdain. "You had better take hold +of his legs," he decided without appeal. I certainly had no inclination +to argue. When we lifted him up the head of Senor Ortega fell back +desolately, making an awful, defenceless display of his large, white +throat. + +We found the lamp burning in the studio and the bed made up on the couch +on which we deposited our burden. My venerable friend jerked the upper +sheet away at once and started tearing it into strips. + +"You may leave him to me," said that efficient sage, "but the doctor is +your affair. If you don't want this business to make a noise you will +have to find a discreet man." + +He was most benevolently interested in all the proceedings. He remarked +with a patriarchal smile as he tore the sheet noisily: "You had better +not lose any time." I didn't lose any time. I crammed into the next +hour an astonishing amount of bodily activity. Without more words I flew +out bare-headed into the last night of Carnival. Luckily I was certain +of the right sort of doctor. He was an iron-grey man of forty and of a +stout habit of body but who was able to put on a spurt. In the cold, +dark, and deserted by-streets, he ran with earnest, and ponderous +footsteps, which echoed loudly in the cold night air, while I skimmed +along the ground a pace or two in front of him. It was only on arriving +at the house that I perceived that I had left the front door wide open. +All the town, every evil in the world could have entered the +black-and-white hall. But I had no time to meditate upon my imprudence. +The doctor and I worked in silence for nearly an hour and it was only +then while he was washing his hands in the fencing-room that he asked: + +"What was he up to, that imbecile?" + +"Oh, he was examining this curiosity," I said. + +"Oh, yes, and it accidentally went off," said the doctor, looking +contemptuously at the Nubian knife I had thrown on the table. Then while +wiping his hands: "I would bet there is a woman somewhere under this; but +that of course does not affect the nature of the wound. I hope this +blood-letting will do him good." + +"Nothing will do him any good," I said. + +"Curious house this," went on the doctor, "It belongs to a curious sort +of woman, too. I happened to see her once or twice. I shouldn't wonder +if she were to raise considerable trouble in the track of her pretty feet +as she goes along. I believe you know her well." + +"Yes." + +"Curious people in the house, too. There was a Carlist officer here, a +lean, tall, dark man, who couldn't sleep. He consulted me once. Do you +know what became of him?" + +"No." + +The doctor had finished wiping his hands and flung the towel far away. + +"Considerable nervous over-strain. Seemed to have a restless brain. Not +a good thing, that. For the rest a perfect gentleman. And this Spaniard +here, do you know him?" + +"Enough not to care what happens to him," I said, "except for the trouble +he might cause to the Carlist sympathizers here, should the police get +hold of this affair." + +"Well, then, he must take his chance in the seclusion of that +conservatory sort of place where you have put him. I'll try to find +somebody we can trust to look after him. Meantime, I will leave the case +to you." + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Directly I had shut the door after the doctor I started shouting for +Therese. "Come down at once, you wretched hypocrite," I yelled at the +foot of the stairs in a sort of frenzy as though I had been a second +Ortega. Not even an echo answered me; but all of a sudden a small flame +flickered descending from the upper darkness and Therese appeared on the +first floor landing carrying a lighted candle in front of a livid, hard +face, closed against remorse, compassion, or mercy by the meanness of her +righteousness and of her rapacious instincts. She was fully dressed in +that abominable brown stuff with motionless folds, and as I watched her +coming down step by step she might have been made of wood. I stepped +back and pointed my finger at the darkness of the passage leading to the +studio. She passed within a foot of me, her pale eyes staring straight +ahead, her face still with disappointment and fury. Yet it is only my +surmise. She might have been made thus inhuman by the force of an +invisible purpose. I waited a moment, then, stealthily, with extreme +caution, I opened the door of the so-called Captain Blunt's room. + +The glow of embers was all but out. It was cold and dark in there; but +before I closed the door behind me the dim light from the hall showed me +Dona Rita standing on the very same spot where I had left her, statuesque +in her night-dress. Even after I shut the door she loomed up enormous, +indistinctly rigid and inanimate. I picked up the candelabra, groped for +a candle all over the carpet, found one, and lighted it. All that time +Dona Rita didn't stir. When I turned towards her she seemed to be slowly +awakening from a trance. She was deathly pale and by contrast the +melted, sapphire-blue of her eyes looked black as coal. They moved a +little in my direction, incurious, recognizing me slowly. But when they +had recognized me completely she raised her hands and hid her face in +them. A whole minute or more passed. Then I said in a low tone: "Look +at me," and she let them fall slowly as if accepting the inevitable. + +"Shall I make up the fire?" . . . I waited. "Do you hear me?" She made +no sound and with the tip of my finger I touched her bare shoulder. But +for its elasticity it might have been frozen. At once I looked round for +the fur coat; it seemed to me that there was not a moment to lose if she +was to be