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diff --git a/17342-h/17342-h.htm b/17342-h/17342-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e3d3b79 --- /dev/null +++ b/17342-h/17342-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12803 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Motor Maid, by Alice Muriel Williamson and Charles Norris Williamson</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + line-height: 1.3; + } + h1,h2,h3 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + font-weight: normal; letter-spacing:2px + } + h1.pg { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + font-weight: bold; letter-spacing:0px + } + h4.pg { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + font-weight: bold; letter-spacing:0px + } + hr { + width:35%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + hr.major { width:75%; } + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 8%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + right: 0%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption { text-align:center; font-style: italic; } + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .ind2 {margin-left: 2em; } + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem .i0 {display: block; margin: 0 0 0 0.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem .i2 {display: block; margin: 0 0 0 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem .i4 {display: block; margin: 0 0 0 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + hr.full { width: 100%; } + pre {font-size: 75%;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Motor Maid, by Alice Muriel Williamson +and Charles Norris Williamson, Illustrated by F. M. Du Mond and F. +Lowenheim</h1> +<pre> +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 <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Motor Maid</p> +<p>Author: Alice Muriel Williamson and Charles Norris Williamson</p> +<p>Release Date: December 17, 2005 [eBook #17342]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MOTOR MAID***</p> +<p> </p> +<h4 class="pg">E-text prepared by David Cortesi, Suzanne Shell,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (https://www.pgdp.net/)</h4> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<h1>THE MOTOR MAID</h1> +<p> </p> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="1" style="border-collapse:collapse;"> +<tr> +<td class="center" + style="padding:1em 1em 1em 1em; border-width:3px; border-color:black;"> +<span class="smcap">books</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">C. N. and A. M. WILLIAMSON</span> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="padding:1em 1em 1em 1em; border-width:3px; border-color:black;"> +<span class="smcap">Lord Loveland Discovers America<br /> +Set in Silver<br /> +The Lightning Conductor<br /> +The Princess Passes<br /> +My Friend the Chauffeur<br /> +Lady Betty Across the Water<br /> +Rosemary in Search of a Father<br /> +The Princess Virginia<br /> +The Car of Destiny<br /> +The Chaperon</span> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<hr class="major" /> + +<div class="center"> +<a name="image1" title="image1"></a> +<a href="images/frontispL.jpg"> + <img src="images/frontisp.jpg" width="392" height="600" + alt="We raced along a clear road..." + title="We raced along a clear road..." /> +</a> +<p class="caption"> +“We raced along a clear road, the Etang shimmering blue +before us” +</p> +</div> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<table border="1" style="border-collapse:collapse;margin-top:40px;"> +<tr style="border-style:double; border-width:8px; border-color:black;"> + <td > +<div style="text-align:center; font-size:xx-large;padding:0.5em;"> +<span class="smcap">the</span><br /> +MOTOR MAID +</div> + </td> +</tr> +<tr style="border-style:double double solid double; border-width:8px 8px 4px 8px; border-color:black;"> + <td> +<div style="text-align:center;font-size:large;padding:0.5em"> +<i>By</i> C. N. <span class="smcap">and</span> A. M. WILLIAMSON +</div> + </td> +</tr> +<tr style="border-style:solid double double double; border-width:4px 8px 8px 8px; border-color:black;"> + <td> +<div style="text-align:center;letter-spacing:1px;margin-top:0.5em;"> +Author of "Lord Loveland Discovers America," +"My Friend the Chauffeur," "The Princess Virginia," etc. +</div> +<div style="margin:2em auto 2em auto;text-align:center;"> +<img src="images/furbelow.png" + alt="typographical flourish" + title="typographical flourish" +/> +</div> +<div style="text-align:center;letter-spacing:1px;margin-bottom:3em;"> +<span class="smcap">With Four Illustrations in Color</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">By F. M. Du MOND and F. LOWENHEIM</span> +</div> + </td> +</tr> +<tr style="border-style:double; border-width:8px; border-color:black;"> + <td> +<div style="text-align:center;font-size:large;margin:0.5em auto 0.5em auto;"> +A. L. BURT COMPANY +</div> +<div style="font-variant:small-caps;padding-bottom:30px;position:relative;"> +<span style="position:absolute; left:5%;">Publishers</span> +<span style="position:absolute; right:5%;">New York</span> +</div> + </td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="font-variant:small-caps; letter-spacing:1px; text-align:center;"> +all rights reserved, including that of translation<br /> +into foreign languages, including the scandinavian<br /> +<br /> +copyright, 1910, by doubleday, page & company<br /> +published, august, 1910<br /> +<br /> +the country life press, garden city, n.y. +</div> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div class="center"> +TO THE<br /> +THREE GERTRUDES +</div> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> +<table border="0"> +<tr> + <td> +"We raced along a clear road, the Etang shimmering +blue before us" + </td> + <td style="vertical-align:bottom;text-align:right;"> +<i><a href="#image1">Frontispiece</a></i> + </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td style="padding-top:1em;"> </td> + <td style="vertical-align:bottom;text-align:right;"> +<span class="smcap">facing page</span> + </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td> +"While I wrestled ... with a bodice as snug as the head of a drum, +the lord of all it contained appeared in the doorway" + </td> + <td style="vertical-align:bottom;text-align:right;"> +<a href="#image2">48</a> + </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td style="padding-top:1em;"> +"It took half an hour to dig the car out, and push her up from the hollow +where the snow lay thickest" + </td> + <td style="vertical-align:bottom;text-align:right;"> +<a href="#image3">272</a> + </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td style="padding-top:1em;"> +"Jack's hand, inside Mr. Stokes's beautiful, tall collar, +shook Bertie back and forth till his teeth +chattered like castanets" + </td> + <td style="vertical-align:bottom;text-align:right;"> +<a href="#image4">328</a> + </td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<div> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII</a> +</div> + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + + +<p>One hears of people whose hair turned white in a +single night. Last night I thought mine was +turning. I had a creepy feeling in the roots, +which seemed to crawl all the way down inside each separate +hair, wriggling as it went. I suppose you couldn't +have nervous prostration of the hair? I worried dreadfully, +it kept on so long; and my hair is so fair it would be +almost a temptation for it, in an emergency, to take the +one short step from gold to silver. I didn't dare switch +on the light in the <i>wagon-lit</i> and peep at my pocket-book +mirror (which reflects one's features in sections of a square +inch, giving the survey of one's whole face quite a panorama +effect) for fear I might wake up the Bull Dog.</p> + +<p>I've spelt him with capitals, after mature deliberation, +because it would be nothing less than <i>lèse majesté</i> to fob +him off with little letters about the size of his two lower +eye-tusks, or chin-molars, or whatever one ought to call +them.</p> + +<p>He was on the floor, you see, keeping guard over his +mistress's shoes; and he might have been misguided +enough to think I had designs on them—though what +I could have used them for, unless I'd been going to +Venice and wanting a private team of gondolas, I can't +imagine.</p> + +<p>I being in the upper berth, you might (if you hadn't seen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> +him) have fancied me safe; but already he had once +padded half-way up the step-ladder, and sniffed at me +speculatively, as if I were a piece of meat on the top shelf +of a larder; and if half-way up, why not all the way up? +<i>Il était capable du tout.</i></p> + +<p>I tried to distract my mind and focus it hard on other +things, as Christian Scientists tell you to do when you +have a pin sticking into your body for which <i>les convenances</i> +forbid you to make an exhaustive search.</p> + +<p>I lay on my back with my eyes shut, trying not to hear +any of the sounds in the <i>wagon-lit</i> (and they were not +confined to the snoring of His Majesty), thinking +desperately. "I will concentrate all my mentality," +said I to myself, "on thoughts beginning with P, for +instance. My Past. Paris. Pamela."</p> + +<p>Just for a few minutes it was comparatively easy. +"Dear Past!" I sighed, with a great sigh which for divers +reasons I was sure couldn't be heard beyond my own +berth. (And though I try always even to <i>think</i> in English, +I find sometimes that the words group themselves in my +head in the old patterns—according to French idioms.) +"Dear Past, how thou wert kind and sweet! How it is +brutalizing to turn my back upon thee and thy charms +forever!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my goodness, I shall certainly die!" squeaked a +voice in the berth underneath; and then there was a sound +of wallowing.</p> + +<p>She (my stable-companion, shall I call her?) had been +giving vent to all sorts of strange noises at intervals, for a +long time, so that it would have been hopeless to try and +drown my sorrows in sleep.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>Away went the Gentle Past with a bump, as if it had +knocked against a snag in the current of my thoughts.</p> + +<p>Paris or Pamela instead, then! or both together, since +they seem inseparable, even when Pamela is at her most +American, and tells me to "talk United States."</p> + +<p>It was all natural to think of Pamela, because it was +she who gave me the ticket for the <i>train de luxe</i>, and my +berth in the <i>wagon-lit</i>. If it hadn't been for Pamela I +should at this moment have been crawling slowly, cheaply, +down Riviera-ward in a second-class train, sitting bolt +upright in a second-class carriage with smudges on my +nose, while perhaps some second-class child shed jammy +crumbs on my frock, and its second-class baby sister +howled.</p> + +<p>"Oh, why did I leave my peaceful home?" wailed the +lady in the lower berth.</p> + +<p>Heaven alone (unless it were the dog) knew why she +had, and knew how heartily I wished she hadn't. A +good thing Cerberus was on guard, or I might have +dropped a pillow accidentally on her head!</p> + +<p>Just then I wasn't thanking Pamela for her generosity. +The second-class baby's mamma would have given it a +bottle to keep it still; but there was nothing I could give +the fat old lady; and she had already resorted to the +bottle (something in the way of patent medicine) without +any good result. Yet, <i>was</i> there nothing I could give her?</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm dying, I <i>know</i> I'm dying, and nobody +cares! I shall choke to death!" she gurgled.</p> + +<p>It was too much. I could stand it and the terrible +atmosphere no longer. I suppose, if I had been an early +Christian martyr, waiting for my turn to be devoured<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +might have so got on my nerves eventually that I +would have thrown myself into the arena out of sheer +spite at the lions, and then tried my best to disagree +with them.</p> + +<p>Anyway, Bull Dog or no Bull Dog, having made a light, +I slid down from my berth—no thanks to the step-ladder—dangled +a few wild seconds in the air, and then +offering—yes, offering my stockinged feet to the Minotaur, +I poked my head into the lower berth.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do?" gasped its occupant, +<i>la grosse femme</i> whose fault it would be if my hair did +change from the gold of a louis to the silver of a mere +franc.</p> + +<p>"You say you're stifling," I reminded her, politely +but firmly, and my tone was like the lull before a storm.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but——" We were staring into each other's +eyes, and—could I believe my sense of touch, or was it +mercifully blunted? It seemed that the monster on the +floor was gently licking my toes with a tongue like a +huge slice of pink ham, instead of chewing them to the +bone. But there are creatures which do that to their +victims, I've heard, by way of making it easier to swallow +them, later.</p> + +<p>"You also said no one cared," I went on, courageously. +"<i>I</i> care—for myself as well as for you. As for what +I'm going to do—I'm going to do several things. First, +open the window, and then—<i>then I'm going to undress you</i>."</p> + +<p>"You must be mad!" gasped the lady, who was +English. Oh, but more English than any one else I ever +saw in my life.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>"Not yet," said I, as I darted at the thick blind she had +drawn down over the window, and let it fly up with a +snap. I then opened the window itself, a few inches, and +in floated a perfumed breath of the soft April air for +which our bereaved lungs had been longing. The breeze +fluttered round my head like a benediction until I felt that +the ebbing tide of gold had turned, and was flowing into +my back hair again.</p> + +<p>"No wonder you're dying, madam," I exclaimed, +switching the heat-lever to "Froid." "So was I, but +being merely an Upper Berth, with no rights, I was suffering +in silence. I watched you turn the heat full on, and shut +the window tight. I saw you go to bed in <i>all</i> your clothes, +which looked terribly thick, and cover yourself up with +both your blankets; but I said nothing, because you were +a Lower Berth, and older than I am. I thought maybe +you <i>wanted</i> a Turkish Bath. But since you don't—I'll +try and save you from apoplexy, if it isn't too late."</p> + +<p>I fumbled with brooches and buttons, with hooks and +eyes. It was even worse than I'd supposed. The +creature's conception of a travelling costume <i>en route</i> +for the South of France consisted of a heavy tweed dress, +two gray knitted stay-bodices, one pink Jaeger chemise, +and a couple of red flannel petticoats. My investigations +went no further; but, encouraged in my rescue work +by spasmodic gestures on the part of the patient, and +forbearance on the part of the dog, I removed several +superfluous layers of wool. One blanket went to the +floor, where it was accepted in the light of a gift by His +Majesty, and the other was returned to its owner.</p> + +<p>"Now are you better, madam?" I asked, panting with +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>long and well-earned breaths. She reposed on an elbow, +gazing up at me as at a surgeon who has performed a +painful but successful operation; and she was an object +<i>pour faire rire</i>, the poor lady!</p> + +<p>She wore an old-fashioned false front of hair, "sunning +over with curls" (brown ones, of a brown never seen on +land or sea), and a pair of spectacles, pushed up in an +absent-minded moment, were entangled in its waves. +Her face, which was large, with a knot of tiny features in +the middle, shone red with heat and excitement. She +would have had the look of an elderly child, if it hadn't +been for her bright, shrewd little eyes, which twinkled +observantly—and might sparkle with temper. Nobody +who was not rich and important would dare to dress as +badly as she did. Altogether she was a figure of fun. +Indeed, I couldn't help feeling what quaint mantelpiece +ornaments she and her dog would make. Yet, for some +reason, I didn't feel inclined to laugh, and I eyed her as +solemnly as she eyed me. As for His Majesty, I began +to see that I had misunderstood him. After all, he had +never, from the first, regarded me as an eatable.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I <i>am</i> better," replied His Majesty's mistress. +"People have always told me it came on treacherously +cold at night in France, so I prepared accordingly. I +suppose I ought to thank you. In fact, I do thank +you."</p> + +<p>"I acted for myself as much as for you," I confessed. +"It was so hot, and you were suffering out loud."</p> + +<p>"I have never travelled at night before," the lady +defended herself. "Indeed, I've made a point of travelling +as little as possible, except by carriage. I don't +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>consider trains a means of conveyance for gentlefolk. +They seem well enough for cattle who may not mind +being herded together."</p> + +<p>"Or for dogs," I suggested.</p> + +<p>"Nothing is too good for Beau—my <i>only</i> Beau!" (at +this I did not wonder). "But I wouldn't have moved +without him. He's as necessary to me as my conscience. +I was afraid the guard was going to make a +fuss about him, which would have been awkward, as I +can't speak a word of French, or any other silly language +into which Latin has degenerated. But luckily English +gold doesn't need to be translated."</p> + +<p>"It loses in translation," said I, amused. I sat down +on my bag as I spoke, and timorously invited Beau +(never was name less appropriate) to be patted. He arose +from the blanket and accepted my overtures with an +expression which may have been intended for a smile, +or a threat of the most appalling character. I have +seen such legs as his on old-fashioned silver teapots; +and the crook in his tail would have made it useful +as a door-knocker.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I ever saw him take so to a stranger," +exclaimed his mistress, suddenly beaming.</p> + +<p>"I wonder you risked him with me in such close +quarters then," said I. "Wouldn't it have been safer if +you'd had your maid in the compartment with you——"</p> + +<p>"My maid? My tyrant!" snorted the old lady. +"She's the one creature on earth I am afraid of, and she +knows it. When we got to Dover, and she saw the +Channel wobbling about a little, she said it was a great +nasty wet thing, and she wouldn't go on it. When I +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>insisted, she showed symptoms of seasickness; and in +consequence she is waiting for me in Dover till I finish +the business that's taking me to Italy. I had no more +experience than she, but I had <i>courage</i>. It's perhaps a +question of class. Servants consider only themselves. +You, too, I see, have courage. I was inclined to think +poorly of you when you first came in, and to wish +I'd been extravagant enough to take the two beds for +myself, because I thought you were afraid of Beau. Yet +now you're patting him."</p> + +<p>"I <i>was</i> rather afraid at first," I admitted. "I never met +an English bull dog socially before."</p> + +<p>"They're more angels than dogs. Their one interest in +life is love—for their friends; and they wouldn't +hurt a fly."</p> + +<p>"Larger game would be more in their way, I should +think," said I. "But I'm glad he likes me. I like to +be liked. It makes me feel more at home in life."</p> + +<p>"H'm! That's a funny idea!" remarked the old +lady. "'At home in life!' You've made yourself pretty +well at home in this <i>wagon-lit</i>, anyhow, taking off all your +clothes and putting on your nightgown. I should never +have thought of that. It seems hardly decent. Suppose +we should be killed."</p> + +<p>"Most people do try to die in their nightgowns, when +you come to think of it," said I.</p> + +<p>"Well, you have a quaint way of putting things. +There's something very original about you, my dear +young woman. I thought you were mysterious at first, +but I believe it's only the effect of originality."</p> + +<p>"I don't know which I'd rather be," I said, "original +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>or mysterious, if I couldn't afford both. But I'm not +a young woman."</p> + +<p>"Goodness!" exclaimed the old lady, wrinkling up +her eyes to stare at me. "I may be pretty blind, but it +can't be make-up."</p> + +<p>I laughed. "I mean <i>je suis jeune fille</i>. I'm not a +young woman. I'm a young girl."</p> + +<p>"Dear me, is there any difference?"</p> + +<p>"There is in France."</p> + +<p>"I'm not surprised at queer ideas in France, or any +other foreign country, where I've always understood that +<i>anything</i> may happen. Why can't everybody be English? +It would be so much more simple. But you're not +French, are you?"</p> + +<p>"Half of me is."</p> + +<p>"And what's the other half, if I may ask?"</p> + +<p>"American. My father was French, my mother American."</p> + +<p>"No wonder you don't always feel at home in life, +divided up like that!" she chuckled. "It must be so +upsetting."</p> + +<p>"Everything is upsetting with me lately," I said.</p> + +<p>"With me too, if it comes to that—or would be, if it +weren't for Beau. What a pity you haven't got a Beau, +my dear."</p> + +<p>I smiled, because (in the Americanized sense of the +word) I had one, and was running away from him as +fast as I could. But the thought of Monsieur Charretier +as a "beau" made me want to giggle hysterically.</p> + +<p>"You say 'was,' when you speak of your father and +mother," went on the old lady, with childlike curiosity, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>which I was encouraging by not going back to bed. +"Does that mean that you've lost them?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said.</p> + +<p>"And lately?"</p> + +<p>"My father died when I was sixteen, my mother left +me two years ago."</p> + +<p>"You don't look more than nineteen now."</p> + +<p>"I'm nearly twenty-one."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't mean to catechize you, though one +certainly must get friendly—or the other way—I +suppose, penned up in a place like this all night. And +you've really been very kind to me. Although you're +a pretty girl, as you must know, I didn't think at first +I was going to like you so much."</p> + +<p>"And I didn't you," I retorted, laughing, because I +really did begin to like the queer old lady now, and was +glad I hadn't dropped a pillow on her head.</p> + +<p>"That's right. Be frank. I like frankness. Do +you know, I believe you and I would get on very well +together if our acquaintance was going to be continued? +If Beau approves of a person, I let myself go."</p> + +<p>"You use him as if he were a barometer."</p> + +<p>"There you are again, with your funny ideas! I shall +remember that one, and bring it out as if it were my +<i>own</i>. I consider myself quite lucky to have got you for a +travelling companion. It's such a comfort to hear English +again, and talk it, after having to converse by gesture—except +with Beau. I hope you're going on to Italy?"</p> + +<p>"No. I'm getting off at Cannes."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry. But I suppose you're glad?"</p> + +<p>"Not particularly," said I.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>"I've always heard that Cannes was gay."</p> + +<p>"It won't be for me."</p> + +<p>"Your relations there don't go out much?"</p> + +<p>"I've no relations in Cannes. Aren't you tired now, +and wouldn't you like me to make you a little more +comfortable?"</p> + +<p>"Does that mean that <i>you're</i> tired of answering questions? +I haven't meant to be rude."</p> + +<p>"You haven't been," I assured her. "You're very +kind to take an interest."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, I'm <i>not</i> tired, and I <i>wouldn't</i> like to be +made more comfortable. I'm very well as I am. Do +you want to go to sleep?"</p> + +<p>"I want to, but I know I can't. I'm getting hungry. +Are you?"</p> + +<p>"Getting? I've <i>got</i>. If Simpkins were here I'd +have her make us tea, in my tea-basket."</p> + +<p>"I'll make it if you like," I volunteered.</p> + +<p>"A French—a half French—girl make tea?"</p> + +<p>"It's the American half that knows how."</p> + +<p>"You look too ornamental to be useful. But you +can try."</p> + +<p>I did try, and succeeded. It was rather fun, and never +did tea taste so delicious. There were biscuits to go +with it, which Beau shared; and I do wish that people +(other people) were obliged to make faces when they +eat, such as Beau has to make, because if so, one could +add a new interest to life by inviting even the worst +bores to dinner.</p> + +<p>I was fascinated with his contortions, and I did not +attempt to conceal my sudden change of opinion +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>concerning Beau as a companion. When I had humbly +invited him to drink out of my saucer, which I held from +high tide to low, I saw that my conquest of his mistress +was complete. Already we had exchanged names, as +well as some confidences. I knew that she was Miss +Paget, and she knew that I was Lys d'Angely; but after +the tea-drinking episode she became doubly friendly.</p> + +<p>She told me that, owing to an unforeseen circumstance +(partly, even largely, connected with Beau) which had +caused a great upheaval in her life, she had now not a +human being belonging to her, except her maid Simpkins, +of whom she would like to get rid if only she knew how.</p> + +<p>"Talk of the Old Man of the Sea!" she sighed. "<i>He</i> +was an afternoon caller compared with Simpkins. She's +been on my back for twenty years. I suppose she will +be for another twenty, unless I slam the door of the family +vault in her face."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't Beau help you?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Even Beau is powerless against her. She has +hypnotized him with marrow bones."</p> + +<p>"You've escaped from her for the present," I suggested. +"She's on the other side of the Channel. Now +is your time to be bold."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but I can't stop out of England for ever, and I +tell you she's waiting for me at Dover. A relative (a +very eccentric one, and quite different from the rest of +us, or he wouldn't have made his home abroad) has left +me a house in Italy, some sort of old castle, I believe—so +unsuitable! I'm going over to see about selling it +for I've no one to trust but myself, owing to the circumstances +of which I spoke. I want to get back as soon as +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>possible—I hope in a few weeks, though how I shall +manage without any Italian, heaven may know—I +don't! Do you speak it?"</p> + +<p>"A little."</p> + +<p>"Well, I wish I could have you with me. You'd make +a splendid companion for an old woman like me: young, +good to look at, energetic (or you wouldn't be travelling +about alone), brave (conquered your fear of Beau), +accomplished (three languages, and goodness knows what +besides!), presence of mind (the way you whisked my +clothes off), handy (I never tasted better tea)—altogether +you sum up ideally. What a pity you're rich, +and out of the market!"</p> + +<p>"If I look rich my appearance must be more distinguished +than I supposed—and it's also very deceiving," +said I.</p> + +<p>"You're rich enough to travel for pleasure in <i>wagon-lits</i>, +and have silver-fitted bags."</p> + +<p>"I'm not travelling for pleasure. You exaggerate +my bags and my <i>wagon-lits</i>, for I've only one of each; +and both were given me by a friend who was at the Convent +with me."</p> + +<p>"The Convent! Good heavens! are you an escaping nun?"</p> + +<p>I laughed. "I went to school at a Convent. That +was when I thought I <i>was</i> going to be rich—at least, +rich enough to be like other girls. And if I <i>am</i> 'escaping' +from something, it isn't from the arms of religion."</p> + +<p>"If you're not rich, and aren't going to relatives, why +not take an engagement with me? Come, I'm in earnest. +I always make up my mind suddenly, if it's anything +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>important, and hardly ever regret it. I'm sure we should +suit. You've got no nonsense about you."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes I have, lots!" I broke in. "That's all +I have left—that, and my sense of humour. But +seriously, you're very kind—to take me on faith like this—especially +when you began by thinking me mysterious. +I'd accept thankfully, only—I'm engaged already."</p> + +<p>"To be married, I suppose you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Thank heaven, no! To a Princess."</p> + +<p>"Dear me, one would think you were a man hater!"</p> + +<p>"So I am, a <i>one</i>-man hater. What Simpkins is to you, +that man is to me. And that's why I'm on my way +to Cannes to be the companion of the Princess Boriskoff, +who's said to be rather deaf and very quick-tempered, as +well as elderly and a great invalid. She sheds her paid +companions as a tree sheds its leaves in winter. I hear +that Europe is strewn with them."</p> + +<p>"Nice prospect for you!"</p> + +<p>"Isn't it? But beggars mustn't be choosers."</p> + +<p>"You don't look much like a beggar."</p> + +<p>"Because I can make my own dresses and hats—and +nightgowns."</p> + +<p>"Well, if your Princess sheds you, let me know, and +you may live yet to deliver me from Simpkins. I feel +you'd be equal to it! My address is—but I'll give +you a card." And, burrowing under her pillow, she +unearthed a fat handbag from which, after some fumbling, +she presented me with a visiting-card, enamelled in an +old-fashioned way. I read: "Miss Paget, 34a Eaton +Square. Broomlands House, Surrey."</p> + +<p>"Now you're not to lose that," she impressed upon +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>me. "Write if you're scattered over Europe by this +Russian (I never did believe much in Princesses, excepting, +of course, our <i>own</i> dear Royalties), or if you ever come +to England. Even if it's years from now, I assure you +Beau and I won't have forgotten you. As for your +address—"</p> + +<p>"I haven't any," I said. "At present I'm depending +on the Princess for one. She's at the Hotel Majestic +Palace, Cannes; but from what my friend Pam—the +Comtesse de Nesle—says, I fancy she doesn't stop long +in any town. It was the Comtesse de Nesle who got me +the place. She's the only one who knows where I'm +going, because—after a fashion, I'm running away to +be the Princess's companion."</p> + +<p>"Running away from the Man?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; also from my relatives who're sure it's my duty +to be <i>his</i> companion. So you see I can't give you their +address. I've ceased to have any right to it. And +now I really think I <i>had</i> better go back to bed."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + + +<p>At half-past ten this morning we parted, the +best of friends, and I dropped a good-bye kiss +into the deep black gorge between the promontories +of Beau's velvet forehead and plush nose.</p> + +<p>We'd had breakfast together, Miss Paget and I, to +say nothing of the dog, and I felt rather cheerful. Of +course I dreaded the Princess; but I always did like +adventures, and it appeared to me distinctly an adventure +to be a companion, even in misery. Besides, it was nice to +have come away from Monsieur Charretier, and to feel +that not only did he not know where I was, but that he +wasn't likely to find out. Poor me! I little guessed what +an adventure on a grand scale I was in for. Already this +morning seems a long time ago; a year at the Convent +used to seem shorter.</p> + +<p>I drove up to the hotel in the omnibus which was at +the station, and asked at the office for the Princess +Boriskoff. I said that I was Mademoiselle d'Angely, and +would they please send word to the Princess, because +she was expecting me.</p> + +<p>It was a young assistant manager who received me, +and he gave me a very queer, startled sort of look when +I said this, as if I were a suspicious person, and he didn't +quite know whether it would be better to answer me or +call for help.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>"I haven't made a mistake, have I?" I asked, beginning +to be anxious. "This <i>is</i> the hotel where the Princess +is staying, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"She was staying here," the youth admitted. +"But—"</p> + +<p>"Has she <i>gone</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly."</p> + +<p>"She must be either here or gone."</p> + +<p>Again he regarded me with suspicion, as if he did not +agree with my statement.</p> + +<p>"Are you a relative of the Princess?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"No, I'm engaged to be her companion."</p> + +<p>"Oh! If that is all! But perhaps, in any case, it will +be better to wait for the manager. He will be here +presently. I do not like to take the responsibility."</p> + +<p>"The responsibility of what?" I persisted, my heart +beginning to feel like a patter of rain on a tin roof.</p> + +<p>"Of telling you what has happened."</p> + +<p>"If something has happened, I can't wait to hear it. +I must know at once," I said, with visions of all sorts of +horrid things: that the Princess had decided not to have +a companion, and was going to disown me; that my +cousin Madame Milvaine had somehow found out everything; +that Monsieur Charretier had got on my track, +and was here in advance waiting to pounce upon me.</p> + +<p>"It is a thing which we do not want to have talked +about in the hotel," the young man hesitated.</p> + +<p>"I assure you I won't talk to any one. I don't know +any one to talk to."</p> + +<p>"It is very distressing, but the Princess Boriskoff died +about four o'clock this morning, of heart failure."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>"Oh!" ... I could not get out another word.</p> + +<p>"These things are not liked in hotels, even when not +contagious."</p> + +<p>The assistant manager looked gloomily at me, as if +I might be held responsible for the inconvenient event; +but still I could not speak.</p> + +<p>"Especially in the high season. It is being kept +secret. That is the custom. In some days, or less, it +will leak out, but not till the Princess has—been removed. +You will kindly not mention it, mademoiselle. This +is very bad for us."</p> + +<p>No, I would kindly not mention it, but it was worse +for me than for them. The Hotel Majestic Palace looked +rich; very, very rich. It had heaps of splendid mirrors +and curtains, and imitation Louis XVI. sofas, and everything +that a hotel needs to make it happy and successful, +while I had nothing in the world except what I stood up +in, one fitted bag, one small box, and thirty-two francs. +I didn't quite see, at first sight, what I was to do; but +neither did the assistant manager see what that had to +do with him.</p> + +<p>Once I knew a girl who was an actress, and on tour +in the country she nearly drowned herself one day. When +the star heard of it, he said: "How <i>should</i> we have +played to-night if you'd been dead—without an understudy, +too?"</p> + +<p>At this moment I knew just how the girl must have +felt when the star said that.</p> + +<p>"I—I think I must stay here a day or two, until I can—arrange +things," I managed to stammer. "Have you a +small single room disengaged?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>"We have one or two small north rooms which are +usually occupied by valets and maids," the young man +informed me. "They are twelve francs a day."</p> + +<p>"I'll take one," I replied. And then I added anxiously: +"Have any relatives of the Princess come?"</p> + +<p>"None have come; and certainly none will come, as +it would now be too late. Her death was very sudden. +The Princess's maid knows what to do. She is an elderly +woman, experienced. The suite occupied by Her Highness +will be free to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Oh! And had she no friends here?"</p> + +<p>"I do not think the Princess was a lady who made +friends. She was very proud and considered herself +above other people. Would you like to see your room, +mademoiselle? I will send some one to take you up to it. +It will be on the top floor."</p> + +<p>I was in a mood not to care if it had been on the roof, or +in the cellar. I hardly knew where I was going, as a few +minutes later a still younger youth piloted me across a +large square hall toward a lift; but I was vaguely conscious +that a good many smart-looking people were sitting +or standing about, and that they glanced at me as I went +by. I hoped dimly that I didn't appear conspicuously +pale and stricken.</p> + +<p>Just in front of the lift door a tall woman was talking +to a little man. There was an instant of delay while my +guide and I waited for them to move, and before they +realized that we were waiting.</p> + +<p>"They say the poor thing is no worse than yesterday, +however, my maid tells me—" The lady +had begun in a low, mysterious tone, but broke off +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>suddenly when it dawned upon her that she was obstructing the way.</p> + +<p>I knew instinctively <i>who</i> was the subject of the whispered +conversation, and I couldn't help fixing my eyes almost +appealingly on the tall woman; for though she was middle-aged +and not pretty, her voice was so nice and she looked +so kind that I felt a longing to have her for a friend. +She had probably been acquainted with Princess Boriskoff, +I said to myself, or she would not be talking of her now, +with bated breath, as a "poor thing."</p> + +<p>Evidently the lady had been waiting for the lift to come +down, for when my guide rang and it descended she took +a step forward, giving a friendly little nod to her companion, +and saying, "Well, I must go. I feel sure it's +<i>true</i> about her."</p> + +<p>Then, instead of sailing ahead of me into the lift, as she +had a perfect right to do, being much older and far more +important than I, and the first comer as well, she hesitated +with a pleasant half smile, as much as to say, "You're a +stranger. I give up my right to you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, please!" I said, stepping aside to let her pass, +which she did, making room for me to sit down beside +her on the narrow plush-covered seat. But I didn't care +to sit. I was so crushed, it seemed that, if once I sat +down I shouldn't have courage to rise up again and +wrestle with the difficulties of life.</p> + +<p>The lady got out on the second floor, throwing back a +kindly glance, as if she took a little interest in me, and +wanted me to know it. I suppose it must have been +because I was tired and nervous after a whole night +without sleep that the shock I'd just received was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>too much for me. Anyway, that kind glance made a lump +rise in my throat, and the lump forced tears into my +eyes. I looked down instantly, so that she shouldn't see +them and think me an idiot, but I was afraid she did.</p> + +<p>The young man who was taking me up to the top floor, +and treating me rather nonchalantly because I was a +North Roomer and a Twelve Francer, waved the lift boy +aside to open the door himself for the lady; so that I knew +she must be considered a person worth conciliating.</p> + +<p>Shut up in my ten-by-six-foot room, I tried to compose +myself and make plans; but to make plans on thirty-two +francs, when you've no home, and would be far from it +even if you had one; when you've nobody to help you, +and wouldn't want to ask them if you had—is about as +hard as to play the piano brilliantly without ever having +taken a lesson. With Princess Boriskoff dead, with +Pamela de Nesle sailing for New York to-morrow morning, +and no other intimate friends rich enough to do anything +for me, even if they were willing to help me fly in the face +of Providence and Madame Milvaine, it did seem (as +Pamela herself would say) as though I were rather "up +against it."</p> + +<p>The thought of Miss Paget suddenly jumped into my +head, and the wish that, somehow, I had kept her up my +sleeve as a last resort, in case she really were in earnest +about her offer. But she hadn't told me where she was +going in Italy, and it would be of no use writing to one +of her English addresses, as I couldn't stop on where I was, +waiting for an answer.</p> + +<p>Altogether things were very bad with me.</p> + +<p>After I had sat down and thought for a while, I rang, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>and asked for the housekeeper. A hint or two revealed +that she was aware of what had happened, and, explaining +that I was to have been Princess Boriskoff's companion, I +said that I must see the Princess's maid. She must come +to my room. I must have a talk with her.</p> + +<p>Presently, after an interval which may have been meant +to emphasize her dignity, appeared a pale, small Russian +woman whose withered face was as tragic and remote from +the warmth of daily life as that of the eldest Fate.</p> + +<p>She could speak French, and we talked together. Yes, +her mistress had died very suddenly, but she and the +doctors had always known that it might happen so, at any +moment. It was hard for me, but—what would you? +Life was hard. It might have been that I would have +found life hard with Her Highness. What was to be, +would be. I must write to my friends. It was not in her +power to do anything for me. Her Highness had left +no instructions. These things happened. Well! one +made the best of them. There was nothing more to say.</p> + +<p>So we said nothing more, and the woman moved away +silently, as if to funeral music, to prepare for her journey +to Russia. I—went down to luncheon.</p> + +<p>One always does go down to luncheon while one is still +inclined to keep up appearances before oneself; but the +restaurant was large and terribly magnificent, with a +violent rose-coloured carpet, and curtains which made me, +in my frightened pallor, with my pale yellow hair and my +gray travelling dress, feel like a poor little underground +celery-stalk flung into a sunlit strawberry-bed, amid a +great humming of bees.</p> + +<p>The vast rosy sea was thickly dotted with many small +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>table-islands that glittered appetizingly with silver and +glass; but I could not have afforded to acknowledge an +appetite even if I'd had one.</p> + +<p>My conversation with the Russian woman had made +me rather late. Most of the islands were inhabited, and +as I was piloted past them by a haughty head waiter I +heard people talking about golf, tennis, croquet, bridge, +reminding me that I was in a place devoted to the pursuit of +pleasure.</p> + +<p>The most desirable islands were next the windows, +therefore the one at which I dropped anchor (for I'd +changed from a celery-stalk into a little boat now) was +exactly in the middle of the room, with no view save of +faces and backs of heads.</p> + +<p>One of the faces was that of the lady who had gone up +with me in the lift; and now and then, from across the +distance that separated us, I saw her glance at me. She +sat alone at a table that had beautiful roses on it, and she +read a book as she ate.</p> + +<p>One ordered here <i>à la carte</i>: there was no <i>déjeuner à +prix fixe</i>; and it took courage to tell a waiter who looked +like a weary young duke that I would have <i>consommé</i> and +bread, with nothing, no, <i>nothing</i> to follow.</p> + +<p>Oh! the look he gave me, as if I had annexed the table +under false pretences!</p> + +<p>Suddenly the chorus of an American song ran with +mocking echoes through my brain. I had heard Pamela +sing it at the Convent:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">The waiter roared it through the hall:</p> +<p class="i0">"We don't give bread with <i>one</i> fish-ball!</p> +<p class="i0">We-don't-<i>give</i>-bread with one fish-<i>ba-a-ll</i>!"</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>I half expected some such crushing protest, and it was +only when the weary duke had turned his back, presumably +to execute my order, that I sank into my chair with a +sigh of relief after strain.</p> + +<p>Just at that moment I met the eye of the lady of the lift, +and when the waiter reappeared with a small cup, on a +charger large enough to have upheld the head of John the +Baptist, she looked again. In five minutes I had finished +the <i>consommé</i>, and it became painful to linger. Rising, +I made for the door, which seemed a mile away, and I did +not lift my head in passing the table where the lady sat +behind her roses. I heard a rustling as I went by, however, +a crisp rustling like flower-leaves whispering in a breeze, +or a woman's silk ruffles stroking each other, which followed +me out into the hall.</p> + +<p>Then the pleasant voice I had heard near the lift spoke +behind me:</p> + +<p>"Won't you have your coffee with me in the garden?"</p> + +<p>I could hardly believe at first that it was for me the +invitation was intended, but turning with a little start, I +saw it repeated in a pair of gentle gray eyes set rather +wide apart in a delicate, colourless face.</p> + +<p>"Oh! thank you!" I hesitated. "I—"</p> + +<p>"Do forgive me," went on the lady, "but your face +interested me this morning, and as we're all rather curious +about strangers—we idle ones here—I took the liberty +of asking the manager who you were. He told me—"</p> + +<p>"About the Princess?" I asked, when she paused as if +slightly embarrassed.</p> + +<p>"He told me that you said you had come to Cannes to be +her companion. He didn't tell me she was dead, poor +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>woman, but—there are some things one knows by +instinct, by intuition, aren't there? And then—I +couldn't help seeing, or perhaps only imagining, that you +looked sad and worried. You are very young, and are +here all alone, and so—I thought perhaps you wouldn't +mind my speaking to you?"</p> + +<p>"I'm very grateful," I said, "for your interest. And +it's so good of you to ask me to have coffee with you." +(I was almost sure, too, that she had hurried away in +the midst of her luncheon to do this deed of kindness.)</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, after all, you'll come with me to my own +sitting-room," she suggested. "We can talk more quietly +there; and though the garden's quite lovely, it's rather +too glaring at this time of day."</p> + +<p>We went up in the lift together, and the moment she +opened the door of her sitting-room I saw that she had +contrived to make it look like herself. She talked only +about her books and photographs and flowers until the +coffee had come, and we seemed better acquainted. Then +she told me that she was Lady Kilmarny—"Irish in +every drop in her veins"; and presently set herself to +draw me out.</p> + +<p>I began by making up my mind not to pour forth all +my troubles, lest she should think that I wanted to take +advantage of her kindness and sponge upon her for help; +but she was irresistible, as only a true Irishwoman can be, +and the first thing I knew, I had emptied my heart of +its worries.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + + +<p>"You will have to go back to the cousins you've +been living with in Paris," pronounced Lady +Kilmarny. "You're much too young and +pretty to be <i>anywhere</i> alone."</p> + +<p>"I can't go on living with them unless I promise to +marry Monsieur Charretier," I explained. "I'd rather +scrub floors than marry Monsieur Charretier."</p> + +<p>"You'd never finish one floor. The second would +finish you. I thought French girls—well, then, <i>half</i> +French girls—usually let their people arrange their +marriages."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I'm not usual. I <i>hope</i> Monsieur Charretier isn't."</p> + +<p>"Is he such a monster?"</p> + +<p>"He is fat, especially in all the places he oughtn't to +be fat. And old. But worse than his <i>embonpoint</i> and +his nose, he made his money in—you could never guess."</p> + +<p>"I see by your face, my poor child: it was Liver Pills."</p> + +<p>"Something far more dreadful."</p> + +<p>"Are there lower depths?"</p> + +<p>"There are—Corn Plasters."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear, you are <i>quite</i> right! You couldn't marry him."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>"Thank you so much! Then, I can't go back to my +cousins. They—they take Monsieur Charretier +seriously. I think they even take his plasters—gratuitously."</p> + +<p>"Is he so very rich?"</p> + +<p>"But disgustingly rich. He has an awful, bulbous +new château in the country, with dozens of incredibly +high-powered motor-cars; and in the most expensive +part of Paris a huge apartment wriggling from floor to +ceiling with <i>Nouveau Art</i>. The girl who marries him will +have to be smeared with diamonds, and know the most +appalling people. In fact, she'll have to be a kind of +walking, pictorial advertisement for the success of Charretier's +Corn Plasters."</p> + +<p>"He must know some nice people, since he knows +relations of yours."</p> + +<p>"Thank you for the compliment, which I hope you +pay me on circumstantial evidence. But it's deceiving. +My mother, I believe, was the only nice person in her +family. These cousins, husband and wife, brought +mamma to Europe to live with them when she was a young +girl, quite rich and an orphan. They were furious when +she fell in love with papa, who was only a lieutenant with +nothing but a very old name, the ruins of a castle that +tourists paid francs to see, and a ramshackle house in +Paris almost too dilapidated to let. It was a mere detail +to them that he happened to be one of the best-looking and +most agreeable young men in the world. They did nothing +but say, 'I told you so!' for years, whenever anything +disastrous happened—as it constantly did, for poor +papa and mamma loved each other so much, and had so +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>much fun, that they couldn't have time to be business-like. +My cousins thought everything mamma did was +a madness—such as sending me to the most fashionable +convent school in France. As if I hadn't to be educated! +And then, when the castle fell so to bits that tourists +wouldn't bother with it any more, and nobody but rats +would live in the Paris house unless it was repaired—and +poor papa was killed in a horrid little Saturday-to-Monday +war of no importance (except to people whose +hearts it broke)—oh! I believe the cousins were glad! +They thought it was a judgment. That happened +years ago, when I was only fifteen, and though they've +plenty of money (more than most people in the American +colony) they didn't offer to help; and mamma would +have died sooner than ask. I had to be snatched out of +school, to find that all the beautiful dreams of being a +happy <i>débutante</i> must go by contraries. We lived in the +tumble-down house ourselves, mamma and I, and her +friends rallied round her—she was so popular and +pretty. They got her chances to give singing lessons, +and me to do translating, and painting <i>menus</i>. We were +happy again, after a while, in spite of all, and people were +so good to us! Mamma used to hold a kind of <i>salon</i>, +with all the brightest and best crowding to it, though +they got nothing but sweet biscuits, <i>vin ordinaire</i>, and +conversation—and besides, the house might have taken +a fancy to fall down on their heads any minute. It was +sporting of them to come at all!"</p> + +<p>"And the cousins. Did they come?"</p> + +<p>"Not they! They're of the society of the little Brothers +and Sisters of the Rich. Their set was quite different +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>from ours. But when mamma died nearly two years +ago, and I was alone, they did call, and Cousin Emily +offered me a home. I was to give up all my work, of +course, which she considered degrading, and was simply +to make myself useful to her as a daughter of the +house might do. That was what she <i>said</i>."</p> + +<p>"You accepted?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I didn't know her and her husband as well as +I do now; and before she died mamma begged me to go +to them, if they asked me. That was when Monsieur +Charretier came on the scene—at least, he came a few +months later, and I've had no peace since. Lately, +things were growing more and more impossible, when my +best friend, Comtesse de Nesle, came to my rescue and +found (or thought she'd found) me this engagement with +the Princess. As I told you, I simply ran away—<i>sneaked</i> +away—and came here without any one but Pamela +knowing. And now she—the Comtesse—is just sailing +for New York with her husband."</p> + +<p>"The Comtesse de Nesle—that pretty little American! +I've met her in Paris—and at the Dublin Horse Show," +exclaimed Lady Kilmarny. "Well, I wish I could take +up the rescue work where she has laid it down. I think +you are a most romantic little figure, and I'd love to +engage you as my companion, only my husband and I +are as poor as church mice. Like your father, we've +nothing but our name and a few ruins. When I come +South for my health I can't afford such luxuries as a +husband and a maid. I have to choose between them and +a private sitting-room. So you see, I can't possibly +indulge in a companion."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>People seemed to be always wanting me as one, and +then reluctantly abandoning me!</p> + +<p>"Your kindness and sympathy have helped me a lot," said I.</p> + +<p>"They won't pay your way."</p> + +<p>"I have no way. So far as I can see, I shall have to +stop in Cannes, anonymously so to speak, for the rest of +my life."</p> + +<p>"Where would you like to go, if you could choose—since +you can't go to your relations?"</p> + +<p>Again my thoughts travelled after Miss Paget, as if +she had been a fat, red will-o'-the-wisp.</p> + +<p>"To England, perhaps," I answered. "In a few weeks +from now I might be able to find a position there." +And I went on to tell, in as few words as possible, my +adventure in the railway train.</p> + +<p>"H'm!" said Lady Kilmarny. "We'll look her up in +<i>Who's Who</i>, and see if she exists. If she's anybody, +she'll be there. And <i>Who's Who</i> I always have with me, +abroad. One meets so many pretenders, it's quite +dangerous."</p> + +<p>"How can you tell I'm not one?" I asked. "Yet +you spoke to me."</p> + +<p>"Why, you're down in a kind of invisible book, called +'You're You.' It's sufficient reference for me. Besides, +if your two eyes couldn't be trusted, it would be easy to +shed you."</p> + +<p>Lady Kilmarny said this smilingly, as she found the red +book, and passed her finger down the columns of P's.</p> + +<p>"Yes, here's the name, and the two addresses on the +visiting-card. She's the Honourable Maria Paget, only +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>daughter of the late Baron Northfield. Yes, an +engagement with her would be safe, if not agreeable. But how +to get you to England?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I could go as somebody's maid," I reflected aloud.</p> + +<p>She looked at me sharply. <i>"Would</i> you do that?"</p> + +<p>"It would be better than being an advertisement for +Corn Plasters," I smiled.</p> + +<p>"Then," said Lady Kilmarny, "perhaps, after all, I +can help you. But no—I should never dare to suggest +it! The thought of a girl like you—it would be too +dreadful."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + + +<p>When my father had been extravagant, he +used to say gaily in self-defence that "one +owed something to one's ancestors." +Certainly, if it had not been for several of his ancestors, +he would not have owed so much to his contemporaries. +But in spite of their agreeable vices, or because of them, I +was brought up in the cult of ancestor worship, as +religiously as if I had been Chinese.</p> + +<p>To be a d'Angely was a privilege, in our eyes, which +not only supplied gilding for the gingerbread, but for +the most economical substitutes.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0" style="margin-left:0em;"><i>"Ne roi je suis,</i></p> +<p class="i0"><i>Ne prince aussi,</i></p> +<p class="i0"><i>Je suis le Sire d'Angely,"</i></p> +</div></div> + +<p>calmly remarked the gentleman of Louis XI.'s time, +who became famous for hanging as many retainers as he +liked, and defending his action by originating the +family motto.</p> + +<p>Mother also had ancestors who began to take +themselves seriously somewhere about the time of the +<i>Mayflower</i>, though for all we know they may have secured +their passage in the steerage.</p> + +<p>"A Courtenay can do anything," was their rather +ambiguous motto, which suggested that it might have been +started in self-defence, if not as a boast; and it (the name, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>not the motto) had been thoughtfully sandwiched in +between my Lys and my d'Angely by my sponsors in +baptism, that if necessary I might ever have an excuse at +hand for any dark deed or infra dig-ness.</p> + +<p>I used often to murmur the consoling mottoes to myself +when pattering through muddy streets, too poor to take +an omnibus, on the way to sell—or try to sell—my +translations or my <i>menus</i>. But now, after all that's +happened, if it is to strike conviction to my soul, I shall +be obliged to yell it at the top of my mental lungs.</p> + +<p>(That expression may sound ridiculous, but it isn't. +We could not talk to ourselves as we do, in all kinds of +voices, high or low, if we hadn't mental lungs, or at the +least, sub-conscious-self lungs.)</p> + +<p><i>Je suis</i> the daughter of the last Sire d'Angely; and +a Courtenay can do anything; so of course it's all right; +and it's no good my ancestors turning in their graves, +for they'll only make themselves uncomfortable without +changing my mind.</p> + +<p>I, Lys d'Angely, am going to be a lady's-maid; or +rather, I am going to be the maid of an extremely rich +person who calls herself a lidy.</p> + +<p>It's perfectly awful, or awfully comic, according to +the point of view, and I swing from one to the other, +pushed by my fastidiousness to my sense of humour, and +back again, in a way to make me giddy. But it's +settled. I'm going to do it. I had almost to drag the +suggestion out of Lady Kilmarny, who turned red and +stammered as if I were the great lady, she the poor young +girl in want of a situation.</p> + +<p>There was, said she, a quaint creature in the hotel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +(one met these things abroad, and was obliged to be more +or less civil to them) who resembled Monsieur Charretier +in that she was disgustingly rich. It was not Corn +Plasters. It was Liver Pills, the very same liver pills +which had dropped into the mind of Lady Kilmarny +when I hesitated to put into words the foundation of my +<i>pretendant's</i> future. It was the Liver Pills which had +eventually introduced into her brain the idea she +falteringly embodied for me.</p> + +<p>The husband of the quaint creature had invented the +pills, even as Monsieur Charretier had invented his +abomination. Because of the pills he had been made a Knight; +at least, Lady Kilmarny didn't know any other reason. +He was Sir Samuel Turnour (evolved from Turner), +just married for the second time to a widow in whose +head it was like the continual frothing of new wine to +be "her ladyship."</p> + +<p>Lady Turnour had lately quarrelled with a maid and +dismissed her, Lady Kilmarny told me. Now, she was in +immediate need of another, French (because French maids +are fashionable) able to speak English, because the +Turnour family had as yet mastered no other language. Lady +Kilmarny believed that this was the honeymoon of the +newly married pair, and that, after having paused +on the wing at Cannes, for a little billing and cooing, +they intended to pursue their travels in France for +some weeks, before returning to settle down in England. +"Her Ladyship" was asking everybody with whom +she had contrived to scrape acquaintance (especially +if they had titles) to recommend her a maid. Lady +Kilmarny, as a member of the League against<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +Cruelty to Animals, had determined that nothing +would induce her to throw any poor mouse to this cat, +even if she heard of a mouse plying for hire; but here was +I in a dreadful scrape, professing myself ready to snap at +anything except Corn Plasters; and she felt bound to +mention that the mousetrap was open, the cheese waiting +to be nibbled.</p> + +<p>"Do you think she'd have me?" I asked—"the +quaint creature, her ladyship?"</p> + +<p>"Only too likely that she would," said Lady Kilmarny. +"But remember, the worst is, she doesn't <i>know</i> she's +a quaint creature. She is quite happy about herself, +offensively happy, and would consider you the 'creature.' +A truly awful person, my dear. A man in this hotel—the +little thing you saw me talking to this morning, knows +all about them both. I think they began in Peckham or +somewhere. They <i>would</i>, you know, and call it 'S.W.' +She was a chemist's daughter, and he was the humble +assistant, long before the Pill materialized, so she refused +him, and married a dashing doctor. But unfortunately +he dashed into the bankruptcy court, and afterward she +probably nagged him to death. Anyway he died—but +not till long after Sam Turner had taken pity on some +irrelevant widow, as his early love was denied him. The +widow had a boy, to whom the stepfather was good—(really +a very decent person according to his lights!) and +kept on making pills and millions, until last year he lost +his first wife and got a knighthood. The old love was a +widow by this time, taking in lodgers in some neighbourhood +where you <i>do</i> take lodgers, and Sir Samuel found +and gathered her like a late rose. Naturally she puts +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>on all the airs in the world, and diamonds in the morning. +She'll treat you like the dirt under her feet, because that's +her conception of her part—and yours. But I'll introduce +you to her if you like."</p> + +<p>After a little reflection, I did like; but as it seemed to +me that there'd better not be two airs in the family, I +said that I'd put on none at all, and make no pretensions.</p> + +<p>"She's the kind that doesn't know a lady or gentleman +without a label," my kind friend warned me. "You +must be prepared for that."</p> + +<p>"I'll be prepared for anything," I assured her. But +when it came to the test, I wasn't quite.</p> + +<p>Lady Kilmarny wrote a line to Lady Turnour, and +asked if she might bring a maid to be interviewed—a +young woman whom she could recommend. The note +was sent down to the bride (who of course had the best +suite in the hotel, on the first floor) and presently an +answer came—saying that Her Ladyship would be +pleased to receive Lady Kilmarny and the person in +question.