saved, as though we had been lost on an Arctic plain. I had to +put her arms into the sleeves, myself, one after another. They were +cold, lifeless, but flexible. Then I moved in front of her and buttoned +the thing close round her throat. To do that I had actually to raise her +chin with my finger, and it sank slowly down again. I buttoned all the +other buttons right down to the ground. It was a very long and splendid +fur. Before rising from my kneeling position I felt her feet. Mere ice. +The intimacy of this sort of attendance helped the growth of my +authority. "Lie down," I murmured, "I shall pile on you every blanket I +can find here," but she only shook her head. + +Not even in the days when she ran "shrill as a cicada and thin as a +match" through the chill mists of her native mountains could she ever +have felt so cold, so wretched, and so desolate. Her very soul, her +grave, indignant, and fantastic soul, seemed to drowse like an exhausted +traveller surrendering himself to the sleep of death. But when I asked +her again to lie down she managed to answer me, "Not in this room." The +dumb spell was broken. She turned her head from side to side, but oh! +how cold she was! It seemed to come out of her, numbing me, too; and the +very diamonds on the arrow of gold sparkled like hoar frost in the light +of the one candle. + +"Not in this room; not here," she protested, with that peculiar suavity +of tone which made her voice unforgettable, irresistible, no matter what +she said. "Not after all this! I couldn't close my eyes in this place. +It's full of corruption and ugliness all round, in me, too, everywhere +except in your heart, which has nothing to do where I breathe. And here +you may leave me. But wherever you go remember that I am not evil, I am +not evil." + +I said: "I don't intend to leave you here. There is my room upstairs. +You have been in it before." + +"Oh, you have heard of that," she whispered. The beginning of a wan +smile vanished from her lips. + +"I also think you can't stay in this room; and, surely, you needn't +hesitate . . ." + +"No. It doesn't matter now. He has killed me. Rita is dead." + +While we exchanged these words I had retrieved the quilted, blue slippers +and had put them on her feet. She was very tractable. Then taking her +by the arm I led her towards the door. + +"He has killed me," she repeated in a sigh. "The little joy that was in +me." + +"He has tried to kill himself out there in the hall," I said. She put +back like a frightened child but she couldn't be dragged on as a child +can be. + +I assured her that the man was no longer there but she only repeated, "I +can't get through the hall. I can't walk. I can't . . ." + +"Well," I said, flinging the door open and seizing her suddenly in my +arms, "if you can't walk then you shall be carried," and I lifted her +from the ground so abruptly that she could not help catching me round the +neck as any child almost will do instinctively when you pick it up. + +I ought really to have put those blue slippers in my pocket. One dropped +off at the bottom of the stairs as I was stepping over an +unpleasant-looking mess on the marble pavement, and the other was lost a +little way up the flight when, for some reason (perhaps from a sense of +insecurity), she began to struggle. Though I had an odd sense of being +engaged in a sort of nursery adventure she was no child to carry. I +could just do it. But not if she chose to struggle. I set her down +hastily and only supported her round the waist for the rest of the way. +My room, of course, was perfectly dark but I led her straight to the sofa +at once and let her fall on it. Then as if I had in sober truth rescued +her from an Alpine height or an Arctic floe, I busied myself with nothing +but lighting the gas and starting the fire. I didn't even pause to lock +my door. All the time I was aware of her presence behind me, nay, of +something deeper and more my own--of her existence itself--of a small +blue flame, blue like her eyes, flickering and clear within her frozen +body. When I turned to her she was sitting very stiff and upright, with +her feet posed hieratically on the carpet and her head emerging out of +the ample fur collar, such as a gem-like flower above the rim of a dark +vase. I tore the blankets and the pillows off my bed and piled them up +in readiness in a great heap on the floor near the couch. My reason for +this was that the room was large, too large for the fireplace, and the +couch was nearest to the fire. She gave no sign but one of her wistful +attempts at a smile. In a most business-like way I took the arrow out of +her hair and laid it on the centre table. The tawny mass fell loose at +once about her shoulders and made her look even more desolate than +before. But there was an invincible need of gaiety in her heart. She +said funnily, looking at the arrow sparkling in the gas light: + +"Ah! That poor philistinish ornament!" + +An echo of our early days, not more innocent but so much more youthful, +was in her tone; and we both, as if touched with poignant regret, looked +at each other with enlightened eyes. + +"Yes," I said, "how far away all this is. And you wouldn't leave even +that object behind when you came last in here. Perhaps it is for that +reason it haunted me--mostly at night. I dreamed of you sometimes as a +huntress nymph gleaming white through the foliage and throwing this arrow +like a dart straight at my heart. But it never reached it. It always +fell at my feet as I woke up. The huntress never meant to strike down +that particular quarry." + +"The huntress was wild but she was not evil. And she was no nymph, but +only