</p> + +<p>Suddenly I felt that I must go alone. "Please leave +me to my fate," I said. "I should be too self-conscious +if you were with me. Probably I should laugh in her +face, or do something dreadful."</p> + +<p>"Very well," Lady Kilmarny agreed. "Perhaps +you're right. Say that I sent you, and that, though +you've never been with me, friends of mine know all +about you. You might tell her that you were to have +travelled with the Princess Boriskoff. That will impress +her. She would kiss the boot of a Princess. Afterward, +come up and tell me how you got on with 'Her Ladyship.'"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>I was stupid to be nervous, and told myself so; but as +I knocked at the door of the suite reserved for Millionaires +and other Royalties, my heart was giving little +ineffective jumps in my breast, like—as my old nurse +used to say—"a frog with three legs."</p> + +<p>"Come in!" called a voice with sharp, jagged edges.</p> + +<p>I opened the door. In a private drawing-room as +different as the personality of one woman from another, +sat Lady Turnour. She faced me as I entered, so I had +a good look at her, before casting down my eyes and +composing my countenance to the self-abnegating meekness +which I conceived fitting to a <i>femme de chambre +comme il faut</i>.</p> + +<p>She was enthroned on a sofa. One could hardly say +less, there was so much of her, and it was all arranged as +perfectly as if she were about to be photographed. No +normal woman, merely sitting down, with no other object +than to be comfortable, would curve the tail of her gown +round in front of her like a sickle; or have just the +point of one shoe daintily poised on a footstool; or the sofa-cushions +at exactly the right angle behind her head to +make a background; or the finger with all her best rings +on it, keeping the place in an English illustrated journal.</p> + +<p>I dared not believe that she had posed for me. It +must have been for Lady Kilmarny; and that I alone +should see the picture was a bad beginning.</p> + +<p>She is of the age when a woman can still tell people +that she is forty, hoping they will exclaim politely, +"Impossible!"</p> + +<p>It is not enough for her to be a Ladyship and a millionairess. +She will be a beauty as well, or at all costs she +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>will be looked at. To that end are her eyebrows and +lashes black as jet, her undulated hair crimson, her lips +a brighter shade of the same colour, and her skin of +magnolia pallor, like the heroines of the novels which are +sure to be her favourites. Once, she must have been +handsome, a hollyhock queen of a kitchen-garden kingdom; +but she would be far more attractive now if only she +had "abdicated," as nice middle-aged women say in +France.</p> + +<p>Her dress was the very latest dream of a neurotic Parisian +modiste, and would have been seductive on a slender girl. +On her—well, at least she would have her wish in it—she +would not pass unnoticed!</p> + +<p>She looked surprised at sight of me, and I saw she +didn't realize that I was the expected candidate.</p> + +<p>"Lady Kilmarny couldn't come," I began to explain, +"and—"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she cut me short. "So you are the young +person she is recommending as a maid."</p> + +<p>I corrected Miss Paget when she called me a "young +woman," but times have changed since then, and in future +I must humbly consent to be a young person, or even a +creature.</p> + +<p>For a minute I forgot, and almost sat down. It would +have been the end of me if I had! Luckily I remembered +What I was, and stood before my mistress, trying to look +like Patience on a monument with butter in her mouth +which mustn't be allowed to melt.</p> + +<p>"What is your name?" began the catechism (and the +word was "nime," according to Lady Turnour).</p> + +<p>"N or M," nearly slipped out of my mouth, but I +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>put Satan with all his mischief behind me, and answered +that I was Lys d'Angely.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the surname doesn't matter. As you're a +French girl, I shall call you by your first name. It's +always done."</p> + +<p>(The first time in history, I'd swear, that a d'Angely +was ever told his name didn't matter!)</p> + +<p>"You seem to speak English very well for a French +woman?" (This almost with suspicion.)</p> + +<p>"My mother was American."</p> + +<p>"How extraordinary!"</p> + +<p>(This was apparently a <i>tache</i>. Evidently lady's-maids +are expected <i>not</i> to have American mothers!)</p> + +<p>"Let me hear your French accent."</p> + +<p>I let her hear it.</p> + +<p>"H'm! It seems well enough. Paris?"</p> + +<p>"Paris, madame."</p> + +<p>"Don't call me 'madame.' Any common person is +madame. You should say 'your ladyship'."</p> + +<p>I said it.</p> + +<p>"And I want you should speak to me in the third +person, like the French servants are supposed to do in +good houses."</p> + +<p>"If mad—if your ladyship wishes."</p> + +<p>(Thank heaven for a sense of humour! My one wild +desire was to laugh. Without that blessing, I should +have yearned to slap her.)</p> + +<p>"What references have you got from your last situation?"</p> + +<p>"I have never been in service before—my lady."</p> + +<p>"My word! That's bad. However, you're on the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>spot, and Lady Kilmarny recommends you. The poor +Princess was going to try you, it seems. I should think +she wouldn't have given much for a maid without any +experience."</p> + +<p>"I was to have had two thousand francs a year as the +Princess's com—if the Princess was satisfied."</p> + +<p>"Preposterous! I don't believe a word of it. Why, +what can you <i>do</i>? Can you dress hair? Can you make +a blouse?"</p> + +<p>"I did my mother's hair, and sometimes my cousin's."</p> + +<p>"<i>Your</i> mother! <i>Your</i> cousin! I'm talking of a lidy."</p> + +<p>My sense of humour <i>did</i> almost fail me just then. +But I caught hold of it by the tail just as it was darting +out of the window, spitting and scratching like a cross cat.</p> + +<p>It was remembering Monsieur Charretier that brought +me to my bearings. "I think your ladyship would be +satisfied," I said. "And I make all my own dresses."</p> + +<p>"That one you've got on?—which is <i>most</i> unsuitable +for a maid, I may tell you, and I should never permit it."</p> + +<p>"This one I have on, also."</p> + +<p>"I thought maybe it had been a present. Well, it's +<i>something</i> that you speak both English and French +passably well. I'll try you on Lady Kilmarny's recommendation, +if you want to come to me for fifty francs a +month. I won't give more to an <i>amateur</i>."</p> + +<p>I thought hard for a minute. Lady Kilmarny had +said it would not be many weeks before the Turnours +went to England. There, if Miss Paget (who seemed +extremely nice by contrast and in retrospect) were still +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>of the same mind, I might find a good home. If not, +she was as kind as she was queer, and would help me +look further. So I replied that I would accept the fifty +francs, and would do my best to please her ladyship.</p> + +<p>She did not express herself as gratified. "You can +begin work this evening," she said. "I was obliged +to send away my last maid yesterday, and I'm <i>lost</i> without +one." (This was delightful from a "lidy" who had +kept lodgers for years, with the aid perhaps of one smudgy-nosed +"general"!) "But have you no more suitable +clothes? I can't let a maid of mine go flaunting about, +like a Mary-Jane-on-Sunday."</p> + +<p>I mentioned a couple of plain black dresses in my +wardrobe, which might be made to answer if I were +allowed a few hours' time to work upon them, and didn't +add that they remained from my mourning for one +dearly loved.</p> + +<p>"You can have till six o'clock free," said Lady Turnour. +"Then you must come back to lay out my things +for dinner, and dress me. What about your room? Had +the Princess taken something for you in the hotel?"</p> + +<p>I evaded a direct answer by saying that I had a room; +and was inwardly thankful that, evidently, the Turnours +had not noticed me in the restaurant at luncheon, otherwise +things might have been awkward.</p> + +<p>"Very well, you can keep the same one, then," went +on her ladyship, "and let the hotel people know it's +Sir Samuel who pays for it. To-morrow morning we +leave, in our sixty-horse-power motor car. We are making +a tour before going back to England. Sir Samuel's +stepson joins us in Paris or perhaps before and travels +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>on with us. He is staying now with some French people +of very high title, who live in a château. You will sit +on the front seat with the chauffeur."</p> + +<p>This was a blow! I hadn't thought of the chauffeur. +"But," thought I, "chauffeur or no chauffeur, it's too late +now for retreat."</p> + +<p>Talk of Prometheus with his vulture, the Spartan +boy with his decently concealed wolf! What of Lys +d'Angely with an English chauffeur in her pocket?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + + +<p>When I was dismissed from the Presence, I +ran to Lady Kilmarny with my story, and +she agreed with me that the thing to dread +most in the whole situation was the chauffeur.</p> + +<p>"Of course he'll naturally consider himself on an +equality with you," she said, "and you'll have to eat +with him at hotels, and all that. Once, when my husband +and I were touring in France, and used to break +down near little inns, we were obliged to have a chauffeur +at the same table with us, because there was only one +long one (table, I mean, not chauffeur) and we couldn't +spare time to let him wait till we'd finished. My dear, +it was ghastly! You would never believe if you hadn't +seen it, how the creature swallowed his knife when he ate, +and did conjuring tricks with his fork and spoon. I +simply <i>dared</i> not look at him gnawing his bread, but +used to shut my eyes. I hate to distress you, poor child, +but I tell you these things as a warning. <i>Are</i> you able +to bear it?"</p> + +<p>I said that I, too, could shut my eyes.</p> + +<p>"You can't make a habit of doing so. And he may +want to put his arm round your waist, or chuck you +under the chin. I used to have complaints from my maid, +who was comparatively plain, while you—but I don't +want to frighten you. He <i>may</i> be different from our +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>man. Some, they say, are most respectable. I love +common people when they're nice, and give up quite +pleasantly to being common; and of course Irish ones +are too delightful. But you can't hope for an Irish +chauffeur. I hear they don't exist. They're all French +or German or English. Let us hope this one may be the +father of a family."</p> + +<p>It was well enough to be told to hope; and Lady +Kilmarny meant to be kind, but what she said made me +"creep" whenever I thought of the chauffeur.</p> + +<p>She advised me not to take my meals with the maids +and valets at the Majestic Palace, because a change, so +sudden and Cinderella-like, after lunching in the restaurant, +would cause disagreeable talk in the hotel. As my +living in future would be at the charge of the Turnours, I +might afford myself a few indulgences to begin with, she +argued; and deciding that she was right, I made up my +mind to have my remaining meals served in my own room.</p> + +<p>I hastily stripped a black frock of its trimming, dressed +my hair more simply even than usual, parted down the +middle, and altogether strove to achieve the air of a +<i>femme de chambre</i> born, not made. But I'm bound +to chronicle the fact for my own future reference (when +some day I shall laugh at this adventure) that the effect, +though restful to the eye, suggested the stage <i>femme de +chambre</i> rather than the sober reality one sees in every-day +life. However, I was conscious of having done my +best, a state of mind which always produces a cool, +strawberries-and-cream feeling in the soul; and thus +supported I tripped (yes, I <i>did</i> trip!) downstairs to adorn +Lady Turnour for dinner.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>The door was open between her bedroom and the +sitting-room. Waiting in the former I could hear voices +in the latter. Lady Turnour and her husband were +talking about the arrival of the stepson whose name, +I soon gleaned from their conversation, is Herbert. +Naturally, it <i>would</i> be. People like that are always +named Herbert, and are familiarly known to those whom +they may concern as "Bertie."</p> + +<p>Presently, her ladyship came into the bedroom, and +said, as a queen might say to her tirewoman, "Put me +into my dressing-gown." If there were a feminine word +for "sirrah," I think she would have liked to call me it.</p> + +<p>My eye, roving distractedly, pounced upon a gold-embroidered, +purple silk kimono, perhaps more appropriate +to Pooh-Bah than to a stout English lady of the +lower middle class. I released it from its hook on the +door, and would that her ladyship had been as easy to +release from her bodice!</p> + +<p>She had not one hook, but many; and they were all +so incredibly tight that, to put her into the dressing-gown +as ordered, I feared it would be necessary to melt and +pour her out of the gown she had on.</p> + +<p>While I wrestled, silent and red faced, with a bodice +as snug as the head of a drum, the lord of all it contained +appeared in the doorway, and stopped, looking at me +in surprise.</p> + +<p>He is common, too, this Sir Samuel, millionaire maker +of pills; but he is common in a good, almost pathetic +way, quite different from his wife's way—or Monsieur +Charretier's. He has stick-up gray hair curling all over +his round head, blue eyes, twinkling with a mild, yet +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>shrewd expression (which might be merry if encouraged +by her ladyship), and a large, slouching body with stooped +shoulders.</p> + +<p>"What young lady have we here?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"Not a young lady at all," explained his wife sharply. +"My new French maid."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, I'm sure," said Sir Samuel, +though it wasn't quite clear whether it was my forgiveness +or that of his spouse he craved, for his mistake in +supposing me to be a "young lady."</p> + +<p>"What's her name?" he wanted to know, evidently +approving of me, if not as a maid, at least as a human +being.</p> + +<p>"Something ridiculous in French that sounds like +'Liz,'" sniffed her ladyship. "But I shall call her Elise. +Also I shall expect her to stop dyeing her hair."</p> + +<p>"But, madame, I do not dye it!" I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Don't tell me. I know dyed hair when I see it."</p> + +<p>(She ought to, having experience enough with her own!)</p> + +<p>"Nature is the dyer, then," I ventured to persist, +piqued to self-defence by the certainty that her object +was to strip me of my wicked mask before her husband.</p> + +<p>"I'm not used to being contradicted by my servants," +her ladyship reminded me.</p> + +<p>"My dear, do let the poor girl know whether she +dyes her hair or not." Sir Samuel pleaded for me with +more kindness than discretion. "I'm sure she speaks +beautiful English."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 387px;"> +<a id="image2" name="image2"></a> +<hr /> +<a href="images/page048L.jpg"> +<img src="images/page048.jpg" width="387" height="600" + alt="While I wrestled with a bodice as snug as the head of a drum..." + title="While I wrestled with a bodice..." +/> +</a> +<p class="caption"> +“While I wrestled ... with a bodice as snug as the head of a drum, +the lord of all it contained appeared in the doorway.” +</p> +<hr /> +</div> + +<p>"As if that had anything to do with it! She may as +well understand, to begin with, that I won't put up with +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>impudence and answering back. Hair that colour +doesn't go with dark eyes. And eyelashes like that +aren't suitable to lady's-maids."</p> + +<p>"If your ladyship pleases, what am I to do with mine?" +I asked in the sweetest little voice; and I would have +given anything for someone to whom I might have telegraphed +a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Wash the dark stuff off of them and let them be +light," were the simple instructions promptly returned +to me.</p> + +<p>There was no more to be said, so I cast down the +offending features (are one's lashes one's features?) +and swallowed my feelings just as Lady Turnour will +have to swallow my hair and eyelashes if I'm to stop in +her service. If they stick in her throat, I suppose she +will discharge me. For a leopard cannot change his +spots, and a girl will not the colour of her locks and +lashes—when she happens to be fairly well satisfied +with Nature's work.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + + +<p>Pamela's mother-in-law, <i>la Comtesse douairière</i>, +wears a lovely, fluffy white thing over her own +diminishing front hair, which I once heard her +describe, when struggling to speak English, as her "combination." +Pam and I laughed nearly to extinction, but I +didn't laugh this morning when I was obliged to help +Lady Turnour put on hers.</p> + +<p>They say an emperor is no hero to his valet, and neither +can an empress be a heroine to her maid when she bursts +for the first time upon that humble creature's sight, +without her transformation.</p> + +<p>It <i>did</i> make an unbelievable difference with her ladyship; +and it must have been a blow to poor Sir Samuel, +after all his years of hopeless love for a fond gazelle, +when at last he made that gazelle his own, and saw it +running about its bedroom with all its copper-coloured +"ondulations" naively lying on its dressing-table.</p> + +<p>Poor Miss Paget's false front was one of those frank, +self-respecting old things one might have allowed one's +grandmother to wear, just as she would wear a cap; but +a transformation—well, one has perhaps believed in it, +if one has not the eye of a lynx, and the disillusion is +awful.</p> + +<p>Of course, a lady's-maid is not a human being, and +what it is thinking matters no more than what thinks +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>a chair when sat upon; so I don't suppose "her +ladyship" cared ten centimes for the impression I was +receiving and trying to digest in the first ten minutes +after my morning entrance.</p> + +<p>As my hair waves naturally, I've scarcely more than +a bowing acquaintance with a curling-iron; but luckily +for me I always did Cousin Catherine's when she wanted +to look as beautiful as she felt; and though my hands +trembled with nervousness, I not only "ondulated" Lady +Turnour's transformation without burning it up, but +I added it to her own locks in a manner so deft as to make +me want to applaud myself.</p> + +<p>Even she could find no fault. The effect was twice +as <i>chic</i> and becoming as that of yesterday. She looked +younger, and nearer to being the <i>grande dame</i> that she +burns to be. I saw various emotions working in her mind, +and attributed her silence on the subject of my personal +defects (unchanged despite her orders) to the success I was +making with her toilet. In her eyes, I began to take on +lustre as a Treasure not to be lightly thrown away on the +turn of a dye.</p> + +<p>When she was dressed and painted to represent a +"lady motorist," it was my business to pack not only for +her but for Sir Samuel, who is the sort of man to be +miserable under the domination of a valet. There were +a round dozen of trunks, which had to be sent on by rail, +and there was also luggage for the automobile; such +ingenious and pretty luggage (bran new, like everything +of her ladyship's, not excepting her complexion) that +it was really a pleasure to pack it. As for the poor motor +maid, it was broken to her that she must, figuratively +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>speaking, live in a bag during the tour, and that bag +must have a place under her feet as she sat beside the +driver. It might make her as uncomfortable as it liked, +but whatever it did, it must on no account interfere with +the chauffeur.</p> + +<p>We were supposed to start at ten, but a woman of Lady +Turnour's type doesn't think she's making herself of +enough importance unless she keeps people waiting. +She changed her mind three times about her veil, and +had her dressing-bag (a gorgeous affair, beside which +mine is a mere nutshell) reopened at the last minute to +get out different hatpins.</p> + +<p>It was half-past ten when the luggage for the automobile +was ready to be taken away, and having helped +my mistress into her motoring coat, I left her saying +farewell to some hotel acquaintances she had scraped +up, and went out to put her ladyship's rugs into the car.</p> + +<p>I had not seen it yet, nor the dreaded chauffeur, my +galley-companion; but as the front door opened, <i>voilà</i> +both; the car drawn up at the hotel entrance, the +chauffeur dangling from its roof.</p> + +<p>Never did I see anything in the way of an automobile +so large, so azure, so magnificent, so shiny as to varnish, +so dazzling as to brass and crystal.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the windows aren't really crystal, but they +were all bevelly and glittering in the sunshine, and seemed +to run round the car from back to front, giving the effect +of a Cinderella Coach fitted on to a motor. Never was +paint so blue, never was crest on carriage panel so large +and so like a vague, over-ripe tomato. Never was a +chauffeur so long, so slim, so smart, so leathery.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>He was dangling not because he fancied himself as a +tassel, but because he was teaching some last piece of +luggage to know its place on the roof it was shaped +to fit.</p> + +<p>"Thank goodness, at least he's not fat, and won't +take up much room," I thought, as I stood looking at +the back of his black head.</p> + +<p>Then he jumped down, and turned round. We gave +each other a glance, and he could not help knowing that +I must be her ladyship's maid, by the way I was loaded +with rugs, like a beast of burden. Of my face he could +see little, as I had on a thick motor-veil with a small +triangular talc window, which Lady Kilmarny had +given me as a present when I bade her good-bye. I had +the advantage of him, therefore, in the staring contest, +because his goggles were pushed up on the top of his +cap with an elastic, somewhat as Miss Paget's spectacles +had been caught in her false front.</p> + +<p>His glance said: "Female thing, I've got to be bothered +by having you squashed into the seat beside me. You'd +better not be chatty with the man at the wheel, for if you +are, I shall have to teach you motor manners."</p> + +<p>My glance, I sincerely hoped, said nothing, for I +hurriedly shut it off lest it should say too much, the +astonished thought in my mind being: "Why, Leather +Person, you look exactly like a gentleman! You have +the air of being the master, and Sir Samuel your +servant."</p> + +<p>He really was a surprise, especially after Lady +Kilmarny's warning. Still, I at once began to tell +myself that chauffeurs <i>must</i> have intelligent faces. As +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>for this one's clear features, good gray eyes, brown skin, +and well-made figure, they were nothing miraculous, +since it is admitted that even a lower grade of beings, +grooms and footmen, are generally chosen as ornaments +to the establishments they adorn. Why shouldn't a +chauffeur be picked out from among his fellows to do +credit to a fine, sixty-horse-power blue motor-car? +Besides, a young man who can't look rather handsome +in a chauffeur's cap and neat leather coat and leggings +might as well go and hang himself.</p> + +<p>The Leather Person opened the door of the car for me, +that I might put in the rugs. I murmured "thank you" +and he bowed. No sooner had I arranged my affairs, +and slipped the scent-bottle and bottle of salts, newly +filled, into a dainty little case under the window, when +Lady Turnour and Sir Samuel appeared.</p> + +<p>I have met few, if any, queens in daily life, but I'm +almost sure that the Queen of England, for instance, +wouldn't consider it beneath her dignity to take some +notice of her chauffeur's existence if she were starting on +a motor tour. Lady Turnour was miles above it, however. +So far as she was concerned, one would have +thought that the car ran itself; that at sight of her and +Sir Samuel, the arbiters of its destiny, its heart began +to beat, its body to tremble with delight at the honour +in store for it.</p> + +<p>"Tell him to shut the windows," said her ladyship, +when she was settled in her place. "Does he think +I'm going to travel on a day like this with all the wind +on the Riviera blowing my head off?"</p> + +<p>The imperial order was passed on to "him," who was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>addressed as Bane, or Dane, or something of that ilk; +and I was sorry for poor Sir Samuel, whose face showed +how little he enjoyed the prospect of being cooped up in +a glass box.</p> + +<p>"A day like this" meant that there was a wind which +no one under fifty had any business to know came out of +the east, for it arrived from a sky blue as a vast, inverted +cup of turquoise. The sea was a cup, too; a cup of gold +glittering where the Esterel mountains rimmed it, and +full to the frothing brim of blue spilt by the sky.</p> + +<p>Perhaps there was a hint of keenness in the breeze, +and the palms in the hotel garden were whispering to +each other about it, while they rocked the roses tangled +among their fans; yet it seemed to me that the whispers +were not of complaint, but of joy—joy of life, joy of +beauty, and joy of the spring. The air smelled of a +thousand flowers, this air that Lady Turnour shunned +as if it were poison, and brought me a sense of happiness +and adventure fresh as the morning. I knew I had no +right to the feeling, because this wasn't my adventure. +I was only in it on sufferance, to oil the wheels of it, so +to speak, for my betters; yet golden joy ran through +all my veins as gaily, as generously, as if I were a princess +instead of a lady's-maid.</p> + +<p>Why on earth I was happy, I didn't know, for it was +perfectly clear that I was going to have a horrid time; +but I pitied everybody who wasn't young, and starting +off on a motor tour, even if on fifty francs a month "all +found."</p> + +<p>I pitied Lady Turnour because she was herself; I +pitied Sir Samuel because he was married to her; I +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>pitied the people in the big hotel, who spent their afternoons +and evenings playing bridge with all the windows +hermetically sealed, while there was a world like this out +of doors; and I wasn't sure yet whether I pitied the +chauffeur or not.</p> + +<p>He didn't look particularly sorry for himself, as he +took his seat on my right. I was well out of his way, and +he had the air of having forgotten all about me, as he +steered away from the hotel down the flower-bordered +avenue which led to the street.</p> + +<p>"Anyhow," said I to myself, behind my little three-cornered +talc window, "whatever his faults may be, +appearances are <i>very</i> deceptive if he ever tries to chuck +me under the chin."</p> + +<p>There we sat, side by side, shut away from our pastors +and masters by a barrier of glass, in that state of life and +on that seat to which it had pleased Providence to call +us, together.</p> + +<p>"We're far enough apart in mind, though," I told +myself. Yet I found my thoughts coming back to the +man, every now and then, wondering if his nice brown +profile were a mere lucky accident, or if he were really +intelligent and well educated beyond his station. It +was deliciously restful at first to sit there, seeing beautiful +things as we flashed by, able to enjoy them in peace without +having to make conversation, as the ordinary <i>jeune +fille</i> must with the ordinary <i>jeune monsieur</i>.</p> + +<p>"And is it that you love the automobilism, mademoiselle?"</p> + +<p>"But yes, I love the automobilism. And you?"</p> + +<p>"I also." (Hang it, what shall I say to her next?)</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>"And the dust. It does not too much annoy you?"</p> + +<p>(Oh, bother, I do wish he'd let me alone!)</p> + +<p>"No, monsieur. Because there are compensations. +The scenery, is it not?"</p> + +<p>"And for me your society." (What a little idiot +she is!)</p> + +<p>And so on. And so on. Oh yes, there were consolations +in being a motor maid, sitting as far away as +possible from a cross-looking if rather handsome chauffeur, +who would want to bite her if she tried to do the +"society act."</p> + +<p>But after a while, when we'd spun past the charming +villas and attractive shops of Cannes (which looks so +deceitfully sylvan, and is one of the gayest watering-places +in the world) silence began to be a burden.</p> + +<p>It is such a nice motor car, and I did want to ask +intelligent questions about it!</p> + +<p>I was almost sure they would be intelligent, because +already I know several things about automobiles. The +Milvaines haven't got one, but most of their friends in +Paris have, and though I've never been on a long tour +before, I've done some running about. When one knows +things, especially when one's a girl—a really well-regulated, +normal girl—one does like to let other people +know that one knows them. It's all well enough to +cram yourself full to bursting with interesting facts +which it gives you a vast amount of trouble to learn, +just out of respect for your own soul; and there's a great +deal in that point of view, in one's noblest moments; +but one's noblest moments are like bubbles, radiant +while they last, then going pop! quite to one's own surprise, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>leaving one all flat, and nothing to show for the late +bubble except a little commonplace soap.</p> + +<p>Well, I am like that, and when I'm not nobly bubbling +I love to say what I'm thinking to somebody who will +understand, instead of feeding on myself.</p> + +<p>It really was a waste of good material to see all that +lovely scenery slipping by like a panorama, and to be +having quite heavenly thoughts about it, which must slip +away too, and be lost for ever. I got to the pass when +it would have been a relief to be asked if "this were my +first visit to the Riviera;" because I could hastily have +said "Yes," and then broken out with a volley of +impressions.</p> + +<p>Seeing beautiful things when you travel by rail consists +mostly on getting half a glimpse, beginning to exclaim, +"Oh, look <i>there</i>!" then plunging into the black gulf of a +tunnel, and not coming out again until after the best +bit has carefully disappeared behind an uninteresting, +fat-bodied mountain. But travelling by motor-car! +Oh, the difference! One sees, one feels; one is never, +never bored, or impatient to arrive anywhere. One +would enjoy being like the famous brook, and "go on +forever."</p> + +<p>Other automobiles were ahead of us, other cars were +behind us, in the procession of Nomads leaving the South +for the North, but there had been rain in the night, so that +the wind carried little dust. My spirit sang when we +had left the long, cool avenue lined with the great silver-trunked +plane trees (which seemed always, even in sunshine, +to be dappled with moonlight) and dashed toward +the barrier of the Esterels that flung itself across our +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>path. The big blue car bounded up the steep road, +laughing and purring, like some huge creature of the +desert escaped from a cage, regaining its freedom. But +every time we neared a curve it was considerate enough +to slow down, just enough to swing round with measured +rhythm, smooth as the rocking of a child's cradle.</p> + +<p>Perhaps, thought I, the chauffeur wasn't cross, but +only concentrated. If I had to drive a powerful, untamed +car like this, up and down roads like that, I should certainly +get motor-car face, a kind of inscrutable, frozen +mask that not all the cold cream in the world could +ever melt.</p> + +<p>I wondered if he resorted to cold cream, and before I +knew what I was doing, I found myself staring at the +statuesque brown profile through my talc triangle.</p> + +<p>Evidently animal magnetism can leak through talc, +for suddenly the chauffeur glanced sharply round at me, +as if I had called him. "Did you speak?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Dear me, no, I shouldn't have dared," I hurried to +assure him. Again he transferred his attention from +the road to me, though only a fraction, and for only the +fraction of a second. I felt that he saw me as an eagle +on the wing might see a fly on a boulder toward which he +was steering between intervening clouds.</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't you dare?" he wanted to know.</p> + +<p>"One doesn't usually speak to lion-tamers while +they're engaged in taming," I murmured, quite surprised +at my audacity and the sound of my own voice.</p> + +<p>The chauffeur laughed. "Oh!" he said.</p> + +<p>"Or to captains of ocean liners on the bridge in thick +fogs," I went on with my illustrations.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>"What do you know about lion-tamers and captains +on ocean liners?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"Nothing. But I imagine. I'm always doing a lot of imagining."</p> + +<p>"Do you think you will while you're with Lady Turnour?"</p> + +<p>"She hasn't engaged my brain, only my hands and feet."</p> + +<p>"And your time."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank goodness it doesn't take time to imagine. +I can imagine all the most glorious things in heaven and +earth in the time it takes you to put your car at the next +corner."</p> + +<p>He looked at me longer, though the corner seemed +dangerously near—to an amateur. "I see you've +learned the true secret of living," said he.</p> + +<p>"Have I? I didn't know."</p> + +<p>"Well, you have. You may take it from me. I'm +a good deal older than you are."</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course, all really polite men are older than the +women they're with."</p> + +<p>"Even chauffeurs?"</p> + +<p>It was my turn to laugh now. "A chauffeur with a lady's-maid."</p> + +<p>"You seem an odd sort of lady's-maid."</p> + +<p>"I begin to think you're an odd sort of chauffeur."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Well—" I hesitated, though I knew why, perfectly. +"Aren't you rather abrupt in your questions? Suppose +we change the subject. You seem to have tamed this +tiger until it obeys you like a kitten."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>"That's what I get my wages for. But why do you +think I'm an odd sort of chauffeur?"</p> + +<p>"For that matter, then, why do you think I'm an odd +lady's-maid?"</p> + +<p>"As to that, probably I'm no judge. I never talked +to one except my mother's, and she—wasn't at all +like you."</p> + +<p>"Well, that proves my point. The very fact that +your mother <i>had</i> a maid, shows you're an odd sort +of chauffeur."</p> + +<p>"Oh! You mean because I wasn't always 'what I +seem,' and that kind of <i>Family Herald</i> thing? Do +you think it odd that a chauffeur should be by way of +being a gentleman? Why, nowadays the woods and +the story-books are full of us. But things are made +pleasanter for us in books than in real life. Out of books +people fight shy of us. A 'shuvvie' with the disadvantage +of having been to a public school, or handicapped by not +dropping his H's, must knock something off his screw."</p> + +<p>"Are you really in earnest, or are you joking?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Half and half, perhaps. Anyway, it isn't a particularly +agreeable position—if that's not too big a +word for it. I envy you your imagination, in which you +can shut yourself up in a kind of armour against the +slings and arrows of outrageous fortune."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't envy me if you had to do Lady Turnour's +hair," I sighed.</p> + +<p>The chauffeur laughed out aloud. "Heaven forbid!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure Sir Samuel would forbid, anyhow," said I.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>"Do you know, I don't think this trip's going to be +so bad?" said he.</p> + +<p>"Neither do I," I murmured in my veil.</p> + +<p>We both laughed a good deal then. But luckily the +glass was expensively thick, and the car was singing.</p> + +<p>"What are you laughing at?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Something that it takes a little sense of humour to see, +when you've been down on your luck," said he.</p> + +<p>"A sense of humour was the only thing my ancestors +left me," said I. "I don't wonder you laugh. It really +is quaintly funny."</p> + +<p>"Do you think we're laughing at the same thing?"</p> + +<p>"I'm almost sure of it."</p> + +<p>"Do tell me your part, and let's compare notes."</p> + +<p>"Well, it's something that nobody but us in this car—unless +it's the car itself—knows."</p> + +<p>"Then it is the same thing. They haven't an idea +of it, and wouldn't believe it if anyone told them. Yes, +it is funny."</p> + +<p>"About their not being—"</p> + +<p>"While you—"</p> + +<p>"And you—"</p> + +<p>"Thanks. A lady—"</p> + +<p>"A gentleman—"</p> + +<p>"And the only ones on board—"</p> + +<p>"Are the two servants!"</p> + +<p>"As long as <i>they</i> don't notice—"</p> + +<p>"And we do!"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps we may get some fun out of it?"</p> + +<p>"Extra—outside our wages. Would it be called a 'perquisite'?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>"If so, I'm sure we deserve it."</p> + +<p>I sighed, thinking of her ladyship's transformation, +and lacing up her boots. "Well, there's a lot to make +up for."</p> + +<p>And he gave me another look—a very nice look, +although he could see nothing of me but eyes and one +third of a nose. "If I can ever at all help to make up, +in the smallest way, you must let me try," he said.</p> + +<p>I ceased to think that his profile was cross, or even stern.</p> + +<p>I was glad that the chauffeur and I were in the same +box—I mean, the same car.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + + +<p>All the same, I wondered a great deal how he +came there, and I hoped that he was wondering +the same sort of thing about me. +In fact, I laid myself out to produce such a result. +That is to say, I took some pains to show myself as +little like the common or parlour lady's-maid as possible. +I never took so much pains to impress any human +being, male or (far less) female, as I took to impress +that mere chauffeur—the very chauffeur I'd been +lying awake at night dreading as the most objectionable +feature in my new life.</p> + +<p>All the nice things I'd thought of by the way, before we +introduced ourselves to each other, I trotted out (at least, +as many as I had presence of mind to remember); and +though I'm afraid he didn't pay me the compliment of +trying to "brill" in return, I told myself that it was not +because he didn't think me worth brilling for, but because +he's English. It never seems to occur to an Englishman +to "show off." I believe if Sir Samuel Turnour's chauffeur, +Mr. What's-his-name, knew twenty-seven languages, +he could be silent in all of them.</p> + +<p>He did let me play the car's musical siren, though; +a fascinating bugbear, supposed to warn children, chickens, +and other light-minded animals that something +important is coming, and they'd better look alive. It +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>has two tunes, one grave, one gay. I suppose we would +use the grave one if the creature hadn't looked alive?</p> + +<p>Although he didn't say much, the chauffeur (or "shuvvie" +as he scornfully names himself) knew all about +Robert Macaire and Caspard De Besse—knew more +about them than I, also their escapades on this +road over the Esterels, and in the mountain fastnesses, +when highwaymen were as fashionable as motor-cars +are now. I'd forgotten that it was this part of the world +where they earned their bread and fame; and was quite +thrilled to hear that the ghost of De Besse is supposed to +keep on, as a permanent residence, his old shelter cave +near the summit of strangely shaped Mont Vinaigre. +I'm sure, though, even if we'd passed his pitch at +midnight instead of midday, he wouldn't have dared +pop out and cry "Stand and deliver!" to a sixty-horsepower +Aigle.</p> + +<p>I almost wished it were night, as we swooped over +mountain tops, our eyes plunging down the deep gorges, +and dropping with fearful joy over precipices, for the +effect would have been more solemn, more mysterious. +I could imagine that the fantastically formed rocks which +loomed above us or stood ranged far below would have +looked by moonlight like statues and busts of Titans, +carved to show poor little humanity such creatures as a +dead world had known. But it is hard for one's imagination +to do the best of which it feels capable when one +is dying for lunch.</p> + +<p>Even the old "Murder Inn," which my companion +obligingly pointed out, didn't give me the thrill it ought, +because time was getting on when we flew past it, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +I would have been capable of eating vulgar bread and +cheese under its wickedly historic roof if I had been +invited.</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose they know anything about the road +and its history?" I asked the chauffeur, with a slight +gesture of my swathed head toward the solid wall of +glass which was our background.</p> + +<p>"They? Certainly not, and don't want to know," he +answered with an air of assurance.</p> + +<p>"Why do they go about in motors then," I wondered, +"if they don't take interest in things they pass?"</p> + +<p>"You must understand as well as I do why this sort of +person goes about in motors," said he. "They go +because other people go—because it's the thing. The +'other people' whom they slavishly imitate may really like +the exhilaration, the ozone, the sight-seeing, or all three; +but to this type the only part that matters is letting it be +seen that they've got a handsome car, and being able +to say 'We've just come from the Riviera in our +sixty-horse-power motor-car.' They'd always mention +the power."</p> + +<p>"Lady Turnour did, even to me," I remembered. +"But is Sir Samuel like that?"</p> + +<p>"No, to do him justice, he isn't, poor man. But his +wife is his Juggernaut. I believe he enjoys lying under +her wheels, or thinks he does—which is the same thing."</p> + +<p>"Have you been with them long?" I dared to inquire.</p> + +<p>"Only a few days. I brought the car down for them +from Paris, though not this way—a shorter one. We're +new brooms, the car and I."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>"All their brooms seem to be new," I reflected. "I +wonder what the stepson is like?"</p> + +<p>"Luckily it doesn't matter much to me," said the +chauffeur indifferently.</p> + +<p>"Nor to me. But his name's Herbert."</p> + +<p>"His surname?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. There's a Herbert lurking somewhere. +It always suggests to me oily hair parted in the middle and +smeared down on each side of a low, narrow forehead. +Could you know a 'Bertie'?"</p> + +<p>"I did once, and never want to again. He was a swine +and a snob. Hope you never came across the combination?"</p> + +<p>I forgot to answer, because, having left the mountain +world behind, a formidable line of nobly planned arches +began striding along beside us, through the sun-bright +fields, and I was sure it must be the giant Roman aqueduct +of Fréjus.</p> + +<p>Instead of discussing such little things as the Turnours +and their Bertie, we began to talk of Phoenicians, Ligurians, +and of Romans; of Pliny, who had a beloved friend +at Fréjus; and all the while to breathe in the perfume +of a land over which a vast tidal wave of balsamic pines +had swept.</p> + +<p>Fréjus we were not to see now: that was for the dim +future, after lunch; but we turned to the left off the main +road, and ran on until we saw, bathed in pines, deliciously +deluged and drowned in pines, the white glimmer of +classic-looking villas. These meant Valescure, said the +chauffeur; and the Grand Hotel—not classic looking, but +pretty in its terraced garden—meant luncheon.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>The car drew up before the door, according to order, +or rather, according to hypnotic suggestion; for it seems +that it is the chauffeur who alone knows anything of the +way, and who, while appearing to be non-committal, is +virtually planning the tour. "Valescure might be a good +stopping-place for lunch," he had murmured, an eye on +the road map over which his head bent with Sir Samuel's. +"Very beautiful—rather exclusive. You may remember +Mr. Chamberlain stopped there."</p> + +<p>The exclusiveness and the Chamberlain-ness decided +Lady Turnour, behind Sir Samuel's shoulder (so the +chauffeur told me); consequently, here we were—and +not at St. Raphael, which would have seemed the more +obvious place to stop.</p> + +<p>I say "we," but Lady Turnour would have been surprised +to hear that her maid dared count herself and a +chauffeur in the programme. Creatures like us must be +fed, just as you pour petrol into the tanks of a motor, +or stoke a furnace with coals, because otherwise our +mechanism wouldn't go, and that would be awkward +when we were wanted.</p> + +<p>The chauffeur opened the door of the car as if he had +been born to open motor-car doors, and Lady Turnour +allowed herself to be helped out by her husband. Her +jewel-bag clutched in her hand (she doesn't know me +well enough yet to trust me with it, and hasn't had +bagsful of jewels for long), she passed her two servants +without expending a look on them. Sir Samuel followed, +telling his chauffeur to have the automobile ready at the +door again in an hour and a quarter; and we two Worms +were left to our own resources.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>"I shan't garage her," said my fellow Worm of the +car. "I'll just drive her out of the way, where I can look +over her a bit when I've snatched something to eat. +I'll take the fur rugs inside—you're not to bother, +they're big enough to swamp you entirely. And then you—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, then I—" I repeated desolately. "What is +to become of me?"</p> + +<p>"Why, you're to have your lunch, of course," he +replied. "I thought you said you were hungry."</p> + +<p>"So I am, starving. But—"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Aren't you going to have a proper lunch?"</p> + +<p>"A sandwich and a piece of cheese will do for me, +because there are one or two little things to tinker up on +the car, and an hour and a quarter isn't long. I think +I shall bring my grub out of doors, and—But is +anything the matter?"</p> + +<p>"I can't go in and have lunch alone. I simply can't," +I confessed to the young man whose society I had intended +to avoid like a pestilence. "You see, I—I never—this +is the first time."</p> + +<p>A look of comprehension flashed over his face.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I see," he said. "Of course, the moment I +heard your voice I realized that this wasn't your sort of +work, but I didn't know you were quite so new to it as +all that. You've never taken a meal in the couriers' +room of an hotel?"</p> + +<p>"No," I confessed. "At the Majestic Palace Lady +Kil—that is, I decided to have everything brought up to +my room, there."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>"By Jove, we are a strange pair! This is my first job, +too, and so far I've been able to feed where I chose; +but that's too good to last on tour. One must accommodate +oneself to circumstances, and a man easily can. +But you—I know how you feel. However, it's the +first step that costs. Do you mind much?"</p> + +<p>"It's the stepping in alone that costs the most," I said.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm only too delighted if I can be of the least +use. Let the car rip! I'll see to her afterward. Now +I'm going to take care of you. You need it more than +she does."</p> + +<p>What would Lady Kilmarny have said if she had +heard my deliberate encouragement of the chauffeur, +and his reckless response? What would she have thought +if she could have seen us walking into the couriers' dining-room, +side by side, as if we had been friends for as many +years as we'd really been acquaintances for minutes, +leaving the car he was paid to cherish in his bosom +sulking alone!</p> + +<p>That sweet lady's face, surprised and reproachful, rose +before my eyes, but I had no regrets. And instead of +trembling with apprehension when I saw that the couriers' +room was empty, I rejoiced in the prospect of lunching +alone with the redoubtable chauffeur.</p> + +<p>It was too early for the regular feeding hour of the +<i>pensionnaires</i>, maids, and valets, and we sat down opposite +each other at the end of a long table. A bored young +waiter, with little to hope for in the way of <i>pourboires</i>, +ambled off in quest of our food. I began to unfasten +my head covering, and after a search for various fugitive +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>pins I emerged from obscurity, like the moon from +behind a cloud.</p> + +<p>With a sigh of relief, I smiled at my companion; and +it was only his expression of surprise which reminded me +that he had been seeing me "as through a glass darkly."</p> + +<p>I suppose, unless you are a sort of Sherlock Holmes of +physiognomy, you can't map out a woman's face by a +mere glimpse of eyes through a triangular bit of talc, +already somewhat damaged by exposure to sun and wind.</p> + +<p>It mayn't be good manners to look a gift motor-veil +in the talc, but I must admit that, glad as I was of its +protection, mine was somewhat the worse for certain +bubbles, cracks, and speckles; so whether or no Mr. Bane +or Dane may combine the science of chauffeuring with +that of physiognomy, it's certain that he had the air of +being taken aback.</p> + +<p>Of course, I know that I'm not exactly plain, and +that the contrast between my eyes and hair is a little +out of the common; so, as soon as I remembered that +he hadn't seen me before, I guessed more or less what +his almost startled look meant. Still, I suppose most +girls—anyway, half-French, half-American girls—would +have done exactly what I proceeded to do.</p> + +<p>I looked as innocent as a fluffy chicken when it first +sidles out of its eggshell into the wide, wide world; and +said: "Oh, I do hope I haven't a smudge on the end of +my nose?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied the chauffeur, instantly becoming +expressionless. "Why do you ask?"</p> + +<p>"Only I was afraid, from your face, that there was +something wrong."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>"So far as I can see, there's nothing wrong," said he, +calmly, and broke a piece of bread. "Very good butter, +this, that they give to <i>nous autres</i>," he went on, in the +same tone of voice, and my respect for him increased.</p> + +<p>(Men are really rather nice creatures, take them all +in all!)</p> + +<p>As he had sacrificed his duty to the car for me, I sacrificed +my duty to my digestion for him, and bolted my +luncheon. Then, when released from guard duty, he +returned to his true allegiance, and I ventured to walk on +the terrace to admire the view.</p> + +<p>Far away it stretched, over garden, and pineland, +and flowery meadow-spaces, to the blue, silver-sewn sea, +which to my fancy looked Homeric. Nothing modern +caught the eye to break the romance of the illusion. All +was as it might have been twenty or thirty centuries ago, +when on the Mediterranean sailed "Phoenicians, mariners +renowned, greedy merchantmen with countless gauds +in a black ship."</p> + +<p>I had just begun to play that I was a young woman of +Tyre, taken on an adventurous excursion by an indulgent +father, when presto! Lady Turnour's voice brought me +back to the present with a jump. There's nothing +Homeric about her!</p> + +<p>She and Sir Samuel had finished their luncheon, and +so had several other people. There was an exodus of +well-dressed, nice-looking women from dining-room to +terrace, and conscious that I ought to have been herding +among their maids, I fled with haste and humility. What +right had I, in this sweet place divinely fit to be a rest-cure +for goddesses tired of the social diversions of Olympus?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>I scuttled off to the car, and stood ready to serve my +mistress when it should please her to be tucked under +her rugs.</p> + +<p>Despite delays, the chauffeur had finished whatever +had to be done, and soon we were spinning away from +Valescure, far away, into a world of flowers.</p> + +<p>Black cypresses soared skyward, so clean cut, so +definite, that I seemed to hear them, crystal-shrill, like +the sharp notes in music, as they leaped darkly out +from a silver monotone of olives and a delicate ripple +of pearly plum or pear blossom. Mimosas poured floods +of gold over the spring landscape, blazing violently +against the cloudless blue. Bloom of peach and apple +tree garlanded our road on either side; the way was +jewelled with roses; and acres of hyacinths stretched +into the distance, their perfume softening the keenness +of the breeze.</p> + +<p>"Are they going to let you pass Fréjus without pausing +for a single look?" I asked mournfully. But at that +instant there came a peal of the electric bell which is one +of the luxurious fittings of the car. It meant "stop!" +and we stopped.</p> + +<p>"Aren't there some ruins here—something middle-aged?" +asked Sir Samuel, meaning mediæval.</p> + +<p>"Roman ruins, sir," replied his chauffeur, without +changing countenance.</p> + +<p>"Are they the sort of things you ought to say you've seen?"</p> + +<p>"I think most people do stop and see them, sir."</p> + +<p>"What is your wish, my dear?" Sir Samuel gallantly +deferred to his bride. "I know you don't like out-of-door +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>sightseeing when it's windy, and blows your hair +about, but—"</p> + +<p>"We might try, and if I don't like it, we can go on," +replied Lady Turnour, patronizing the remains of Roman +greatness, since it appeared to be the "thing" for the +nobility and gentry to do.</p> + +<p>The chauffeur obediently turned the big blue Aigle, +and let her sail into the very centre of the vast arena where +Cæsar saw gladiators fight and die.</p> + +<p>It was very noble, very inspiring, and from some shady +corner promptly emerged a quaintly picturesque old +guardian, ready to pour forth floods of historic information. +He introduced himself as a soldier who had seen fighting +in Mexico under Maximilian, therefore the better able +to appreciate and fulfil his present task. But her ladyship +listened for awhile with lack-lustre eyes, and finally, +when dates were flying about her ears like hail, calmly +interrupted to say that she was "glad she hadn't lived +in the days when you had to go to the theatre out of +doors."</p> + +<p>"I can't understand more than one word in twelve +that the old thing says, anyhow," she went on. "Elise +must give me French lessons every day while she does +my hair. I hope she has the right accent."</p> + +<p>"He's saying that this amphitheatre was once almost +as large as the one at Nîmes, but that it would only hold +about ten thousand spectators," explained the chauffeur, +who was engaged partly for his French and knowledge +of France.</p> + +<p>"It's nonsense bothering to know that now, when the +place is tumbling to pieces," sneered her ladyship.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>"I beg your pardon, my lady; I only thought that, as +a rule, the best people do feel bound to know these things. +But of course—" He paused deferentially, without +a twinkle in his eye, though I was pressing my lips tightly +together, and trying not to shake spasmodically.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, go on. What else does the old boy say, +then?" groaned Lady Turnour, <i>martyrisée</i>.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bane or Dane didn't dare to glance at me. With +perfect gravity he translated the guide's best bits, enlarging +upon them here and there in a way which showed that +he had independent knowledge of his own. And it was a +feather in his cap that his eloquence eventually interested +Lady Turnour. She made him tell her again how Fréjus +was Claustra Gallæ to Cæsar, and how it was the +"Caput" for this part of the wonderful Via Aurelia, which +started at Rome, never ending until it came to Arles.</p> + +<p>"Why, we've been to Rome, and we're going to Arles," +she exclaimed. "We can tell people we've been over +the whole of the Via Aurelia, can't we? We needn't +mention that the automobile didn't arrive till after we +got to Cannes. And anyway, you say there were once +theatres there, and at Antibes, like the one at Fréjus, so +we've been making a kind of Roman pilgrimage all +along, if we'd only known it."</p> + +<p>"It is considered quite the thing to do, in Roman +amphitheatres, to make a tour of the prisoners' cells and +gladiators' dressing-rooms, the guide says," insinuated +the chauffeur. And then, when the bride and bridegroom, +reluctant but conscientious, were swimming round the +vast bowl of masonry, like tea-leaves floating in a great +cup, he turned to me.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>"Why don't you thank me?" he inquired. "I was +doing it for you. I knew you hated to miss all this, and +I saw she meant to go on, so I intervened, in the only +way I could think of, to touch her."</p> + +<p>"If you're always as clever as that, I don't see why +this shouldn't be <i>our</i> trip," I said. "That will be a +consolation."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you'll often need more consolation than +that," he answered. "Lady Turnour is—as the Americans say—a +pretty 'stiff proposition.'"</p> + +<p>"Still, if you can hypnotize her into going to all the +places, and stopping to look at all the nicest things, this +will at least be a cheap automobile tour for us both."</p> + +<p>I laughed, but he didn't; and I was sorry, for I thought +I deserved a smile. And he has a nice one, with even +white teeth in it, and a wistful sort of look in his eyes +at the same time: a really interesting smile.</p> + +<p>I wondered what he was thinking about that made +him look so grave; but I conceitedly felt that it was +something concerning me—or the situation of us both.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + + +<p>The tidal wave of pines followed us as, having +had one glance at the Porte Dorée, we left +Fréjus, old and new, behind. It followed us +out of gay little St. Raphael, lying in its alluvial plain +of flowers, and on along the coast past which the ships +of Augustus Cæsar used to sail.</p> + +<p>Not in my most starry dreams could I have fancied a +road as beautiful as that which opened to us soon, winding +above the dancing water.</p> + +<p>Graceful dryad pines knelt by the wayside, stretching +out their arms to the sea, where charming little bays +shone behind enlacing branches, blue as the eyes of a +wood-nymph gleaming shyly through the brown tangle of +her hair. Pine balsam mingled with the bitter-sweet +perfume of almond blossom, and caught a pungent tang +of salt from the wind.</p> + +<p>What romance—what beauty! It made me in love +with life, just to pass this way, and know that so much +hidden loveliness existed. I glanced furtively over my +shoulder at the couple whose honeymoon it is—our +master and mistress. Lady Turnour sat nodding in the +conservatory atmosphere of her glass cage, and Sir +Samuel was earnestly choosing a cigar.</p> + +<p>Suddenly it struck me that Providence must have a +vast sense of humour, and that the little inhabitants of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>this earth, high and low, must afford It a great deal of +benevolent amusement.</p> + +<p>All too soon we swept out of the forest, straight into a +little town, St. Maxime, with a picturesque port of its +own, where red-sailed fishing boats lolled as idly as the +dark-eyed young men in cafés near the shore. A few +tourists walking out from the hotel on the hill gazed rather +curiously at us in our fine blue car; and we gazed away +from them, across a sapphire gulf, to the distant houses +of St. Tropez, banked high against a promontory of +emerald.</p> + +<p>I should have liked to run on to St. Tropez, for I knew +his pretty legend; how he was one of the guards of St. +Paul in prison, and was converted by the eloquence of +his captive; but the chauffeur said that, after La Foux +(famed home of miniature horses) the coast road would +lose its surface of velvet. It would be laced in and out +with crossings of a local railway line, and there would be +so many bumps that Lady Turnour was certain to wake +up very cross.</p> + +<p>"For your sake I don't want to make her cross," +said he, and turned inland; but the way was no less +beautiful. The pines were tired of running after us, but +great cork trees marched beside the road, like an army of +crusaders in disarray, half in, half out, of armour. Above, +rose the Mountains of the Moors, whose very name +seemed to ring with the distant echo of a Saracen war +song; and here and there, on a bare, wild hillside, towered +all that was left of some ancient castle, fallen into ruin. +Cogolin was fine, and Grimaud was even finer.</p> + +<p>Up a steep ascent, through shadowy forests we had +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>passed, now and then coming suddenly upon a little +red-roofed village nestling among the trees as a strawberry +among its leaves, when abruptly we flashed out +where spaces of sky and silver sea opened. Between +hills that seemed to sweep a curtsey to us, we flew down +an apple-paring road toward Hyères.</p> + +<p>The Turnours had lunched, if not wisely, probably +too well, at Valescure about one o'clock, and it wasn't +yet four; but the air at the beautiful Costebelle hotels +is said to be perpetually glittering with Royalties and +other bright beings of the great world, so her ladyship +wouldn't have been persuaded to miss the place.</p> + +<p>Not that anyone tried to persuade her, for the two +powers behind the throne (and in front of the car) wanted +to go—not to see the Royalties, but the beauties of +Costebelle itself.