a goatherd girl. Dream of her no more, my dear." + +I had the strength of mind to make a sign of assent and busied myself +arranging a couple of pillows at one end of the sofa. "Upon my soul, +goatherd, you are not responsible," I said. "You are not! Lay down that +uneasy head," I continued, forcing a half-playful note into my immense +sadness, "that has even dreamed of a crown--but not for itself." + +She lay down quietly. I covered her up, looked once into her eyes and +felt the restlessness of fatigue over-power me so that I wanted to +stagger out, walk straight before me, stagger on and on till I dropped. +In the end I lost myself in thought. I woke with a start to her voice +saying positively: + +"No. Not even in this room. I can't close my eyes. Impossible. I have +a horror of myself. That voice in my ears. All true. All true." + +She was sitting up, two masses of tawny hair fell on each side of her +tense face. I threw away the pillows from which she had risen and sat +down behind her on the couch. "Perhaps like this," I suggested, drawing +her head gently on my breast. She didn't resist, she didn't even sigh, +she didn't look at me or attempt to settle herself in any way. It was I +who settled her after taking up a position which I thought I should be +able to keep for hours--for ages. After a time I grew composed enough to +become aware of the ticking of the clock, even to take pleasure in it. +The beat recorded the moments of her rest, while I sat, keeping as still +as if my life depended upon it with my eyes fixed idly on the arrow of +gold gleaming and glittering dimly on the table under the lowered +gas-jet. And presently my breathing fell into the quiet rhythm of the +sleep which descended on her at last. My thought was that now nothing +mattered in the world because I had the world safe resting in my arms--or +was it in my heart? + +Suddenly my heart seemed torn in two within my breast and half of my +breath knocked out of me. It was a tumultuous awakening. The day had +come. Dona Rita had opened her eyes, found herself in my arms, and +instantly had flung herself out of them with one sudden effort. I saw +her already standing in the filtered sunshine of the closed shutters, +with all the childlike horror and shame of that night vibrating afresh in +the awakened body of the woman. + +"Daylight," she whispered in an appalled voice. "Don't look at me, +George. I can't face daylight. No--not with you. Before we set eyes on +each other all that past was like nothing. I had crushed it all in my +new pride. Nothing could touch the Rita whose hand was kissed by you. +But now! Never in daylight." + +I sat there stupid with surprise and grief. This was no longer the +adventure of venturesome children in a nursery-book. A grown man's +bitterness, informed, suspicious, resembling hatred, welled out of my +heart. + +"All this means that you are going to desert me again?" I said with +contempt. "All right. I won't throw stones after you . . . Are you +going, then?" + +She lowered her head slowly with a backward gesture of her arm as if to +keep me off, for I had sprung to my feet all at once as if mad. + +"Then go quickly," I said. "You are afraid of living flesh and blood. +What are you running after? Honesty, as you say, or some distinguished +carcass to feed your vanity on? I know how cold you can be--and yet +live. What have I done to you? You go to sleep in my arms, wake up and +go away. Is it to impress me? Charlatanism of character, my dear." + +She stepped forward on her bare feet as firm on that floor which seemed +to heave up and down before my eyes as she had ever been--goatherd child +leaping on the rocks of her native hills which she was never to see +again. I snatched the arrow of gold from the table and threw it after +her. + +"Don't forget this thing," I cried, "you would never forgive yourself for +leaving it behind." + +It struck the back of the fur coat and fell on the floor behind her. She +never looked round. She walked to the door, opened it without haste, and +on the landing in the diffused light from the ground-glass skylight there +appeared, rigid, like an implacable and obscure fate, the awful +Therese--waiting for her sister. The heavy ends of a big black shawl +thrown over her head hung massively in biblical folds. With a faint cry +of dismay Dona Rita stopped just within my room. + +The two women faced each other for a few moments silently. Therese spoke +first. There was no austerity in her tone. Her voice was as usual, +pertinacious, unfeeling, with a slight plaint in it; terrible in its +unchanged purpose. + +"I have been standing here before this door all night," she said. "I +don't know how I lived through it. I thought I would die a hundred times +for shame. So that's how you are spending your time? You are worse than +shameless. But God may still forgive you. You have a soul. You are my +sister. I will never abandon you--till you die." + +"What is it?" Dona Rita was heard wistfully, "my soul or this house that +you won't abandon." + +"Come out and bow your head in humiliation. I am your sister and I shall +help you to pray to God and all the Saints. Come away from that poor +young gentleman who like all the others can have nothing but contempt and +disgust for you in his heart. Come and hide your head where no one will +reproach you--but I, your sister. Come out and beat your breast: come, +poor Sinner, and let me kiss you, for you are my sister!" + +While Therese was speaking Dona Rita stepped back a pace and as the other +moved forward still extending the hand of sisterly love, she slammed the +door in Therese's face. "You abominable girl!" she cried fiercely. Then +she turned about and walked towards me who had not moved. I felt hardly +alive but for the cruel pain that possessed my whole being. On the way +she stooped to pick up the arrow of gold and then moved on quicker, +holding it out to me in her open palm. + +"You thought I wouldn't give it to you. _Amigo_, I wanted nothing so +much as to give it to you. And now, perhaps--you will take it." + +"Not without the woman," I said sombrely. + +"Take it," she said. "I haven't the courage to deliver myself up to +Therese. No. Not even for your sake. Don't you think I have been +miserable enough yet?" + +I snatched the arrow out of her hand then and ridiculously pressed it to +my breast; but as I opened my lips she who knew what was struggling for +utterance in my heart cried in a ringing tone: + +"Speak no words of love, George! Not yet. Not in this house of ill-luck +and falsehood. Not within a hundred miles of this house, where they came +clinging to me all profaned from the mouth of that man. Haven't you +heard them--the horrible things? And what can words have to do between +you and me?" + +Her hands were stretched out imploringly, I said, childishly +disconcerted: + +"But, Rita, how can I help using words of love to you? They come of +themselves on my lips!" + +"They come! Ah! But I shall seal your lips with the thing itself," she +said. "Like this. . . " + + + + +SECOND NOTE + + +The narrative of our man goes on for some six months more, from this, the +last night of the Carnival season up to and beyond the season of roses. +The tone of it is much less of exultation than might have been expected. +Love as is well known having nothing to do with reason, being insensible +to forebodings and even blind to evidence, the surrender of those two +beings to a precarious bliss has nothing very astonishing in itself; and +its portrayal, as he attempts it, lacks dramatic interest. The +sentimental interest could only have a fascination for readers themselves +actually in love. The response of a reader depends on the mood of the +moment, so much so that a book may seem extremely interesting when read +late at night, but might appear merely a lot of vapid verbiage in the +morning. My conviction is that the mood in which the continuation of his +story would appear sympathetic is very rare. This consideration has +induced me to suppress it--all but the actual facts which round up the +previous events and satisfy such curiosity as might have been aroused by +the foregoing narrative. + +It is to be remarked that this period is characterized more by a deep and +joyous tenderness than by sheer passion. All fierceness of spirit seems +to have burnt itself out in their preliminary hesitations and struggles +against each other and themselves. Whether love in its entirety has, +speaking generally, the same elementary meaning for women as for men, is +very doubtful. Civilization has been at work there. But the fact is +that those two display, in every phase of discovery and response, an +exact accord. Both show themselves amazingly ingenuous in the practice +of sentiment. I believe that those who know women won't be surprised to +hear me say that she was as new to love as he was. During their retreat +in the region of the Maritime Alps, in a small house built of dry stones +and embowered with roses, they appear all through to be less like +released lovers than as companions who had found out each other's fitness +in a specially intense way. Upon the whole, I think that there must be +some truth in his insistence of there having always been something +childlike in their relation. In the unreserved and instant sharing of +all thoughts, all impressions, all sensations, we see the naiveness of a +children's foolhardy adventure. This unreserved expressed for him the +whole truth of the situation. With her it may have been different. It +might have been assumed; yet nobody is altogether a comedian; and even +comedians themselves have got to believe in the part they play. Of the +two she appears much the more assured and confident. But if in this she +was a comedienne then it was but a great achievement of her ineradicable +honesty. Having once renounced her honourable scruples she took good +care that he should taste no flavour of misgivings in the cup. Being +older it was she who imparted its character to the situation. As to the +man if he had any superiority of his own it was simply the superiority of +him who loves with the greater self-surrender. + +This is what appears from the pages I have discreetly suppressed--partly +out of regard for the pages themselves. In every, even terrestrial, +mystery there is as it were a sacred core. A sustained commentary on +love is not fit for every eye. A universal experience is exactly the +sort of thing which is most difficult to appraise justly in a particular +instance. + +How this particular instance affected Rose, who was the only companion of +the two hermits in their rose-embowered hut of stones, I regret not to be +able to report; but I will venture to say that for reasons on which I +need not enlarge, the girl could not have been very reassured by what she +saw. It seems to me that her devotion could never be appeased; for the +conviction must have been growing on her that, no matter what happened, +Madame could never have any friends. It may be that Dona Rita had given +her a glimpse of the unavoidable end, and that the girl's tarnished eyes +masked a certain amount of apprehensive, helpless desolation. + +What meantime was becoming of the fortune of Henry Allegre is another +curious question. We have been told that it was too big to be tied up in +a sack