</p> + +<p>We slipped gently through the town of Hyères, whose +avenues of giant palms looked like great sea anemones +turned into trees, and then spurted up a hill into a vast +and fragrant grove that smelled of a thousand flowers. +In the grove stood three hotels, with wide views over +jade-green lagoons to an indigo sea; and at the most +charming of the trio we stopped.</p> + +<p>Nothing was said about tea for the two servants, but +while the "quality" had theirs on an exquisite terrace, +the chauffeur brought a steaming cup to me, as I sat +in the car.</p> + +<p>"This was given me for my <i>beaux yeux</i>," he said, +"but I don't want any tea, so please take it, and don't +let it be wasted."</p> + +<p>I was convinced that he had paid for that cup of tea +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>with coin harder if not brighter than the <i>beaux yeux</i> +in question; but it would have hurt his feelings if I had +refused, therefore I drank the tea and thanked the giver.</p> + +<p>"You are being very kind to me," I said, "Mr. Bane +or Dane; so do you mind telling me which it is?"</p> + +<p>"Dane," he replied shortly. "Not that it matters. +A chauffeur by any other name would smell as much of +oil and petrol. It's actually my real name, too. Are +you surprised? I was either too proud or too stubborn +to change it—I'm not sure which—when I took up +'shuvving' for a livelihood."</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not surprised," I said. "You don't look +like the sort of man who would change his name as if it +were a coat. I've kept mine, too, to 'maid' with. You +'shuv,' I 'maid.' It sounds like an exercise in a strange +language."</p> + +<p>"That's precisely what it is," he answered. "A +difficult language to learn at first, but I'm getting the +'hang' of it. I hope you won't need to pursue the study +very thoroughly."</p> + +<p>"And you think you will?"</p> + +<p>"I think so," he said, his face hardening a little, and +looking dogged. "I don't see any way out of it for the present."</p> + +<p>I was silent for almost a whole minute—which can +seem a long time to a woman—half hoping that he meant +to tell me something about himself; how it was that he'd +decided to be a professional chauffeur, and so on. I was +sure there must be a story, an interesting story—perhaps +a romantic one—and if he confided in me, I would +in him. Why not, when—on my part, at least—there's +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>nothing to conceal, and we're bound to be companions +of the Road for weal or woe? But if he felt any temptation +to be expansive he resisted it, like a true Englishman; +and to break a silence which grew almost embarrassing +I was driven to ask him, quite brazenly, if he had no +curiosity to know my name.</p> + +<p>"Not exactly curiosity," said he, smiling his pleasant +smile again. "I'm never curious about people I—like, +or feel that I'm going to like. It isn't my nature."</p> + +<p>"It's just the opposite with me."</p> + +<p>"We're of opposite sexes."</p> + +<p>"You believe that explains it? I don't know. +Man may be a fellow creature, I suppose—though they +didn't teach me that at the Convent. But tell me this: +even if you have no curiosity, because you hope you can +manage to endure me, <i>do</i> you think I look like an +'Elise'?"</p> + +<p>"Somehow, you don't. Names have different colours +for me. Elise is bright pink. You ought to be silver, or +pale blue."</p> + +<p>"Elise is my professional name; Lady Turnour is my +sponsor. My real name's Lys—Lys d'Angely."</p> + +<p>"Good! Lys <i>is</i> silver."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could coin it. Let me see if I can guess +what you ought to be? You look like—like—well, +Jack would suit you. But that's too good to be true. I +shall never meet a 'Jack' except in books and ballads."</p> + +<p>"My name is John Claud. But when I was a boy, I +always fought any chap who called me 'Claud,' and tried +to give him a black eye or a bloody nose. You may call +me Jack, if you like."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>"Certainly not. I shall call you Mr. Dane."</p> + +<p>"Shuvvers are never mistered."</p> + +<p>"Not even by the females of their kind? I always +supposed that manners were very toploftical in the servants' +hall."</p> + +<p>"We may both soon know."</p> + +<p>"Elise, take that cup at once where you got it from, +and come back to your place. We are ready to start."</p> + +<p>This from Lady Turnour. (Really, if she takes to +interfering every time we others have got to the middle +of an interesting conversation, I don't know what I shall +do to her! Perhaps I'll put her transformation on side-wise. +Or would that be blackmail?)</p> + +<p>Silently the chauffeur took the cup from my frightened +fingers, and marched off with it into the hotel, without a +"by your leave" or "with your leave."</p> + +<p>"My word, your chauffeur might have better manners!" +grumbled Lady Turnour to Sir Samuel, as she climbed +into the car; but there was no scolding when the rude +young man came briskly back, looking supremely unconscious +of having given offence.</p> + +<p>"Now we must make good time to Marseilles, if we're +to get there for dinner," he said, when he had started the +car, and taken his place. "We shall stop there to-night, +or rather, just outside the town, in one of the nicest +hotels on earth, as you will see."</p> + +<p>"Whose choice?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Mine," he laughed, "but I don't think Sir Samuel knows that!"</p> + +<p>Down to Hyères we floated again, on the wings of the +Aigle, I looking longingly across the valley where the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>old town climbed a citadeled hill, and lay down at the foot +of a sturdy though crumbling castle. If this were <i>really</i> +my own tour, as I am trying to play it is, I would have +commanded a long stop at Costebelle, to make explorations +of the region round about. I can imagine no greater +joy than to be able to stay at beautiful places as long as +one wished, and to keep on doing beautiful things till +one tired of doing them.</p> + +<p>But life is a good deal like a big busybody of a policeman, +continually telling us to get up and move on!</p> + +<p>Our world was a flower world again, ringed in like a +secret fairyland, with distant mountains of extraordinarily +graceful shapes—charming lady-mountains; and as +far as we could see the road was cut through a carpet +of pink, white, and golden blossoms destined by and by +for the markets of Paris, London, Berlin, and Vienna.</p> + +<p>Before I thought it could be so near, we dashed into +Toulon, a very different Toulon from the Toulon of the +railway station, where I remembered stopping a few +mornings (which seemed like a few years) ago. Now, +it looked a noble and impressive place, as well as a +tremendously busy town; but my eye climbed to the +towery heights above, wondering on which one Napoleon—a +smart young officer of artillery—placed the +batteries that shelled the British out of the harbour, +and gained for him the first small laurel leaf of his +imperial crown.</p> + +<p>I thought, too, of all the French novels I'd read, +whose sailor heroes were stationed at Toulon, and there +met romantic or sensational adventures. They were +always handsome and dashing, those heroes, and as we +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>threaded intricate fortifications, I found myself looking +out for at least one or two of them.</p> + +<p>Yes, they were there, plenty of heroes, almost all handsome, +with splendid dark eyes that searched flatteringly +to penetrate the mystery of my talc triangle. They +didn't know, poor dears, that there was nothing better +than a lady's-maid behind it. What a waste of gorgeous +glances!</p> + +<p>I laughed to myself at the fancy, and the chauffeur +sitting beside me wanted to know why; but I wouldn't +tell him. One really can't say everything to a man one +has known only for a day. And yet, the curious part is, +I feel as if we had been the best of friends for a long time. +I never felt like that toward any man before, but I suppose +it is because of the queer resemblance in our fates.</p> + +<p>Beyond Toulon we had to slow down for a long procession +of gypsy caravans on their way to town; quaint, +moving houses, with strings of huge pearls that were +gleaming onions, festooned across their blue or green +doors and windows; and out from those doors and +windows wonderful eyes gazed at us—eyes full of +secrets of the East, strange eyes, more fascinating in their +passing glance than those of the gay young heroes at Toulon.</p> + +<p>So we flew on to the village of Ollioules, and into the +dim mountain gorge of the same musical name. The +car plunged boldly through the veil of deep blue shadow +which hung, ghostlike, over the serpentine curves of the +white road; and out of its twilight-mystery rose always +the faint singing of a little river that ran beside us, under +the steep gray wall of towering rock.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>At the top of the gorge a surprise of beauty waited +for us as our way led along a sinuous road cut into +the swelling mountain-side. Far off lay the sea, with +an army of tremendous purple rocks hurling themselves +headlong into the molten gold of the water, like a drove of +mammoths. All the world was gold and royal purple. +Hills and mountains stood up, darkly violet, out of a +golden plain, against a sky of gold; and it was such a +picture as only Heaven or Turner could have painted.</p> + +<p>Nor was there any break in the varied splendor of +the scene and of the sun's setting until we came to the +dull-looking town of Aubagne. After that, the Southern +darkness swooped in haste, and while we wound tediously +through the immense, never-ending traffic of Marseilles, +it "made night." All the length and breadth of the +Cannebière burst into brilliance of electric light, as if +in our honor. The great street looked as gay as a +Paris boulevard; and as we turned into it, we turned into +an adventure.</p> + +<p>To begin with, nothing seemed less likely than an +adventure. We drew up calmly before the door of a +hotel whence a telephonic demand for rooms must be +sent to La Reserve, under the same management. It was +the chauffeur who had to go in and telephone, for the +bridegroom is even more helpless in French than the bride; +and before Mr. Dane could stop the car, Sir Samuel +called out: "Keep the motor going, to save time. You +needn't be a minute in there. Her ladyship is hungry, +and wants to get on."</p> + +<p>The chauffeur raised his eyebrows, but obeyed in +silence, leaving the motor hard at work, the automobile +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>panting as impatiently to be off as if "she" suffered with +Lady Turnour.</p> + +<p>No sooner was the tall, leather-clad figure out of sight +than a crowd of small boys and youths pressed boldly +round the handsome car. Her splendour was her undoing, +for a plain, every-day sort of automobile might have failed +to attract.</p> + +<p>Laughing, jabbering <i>patois</i>, a dozen young imps forced +their audacious attentions on the unprotected azure +beauty. What was I, that I could defend her, left there +as helpless as she, while her great heart throbbed +under me?</p> + +<p>It was easy to say "<i>Allez-vous en—va!</i>" and I said +it, not once, but again and again, each time more emphatically +than before. Nobody paid the slightest attention, +however, except, perhaps to find an extra spice of pleasure +in tormenting me. If I had been a yapping miniature +lap-dog, with teeth only <i>pour faire rire</i>, I could not have +been treated with greater disdain by the crowd. I glanced +hastily round to see if Sir Samuel had not taken alarm; but, +sitting beside his wife in the big crystal cage, he seemed +blissfully unconscious of danger to his splendid Aigle. +Instead, the couple looked rather pleased than otherwise +to be a centre of attraction.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," I thought, "they're right, and these +young wretches can work no real harm to the car. They +ought to know better than I—"</p> + +<p>But they didn't; for before the thought could spin +itself out in my mind, a gypsy-eyed little fiend of twelve +or thirteen made a spring at the driver's seat. With +a yelp of mischievous glee he proved his daring to his +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>comrades by snatching at the starting-lever. He was +quick as a flash of summer lightning, but if I hadn't been +quicker, the big car might have leaped into life, and run +amuck through the most crowded street in busy Marseilles. +I felt myself go cold and hot, horribly uncertain whether +my interference might work harm or good, but before I +quite knew what I did, I had sent the boy flying with a +sounding box on the ear.</p> + +<p>He squealed as he sprawled backward, and I stood up, +ready for battle, my fingers tingling, my heart pounding. +The imp was up again, in half a breath, pushed forward +by his friends to take revenge, and I could hear Sir Samuel +or her ladyship wrestling vainly with the window behind +me. What would have happened next I can't tell, except +that I was in a mood to fight for our car till the death, +even if knives flashed out; and I think I was gasping +"Police! Police!" but at that instant Mr. Jack Dane +hurled himself like a catapult from the hotel. He dashed +the weedy youths out of his way like ninepins, jumped to +his seat, and the car and the car's occupants were safe.</p> + +<p>"You are a trump, Miss d'Angely," said he, as we +boomed away from the hotel, scattering the crowd before +us as an eddy of wind scatters autumn leaves. "You +did just the right thing at just the right time. It was all +my fault. I oughtn't to have left the motor going."</p> + +<p>"It was Sir Samuel's fault," I contradicted him.</p> + +<p>"No. Whatever goes wrong with the car is always the +chauffeur's fault. Sir Samuel wanted me to do a foolish +thing, and I oughtn't to have done it. I had your life +to think of—"</p> + +<p>"And theirs."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>"Theirs, of course. But I would have thought of +yours first."</p> + +<p>It made my heart feel as warm as a bird in a nest to +be complimented by the man at the helm for presence +of mind, and then to hear that already I'd gained a friend +to whom my life was of some value. Since my mother +died, there has been no one for whom I've come first.</p> + +<p>I wanted badly to do something to show my gratitude, +but could think of nothing except that, by and by, when +we knew each other better, I might offer to sew on his +buttons or mend his socks.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + + +<p>"I suppose we'll meet by-and-by at dinner?" I +said (I'm afraid rather wistfully) to the chauffeur +as he drove the car up a steep hill to the door of La +Reserve, on The Corniche.</p> + +<p>"Well, no," he answered, "because you needn't fear +anything disagreeable here, and I'm going to stop at a +less expensive place. You see, I pay my own way, +and as I really have to live on my screw, it doesn't +run to grand hotels. This one <i>is</i> rather grand; but +you will be all right, because, although it's a famous +place for food, at this season few people stop overnight, +and I've found out through the telephone that the +Turnours are the only ones who have taken bedrooms. +That means you'll have your dinner and breakfast by +yourself."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that will be nice!" I said, trying to speak as if +I delighted in the thought of solitude and reflection. "I +wish I were paying my own way, too; but I couldn't +do it on fifty francs a month, could I?"</p> + +<p>"Fifty francs a month!" he echoed, astonished. "Is +that your compensation for being a slave to such a woman? +By Jove, it makes me hot all over, to think that a girl like +you should—"</p> + +<p>"Well, this trip is thrown in as additional compensation," +I reminded him. "And thanks to you and your +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>kindness, I believe I'm going to find my place more than +tolerable."</p> + +<p>The car stopped, and duty began. I couldn't even +turn and say good night to the chauffeur, as I walked +primly into the hotel, laden with my mistress's things.</p> + +<p>She and Sir Samuel had the best rooms in the house, +a suite big enough and grand enough for a king and +queen, with a delightful <i>loggia</i> overlooking the high garden +and the sea. But of course Lady Turnour would +die rather than seem impressed by anything, and would +probably pick faults if she were invited to sleep at Buckingham +Palace or Windsor Castle—a contingency which +I think unlikely. She was snappish with hunger, and did +not trouble to restrain her temper before me. Poor Sir +Samuel! It is he who has snatched her from her lodging-house, +to lead her into luxury, because of his faithful +love of many years; and this is the way she rewards him! +If I'd been in his place, and had a javelin handy, I think +I might suddenly have become a widower.</p> + +<p>She was better after dinner, however, so I knew she +must have been well fed: and in the morning, after a +gorgeous <i>déjeuner</i> on the loggia, she was in an amiable +mood to plan for the day's journey.</p> + +<p>At ten o'clock the chauffeur arrived, and was shown +up to the Turnours' vast Louis XVI. salon. He looked +as much like an icily regular, splendidly null, bronze statue +as a flesh-and-blood young man could possibly look, for +that, no doubt, is his conception of the part of a well-trained +"shuvver"; and he did not seem aware of my +existence as he stood, cap in hand, ready for orders.</p> + +<p>As for me, I flatter myself that I was equally admirable +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>in my own <i>métier</i>. I was assorting a motley collection +of guide-books, novels, maps, smelling-salts, and kodaks +when he came in, and was dying to look up, but I remained +as sweetly expressionless as a doll.</p> + +<p>The bronze statue respectfully inquired how its master +would like to make a little <i>détour</i>, instead of going by +way of Aix-en-Provence to Avignon, as arranged. Within +an easy run was a spot loved by artists, and beginning to +be talked about—Martigues on the Etang de Berre, a +salt lake not far from Marseilles—said to be picturesque. +The Prince of Monaco was fond of motoring down +that way.</p> + +<p>At the sound of a princely name her ladyship's mind +made itself up with a snap. So the change of programme +was decided upon, and curious as to the chauffeur's +motive, I questioned him when again we sat shoulder to +shoulder, the salt wind flying past our faces.</p> + +<p>"Why the Etang de Berre?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I rather thought it would interest you. It's a +queer spot."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. You think I like queer spots—and things?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and people. I'm sure you do. You'll like +the Etang and the country round, but <i>they</i> won't."</p> + +<p>"That's a detail," said I, "since this tour runs itself +in the interests of the <i>femme de chambre</i> and the +chauffeur."</p> + +<p>"We're the only ones who have any interests that +matter. It's all the same to them, really, where they go, +if I take the car over good roads and land them at expensive +hotels at night. But I'm not going to do that always.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +They've got to see the Gorge of the Tarn. They don't +know that yet, but they have."</p> + +<p>"And won't they like seeing it?"</p> + +<p>"Lady Turnour will hate it."</p> + +<p>"Then we may as well give it up. Her will is mightier +than the sword."</p> + +<p>"Once she's in, there'll be no turning back. She'll +have to push on to the end."</p> + +<p>"She mayn't consent to go in."</p> + +<p>"Queen Margherita of Italy is said to have the idea +of visiting the Tarn next summer. Think what it would +mean to Lady Turnour to get the start of a queen!"</p> + +<p>"You are Machiavelian! When did you have this inspiration?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I got thinking last night that, as they have +plenty of time—almost as much time as money—it +seemed a pity that I should whirl them along the road to +Paris at the rate planned originally. You see, though +there are plenty of interesting places on the way +mapped out—you've been to Tours, you say—"</p> + +<p>"What of that?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, the trip might as well be new for everybody +except myself; and as you like adventures—"</p> + +<p>"You think it's the Turnours' duty to have them."</p> + +<p>"Just so. If only to punish her ladyship for grinding +you down to fifty francs a month. What a reptile!"</p> + +<p>"If she's a reptile, I'm a cat to plot against her."</p> + +<p>"Do cats plot? Only against mice, I think. And +anyhow, <i>I'm</i> doing all the plotting. I've felt a different +man since yesterday. I've got something to live for."</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>what?</i>" The question asked itself.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>"For a comrade in misfortune. And to see her to her +journey's end. I suppose that end will be in Paris?"</p> + +<p>"No-o," I said. "I rather think I shall go on all the +way to England with Lady Turnour—if I can stand it. +There's a person in England who will be kind to me."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" remarked Mr. Dane, suddenly dry and taciturn +again. I didn't know what had displeased him—unless +he was sorry to have my company as far as England; +yet somehow I couldn't quite believe it was that.</p> + +<p>All this talk we had while dodging furious trams and +enormous waggons piled with merchandise, in that maelstrom +of traffic near the Marseilles docks, which must +be passed before we could escape into the country. At +last, coasting down a dangerously winding hill with a +too suggestively named village at the bottom—L'Assassin—the +Aigle turned westward. The chauffeur let her +spread her wings at last, and we raced along a clear road, +the Etang already shimmering blue before us, like an +eye that watched and laughed.</p> + +<p>Then we had to swing smoothly round a great circle, +to see in all its length and breadth that strange, hidden, +and fishy fairy-land of which Martigues is the door. +Once the Phoenicians found their way here, looking for +salt, which is exploited to this day; Marius camped +near enough to take his morning dip in the Etang, perhaps; +and Jeanne, queen of Naples, held Martigues for +herself. But now only fish, and fishermen, and a few +artists occupy themselves in that quaint little world which +one passes all regardlessly in the flying "<i>Côte d'Azur</i>."</p> + +<p>As we sailed round the road which rings the sleepy-looking +salt lake, Lady Turnour had a window opened +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>on purpose to ask what on earth the Prince of Monaco +found to admire in this flat country, where there were no +fine buildings? And her rebellion made me take alarm +for the success of our future plots. But the chauffeur +(anxious for the same reason, maybe, that she should be +content) explained things nicely.</p> + +<p>Why, said he, for one thing the best fish eaten at +the best restaurants of Monte Carlo came out of the +Etang de Berre. The <i>bouillabaise</i> which her ladyship +had doubtless tasted at La Reserve last night, originally +owed much to the same source; and talking of <i>bouillabaise</i>, +Martigues was almost as famous for it as La +Reserve itself. One had but to lunch at the little hotel +Paul Chabas to prove that. And then, for less material +reasons, His Serene Highness might be influenced by the +fact that Corot had loved this ring of land which clasped +the Etang de Berre—Ziem, too, and other artists whose +opinion could not be despised.</p> + +<p>These arguments silenced if they didn't convince Lady +Turnour, though she had probably never heard of Ziem, +or even Corot, and we two in front were able to admire +the charming scene in peace. Crossing bridges here +and there we saw, rising above sapphire lake and silver +belt of olives jewelled with rosy almond blossom, more +than one miniature Carcassonne, or ruined castle small +as if peeped at through a diminishing glass. There +was Port le Bouc, the Mediterranean harbour of the +Etang, or watergate to fairyland, as Martigues was the +door; Istre on its proud little height; Miramas and +Berre, important in their own eyes, and pretty in all others +when reflected in the glassy surface of blue water. There +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>were dark groups of cypresses, like mourning figures +talking together after a funeral—ancient trees who could +almost remember the Romans; and better than all else, +there was Pont Flavian, which these Romans had built.</p> + +<p>Even Lady Turnour condescended to get out of the +car to do honour to the bridge with its two Corinthian +arches of perfect grace and beauty; but she had nothing +to say to the poor little, tired-looking lions sitting on top, +which I longed to climb up and pat.</p> + +<p>She wanted to push on, and her one thought of Aix-en-Provence +was for lunch. Was Dane sure we should +find anything decent to eat there? Very well, then the +sooner we got it the better.</p> + +<p>What a good thing there was someone on board the car +to appreciate Provence, someone to keep saying—"We're +in Provence—<i>Provence!</i>" repeating the word +just for the joy and music of it, and all it means +of romance and history!</p> + +<p>If there had not been someone to say and feel that, +every turn of the tyres would have been an insult to +Provence, who had put on her loveliest dress to bid us +welcome. Among the olives and almonds, young trees +of vivid yellow spouted pyramids of thin, gold flame +against a sky of violet, and the indefinable fragrance +of spring was in the air. We met handsome, up-standing +peasants in red or blue <i>beréts</i>, singing melodiously in +<i>patois</i>—Provençal, perhaps—as they walked beside +their string of stout cart-horses. And the songs, and the +dark eyes of the singers, and the wonderful horned +harness which the noble beasts wore with dignity, all +seemed to answer us: "Yes, you are in Provence."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>We talked of old Provence, my Fellow Worm and I, +while our master and mistress wearied for their luncheon; +of the men and women who had passed along this road +which we travelled. What would Madame de Sévigné, +or Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, or George Sand have +said if a blue car like ours had suddenly flashed into their +vision? We agreed that, in any case, not one of them—or +any other person of true imagination—would call +abominable a wonderful piece of mechanism with the +power of flattening mountains into plains, triumphing +over space, annihilating distance; a machine combining +fiercest energy with the mildest docility. No, only old +fogies would close their hearts to a machine fit for the +gods, and pride themselves on being motophobes forever. +We felt ourselves, car and all, to be worthy of +this magic way, lined with blossoms that played like rosy +children among the strange rocks characteristic of +Provence—rocks which seemed to have boiled up all +hot out of the earth, and then to have vied with each +other in hardening into most fantastic shapes. Even +we felt ourselves worthy to meet a few troubadours, as +we drew near to Aix, where once they held their Courts +of Love; and we had talked ourselves into an almost +dangerously romantic mood by the time we arrived at +the hotel in the Cours Mirabeau.</p> + +<p>There, in the wide central <i>Place</i>, sprayed a delicious +fountain splashed with gold by the sunlight that filtered +through an arbour of great trees; and there, too, was a +statue of good King René. Perhaps, if I hadn't known +that Aix-en-Provence was the home of the troubadours, +and that its springs had been loved by the Romans before +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>the days of Christianity, I might not have thought it more +charming than many another ancient sleepy town of +France; but it is impossible to disentangle one's imagination +and sentiment from one's eyesight; therefore, Aix +seemed an exquisite place to me.</p> + +<p>Now that I knew how knight-errantry in some of its +branches was likely to affect Mr. Dane's pocket, I resolved +that nothing should tempt me to encourage him in the +pursuit. No matter how many flirtatious smiles were +shed upon me by enterprising waiters, no matter how +many conversations were begun by couriers who took +me for rather a superior sample of "young person," I +would bear all, all, without a complaint which might +seem like a hint for protection.</p> + +<p>When Lady Turnour had forgotten me, in the dazzling +light that beat about the thought of luncheon, I almost +bustled into the hotel, and asked for the servants' dining-room. +I knew that there was little hope of eating alone, +for several important-looking motor-cars were drawn up +before the hotel; but I was hardly prepared for the gay +company I found assembled.</p> + +<p>Three chauffeurs, a valet, and two maids were lunching, +and judging from appearances the meal was far enough +advanced to have cemented lifelong friendships. Wine +being as free as the air you breathe, in this country of +the grape, naturally the big glass <i>caraffes</i> behind the plates +were more than half empty, and the elder of the two +elderly maids had a shining pink knob on her nose.</p> + +<p>I hadn't yet taken off my diving-bell (as I've named +my head covering), and every eye was upon me during +the intricate process of removal. Conversation, which +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>was in French, slackened in the interests of curiosity; +and when the new face was exposed to public gaze the +three gallant chauffeurs jumped up, as one man, each +with the kind intention of placing me in a chair next +himself. "<i>Voilà une petite tête trop jolie pour être cachée +comme ça!</i>" exclaimed the best looking and boldest of +the trio.</p> + +<p>The ladies of the party sniffed audibly, and raised +their somewhat moth-eaten eyebrows at each other in +virtuous disapproval of a young female who provoked +such remarks from strangers. The valet, who had the +air of being engaged to the maid with the nose, confined +himself to a non-committal grin, but the second and +third chauffeurs loyally supported their leader. "<i>Vous +avez raison</i>," they responded, laughing and showing +quantities of white teeth. Then they followed up their +compliment by begging that mademoiselle would sit +down, and allow her health to be drunk—with that of +the other ladies.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sit down by me," said Number One, indicating +a chair. "This is the Queen's throne."</p> + +<p>"By me," said Number Two. "I'll cut up your meat for you."</p> + +<p>"By me," said Number Three. "I'll give you my +share of pudding."</p> + +<p>By this time I was red to the ears, not knowing whether +it were wiser for a lady's-maid to run away, or to take the +rough chaff good-humouredly, and make the best of it. +I fluttered, undecided, never thinking of the old adage +concerning the woman who hesitates.</p> + +<p>In an instant, it was forcibly recalled to my mind, for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +Number One chauffeur, smelling strongly of the good +red wine of Provence, came forward and offered me his arm.</p> + +<p>This was too much.</p> + +<p>"Please don't!" I stammered, in my confusion speaking +English.