and thrown into the sea. That part of it represented by the +fabulous collections was still being protected by the police. But for +the rest, it may be assumed that its power and significance were lost to +an interested world for something like six months. What is certain is +that the late Henry Allegre's man of affairs found himself comparatively +idle. The holiday must have done much good to his harassed brain. He +had received a note from Dona Rita saying that she had gone into retreat +and that she did not mean to send him her address, not being in the +humour to be worried with letters on any subject whatever. "It's enough +for you"--she wrote--"to know that I am alive." Later, at irregular +intervals, he received scraps of paper bearing the stamps of various post +offices and containing the simple statement: "I am still alive," signed +with an enormous, flourished exuberant R. I imagine Rose had to travel +some distances by rail to post those messages. A thick veil of secrecy +had been lowered between the world and the lovers; yet even this veil +turned out not altogether impenetrable. + +He--it would be convenient to call him Monsieur George to the end--shared +with Dona Rita her perfect detachment from all mundane affairs; but he +had to make two short visits to Marseilles. The first was prompted by +his loyal affection for Dominic. He wanted to discover what had happened +or was happening to Dominic and to find out whether he could do something +for that man. But Dominic was not the sort of person for whom one can do +much. Monsieur George did not even see him. It looked uncommonly as if +Dominic's heart were broken. Monsieur George remained concealed for +twenty-four hours in the very house in which Madame Leonore had her cafe. +He spent most of that time in conversing with Madame Leonore about +Dominic. She was distressed, but her mind was made up. That +bright-eyed, nonchalant, and passionate woman was making arrangements to +dispose of her cafe before departing to join Dominic. She would not say +where. Having ascertained that his assistance was not required Monsieur +George, in his own words, "managed to sneak out of the town without being +seen by a single soul that mattered." + +The second occasion was very prosaic and shockingly incongruous with the +super-mundane colouring of these days. He had neither the fortune of +Henry Allegre nor a man of affairs of his own. But some rent had to be +paid to somebody for the stone hut and Rose could not go marketing in the +tiny hamlet at the foot of the hill without a little money. There came a +time when Monsieur George had to descend from the heights of his love in +order, in his own words, "to get a supply of cash." As he had +disappeared very suddenly and completely for a time from the eyes of +mankind it was necessary that he should show himself and sign some +papers. That business was transacted in the office of the banker +mentioned in the story. Monsieur George wished to avoid seeing the man +himself but in this he did not succeed. The interview was short. The +banker naturally asked no questions, made no allusions to persons and +events, and didn't even mention the great Legitimist Principle which +presented to him now no interest whatever. But for the moment all the +world was talking of the Carlist enterprise. It had collapsed utterly, +leaving behind, as usual, a large crop of recriminations, charges of +incompetency and treachery, and a certain amount of scandalous gossip. +The banker (his wife's salon had been very Carlist indeed) declared that +he had never believed in the success of the cause. "You are well out of +it," he remarked with a chilly smile to Monsieur George. The latter +merely observed that he had been very little "in it" as a matter of fact, +and that he was quite indifferent to the whole affair. + +"You left a few of your feathers in it, nevertheless," the banker +concluded with a wooden face and with the curtness of a man who knows. + +Monsieur George ought to have taken the very next train out of the town +but he yielded to the temptation to discover what had happened to the +house in the street of the Consuls after he and Dona Rita had stolen out +of it like two scared yet jubilant children. All he discovered was a +strange, fat woman, a sort of virago, who had, apparently, been put in as +a caretaker by the man of affairs. She made some difficulties to admit +that she had been in charge for the last four months; ever since the +person who was there before had eloped with some Spaniard who had been +lying in the house ill with fever for more than six weeks. No, she never +saw the person. Neither had she seen the Spaniard. She had only heard +the talk of the street. Of course she didn't know where these people had +gone. She manifested some impatience to get rid of Monsieur George and +even attempted to push him towards the door. It was, he says, a very +funny experience. He noticed the feeble flame of the gas-jet in the hall +still waiting for extinction in the general collapse of the world. + +Then he decided to have a bit of dinner at the Restaurant de la Gare +where he felt pretty certain he would not meet any of his friends. He +could not have asked Madame Leonore for hospitality because Madame +Leonore had gone away already. His acquaintances were not the sort of +people likely to happen casually into a restaurant of that kind and +moreover he took the precaution to seat himself at a small table so as to +face the wall. Yet before long he felt a hand laid gently on his +shoulder, and, looking up, saw one of his acquaintances, a member of the +Royalist club, a young man of a very cheerful disposition but whose face +looked down at him with a grave and anxious expression. + +Monsieur George was far from delighted. His surprise was extreme when in +the course of the first phrases exchanged with him he learned that this +acquaintance had come to the station with the hope of finding him there. + +"You haven't been seen for some time," he said. "You were perhaps +somewhere where the news from the world couldn't reach you? There have +been many changes amongst our friends and amongst people one used to hear +of so much. There is Madame de Lastaola for instance, who seems to have +vanished from the world which was so much interested in her. You have no +idea where she may be now?" + +Monsieur George remarked grumpily that he couldn't say. + +The other tried to appear at ease. Tongues were wagging about it in +Paris. There was a sort of international financier, a fellow with an +Italian name, a shady personality, who had been looking for her all over +Europe and talked in clubs--astonishing how such fellows get into the +best clubs--oh! Azzolati was his name. But perhaps what a fellow like +that said did not matter. The funniest thing was that there was no man +of any position in the world who had disappeared at the same time. A +friend in Paris wrote to him that a certain well-known journalist had +rushed South to investigate the mystery but had returned no wiser than he +went. + +Monsieur George remarked more unamiably than before that he really could +not help all that. + +"No," said the other with extreme gentleness, "only of all the people +more or less connected with the Carlist affair you are the only one that +had also disappeared before the final collapse." + +"What!" cried Monsieur George. + +"Just so," said the other meaningly. "You know that all my people like +you very much, though they hold various opinions as to your discretion. +Only the other day Jane, you know my married sister, and I were talking +about you. She was extremely distressed. I assured her that you must be +very far away or very deeply buried somewhere not to have given a sign of +life under this provocation." + +Naturally Monsieur George wanted to know what it was all about; and the +other appeared greatly relieved. + +"I was sure you couldn't have heard. I don't want to be indiscreet, I +don't want to ask you where you were. It came to my ears that you had +been seen at the bank to-day and I made a special effort to lay hold of +you before you vanished again; for, after all, we have been always good +friends and all our lot here liked you very much. Listen. You know a +certain Captain Blunt, don't you?" + +Monsieur George owned to knowing Captain Blunt but only very slightly. +His friend then informed him that this Captain Blunt was apparently well +acquainted with Madame de Lastaola, or, at any rate, pretended to be. He +was an honourable man, a member of a good club, he was very Parisian in a +way, and all this, he continued, made all the worse that of which he was +under the painful necessity of warning Monsieur George. This Blunt on +three distinct occasions when the name of Madame de Lastaola came up in +conversation in a mixed company of men had expressed his regret that she +should have become the prey of a young adventurer who was exploiting her +shamelessly. He talked like a man certain of his facts and as he +mentioned names . . . + +"In fact," the young man burst out excitedly, "it is your name that he +mentions. And in order to fix the exact personality he always takes care +to add that you are that young fellow who was known as Monsieur George +all over the South amongst the initiated Carlists." + +How Blunt had got enough information to base that atrocious calumny upon, +Monsieur George couldn't imagine. But there it was. He kept silent in +his indignation till his friend murmured, "I expect you will want him to +know that you are here." + +"Yes," said Monsieur George, "and I hope you will consent to act for me +altogether. First of all, pray, let him know by wire that I am waiting +for him. This will be enough to fetch him down here, I can assure you. +You may ask him also to bring two friends with him. I don't intend this +to be an affair for Parisian journalists to write paragraphs about." + +"Yes. That sort of thing must be stopped at once," the other admitted. +He assented to Monsieur George's request that the meeting should be +arranged for at his elder brother's country place where the family stayed +very seldom. There was a most convenient walled garden there. And then +Monsieur George caught his train promising to be back on the fourth day +and leaving all further arrangements to his friend. He prided himself on +his impenetrability before Dona Rita; on the happiness without a shadow +of those four days. However, Dona Rita must have had the intuition of +there being something in the wind, because on the evening of the very +same day on which he left her again on some pretence or other, she was +already ensconced in the house in the street of the Consuls, with the +trustworthy Rose scouting all over the town to gain information. + +Of the proceedings in the walled garden there is no need to speak in +detail. They were conventionally correct, but an earnestness of purpose +which could be felt in the very air lifted the business above the common +run of affairs of honour. One bit of byplay unnoticed by the seconds, +very busy for the moment with their arrangements, must be mentioned. +Disregarding the severe rules of conduct in such cases Monsieur George +approached his adversary and addressed him directly. + +"Captain Blunt," he said, "the result of this meeting may go against me. +In