</p> + +<p>"<i>Ah, Mademoiselle est Anglaise!</i>" the two others +exclaimed, "<i>Vive l'entente cordiale!</i> We are Frenchmen. +You are Italian. She belongs to our side."</p> + +<p>"Let her choose," said the handsome Italian, pointing +his moustache and doing such execution upon me with +his splendid eyes, that if they'd been Maxim guns I should +have fallen riddled with bullets.</p> + +<p>"I'll sit by nobody," I managed to answer, this time +in French. "Please take your seats. I will have a chair +at the other end of the table."</p> + +<p>"You see, mademoiselle is too polite to choose between +us. She's afraid of a duel," laughed good-looking +Number One. "I tell you what we must do. We'll +draw lots for her. Three pellets of bread. The biggest wins."</p> + +<p>"Beg your pardon, monsieur," remarked Mr. Dane, +whom I hadn't seen as he opened the door, "mademoiselle +is of my party. She is waiting for me."</p> + +<p>His voice was perfectly calm, even polite, but as I +whirled round and looked at him, fearing a scene, I saw +that his eyes were rather dangerous. He looked like a +dog who says, as plainly as a dog can speak, "I'm a +good fellow, and I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt. +But put that bone down, or I bite."</p> + +<p>The Italian dropped the bone (I don't mind the simile)<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +not because he was afraid, I think, but because Mr. John +Dane's chin was much squarer and firmer than his; +and because such sense of justice as he had told him +that the newcomer was within his rights.</p> + +<p>"And I beg mademoiselle's pardon," he replied with +a bow and a flourish.</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad you've come—but I oughtn't to be, +and I didn't expect you," I said, when my chauffeur had +pulled out a chair for me at the end of the table farthest +from the other maids and chauffeurs.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" he wanted to know, sitting down by my side.</p> + +<p>"Because I suppose it's the best hotel in town, +and—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're thinking of my pocket! I wish I hadn't +said what I did last night. Looking back, it sounds +caddish. But I generally do blurt out things stupidly. +If I didn't, I shouldn't be 'shuvving' now—only that's +another story. To tell the whole truth, it wasn't the state +of my pocketbook alone that influenced me last night. +I had two other reasons. One was a selfish one, and +the other, I hope, unselfish."</p> + +<p>"I hope the selfish one wasn't fear of being bored?"</p> + +<p>"If that's a question, it doesn't deserve an answer. +But because you've asked it, I'll tell you both reasons. +I'd stopped at La Reserve before, in—in rather different +circumstances, and I thought—not only might it make +talk about me, but—"</p> + +<p>"I understand," I said. "Of course, Lady Turnour +isn't as careful a chaperon as she ought to be."</p> + +<p>Then we both laughed, and the danger-signals were +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>turned off in his eyes. When he isn't smiling, Mr. Dane +sometimes looks almost sullen, quite as if he could be +disagreeable if he liked; but that makes the change more +striking when he does smile.</p> + +<p>"You needn't worry about that pocket of mine," he +went on, as we ate our luncheon. "It's as cheap +here as anywhere; and when I saw all those motors +before the door, I made up my mind that you'd +probably need a brother, so I came as soon as I could +leave the car."</p> + +<p>"So you are my brother, are you?" I echoed.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think you might adopt me, once for all, +in that relationship? Then, you see, the chaperoning +won't matter so much. Of course, it's early days to take +me on as a brother, but I think we'd better begin at once."</p> + +<p>"Before I know whether you have any faults?" I +asked. And just for the minute, the French half of me +was a little piqued at his offer. That part of me pouted, +and said that it would be much more amusing to travel +in such odd circumstances beside a person one could +flirt with, than to make a pact of "brother and sister." +He might have given me the chance to say first that I'd +be a sister to him! But the American half slapped the +French half, and said: "What silly nonsense! Don't be +an idiot, if you can help it. The man's behaving beautifully. +And it will just do you good to have your vanity +stepped on, you conceited little minx!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've plenty of faults, I'll tell you to start with—plenty +you may have noticed already, and plenty more +you haven't had time to notice yet," said my new relative.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +"I'm a sulky brute, for one thing, and I've got to be a +pessimist lately, for another—a horrid fault, that!—and +I have a vile temper—"</p> + +<p>"All those faults might be serviceable in a <i>brother</i>," +I said. "Though in any one else—"</p> + +<p>"In a friend or a lover, they'd be unbearable, of course; +I know that," he broke in. "But who'd want me for a +friend? And as for a lover, why, I'm struck off the list +of eligibles, forever—if I was ever on it."</p> + +<p>After that, we ate our luncheon as fast as we could +(a very bad habit, which I don't mean to keep up for +man or brother), and even though the others had begun +long before we did, we finished while they were still +cracking nuts and peeling apples, their spirits somewhat +subdued by the Englishman's presence.</p> + +<p>"The great folk won't have got their money's worth +for nearly an hour yet," said Mr. Dane. "Don't you want +to go and have a look at the Cathedral? There are some +grand things to see there—the triptych called 'Le Buisson +Argent,' and some splendid old tapestry in the choir; +a whole wall and some marble columns from a Roman +temple of Apollo—oh, and you mustn't forget to look for +the painting of St. Mitre the Martyr trotting about with +his head in his hands. On the way to the Cathedral +notice the doorways you'll pass. Aix is celebrated for +its doorways."</p> + +<p>(Evidently my brother passed through Aix, as well +as along the Corniche, under "different circumstances!")</p> + +<p>"You mean—I'm to go alone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I can't leave the car to take you. I'm sorry."</p> + +<p>The French half of me was vexed again, but didn't +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>dare let the sensible American half, which knew he was +right, see it, for fear of another scolding.</p> + +<p>I thanked him in a way as businesslike as his own, +and said that I would take his advice; which I did. +Although I hate sightseeing by myself, I wouldn't let him +think I meant to be always trespassing on his good nature; +and afterward I was glad I hadn't yielded to my inclination +to be helpless, for the Cathedral and the doorways were +all he had promised, and more. It was a scramble to see +anything in the few minutes I had, though, and awful +to feel that Lady Turnour was hanging over my head like +a sword. The thought of how she would look and what +she would say if I kept the car waiting was a string tied +to my nerves, pulling them all at once, like a jumping-jack's +arms and legs, so that I positively ran back to the +hotel, more breathless than Cinderella when the hour of +midnight began to strike. But there was the magic glass +coach, not yet become a pumpkin; there was the chauffeur, +not turned into whatever animal a chauffeur does +turn into in fairy stories; and there were not Sir Samuel +and her ladyship, nor any sign of them.</p> + +<p>"Thank goodness, I'm not late!" I panted. "I +was afraid I was. That dear verger wouldn't realize +that there could be anything of more importance in the +world than the statue of Ste. Martha and the Tarasque."</p> + +<p>"Nothing is, really," said Mr. Dane, glancing up from +some dentist-looking work he was doing in the Aigle's +mouth under her lifted bonnet. "But you <i>are</i> a little +late—"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" I gasped, pink with horror. "You don't mean +to say the Turnours have been out, and waiting?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>"I do, but don't be so despairing. I told them I +thought I'd better look the car over, and wasn't quite +ready. That's always true, you know. A motor's like +a pretty woman; never objects to being looked at. So +they said 'damn,' and strolled off to buy chocolates."</p> + +<p>"It's getting beyond count how many times you've +saved me, and this is only our second day out," I exclaimed. +"Here they come now, as they always do, when we exchange a word."</p> + +<p>I trembled guiltily, but there was no more than a vague +general disapproval in Lady Turnour's eyes, the kind of +expression which she thinks useful for keeping servants in +their place.</p> + +<p>I got into mine, on the front seat; the car's bonnet +got into its, the chauffeur into his, and at just three o'clock +we turned our backs upon good King René.</p> + +<p>The morning had drunk up all the sunshine of the day, +leaving none for afternoon, which was troubled with a +hint of coming mistral. The landscape began to look +like a hastily sketched water-colour, with its hills and +terraces of vine; and above was a pale sky, blurred like +greasy silver. The wind roamed moaning among the +tops of the tall cypresses, set close together to protect the +meadows from one of "the three plagues of Provence." +And even as the mistral tweaked our noses with a chilly +thumb and finger, our eyes caught sight of the second and +more dreaded plague: the deceitfully gentle-seeming +Durance, which in its rage can come tearing down from +the Alps with the roar of a famished lion.</p> + +<p>Far above the wide river, the Aigle glided across a +high-hung suspension bridge, the song of the water floating +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>up to our ears mingling with the purr of the motor—two +giant forces, one set loose by nature, the other by +man, duetting harmoniously together, while the wind +wailed over our heads. But for the third and last plague +of Provence we would have had to search in vain, for the +land is no longer tormented by Parliament.</p> + +<p>Always the road had stretched before us, up hill after +hill, as straight drawn between its scantily grass-covered +banks as the parting in an old man's hair; and always, +far ahead, wave following wave of hill and mountain had +seemed to roll toward us like the sea as we advanced to +meet them. After the vineyards had come wild rocks, +set with crumbling forts, and towers, and châteaux; +then the mild interest of fruit blossom spraying pink and +white among primly pollarded olives; then grape country +again, with squat, low-growing vines like gnomes kicking +up gnarled legs as they turned somersaults; then a break +into wonderful mountain country, with Orgon's ruins +towering skyward, dark as despair, a wild romance in stone. +But before we reached the great suspension bridge, the +Pont de Bonpas, the landscape appeared exhausted after +its sublime efforts, and inclined to quiet down for a rest. +It was only near Avignon that it sprung up refreshed, +ready for more strange surprises; and the grim grandeur +of the scenery as we approached the ancient town seemed +to prophesy the mediæval towers and ramparts of the +historic city.</p> + +<p>Skirting the huge city wall, the blue car was the one +note of modernity; but hardly had we turned in at a great +gate worthy to open in welcome for Queen Jeanne of +Naples, or Bertrand du Guesclin, than we were in the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>hum of twentieth-century life. I resented the change, +for one expects nothing, wants nothing, modern in Avignon; +but in a moment or two we had left the bright cafés +and shops behind, to plunge back into the middle ages. +Anything, it seemed, might happen in the queer, shadowed +streets of tall old houses with mysterious doorways, +through which the Aigle cautiously threaded, like a +glittering crochet needle practicing a new stitch. Then, +in the quiet <i>place</i>, asleep and dreaming of stirring deeds +it once had seen, we stopped before a dignified building +more like some old ducal family mansion than a hotel.</p> + +<p>But it was a hotel, and we were to stop the night in it, +leaving all sightseeing for the next morning. Lady +Turnour was tired. She had done too much already for +one day—with a reproachful glance at the chauffeur +whom she thus made responsible for her prostration. +Nothing would induce her to go out again that evening, +and she thought that she would dine in her own sitting-room. +She didn't like old places, or old hotels, but +she supposed she would have to make the best of this +one. She was a woman who <i>never</i> complained, unless +it really was her duty, and then she didn't hesitate.</p> + +<p>This was her mood when getting out of the car, but +inside the quaint and charming house a look at the +visitors' register changed it in a flash. There was one +prince and one duke; there were several counts; and as +to barons, they were peppered about in rich profusion. +Each noble being was accompanied by his chauffeur, so +evidently it was the "thing" to stop in the Hotel de +l'Europe, and the <i>haut monde</i> considered Avignon worth +wasting time upon. Instantly her ladyship resolved +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>to recover gracefully from her fatigue, and descend to the +public dining-room for dinner.</p> + +<p>So fascinated was she by the list of great names, that +she lingered over the reading of them, as one lingers +over the last strawberries of the season; and I had to +stand at attention close behind her, with her rugs over +my arm, lest any one should miss seeing that she had a +maid.</p> + +<p>"Dane says the best thing is to make Avignon a centre, +and stop here two or three nights, 'doing' the country +round, before going on to Nîmes or Arles," she said to +Sir Samuel, who was clamouring for the best rooms in +the house. "I didn't feel I should like that plan, but +thinking it over, I'm not sure he isn't right."</p> + +<p>I knew very well what her "thinking it over" meant!</p> + +<p>They stood discussing the pros and cons, and as I didn't +yet know the numbers of our rooms, I was obliged to wait +till I was told. I was not bored, however, but was looking +about with interest, when I heard the teuf-teuf of a +motor-car outside. "There goes Mr. Jack Dane with +the Aigle," I thought; and yet there was a difference in +the sound. I'm too amateurish in such matters to understand +the exact reason for such differences, though chauffeurs +say they could tell one make of motor from another +by ear if they were blindfolded. Perhaps it wasn't our +car leaving, but another one coming to the hotel!</p> + +<p>I had nothing better to do than to watch for new arrivals. +My eyes were lazily fixed on the door, and presently it +opened. A figure, all fur and a yard wide, came in.</p> + +<p>It was the figure of Monsieur Charretier.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + + +<p>For a minute everything swam before me, as it +used to at the Convent after some older girl had +twisted up the ropes of the big swing, with me in +it, and let me spin round. Also, I felt as if a jugful of +hot water had been dashed over my head. I seemed to +feel it trickling through my hair and into my ears.</p> + +<p>If I could have moved, I believe I should have bolted +like a frightened rabbit, perfectly regardless of what Lady +Turnour might think, caring only to dart away without +being caught by the man I'd done such wild deeds to +escape. But I was as helpless as a person in a nightmare; +and, indeed, it was as unreal and dreadful to me as a +nightmare to see that fat, fur-coated figure walking +toward me, with the bearded face of Monsieur Charretier +showing between turned-up collar and motor-cap surmounted +by lifted goggles.</p> + +<p>They say you have time to think of everything while +you are drowning. I believe that, now, because I had +time to think of everything while that furry gentleman +took a dozen steps. I thought of all the things he +and my cousins had ever done to disgust me with him +during his "courtship." I asked myself whether his +arrival here was a coincidence, or whether he'd been tracking +me all along, step by step, while I'd been chuckling +to myself over my lucky escape. I thought of what he +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>would do when he recognized me, and what Lady Turnour +would say, and Sir Samuel. And although I couldn't +see exactly what good he could do in such a situation, +I wished vaguely that my brother the chauffeur were on +the spot. Then suddenly, with a wild rush of joy, I +remembered that I was facing the danger through my +little talc window.</p> + +<p>Any properly trained heroine of melodrama would +have ejaculated "Saved!" but I haven't a tragedy nose, +and I gave only a stifled squeak, more like the swan-song +of a dying frog than anything more romantic.</p> + +<p>Nobody heard it, luckily; and Monsieur Charretier, +who had just come into the twilight of the hall from the +brighter light out of doors, bustled past the retiring figure +of the lady's-maid without a glance. I had even to take +a step out of his way, not to be brushed by his fur shoulder, +so wide he was in his expensive motoring coat; and trembling +from the shock, I awkwardly collided with Lady +Turnour. She, in her turn, avoiding my onslaught as +if I'd been a beggar in rags, stepped on Monsieur Charretier's +toe.</p> + +<p>He exclaimed in French, she apologized in English.</p> + +<p>He bowed a great deal, assuring madame that she had +not inconvenienced him. She accused her maid, whose +stupidity was in fault; and because each one looked to +the other rich and prosperous they were extremely polite +to one another. Even then, though her ladyship snapped +at me, "What <i>has</i> come over you, Elise? You're as +clumsy as a cow!" he had no notice to waste upon the +<i>femme de chambre</i>. Yet I dared not so much as murmur, +"Pardon!" lest he should recognize my voice.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>Fortunately my mistress and her husband were now +ready to go up to their rooms, and we left Monsieur +Charretier engaging quarters for himself and his chauffeur. +Evidently he was going to stop all night; but from +his indifference to me I judged joyfully that he had not +come to the hotel armed with information concerning my +movements. He might be searching for his lost love, +but he didn't know that she was at hand.</p> + +<p>All my pleasure in the thought of sightseeing at Avignon +was gone, like a broken bubble. I shouldn't dare to +see any sights, lest I should be seen. But stopping indoors +wouldn't mean safety. Lady's-maids can't keep their +rooms without questions being asked; and if I pretended +to be ill, very likely Lady Turnour would discharge me +on the spot, and leave me behind as if I were a cast-off +glove. Yet if I flitted about the corridors between my +mistress's room and mine, I might run up against the +enemy at any minute.</p> + +<p>I tried to mend the ravelled edges of my courage by +reminding myself that Monsieur Charretier couldn't +pick me up in his motor-car, and run off with me against +my will; but the argument wasn't much of a stimulant. +To be sure, he couldn't use violence, nor would he try; +but if he found me here he would "have it out" with me, +and he would tell things to Lady Turnour which would +induce her to send me about my business with short shrift.</p> + +<p>He could say that I'd run away from my relatives, who +were also my guardians, and altogether he could make +out a case against me which would look a dark brown, +if not black. Then, when Lady Turnour and Sir Samuel +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>had washed their hands of me, and I was left in a strange +hotel, practically without a sou—unless the Turnours +chose to be inconveniently generous, and packed me off +with a ticket to Paris—I should find it very difficult to +escape from my Corn Plaster admirer. This time there +would be no kind Lady Kilmarny to whom I could appeal.</p> + +<p>Between two evils, one chooses that which makes less +fuss. It wasn't as intricate to risk facing Monsieur +Charretier as it was to eat soap and be seized with convulsions; +so I went about my business, waiting upon her +ladyship as if I had not been in the throes of a mental +earthquake. She was not particularly cross, because the +gentleman whose acquaintance I had thrust upon her +might turn out to be Somebody, in which case my clumsiness +would be a blessing in disguise; but if she had +boxed my ears I should hardly have felt it.</p> + +<p>Bent upon dazzling the eyes of potentates in the dining-room, +and outshining possible princesses, the lady was +very particular about her dress. Although the big luggage +had gone on by train to some town of more importance +(in her eyes) than Avignon, she had made me keep +out a couple of gowns rather better suited for a first night +of opera in Paris than for dinner at the best of provincial +hotels. She chose the smarter of these toilettes, a black +<i>chiffon</i> velvet embroidered with golden tiger-lilies, and filled +in with black net from shoulder to throat. Then the blue +jewel-bag was opened, and a nodding diamond tiger-lily +to match the golden ones was carefully selected from a +blinding array of brilliants, to glitter in her masses of +copper hair. Round her neck went a rope of pearls that +fell to the waist whose slenderness I had just, with a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>mighty muscular effort, secured; but not until she had +dotted a few butterflies, bats, beetles and other scintillating +insects about her person was she satisfied with the effect. +At least, she was certain to create a sensation, as Sir +Samuel proudly remarked when he walked in to get his +necktie tied by me—a habit he has adopted.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if I ought to trust Elise with my bag?" +Lady Turnour asked him, anxiously, at last. "So far, +since we've been on tour, I've carried it over my arm +everywhere, but it doesn't go very well with a costume +like this. What do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I think that Elise is a very good girl, and that +your jewels will be perfectly safe with her if you tell her to +take care of the bag, and not let it out of her sight," +replied Sir Samuel, evidently embarrassed by such a +question within earshot of the said Elise.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I'd better have dinner in my own room, so +as to guard it more carefully?" I suggested, brightening +with the inspiration.</p> + +<p>"That's not necessary," answered her ladyship. "You +can perfectly well eat downstairs, with the bag over your +arm, as I have done for the last two days. I don't intend +to pay extra for you to have your meals served in your +room on any excuse whatever."</p> + +<p>I couldn't very well offer to pay for myself. That +would have raised the suspicion that I had hidden reasons +of my own for dining in private, and I regretted that I +hadn't held my tongue. Lady Turnour ostentatiously +locked the receptacle of her jewels with its little gilded +key, which she placed in a gold chain-bag studded with +rubies as large as currants; and then, reminding me that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +I was responsible for valuables worth she didn't know +how many thousands, she swept away, leaving a trail of +white heliotrope behind.</p> + +<p>In any case I would wait, I thought, until I could be +tolerably certain that all the guests of the hotel had gone +down to dinner. If I knew Monsieur Charretier, he +would be among the first to feed, but I couldn't afford to +run needless risks. I lingered over the task of putting my +mistress's belongings in order, almost with pleasure, and +then, once in my own room, I took as long as I could with +my own toilet. I was ready at last, and could think +of no further excuse for pottering, when suddenly it +occurred to me that I might do my hair in a demurer, less +becoming way, so that, if I should have the ill luck to +encounter a sortie of the enemy, I might still contrive to +pass without being recognized.</p> + +<p>I pinned a clean towel round my neck, barber fashion, +and pulling the pins out of my hair, shook it down over +my shoulders. But before I could twist it up again, there +came a light tap, tap, at the door.</p> + +<p>"There!" I thought. "Some one has been sent to +tell me the servants' dinner will be over if I don't hurry. +Perhaps it's too late already, and I'm <i>so</i> hungry!"</p> + +<p>I bounced to the door, and threw it wide open, to find +Mr. John Dane standing in the passage, holding a small +tray crowded with dishes.</p> + +<p>"Here you are," he said, in the most matter-of-fact +way, as if bringing meals to my door had been a fixed +habit with him, man and boy, for years. "Hope I +haven't spilt anything! There's such a crush in our +feeding place that I thought you'd be safer up here. So<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +I made friends with a dear old waiter chap, and said I +wanted something nice for my sister."</p> + +<p>"You didn't!" I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"I did. Do you mind much? I understood it was +agreed that was our relationship."</p> + +<p>"No, I don't mind much," I returned. "Thank you +for everything." I shook back a cloud of hair, and +glanced up at the chauffeur. Our eyes met, and as I +took the tray my fingers touched his. His dark face grew +faintly red, and then a slight frown drew his eyebrows +together.</p> + +<p>"Why do you suddenly look like that?" I asked. +"Have I done anything to make you cross?"</p> + +<p>"Only with myself," he said.</p> + +<p>"But why? Are you sorry you've been kind to me? +Oh, if you only knew, I need it to-night. Go on being kind."</p> + +<p>"You're not the sort of girl a man can be kind to," +he said, almost gruffly, it seemed to me.</p> + +<p>"Am I ungrateful, then?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you are," he answered. "I only +know that if I looked at you long as you are now I +should make an ass of myself—and make you detest or +despise me. So good night—and good appetite."</p> + +<p>He turned to go, but I called him back. "Please!" I +begged. "I'll only keep you one minute. I'm sure +you're joking, big brother, about being an ass, or poking +fun at me. But I don't care. I need some advice so +badly! I've no one but you to give it to me. I know you +won't desert me, because if you were like that you +wouldn't have come to stop at this hotel to watch over your +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>new sister—which I'm sure you did, though that may +sound ever so conceited."</p> + +<p>"Of course I won't desert you," he said. "I couldn't—now, +even if I would. But I'll go away till you've +had your dinner, and—and made yourself look less like +a siren and more like an ordinary human being—if +possible. Then I'll run up and knock, and you can +come out in the passage to be advised."</p> + +<p>"A siren—with a towel round her neck!" I laughed. +"If I should sing to you, perhaps you might say—"</p> + +<p>"Don't, for heaven's sake, or there would be an end +of—your brother," he broke in, laughing a little. "It +wouldn't need much more." And with that he was off.</p> + +<p>He is very abrupt in his manner at times, certainly, +this strange chauffeur, and yet one's feelings aren't +exactly hurt. And one feels, somehow, as I think the +motor seems to feel, as if one could trust to his guidance +in the most dangerous places. I'm sure he would give his +life to save the car, and I believe he would take a good +deal of trouble to save me; indeed, he has already taken +a good deal of trouble, in several ways.</p> + +<p>When he had gone I set down the tray, shut the door, +and went to see how I really did look with my hair hanging +round my shoulders. My ideas on the subject of +sirenhood are vague; but I must confess, if the creatures +are like me with my hair down, they must be quite nice, +harmless little persons. I admire my hair, there's so +much of it; and at the ends, a good long way below my +waist, there's such a thoroughly agreeable curl, like a +yellow sea-wave just about to break. Of course, that +sounds very vain; but why shouldn't one admire one's +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>own things, if one has things worth admiring? It seems +rather ungrateful to Providence to cry them down; and +ingratitude was never a favourite vice with me.</p> + +<p>One would have said that the chauffeur knew by +instinct what I liked best to eat, and he must have had a +very persuasive way with the waiter. There was crême +d'orge, in a big cup; there were sweetbreads, and there +was lemon meringue. Nothing ever tasted better since +my "birthday feasts" as a child, when I was allowed to +order my own dinner.</p> + +<p>My room being on the first floor, though separated by +a labyrinth of quaint passages from Lady Turnour's, there +was danger in a corridor conversation with Mr. Dane +at an hour when people might be coming upstairs after +dinner; but he was in such a hurry to escape from me +that I had no time to explain; and I really had not the +heart to make myself hideous, by way of disguise, as I'd +planned before his knock at the door. As an alternative +I put on a hat, pinning quite a thick veil over my face, +and when the expected tap came again, I was prepared +for it.</p> + +<p>"Are you going out?" my brother asked, looking +surprised, when I flitted into the dim corridor, with Lady +Turnour's blue bag dutifully slipped on my arm.</p> + +<p>"No," I answered. "I'm <i>hiding</i>. I know that sounds +mysterious, or melodramatic, or something silly, but +it's only disagreeable. And it's what I want to ask +your advice about." Then, shamefacedly when it came +to the point, I unfolded the tale of Monsieur Charretier.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, and he's in this house!" exclaimed the +chauffeur, genuinely interested, and not a bit sulky.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +"You haven't an idea whether he's been actually tracking you?"</p> + +<p>"If he has, he must have employed detectives, and +clever ones, too," I said, defending my own strategy.</p> + +<p>"Is he the sort of man who would do such a thing—put +detectives on a girl who's run away from home to get +rid of his attentions?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I only know he has no idea of being +a gentleman. What can you expect of Corn Plasters?"</p> + +<p>"Don't throw his corn plasters in his face. He might +be a good fellow in spite of them."</p> + +<p>"Well, he isn't—or with them, either. He may +be acting with my cousin's husband, who values him +immensely, and wants him in the family."</p> + +<p>"Is he very rich?"</p> + +<p>"Disgustingly," said I, as I had said to Lady Kilmarny.</p> + +<p>"Yet you bolted from a good home, where you had +every comfort, rather than be pestered to marry him?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, what do you call a 'good home,' and 'every comfort'? +I had enough to eat and drink, a sunny room, +decent clothes, and wasn't allowed to work except for +Cousin Catherine. But that isn't my idea of goodness +and comfort."</p> + +<p>"Nor mine either."</p> + +<p>"Yet you seem surprised at me."</p> + +<p>"I was thinking that, little and fragile as you look—like +a delicate piece of Dresden china—you're a brave girl."