that case you will recognize publicly that you were wrong. For you +are wrong and you know it. May I trust your honour?" + +In answer to that appeal Captain Blunt, always correct, didn't open his +lips but only made a little bow. For the rest he was perfectly ruthless. +If he was utterly incapable of being carried away by love there was +nothing equivocal about his jealousy. Such psychology is not very rare +and really from the point of view of the combat itself one cannot very +well blame him. What happened was this. Monsieur George fired on the +word and, whether luck or skill, managed to hit Captain Blunt in the +upper part of the arm which was holding the pistol. That gentleman's arm +dropped powerless by his side. But he did not drop his weapon. There +was nothing equivocal about his determination. With the greatest +deliberation he reached with his left hand for his pistol and taking +careful aim shot Monsieur George through the left side of his breast. +One may imagine the consternation of the four seconds and the activity of +the two surgeons in the confined, drowsy heat of that walled garden. It +was within an easy drive of the town and as Monsieur George was being +conveyed there at a walking pace a little brougham coming from the +opposite direction pulled up at the side of the road. A thickly veiled +woman's head looked out of the window, took in the state of affairs at a +glance, and called out in a firm voice: "Follow my carriage." The +brougham turning round took the lead. Long before this convoy reached +the town another carriage containing four gentlemen (of whom one was +leaning back languidly with his arm in a sling) whisked past and vanished +ahead in a cloud of white, Provencal dust. And this is the last +appearance of Captain Blunt in Monsieur George's narrative. Of course he +was only told of it later. At the time he was not in a condition to +notice things. Its interest in his surroundings remained of a hazy and +nightmarish kind for many days together. From time to time he had the +impression that he was in a room strangely familiar to him, that he had +unsatisfactory visions of Dona Rita, to whom he tried to speak as if +nothing had happened, but that she always put her hand on his mouth to +prevent him and then spoke to him herself in a very strange voice which +sometimes resembled the voice of Rose. The face, too, sometimes +resembled the face of Rose. There were also one or two men's faces which +he seemed to know well enough though he didn't recall their names. He +could have done so with a slight effort, but it would have been too much +trouble. Then came a time when the hallucinations of Dona Rita and the +faithful Rose left him altogether. Next came a period, perhaps a year, +or perhaps an hour, during which he seemed to dream all through his past +life. He felt no apprehension, he didn't try to speculate as to the +future. He felt that all possible conclusions were out of his power, and +therefore he was indifferent to everything. He was like that dream's +disinterested spectator who doesn't know what is going to happen next. +Suddenly for the first time in his life he had the soul-satisfying +consciousness of floating off into deep slumber. + +When he woke up after an hour, or a day, or a month, there was dusk in +the room; but he recognized it perfectly. It was his apartment in Dona +Rita's house; those were the familiar surroundings in which he had so +often told himself that he must either die or go mad. But now he felt +perfectly clear-headed and the full sensation of being alive came all +over him, languidly delicious. The greatest beauty of it was that there +was no need to move. This gave him a sort of moral satisfaction. Then +the first thought independent of personal sensations came into his head. +He wondered when Therese would come in and begin talking. He saw vaguely +a human figure in the room but that was a man. He was speaking in a +deadened voice which had yet a preternatural distinctness. + +"This is the second case I have had in this house, and I am sure that +directly or indirectly it was connected with that woman. She will go on +like this leaving a track behind her and then some day there will be +really a corpse. This young fellow might have been it." + +"In this case, Doctor," said another voice, "one can't blame the woman +very much. I assure you she made a very determined fight." + +"What do you mean? That she didn't want to. . . " + +"Yes. A very good fight. I heard all about it. It is easy to blame +her, but, as she asked me despairingly, could she go through life veiled +from head to foot or go out of it altogether into a convent? No, she +isn't guilty. She is simply--what she is." + +"And what's that?" + +"Very much of a woman. Perhaps a little more at the mercy of +contradictory impulses than other women. But that's not her fault. I +really think she has been very honest." + +The voices sank suddenly to a still lower murmur and presently the shape +of the man went out of the room. Monsieur George heard distinctly the +door open and shut. Then he spoke for the first time, discovering, with +a particular pleasure, that it was quite easy to speak. He was even +under the impression that he had shouted: + +"Who is here?" + +From the shadow of the room (he recognized at once the characteristic +outlines of the bulky shape) Mills advanced to the side of the bed. Dona +Rita had telegraphed to him on the day of the duel and the man of books, +leaving his retreat, had come as fast as boats and trains could carry him +South. For, as he said later to Monsieur George, he had become fully +awake to his part of responsibility. And he added: "It was not of you +alone that I was thinking." But the very first question that Monsieur +George put to him was: + +"How long is it since I saw you last?" + +"Something like ten months," answered Mills' kindly voice. + +"Ah! Is Therese outside the door? She stood there all night, you know." + +"Yes, I heard of it. She is hundreds of miles away now." + +"Well, then, ask Rita to come in." + +"I can't do that, my dear boy," said Mills with affectionate gentleness. +He hesitated a moment. "Dona Rita went away yesterday," he said softly. + +"Went away? Why?" asked Monsieur George. + +"Because, I am thankful to say, your life is no longer in danger. And I +have told you that she is gone because, strange as it may seem, I believe +you can stand this news better now than later when you get stronger." + +It must be believed that Mills was right. Monsieur George fell asleep +before he could feel any pang at that intelligence. A sort of confused +surprise was in his mind but nothing else, and then his eyes closed. The +awakening was another matter. But that, too, Mills had foreseen. For +days he attended the bedside patiently letting the man in the bed talk to +him of Dona Rita but saying little himself; till one day he was asked +pointedly whether she had ever talked to him openly. And then he said +that she had, on more than one occasion. "She told me amongst other +things," Mills said, "if this is any satisfaction to you to know, that +till she met you she knew nothing of love. That you were to her in more +senses than one a complete revelation." + +"And then she went away. Ran away from the revelation," said the man in +the bed bitterly. + +"What's the good of being angry?" remonstrated Mills, gently. "You know +that this world is not a world for lovers, not even for such lovers as +you two who have nothing to do with the world as it is. No, a world of +lovers would be impossible. It would be a mere ruin of lives which seem +to be meant for something else. What this something is, I don't know; +and I am certain," he said with playful compassion, "that she and you +will never find out." + +A few days later they were again talking of Dona Rita Mills said: + +"Before she left the house she gave me that arrow she used to wear in her +hair to hand over to you as a keepsake and also to prevent you, she said, +from dreaming of her. This message sounds rather cryptic." + +"Oh, I understand perfectly," said Monsieur George. "Don't give me the +thing now. Leave it somewhere where I can find it some day when I am +alone. But when you write to her you may tell her that now at +last--surer than Mr. Blunt's bullet--the arrow has found its mark. There +will be no more dreaming. Tell her. She will understand." + +"I don't even know where she is," murmured Mills. + +"No, but her man of affairs knows. . . . Tell me, Mills, what will become +of her?" + +"She will be wasted," said Mills sadly. "She is a most unfortunate +creature. Not even poverty could save her now. She cannot go back to +her goats. Yet who can tell? She may find something in life. She may! +It won't be love. She has sacrificed that chance to the integrity of +your life--heroically. Do you remember telling her once that you meant +to live your life integrally--oh, you lawless young pedant! Well, she is +gone; but you may be sure that whatever she finds now in life it will not +be peace. You understand me? Not even in a convent." + +"She was supremely lovable," said the wounded man, speaking of her as if +she were lying dead already on his oppressed heart. + +"And elusive," struck in Mills in a low voice. "Some of them are like +that. She will never change. Amid all the shames and shadows of that +life there will always lie the ray of her perfect honesty. I don't know +about your honesty, but yours will be the easier lot. You will always +have your . . . other love--you pig-headed enthusiast of the sea." + +"Then let me go to it," cried the enthusiast. "Let me go to it." + +He went to it as soon as he had strength enough to feel the crushing +weight of his loss (or his gain) fully, and discovered that he could bear +it without flinching. After this discovery he was fit to face anything. +He tells his correspondent that if he had been more romantic he would +never have looked at any other woman. But on the contrary. No face +worthy of attention escaped him. He looked at them all; and each +reminded him of Dona Rita, either by some profound resemblance or by the +startling force of contrast. + +The faithful austerity of the sea protected him from the rumours that fly +on the tongues of men. He never heard of her. Even the echoes of the +sale of the great Allegre collection failed to reach him. And that event +must have made noise enough in the world. But he never heard. He does +not know. Then, years later, he was deprived even of the arrow. It was +lost to him in a stormy catastrophe; and he confesses that next day he +stood on a rocky, wind-assaulted shore, looking at the seas raging over +the very spot of his loss and thought that it was well. It was not a +thing that one could leave behind one for strange hands--for the cold +eyes of ignorance. Like the old King of Thule with the gold goblet of +his mistress he would have had to cast it into the sea, before he died. +He says he smiled at the romantic notion. But what else could he have +done with it? + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ARROW OF GOLD*** + + +******* This file should be named 1083.txt or 1083.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/8/1083 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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