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you!" I cried. "I do love to be called +'brave' better than anything, because I'm really such a +coward. You don't think I've done wrong?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>"No-o. So far as you've told me."</p> + +<p>"What, don't you believe I've told you the truth?" +I flashed out.</p> + +<p>"Of course. But do women ever tell the whole truth +to men—even to their brothers? What about that +kind friend of yours in England?"</p> + +<p>"What kind friend?" I asked, confused for an instant. +Then I remembered, and—almost—chuckled. The +conversation I had had with him came back to me, and I +recalled a queer look on his face which had puzzled me +till I forgot it. Now I was on the point of blurting out: +"Oh, the kind friend is a Miss Paget, who said she'd +like to help me if I needed help," when a spirit of mischief +seized me. I determined to keep up the little mystery +I'd inadvertently made. "I know," I said gravely. +"<i>Quite</i> a different kind of friend."</p> + +<p>"Some one you like better than Monsieur Charretier?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Much</i> better."</p> + +<p>"Rich, too?"</p> + +<p>"Very rich, I believe, and of a noble family."</p> + +<p>"Indeed! No doubt, then, you are wise, even from a +worldly point of view, in refusing the man your people +want you to marry, and taking—such extreme measures +not to let yourself be over persuaded," said Mr. Dane, +stiffly, in a changed tone, not at all friendly or nice, as +before. "I meant to advise you not to go on to England +with Lady Turnour, as the whole situation is so unsuitable; +but now, of course, I shall say no more."</p> + +<p>"It was about something else I wanted advice," I +reminded him. "But I suppose I must have bored you. +You suddenly seem so cross."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>"I am not in the least cross," he returned, ferociously. +"Why should I be?—even if I had a right, which I haven't."</p> + +<p>"Not the right of a brother?"</p> + +<p>"Hang the rights of a brother!" exclaimed Mr. Dane.</p> + +<p>"Then don't you want to be my brother any more?"</p> + +<p>He walked away from me a few steps, down the corridor, +then turned abruptly and came back. "It isn't a question +of what I want," said he, "but of what I can have. Sometimes +I think that after all you're nothing but an outrageous +little flirt."</p> + +<p>"Sometimes? Why, you've only known me two days. +As if you could judge!"</p> + +<p>"Far be it from me to judge. But it seems as though +the two days were two years."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. Well, I may be a flirt—the French side +of me, when the other side isn't looking. But I'm not +flirting with <i>you</i>."</p> + +<p>"Why should you waste your time flirting with a +wretched chauffeur?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, why? Especially as I've other things to think +of. But I don't <i>want</i> your advice about those things +now. I wouldn't have it even if you begged me to. +You've been too unkind."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, with all my heart," he said, his +voice like itself again. "I'm a brute, I know! It's that +beastly temper of mine, that is always getting me into +trouble—with myself and others. Do forgive me, and +let me help you. I want to very much."</p> + +<p>"I just said I wouldn't if you begged."</p> + +<p>"I don't beg. I insist. I'll inflict my advice on you, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>whether you like it or not. It's this: get the man out +of Avignon the first thing to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>"That's easy to say!"</p> + +<p>"And easy to do—I hope. What would be his first +act, do you think, if he got a wire from you, dated Genoa, +and worded something like this: 'Hear you are following +me. I send this to Avignon on chance, to tell you persecution +must cease or I will find means to protect myself. +Lys d'Angely.'"</p> + +<p>"I think he'd hurry off to Genoa as fast as he could go—by +train, leaving his car, or sending it on by rail. But +how could I date a telegram from Genoa?"</p> + +<p>"I know a man there who—"</p> + +<p>"Elise, I'm astonished at you!" exclaimed the shocked +voice of Lady Turnour. "Talking in corridors with +strange young men! and you've been out, too, without +my permission, and <i>with</i> my jewel-bag! How dare +you?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't been out," I ventured to contradict.</p> + +<p>"Then you were going out—"</p> + +<p>"And I had no intention of going out—"</p> + +<p>"Don't answer me back like that! I won't stand it. +What are you doing in your hat, done up in a thick veil, +too, at this time of night, as if you were afraid of being +recognized?"</p> + +<p>I had to admit to myself that appearances were dreadfully +against me. I didn't see how I could give any +satisfactory explanation, and while I was fishing wildly in +my brain without any bait, hoping to catch an inspiration, +the chauffeur spoke for me.</p> + +<p>"If your ladyship will permit me to explain," he began, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>more respectfully than I'd heard him speak to anyone +yet, "it is my fault ma'mselle is dressed as she is."</p> + +<p>"What on earth is he going to say?" I wondered wildly, +as he paused an instant for Lady Turnour's consent, +which perhaps an amazed silence gave. I believed that +he didn't know himself what to say.</p> + +<p>"I wanted your ladyship's maid, when she had nothing +else to do, to put on her out-of-door things and let +me make a sketch of her for an illustrated newspaper +I sometimes draw for. Naturally she didn't care for +her face to go into the paper, so she insisted upon +a veil. My sketch is to be called, 'The Motor Maid,' +and I shall get half a guinea for it, I hope, of which it's +my intention to hand ma'mselle five shillings for obliging +me. I hope your ladyship doesn't object to my earning +something extra now and then, so long as it doesn't +interfere with work?"</p> + +<p>"Well," remarked Lady Turnour, taken aback by +this extraordinary plea, as well she might have been, "I +don't like to tell a person out and out that I don't believe +a word he says, but I do go as far as this: I'll believe you +when I see you making the sketch. And as for earning +extra money, I should have thought Sir Samuel paid good +enough wages for you to be willing to smoke a pipe and +rest when your day's work was done, instead of gadding +about corridors gossiping with lady's-maids who've no +business to be outside their own room. But if you're so +greedy after money—and if you want me to take Elise's word—"</p> + +<p>"I'll just begin the sketch in your ladyship's presence, +if I may be excused," said Mr. Dane, briskly. And to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>my real surprise, as well as relief, he whipped a small +canvas-covered sketch-book out of his pocket. It was +almost like sleight of hand, and if he'd continued the +exhibition with a few live rabbits and an anaconda or +two I couldn't have been much more amazed.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to have a look at that thing," observed Lady +Turnour, suspiciously, as in a business-like manner he +proceeded to release a neatly sharpened pencil from an +elastic strap.</p> + +<p>Without a word or a guilty twitch of an eyelid he handed +her the book, and we both stood watching while the fat, +heavily ringed and rosily manicured fingers turned over +the pages.</p> + +<p>He could sketch, I soon saw, better than I can, though +I've (more or less) made my living at it. There were +types of French peasants done in a few strokes, here +and there a suggestion of a striking bit of mountain +scenery, a quaint cottage, or a ruined castle. Last of +all there was a very good representation of the Aigle, +loaded up with the Turnours' smart luggage, and +ready to start. My lips twitched a little, despite the +strain of the situation, as I noted the exaggerated size of +the crest on the door panel. It turned the whole thing +into a caricature; but luckily her ladyship missed the +point. She even allowed her face to relax into a faint +smile of pleasure.</p> + +<p>"This isn't bad," she condescended to remark.</p> + +<p>"I thought of asking your ladyship and Sir Samuel if +there would be any objection to my sending that to a +Society motoring paper, and labelling it 'Sir Samuel +and Lady Turnour's new sixty-horse-power Aigle on tour +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>in Provence.' Or, if you would prefer my not using your +name, I—"</p> + +<p>"I see no reason why you should <i>not</i> use it," her ladyship +cut in hastily, "and I'm sure Sir Samuel won't +mind. Make a little extra money in that way if you like, +while we're on the road, as you have this talent."</p> + +<p>She gave him back the book, quite graciously, and +the chauffeur began sketching me. In three minutes +there I was—the "abominable little flirt!" in hat and +veil, with Lady Turnour's bag in my hand, quite a neat +figure of a motor maid.</p> + +<p>"You may put, if you like, 'Lady Turnour's maid,'" +said that young person's mistress, "if you think it would +give some personal interest to your sketch for the paper."</p> + +<p>"Oh, this is for quite a different sort of thing," he +explained. "Not devoted to society news at all: more +for caricatures and <i>funny</i> bits."</p> + +<p>"Oh, then I should certainly not wish my name to +appear in <i>that</i>," returned her ladyship, her tone adding +that, on the other hand, such a publication was as suitable +as it was welcome to a portrait of <i>me</i>.</p> + +<p>"Now, Elise, I wish you to take those things off at +<i>once</i>, and come to my room," she finished. "Mind, I +don't want you should keep me waiting! And you can +hand over that bag."</p> + +<p>No hope of another word between us! Mr. Jack Dane +saw this, and that it would be unwise to try for it. Pocketing +the sketch-book, he saluted Lady Turnour with a +finger to the height of his eyebrows, which gesture visibly +added to her sense of importance. Then, without glancing +at me, he turned and walked off.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>It was not until he had disappeared round the bend of +the corridor that her ladyship thought it right to +leave me.</p> + +<p>I knew that she had made this little expedition in search +of her maid with the sole object of seeing what the mouse +did while the cat was away—a trick worthy of her +lodging-house past! And I knew equally well that +before I tapped at her door a little later she had examined +the contents of the blue bag to make sure that I had +extracted nothing. How I pity the long procession of +"slaveys" who must have followed each other drearily +in that lodging-house under the landlady's jurisdiction. +They, poor dears, could have had no chauffeur friends to +save them from daily perils, and it isn't likely that their +mistress allowed such luxuries as postmen or policemen.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + + +<p>I decided to have my breakfast very early next +morning, and would have thought it a coincidence +that Mr. Dane should walk into the couriers' room +at the same time if he hadn't coolly told me that he had +been lying in wait for me to appear.</p> + +<p>"I thought, for several reasons, you would be early," +he said. "So, for all the same reasons and several more, +I thought I'd be early too. I had to know what the +situation was to be."</p> + +<p>"The situation?" I repeated blankly.</p> + +<p>"Between us. Am I to understand that we've +quarrelled?"</p> + +<p>"We had," I said. "But even on good grounds, it's +difficult to keep on quarrelling with a person who has not +only brought up your dinner and sauced it with good +advice, but saved you from—from the <i>dickens</i> of a +scrape."</p> + +<p>"I hope she didn't row you any more afterward?"</p> + +<p>"No. She was too much interested, all the time I was +undressing her, in speculating about Monsieur Charretier +to Sir Samuel. It seems that they struck up an acquaintance +over their coffee on the strength of a little episode +in the hall.</p> + +<p>"Inadvertently I introduced them—threw them at +each others' heads. Monsieur Charretier—Alphonse, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>as he once asked me to call him!—told her he was on his +way to Cannes, where he heard that a friend of his, whom +it was very necessary for him to see, was visiting a Russian +Princess. He had stopped in Avignon, he said, because +he was expecting the latest news of the friend, a change +of address, perhaps; and—I don't know who proposed +it, but anyway he arranged to go with Sir Samuel and +Lady Turnour to the Palace of the Popes at ten o'clock. +Her ladyship was quite taken with him, and remarked +to Sir Samuel that there was nothing so fascinating as a +French gentleman of the <i>haut monde</i>. Also she pronounced +his broken English '<i>sweet</i>.' She wondered if +he was married, and whether the friend in Cannes was +a woman or a man. Little did she know that her maid +could have enlightened her! Their joining forces here +is, as my American friend Pamela would say, 'the <i>limit</i>.'"</p> + +<p>"Don't worry. The Palace of the Popes won't see +him to-day," said the chauffeur. "He's gone. Got a +telegram. Didn't even wait for letters, but told the +manager to forward anything that came for him, Poste +Restante, Genoa."</p> + +<p>"Oh, then you—"</p> + +<p>"Acted for you on my own responsibility. There was +nothing else to do, if <i>anything</i> were to be done; and you'd +seemed to fall in with my suggestion. It would have been +a pity, I thought, if your visit to Avignon were to be +spoiled by a thing like that."</p> + +<p>"Meaning Monsieur Charretier? I hardly slept last +night for dwelling on the pity of it."</p> + +<p>"It's all right, then? I haven't put my foot into it?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>"Your foot! You've put your <i>brains</i> into it. You +said the other night that I had presence of mind. It was +nothing to yours."</p> + +<p>"All's forgotten and forgiven, then?"</p> + +<p>"It's forgotten that there was anything to forgive."</p> + +<p>"And the 'motor maid' business? You didn't think +it too clumsy?"</p> + +<p>"I thought it most ingenious."</p> + +<p>"It wasn't a lie, you know. I haven't a happy talent +for lying. I do, or rather did when I had nothing else +on hand, send occasional sketches to a paper. But the +more I look at my 'motor maid,' the more I feel I should +like to keep her—in my sketch-book—if you're willing +I should have her?"</p> + +<p>"Then I don't get my promised five shillings?" I laughed.</p> + +<p>"I'll try and make up the loss to you in some other way."</p> + +<p>"I have you to thank that I didn't lose my situation. +So the debt is on my side."</p> + +<p>"You owe me the scolding you got. I oughtn't to +have lured you into the corridor."</p> + +<p>"It was on my business. And there was no other way."</p> + +<p>"It was my business to have thought of some other way."</p> + +<p>"Are you your sister's keeper?"</p> + +<p>"I wish I—Look here, mademoiselle <i>ma soeur</i>, +I'm all out of repartees. Perhaps I shall be better after +breakfast. I shall be able to eat, now that I know you've +forgiven me."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe you would care if I hadn't," I +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>exclaimed. "You are so stolid, so phlegmatic, you +Englishmen!"</p> + +<p>"Do you think so? Well, it would have been a little +awkward for me to have taken you about on a sightseeing +expedition this morning if we were at daggers +drawn—no matter how appropriate the situation might +have been to Avignon manners of the Middle Ages, when +everybody was either torturing everybody else or fighting +to the death."</p> + +<p>"<i>Are</i> you going to take me about?"</p> + +<p>"That's for you to say."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it for Lady Turnour to say?"</p> + +<p>"Sir Samuel told me last night that I shouldn't be +wanted till two o'clock, as he was going to see the town +with her ladyship. He wanted to know if we could sandwich +in something else this afternoon, as he considered +a whole day too much for one place. I suggested Vaucluse +for the afternoon, as it's but a short spin from Avignon, +and I just happened to mention that her ladyship might +find use for you there, to follow her to the fountain with +extra wraps in case of mistral. I thought, of all places +you'd hate to miss Vaucluse. And we're to come back +here for the night."</p> + +<p>I feared that Monsieur Charretier's sudden disappearance +might upset the Turnours' plans, but Mr. Dane +didn't think so. He had impressed it upon Sir Samuel +that no motorist who had not thoroughly "done" Avignon +and Vaucluse would be tolerated in automobiling circles.</p> + +<p>He was right in his surmise, and though her ladyship +was vexed at losing a new acquaintance whom it would +have been "nice to know in Paris," she resigned herself +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>for the morning to the society of husband and Baedeker. +It was kind old Sir Samuel's proposal that I should be +left free to do some sight-seeing on my own account while +they were gone (I had meant to break my own shackles); +and though my lady laughed to scorn the idea that a girl +of my class should care for historical associations, +she granted me liberty provided I utilized it in buying +her certain stay-laces, shoe-strings, and other small horrors +for which no woman enjoys shopping.</p> + +<p>When she and Sir Samuel were out of the way, as safely +disposed of as Monsieur Charretier himself, I felt so +extravagantly happy in reaction, after all my worries, that +I danced a jig in her ladyship's sacred bedchamber.</p> + +<p>Then I prepared to start for my own personally conducted +expedition; and this time I took no great pains +to do my hair unbecomingly. Naturally, I didn't want +to be a jarring note in harmonious Avignon, so I made +myself look rather attractive for my jaunt with the +chauffeur.</p> + +<p>He was sauntering casually about the <i>Place</i> before the +hotel, where long ago Marshal Brune was assassinated, +and we walked away together as calmly as if we had been +followed by a whole drove of well-trained chaperons. +When one has joined the ranks of the lower classes, one +might as well reap some advantages from the change!</p> + +<p>"What we'll do," said Mr. Dane, "is to look first +at all the things the Turnours are sure to look at +last. By that plan we shall avoid them, and as I know +my way about Avignon pretty well, you may set your +mind at rest."</p> + +<p>I can think of nothing more delightful than a day in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +Avignon, with an agreeable brother and—a mind at rest. +I had both, and made the most of them.</p> + +<p>When her ladyship's shoe-strings and stay-laces were +off my mind and in my coat pocket, we wandered leisurely +about the modern part of the wonderful town, which +has been busier through the centuries in making history +than almost any other in France. Seen by daylight, I +no longer resented the existence of a new—comparatively +new—Avignon. The pretty little theatre, with its +dignified statues of Corneill and Molière, seemed to invite +me kindly to go in and listen to a play by the splendidly +bewigged gentlemen sitting in stone chairs on either side +of the door. The clock tower with its "Jacquemart" +who stiffly struck the quarter hours with an automatic +arm, while his wife criticized the gesture, commanded +me to stop and watch his next stroke; and the curiosity +shops offered me the most alluring bargains. People +we met seemed to have plenty of time on their hands, +and to be very good-natured, as if rich Provençal cooking +agreed with their digestions.</p> + +<p>Sure that the Turnours would be at the Palace of the +Popes or in the Cathedral, we went to the Museum, and +searched in vain among a riot of Roman remains for the +tomb of Petrarch's Laura, which guide-books promised. +In the end we had to be satisfied with a memorial cross +made in the lovely lady's honour by order of some romantic +Englishmen.</p> + +<p>"Yet you say we're stolid and phlegmatic!" muttered +Mr. Dane, as he read the inscription. (Evidently that +remark had rankled.)</p> + +<p>We had not a moment to waste, but the Turnours had +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>to be avoided; so my brother proposed that we combine +profit with prudence, and take a cab along the road leading +out to Port St. André. Where the ancient tower of +Philippe le Bel crowns a lower slope I should have +my first sight of that grim mountain of architecture, the +Palace of the Popes. It was the best place from which to +see it, if its real grandeur were to be appreciated, he said—or +else to go to Villeneuve, across the Rhône, which +we dared not steal time to do; but the Turnours were +certain not to think of anything so esoteric in the way of +sight-seeing.</p> + +<p>The vastness of the stupendous mass of brick and stone +took my breath away for an instant, as I raised my eyes +to look up, on a signal of "Now!" from Mr. Dane. It +seemed as if all the history, not alone of Old Provence, +but of France, might be packed away behind those +tremendous buttresses.</p> + +<p>Of what romances, what tragedies, what triumphs, and +what despairs could those huge walls and towers tell, if +the echoes whispering through them could crystallize into words!</p> + +<p>There Queen Jeanne of Naples—that fateful Marie +Stuart of Provence—stood in her youth and beauty +before her accusers, knowing she must buy her pardon, +if for pardon she could hope. There the wretched Bishop +of Cahors suffered tortures incredible for plots his enemies +vowed he had conceived against the Pope. There came +messages from Western Kings and Eastern Emperors; +there Bertrand du Guesclin, my favourite hero, was +excommunicated: and there great Rienzi lay in prison.</p> + +<p>"Now I think we might risk going to the Palace," said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +Mr. Dane, when we had stood gazing in silence for more +minutes than we could well afford. So we made haste +back, and walked up to the Rochers des Doms, where we +lurked cautiously in the handsome modern gardens, +glorying in the view over the old and new bridges, and +to far off Villeneuve, where the Man in the Iron Mask +was first imprisoned. When we had admired the statue +of Althen the Persian, with his hand full of the beneficent +madder that did so much for Provence, we were rewarded +for our patience by seeing Sir Samuel and Lady Turnour +rush out from the Papal Palace, looking furious.</p> + +<p>"They look like that, because they've been inside," +said the chauffeur. "Their souls aren't artistic enough +to resent consciously the ruin and degradation of the +place, but even they can be depressed by the hideous +whitewashed barracks which were once splendid rooms, +worthy of kings. You will look as they do if +you go in."</p> + +<p>"I hope my cheeks wouldn't be dark purple and my +nose a pale lilac!" I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"You're twenty, at most, and Lady Turnour's forty-five, +at least," said my brother. "You can stand the pinch +of Mistral; but the inside of that noble old pile is enough +to turn the hair gray. It would be much more original +to let your imagination draw the picture."</p> + +<p>"Then I will!" I cried, knowing that nothing pleases +a man more in a girl than taking his advice. By the lateness +of the hour we judged that the Turnours must have +visited the Cathedral before they "did" the Palace, so +we went boldly on to Notre Dame des Doms, beloved of +Charlemagne.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>No wonder, I said, that he had thought it worth restoring +from the ruins Saracens had left! Nothing could be +more glorious than the situation of the historic church, +once first in importance, perhaps, in all Christendom; +and nothing could be more purely classic than the west +porch. We strained the muscles of our necks staring +up at ancient, fading frescoes, and rested them again +in gazing at famous tombs; then it was time to go, if +we were not to start for Vaucluse too hungry to feed +satisfactorily on thoughts of Laura and Petrarch.</p> + +<p>"Now to our own trough with the other beasts," I +sighed. "What an anti-climax! From the cathedral +to the couriers' dining-room."</p> + +<p>"I thought that we might have our own private trough, +just this once, if you don't object," said the chauffeur, +almost wistfully. "It would be a shame to spoil the memory +of a perfect morning, wouldn't it, so don't you think +you might accept my humble invitation?"</p> + +<p>I hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Is it conventionality or economy that gives you +pause?" he asked. "If it's the latter, or rather a +regard for my pocket, your conscience can be easy. My +pocket feels heavy and my heart light to-day. I remember +a little restaurant not far off where they do you in +great style for a franc or two. Will you come with me?"</p> + +<p>He looked quite eager, and I felt myself unable to +resist temptation. "Yes," said I, "and thank you."</p> + +<p>A biting wind, more like March than flowery April, +nearly blew us down into the town, and I was glad to +find shelter in the warm, clean little restaurant.</p> + +<p>"<i>Is</i> my nose lilac after all?" I inquired, when a dear +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>old smiling waiter had trotted off with our order, murmuring +benevolently, "Doude de zuide, M'sieur," like +a true compatriot of Tartarin.</p> + +<p>"A faint pink from the cheeks is undeniably reflected +upon it," admitted the chauffeur. "We're going to +be let in for a cold snap as we get up north," he +went on. "I read in the papers this morning that +there's been a 'phenomenal fall of snow for the season' +on the Cevennes and the mountains of Auvergne. Do +you weaken on the Gorges of the Tarn now I've told +you that?"</p> + +<p>"Mine not to reason why. Mine but to do or die," I +transposed, smiling with conspicuous bravery.</p> + +<p>"Not at all. It's yours to choose. I haven't even +broken the Gorges, yet, to the slaves of my hypnotic +powers. I warn you that, if all the papers say about +snow is true, we may have adventures on the way. Would +you rather—"</p> + +<p>"I'd rather have the adventures," I broke in, and +had as nearly as possible added "with you," but I +stopped myself in time.</p> + +<p>We lunched more gaily than double-dyed millionaires, +and afterward, while my host was paying away his hard-earned +francs for our food, I slipped out of the restaurant +and into a little shop I had noticed close by. The window +was full of odds and ends, souvenirs of Avignon; and +there were picture-postcards, photographs, and coins +with heads of saints on them. In passing, on the way to +lunch, I'd noticed a silver St. Christopher, about the +size of a two-franc piece; and as the Aigle carries the +saint like a figure-head, a glittering, golden statuette six +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>or seven inches high, I had guessed that St. Christopher +must have been chosen to fill the honourable position +of patron saint for motors and motorists.</p> + +<p>"What's the price of that?" I asked, pointing to the coin.</p> + +<p>It was ten francs, a good deal more than I could afford, +more than half my whole remaining fortune. "Could not +madame make it a little cheaper?" I pleaded with the +fat lady whose extremely aquiline nose proclaimed that +she had no personal interest in saints. But no, madame +could not make it cheaper; the coin was of real silver, +the figure well chased; a recherché little pocket-piece, +and a great luck-bringer for anybody connected with the +automobile. No accident would presume to happen to +one who carried <i>that</i> on his person. Madame had, +however, other coins of St. Christopher, smaller coins in +white metal which could scarcely be told from silver. +If mademoiselle wished to see them—</p> + +<p>But mademoiselle did not wish to see them. It would +be worse than nothing to give a base imitation. Instead +of feeling flattered, St. Christopher would have a right +to be annoyed, and perhaps to punish. Recklessly I +passed across the counter ten francs, and made the +coveted saint mine. Then I darted out, just in time +to meet Mr. Dane at the door of the restaurant.</p> + +<p>"This is for you," I said. "It's to give you luck."</p> + +<p>I pressed the coin into his hand, and he looked at it +on his open palm. For an instant I was afraid he was +going to make fun of it, and my superstition concerning +it, which I couldn't quite deny if cross-questioned. +But his smile didn't mean that.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>"You've just bought this—to give to me?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I nodded.</p> + +<p>"Why? Not because you want to 'pay me back' for +asking you to lunch—or any such villainous thing, I +hope, because—"</p> + +<p>I shook my head. "I didn't think of that. I got it +because I wanted to bring you luck."</p> + +<p>Then he slipped the coin into an inside pocket of his +coat. "Thank you," he said. "But didn't I tell you +that you'd brought me something better than luck already?"</p> + +<p>"What <i>is</i> better than luck?"</p> + +<p>"An interest in life. And the privilege of being a brother."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + + +<p>It would be a singularly hard-headed, cold-hearted +person who could set out for Vaucluse without the +smallest thrill; and hard heads and cold hearts don't +"run in our family." As we spun away from the Hotel +de l'Europe soon after two o'clock that afternoon I +felt that I was largely composed of thrill. Cold as the +wind had grown, the thrill kept me warm, mingling in +my veins with ozone.</p> + +<p>Inside the car the middle-aged honeymooners had an +air of desperate resignation which the consciousness of +doing their duty according to Baedeker gives to tourists. +The tap was turned on in the newly invented heating-apparatus +in the car floor, through which hot water +from the radiator can be made to circulate; and I wondered, +if this extreme measure were resorted to already, +what would be left to do when we reached those high, +white altitudes of which the chauffeur had been speaking. +I prayed that Lady Turnour might not read in the papers +about the "phenomenal fall of snow" in those regions, +for if she did I was afraid that even Mr. Dane's +magnetic powers of persuasion might fail to get her +there. He might dangle Queen Margherita of Italy +over her head in vain, if worst came to worst: for +what are queens to the most inveterate tuft-hunters if +the feet be cold? Yet now that "adventures" were +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>vaguely prophesied, I felt I could not give up the +promised gorges and mountains.</p> + +<p>Out of Avignon we slid, past the old, old ramparts and +the newer but impressive walls, and turned at the right +into the Marseilles road. "Vaucluse!" said a kilometre-stone, +and then another and another repeated that +enchanted and enchanting word, as we flew onward +between the Rhône and the Durance.</p> + +<p>This was our own old way again, as far as the Pont de +Bonpas; then our road wound to the northeast, away +from the world we knew—I said to myself—and into +a world of romance, a world created by the love of Petrarch +for Laura, and sacred to those two for ever more.</p> + +<p>The ruined castle, with machicolated towers and +haughty buttresses, on the great rampart of a hill, was +for me the porter's lodge at the entrance gate of an +enchanted garden, where poetic flowers of love bloomed +through seasons and centuries; laurels, roses, and lilies, +and pansies for remembrance. We didn't see those +flowers with our bodies' eyes, but what of that? What +did it matter that to the Turnours in their splendid glass +cage this was just a road, with queer little gnome dwellings +scooped out of solid rock to redeem it from common-placeness, +with a fringe of deserted cottages farther +on, and some ugly brickworks? My spirit's eyes saw the +flowers, and they clustered thicker and brighter about +Pieverde, where I insisted to Mr. Dane that Laura had +been born.</p> + +<p>He was inclined to dispute this at first, and bring up +the horrid theory that the pure white star of Petrarch's +life had been a mere Madame de Sade, with a drove of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>uninteresting children. But eagerly I quoted Petrarch +himself, using all the arguments on which Pamela and +I prided ourselves at the Convent; and by the time +we had got as far as that sweet "little Venice full of +water wheels," L'Isle, I'd persuaded him to agree with +me. In the midst of all that lovely, liquid music of running, +trickling, fluting water, who could go on callously +insisting that Laura resisted Petrarch merely because +she was a fat married woman with a large family?</p> + +<p>All was green and pastoral here, and we seemed to +have come into eternal spring after the bleak, windy +plains encircling Avignon. It was beautiful to remember +Petrarch's description of his golden-haired, dark-eyed +love, fair and tall as a lily, sitting in the grass among +the violets, where her bare feet gleamed whiter than +the daisies when she took off her sandals. Even Nicolete, +flower of Provençal song, had no whiter feet than Laura, +I am sure!</p> + +<p>We were slipping past the banks of a little river, clear +as sapphires and emeralds melted and mingled together. +The sound of its singing drowned the sound of the motor, +so that we seemed to glide toward Vaucluse noiselessly +and reverently.</p> + +<p>At the Inn of Petrarch and Laura the car had to +stop; and looking up, we could see on the height above +the castle home of Petrarch's dearest friend, Philippe de +Cabassole, guardian of Queen Jeanne of Naples. Up +there on the cliff Petrarch's eyes must often have turned +toward Pieverde with longing thoughts of Laura, that +"white dove" who was always for him sixteen, as when +he met her first.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>No farther than the inn could any wheeled thing go; +and having justified my presence by buttoning Lady +Turnour up in her coat, and finding her muff under +several rugs, I stood by the car, gazing after the couple +as they trudged off along the path to the hidden fairy +fountain of Vaucluse. When they should have got well +ahead I meant to go too, for if a cat may look at a king, +a lady's maid may try to drink—if she can—a few drops +from the cup of a great poet's inspiration. At first I +resented those two ample, richly clad, prosaic backs +marching sturdily toward the magic fountain; then suddenly +the back of Sir Samuel became pathetic in my +eyes. Hadn't he, I asked myself, loved his Emily +("Emmie, pet," as I've heard him call her) as long and +faithfully as Petrarch loved his Laura? Perhaps, after +all, he had earned the right to visit this shrine.</p> + +<p>Rocks shut out from our sight the distant fountain, +and the last windings of the path that led to it, clasping +the secret with great stone arms, like those of an Othello +jealously guarding his young wife's beauty from eyes profane.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you going now?" asked my brother, with a +certain wistfulness.</p> + +<p>"Ye-es. But what about you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've been here before, you know."</p> + +<p>"Don't you believe in second times? Or is a second +time always second best?"</p> + +<p>"Not when—Of course I want to go. But I can't +leave the car alone."</p> + +<p>My eyes wandered toward the inn door. "There's +a boy there who looks as if he were born to be a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>watch-dog," said I, basely tempting him. "Couldn't you—"</p> + +<p>"No, I couldn't," he said decidedly. "At a place like +this, where there are a lot of tourists about, it wouldn't +be right. It was different at Valescure, when I took +you in to lunch."</p> + +<p>"You mean I mustn't make that a precedent."</p> + +<p>"I don't mean anything conceited."</p> + +<p>"But you won't desert Mr. Micawber. I believe I +shall name the car Micawber! Well, then, I must go +by myself—and if I should fall into the fountain and +be drowned—"</p> + +<p>"Don't talk nonsense, and don't do anything foolish," +said Mr. Dane, sternly, whereupon I turned my back +upon him, and plunged into the cool shadows of the +gorge. The great white cliff of limestone was my goal, +and always it towered ahead, as I followed the narrow +pathway above the singing water. I sighed as I paused +to look at a garden which maybe once was Petrarch's, +for it was sad to find my way to fairyland, alone. Even +a brother's company would have been better than none, +I thought!</p> + +<p>Soon I met my master and mistress coming back.</p> + +<p>There was nothing much to see, said her ladyship, +sharply, and I mustn't be long; but Sir Samuel ventured +to plead with her.</p> + +<p>"Let the girl have ten minutes or so, if she likes, dear," +said he. "We'll be wanting a cup of hot coffee at the +inn. And it is a pretty place." There was something +in his voice which told me that he would have felt the +charm—if his bride had let him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>Pools of water, deep among the rocks, were purple-pansy +colour or beryl green; but the "Source" itself, +in its cup of stone, was like a block of malachite. There +was no visible bubbling of underground springs fighting +their way up to break the crystal surface of the fountain,—this +fountain so unlike any other fountain; but to the +listening ear came a moaning and rushing of unseen +waters, now the high crying of Arethusa escaping from +her pursuing lover, now rich, low notes as of an organ +played in a vast cavern.</p> + +<p>Above the gorge, the towering rocks with their huge +holes and archways hollowed out by turbulent water +in dim, forgotten ages, looked exactly as if the whole +front wall had been knocked off a giant's castle, exposing +its secret labyrinths of rough-hewn rooms, floor rising +above floor even to the attics where the giant's servants +had lived, and down to the cellars where the giant's pet +dragons were kept in chains.</p> + +<p>I hadn't yet exhausted my ten minutes, though I began +to have a guilty consciousness that they would soon be +gone, when I heard a step behind me, and turning, saw +Mr. Dane.</p> + +<p>"They're having coffee in the car," he said. "Sir +Samuel proposed it to his wife, as if he thought it would +be rather more select and exclusive for her than drinking +it in the inn; but I have a sneaking suspicion that it +was because he wanted to let me off. Not a bad old +boy, Sir Samuel."</p> + +<p>So we saw the fountain of Vaucluse together, after all. +I don't know why that should have seemed important +to me, but it did—a little.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>We didn't say much to each other, all the way back to +Avignon, but I felt that the day had been a brilliant +success, and was sure that the next could not be as good. +"What—not with St. Remy and Les Baux?" exclaimed +my brother. But I knew very little about St. Remy, +and still less about Les Baux. For a minute I was +ashamed to confess, but then I told myself that this was +a much worse kind of vanity than being pleased with the +colour of one's hair or the length of one's eyelashes. Mr. +Jack Dane was too polite to show surprise at my ignorance; +but that evening, just as I was getting ready to go +down to dinner, up he came with a tray, as he had the +night before; and on the tray, among covered dishes, was a book.</p> + +<p>"Two of your chauffeur-admirers from Aix are in the +dining-room," he said, "so I thought you'd rather stop +up in your room and read T.A. Cook's 'Old Provence,' +than go downstairs. Anyway, it will be better for you."</p> + +<p>I was half angry, half flattered that he should arrange +my life for me in this off-hand way, whether I liked it or +not; but the French half of me will do almost anything +rather than be ungracious; and it would have been +ungracious to say I was tired of dining in my room, and +could take care of myself, when he had given himself +the trouble of carrying up my dinner. So I swallowed +all less obvious emotions than meek gratitude for food, +physical and mental; and was soon so deeply absorbed +in the delightful book that I forgot to eat my pudding. +I sat up late with it—the book, not the pudding—after +putting Lady Turnour to bed (almost literally, +because she thinks it refined to be helpless), and when +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>morning came I was no longer disgracefully ignorant of +St. Remy and Les Baux.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dane had mapped out the programme of places +to see, using Avignon as a centre, and there were so +many notabilities at the Hotel de l'Europe following +the same itinerary, with insignificant variations, that +Lady Turnour was quite contented with the arrangements +made for her.</p> + +<p>Morning was for St. Remy; afternoon was for Les Baux, +"because the thing is to see the sunset there," I heard +her telling an extremely rich-looking American lady, +laying down the law as if she had planned the whole trip +herself, with a learned reason for each detail.</p> + +<p>The way to St. Remy was along a small but pretty +country road, which had a misleading air, as if it didn't +want you to think it was taking you to a place of any +importance. And yet we were in the heart of Mistral-land; +not Mistral the east wind, but Mistral the poet +of Provence, great enough to be worthy of the land he +loves, great enough to carry on the glory of it to future +generations. At any moment we might meet a Fellore. +I looked with interest at each man we saw, and some +looked back at me with flattering curiosity; for a +woman's eyes are almost as mysterious behind a three-cornered +talc window as behind a yashmak, or zenana gratings.</p> + +<p>St. Remy itself—birthplace of Nostradamus, maker +of powders and prophecies—was charming in the sunlight, +with its straight avenue of trees like the pillars of +a long gray and green corridor in a vast palace; but we +swept on toward the "Plateau des Antiquities," up a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>steep slope with St. Remy the modern at our backs; +then suddenly I found myself crying out with delight +at sight of the splendid Triumphal Archway and the +gracious Monument we had come out to see.</p> + +<p>Both looked more Greek than Roman, but that was +because Greek workmen helped to build them for Julius +Cæsar, when he determined that posterity should not +forget his defeat of great Vercingetorix, and should do +justice to the memory of Marius.</p> + +<p>When I was small I used to dislike poor Vercingetorix, +and be glad that he had to surrender, so that I might be +rid of him, owing to the dreadful difficulty of pronouncing +his name; but when we had got out of the +car, and I saw him on the archway, a tall, carved +captive, who had kept his head through all the +centuries, while Cæsar (with a hand on the prisoner's +shoulder) had lost his, my heart softened to him for the +first time.</p> + +<p>I thought the Triumphal Monument to Marius even +more beautiful than the Archway, and felt as angry as +Marius must, that the guide-books should take it away +from the hero and wrongfully call it a mausoleum for +somebody else. But Mr. Dane assured me with the +obstinate air people have when learned authorities back +their opinions, that the Arch was really the more interesting +of the two—the first Triumphal Archway set up +outside Italy, said he, and bade me reflect on that; still, +I would turn my eyes toward the graceful monument, +so wickedly annexed by the three Julii, and then away +over the wide plain that lay beneath this ragged spur +of the Alpilles. In the distance I could see Avignon, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>and the pale, opal-tinted, gold-veined hills that fold in +the fountain of Vaucluse. Never, since we came into +Provence, had I been able so clearly to realize the wild +fascination of her haggard beauty. "Here Marius +stood in his camp," I thought, "shading his eyes from +the fierce sun, and looking out over this strange, arid +country for the Barbarians he meant to conquer." My +heart beat with an intoxicating excitement, such as one +feels on seeing great mountains or the ocean for the first +time; and then down I tumbled, with a bump, off my +pedestal, when Lady Turnour wanted to know what I +supposed she'd brought me for, if not to put on her +extra cloak without waiting to be told.</p> + +<p>Watches are really luxuries, not necessities, with the +Turnours, because their appetites always strike the +hour of one, and if they're sometimes a little in advance, +they can be relied upon never to be behindhand. I knew +before I glanced at the little bracelet-watch Pamela gave +me (hidden under my sleeve) that it must be on the stroke +of half-past twelve when her ladyship began to complain +of the sharp wind, and say we had better be getting back +to St. Remy. She was cross, as usual when she is hungry, +and said that if I continued to go about "like a snail in a +dream" whenever she fetched me to carry her things on +these short expeditions, she would leave me in the hotel to +mend her clothes; whereupon I became actually servile +in my ministrations. I brushed a microscopic speck of +dust off her gown; I pushed in a hairpin; I tucked up a +flying end of veil; I straightened her toque, and made +myself altogether indispensable; for the bare idea of +being left behind was a box on the ear. I could not +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>endure such a punishment—and the front seat would +look so empty, so unfinished, without me!</p> + +<p>As we went back down the steep hill from old Glanum, +St. Remy appeared a little oasis of spring in the midst +of a winter which had come back for something it had +forgotten. All its surrounding orchards and gardens, +screened from the shrewish Mistral by the shoulders of +the Alpilles, and again by lines of tall cypress trees and +netted, dry bamboos, had begun to bloom richly like +the earlier gardens on the Riviera. There was a pinky-white +haze of apple blossoms; and even the plane trees +in the long main street were hung with dainty, primrose-coloured +spheres, like little fairy lanterns. Not only +did every man seem a possible Felibre, but every girl was +a beauty. Some of them wore a charming and becoming +head-dress, such as I never saw before, and the chauffeur +said it was the head-dress of the women of Arles, +where we would go day after to-morrow.</p> + +<p>Impertinent chauffeurs or couriers would have been +more out of place in poetic St. Remy than the sensational +Nostradamus himself; and there was no trouble of that +sort for me in lunching at the pleasant, quiet hotel. Mr. +Dane had bought a French translation of Mistral's +"Memoires," and as we ate, he and I alone together, +he read me the incident of the child-poet and his three +wettings in quest of the adored water-flowers. Nothing +could be more beautiful than the wording of the exquisite +thoughts, yet I wished we could have seen those thoughts +embodied in Provençal, the language practically created +by Mistral, as Italian was by Dante and Petrarch, or +German by Goethe.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>Not far away lay Mas du Juge, described in the book, +where he was born, and Maillane, where he lives, and I +longed to drive that way; but as the Turnours would +be sure to say that there was nothing to see, the chauffeur +thought it wiser not to turn out of our road. We might +find the poet at Arles, perhaps, in his museum there, or +lunching at the Hotel du Forum, a favourite haunt of +his on museum days.</p> + +<p>Starting for Les Baux, we turned our faces straight +toward the wild little mountains loved by Mistral, his +dear Alpilles. They soon surrounded us in tumbling +gray waves, piled up on either side of the road as the +Red Sea must have tumultuously fenced in the path of +the Israelites. Strange, hummocky mountains were +everywhere, as far as we could see; mountains of incredible, +nightmare shapes, and of great ledges set with +gigantic busts of ancient heroes, some nobly carved, +some hideously caricatured, roughly hewn in gray limestone, +or red rock that looked like bronze. On we +went, climbing up and up, a road like a python's back; +but not yet was there any glimpse of the old "robber +fortress" of Les Baux about which I had read, and later +dreamed, last night. I knew it would be wonderful, +astonishing, a Dead City, a Pompeii of the Feudal Age, +yet different from any other ancient town the whole +world over—a place of tangled histories; yet I tried +vainly to picture what it would be like. Then, suddenly, +we reached a turn in that strange road which, if +it had led downhill instead of up, would have seemed +like the way Orpheus took to reach Hades.</p> + +<p>We had come face to face with a huge chasm in the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>rock, a gap with sheer walls sliced clean down, like a +cut in a great cheese; and I felt instinctively that this +must be the dark doorway through which we should +see Les Baux.</p> + +<p>Through the cut in the stone cheese our road carried +us; and the busts on the rocky ledges were so near now +we could almost have put out our hands and touched +them—but curiously enough, in this place of all others, +they were the likenesses of modern men. Mr. Dane +and I picked out an unmistakable Gladstone on the +right, a characteristic Beaconsfield on the left; and +farther on Mr. Chamberlain's head was fantastically +grafted on to the body of a prehistoric animal. We were +just tracing Pierpont Morgan's profile, near a few of +Hannibal's elephants, when the car sprang clear of the +chasm, out upon the other side of the doorway; and +there rose before us Les Baux, a hundred times more +wonderful, more tragic, than I had hoped to find it.</p> + +<p>Far, far below our mountain road lay a valley so flat +that it might have been levelled on purpose for the tilting +of knights in great tournaments. Above and around us +(for suddenly we were in as well as under it) was a City +of Ghosts.</p> + +<p>Huge masses of rock, like Titan babies' playthings, +had been hollowed out for dwellings, fit houses for our late +cousins the cave-dwellers. There were colossal pillars +and dark, high doorways such as one sees in pictures +of the temples at Thebes; but all this, said Mr. Jack +Dane, was merely a preface for what was yet to come, only +an immense quarry whence the stones to build Les Baux +had been torn. We were still on the road to the real Les<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +Baux; and even as he spoke, the Aigle was clawing her +way bravely up a hill steeper than any we had mounted. +At the top she turned abruptly, and stopped in a queer, +forlorn little place, where to my astonishment our journey +ended in front of a small house ambitiously named +Hotel Monte Carlo. Then I remembered the story +I had read: how a young prince of the Grimaldi family +came begging Louis XIII. to protect him from Spain; +how Louis, who didn't want Spain to grab Monaco, +promptly gave soldiers; how the Grimaldi's shrewd wit +did more to get the Spanish out of the little principality +than did the fighting men from France; and how Louis, +as a reward, turned poor, war-worn Les Baux into a +Grimaldi marquisate.</p> + +<p>That little episode in history accounted for the Hotel +Monte Carlo; and I wondered if it were put up on the +site of the Grimaldis' miniature pleasure-palace, which +the forest-burning revolutionists tore down just before +Les Baux, after all its strange passings from hand to +hand, became the property of the nation.</p> + +<p>Against the rocks a few mean houses leaned apologetically, +but on every side rose the ruins of a proud, dead +past: a past beginning with the ruts of chariot-wheels +graven on the rock-paved street. I thought, as I looked +at the sordid little village of to-day, which had crawled +into the very midst of the fortress, of some words I'd +read last night: "a rat in the heart of a dead princess."</p> + +<p>Strange, haggard hill, whispered about by history ever +since Christians ran before Alaric the Visigoth, and hid +in its caverns already echoing with legends of mysterious +Phoenician treasure! Strange robber house of Les Baux, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>founded thirteen hundred years ago, and claiming half +Provence two centuries later! No wonder, after all the +fighting and plundering, loving and hating, that all it asks +now is for its bleached, picked bones to be left in peace!</p> + +<p>I thought this, standing by the little Hotel Monte +Carlo, waiting for my mistress and her husband to be +supplied with a guide. He was the most intelligent and +efficient-seeming guide imaginable, who looked as if he had +the whole history of Les Baux behind his bright dark eyes; +and I hoped that the humble maid and chauffeur might +be allowed to follow the "quality" within respectful +earshot.</p> + +<p>Soon they began to walk on, and I turned to look at +my brother, who was lingering by the car. Already the +guide had begun to be interesting. I caught a few words: +"Celtic caverns"—"Leibulf, the first Count"—"the +terrible Turenne, called the 'Fléau de Provence'—the +Lady Alix's guardian"—which made me long to hear +more; but I didn't want to crawl on until my Fellow +Worm could crawl with me.</p> + +<p>"I can't go," he said. "It wouldn't do to leave the +car here. There are several gipsy faces at the inn window, +you see. Why there should be gipsies I don't know; +but there are, for those are gipsies or I'll eat my cap. +And I've got to keep watch on deck."</p> + +<p>"How horrid to leave you here alone, seeing nothing—not +even the sunset!" I exclaimed. "I think I shall stop +with you, unless <i>she</i> calls me—"</p> + +<p>"You'll do nothing of the kind," he had begun, when +the summons came, sooner than I had expected.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + + +<p>"Elise, come here and put what this guide is +saying into English," was the command, and I +flew to obey. To hear him tell what he knew +was like turning over the leaves of the Book of Les Baux; +and I tried to do him justice in my translation; but it was +disheartening to see Lady Turnour's lack-lustre gaze +wander as dully about the rock-hewn barracks of Roman +soldiers as if she had been in her own lodging-house +cellar, and to be interrupted by her complaints of the cold +wind as we went up the silent streets, past deserted +palaces of dead and gone nobles, toward the crown of +all—the Château.</p> + +<p>Nothing moved her to any show of interest in this +grave of mighty memories, of mighty warrior princes, +and of lovely ladies with names sweet as music and perfume +of potpourri. Wandering in a splendid confusion +of feudal and mediæval relics—walls with carved doorways, +and doorways without walls; beautiful, purposeless +columns whose occupation had long been gone; carved +marvels of fireplaces standing up sadly from wrecked +floors of fair ladies' boudoirs or great banqueting halls, +the stout, painted woman broke in upon the guide's story +to talk of any irrelevant matter that jumped into her +mind. She suddenly bethought herself to scold Sir +Samuel about "Bertie," from whom a letter had evidently +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>been forwarded, and who had been spending too much +money to please her ladyship.</p> + +<p>"That stepson of yours is a regular bad egg," said she.</p> + +<p>"Never you mind," retorted Sir Samuel, defending +his favourite. "Many a bad egg has turned over a +new leaf."</p> + +<p>My lip quivered, but I fixed my eyes firmly upon the +guide, who was now devoting his attention entirely to +his one respectful listener. I was ashamed of my companions, +but I couldn't help catching stray fragments of +the conversation, and the involuntary mixing of Bertie's +affairs with the Religious Wars, and the destruction of +Les Baux by Richelieu's soldiers, had a positively weird +effect on my mind. Bertie, it seemed—(or was it +Richelieu?) was invited to visit at the château of a French +marquis called de Roquemartine (or was it good King +René, who inherited Les Baux because he was a count +of Provence?), and the château was near Clermont-Ferrand. +Lady Turnour was of opinion that it would +be well to make a condition before sending the cheque +which Bertie wanted to pay his bridge debts (or was +he in debt because the Lady Douce and her sister Stephanette +of Les Baux had quarrelled?). If the advice of +Dane, the chauffeur, were taken, they would be motoring +to Clermont-Ferrand; and why not say to Bertie: "No +cheque unless you get us an invitation to visit the Roquemartines +while you are there?" (Or was it that they +wanted an invitation to the boudoir of Queen Jeanne, +René's beloved wife, who lived at Les Baux sometimes, +and had very beautiful things around her—tapestries and +Eastern rugs, and wondrous rosaries, and jewelled Books +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>of Hours?) Really, it was very bewildering; but in my +despair one drop of comfort fell. That château near +Clermont-Ferrand would prove a lodestar, and help Mr. +Jack Dane to lure the Turnours through chill gorges and +over snowy mountains.</p> + +<p>"Lodestar" really was a good word for the attraction, +I thought, and I would repeat it to the chauffeur. But it +rose over the horizon of my intellect probably because the +guide talked of Countess Alix, last heiress of the great +House of Les Baux. "As she lay dying," he said, "the star +that had watched over and guided the fortunes of her +house came down from the sky, according to the legend, +and shone pale and sad in her bedchamber till she was +dead. Then it burst, and its light was extinguished in +darkness for ever."</p> + +<p>Eventually Sir Samuel's eye brightened for the Tudor +rose decoration, in the ruined château, relic of an alliance +between an English princess and the House of Les Baux; +and Lady Turnour didn't interrupt once when the guide +told of the latest important discovery in the City of Ghosts. +"Near the altar of the Virgin here," he began, in just the +right, hushed tone, "they found in a tomb the body of +a beautiful young girl. There she lay, as the tomb was +opened, just for an instant—long enough for the eye to +take in the picture—as lovely as the loveliest lady of +Les Baux, that famed princess Cecilie, known through +Provence as Passe-Rose. Her long golden hair was in two +great plaits, one over either shoulder, and her hands +were crossed upon her breast, holding a Book of Hours. +But in a second, as the air touched her, she was gone like +a dream; her sweet young face, white as milk, and half +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>smiling, her long dark eyelashes, even the Book of Hours, +all crumbled into dust, fine as powder. Only the golden +hair, tied with blue ribbon, was left; and when you go +to Arles you can see it in the Museum of Monsieur +Mistral."</p> + +<p>"Make a note of hair for Arles, Sam," said her ladyship, +gravely; and just as solemnly he obeyed, scribbling +a few words in the pocket memorandum-book in which +the poor man industriously puts down all the things which +his wife thinks he ought to remember.</p> + +<p>"Anything else interesting ever been found here?" +she wanted to know. "Any jewels or things of that +sort?"</p> + +<p>I passed the question on to the guide.</p> + +<p>Many things had been found, he said: coins, vases, +pottery, and mosaics. Occasionally such things were +turned up, though usually, nowadays, of no great value; +but it was the hope of finding something which brought +the gipsies. Often there were gypsies at Les Baux. They +would go to Les Saintes Maries, the place of the sacred +church where the two sainted Maries came ashore from +Palestine in their little boat, and they would pray to +Sarah, whose tomb was also in that wonderful church. +Had we seen it yet? No? But it was not far. Many +people went, though the great day was on May twenty-fourth, +when the Archbishop of Aix lowered the ark of +relics from the roof, and healed those of the sick who were +true believers. It was for Sarah, though, that the gipsies +made their pilgrimages. They thought that prayers at +her tomb would bring them whatever they desired; and +sometimes, when they were able to come on as far as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +Les Baux, they would wish at the tomb to find the buried +Phoenician treasure, for which many had searched +generation after generation, since history began, but +none had ever found.</p> + +<p>I did not say anything about the gipsies at the inn-window, +but I saw now that Mr. Dane had done wisely +in sticking to his post. A sixty-horse-power Aigle might +largely make up for a disappointment in the matter of +treasure, even if she had to be towed down into the valley +by a horse.</p> + +<p>"Calvé, and all the great singers, come here sometimes +by moonlight in their motors," went on the guide, "after +the great musical festival of Orange in the month of +August. They stand on the piles of stone among the +ruins when all is white under the moon, and they sing—ah! +but they sing! It is wonderful. They do it for their +own pleasure, and there is no audience except the ghosts—and +me, for they allow me to listen. Yet I think, if +our eyes could be opened to such things, we would see +grouped round a noble company of knights and ladies—such +a company as would be hard to get together in +these days."</p> + +<p>"Well, I would rather sing here in August than April!" +exclaimed Lady Turnour, with the air of a spoiled prima +donna. And then she shivered and wanted to go down +to the car without waiting for the sunset, which, after +all, could only be like any other mountain sunset, and +she could see plenty of better ones next summer in Switzerland. +She felt so chilled, she was quite anxious about +herself, and should certainly not dare to start for Avignon +until she had had a glass of steaming hot rum punch +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>or something of that sort, at the inn. Did the guide +think she could get it—and have it sent out to her in the +car, as nothing would induce her to go inside that +little den?</p> + +<p>The guide thought it probable that something hot +might be obtained, though there might be a few minutes' +delay while the water was made to boil, as it would be +an unusual order.</p> + +<p>A few minutes! thought I, eagerly, looking at the +sun, which was hurrying westward. I knew what "a +few minutes" at such an inn would mean—half an hour +at least; and apparently I was no longer needed as an +interpreter. Without a thought of me, now that I had +ceased to be useful, Lady Turnour slipped her arm into +her husband's for support (her high-heeled shoes and +the rough, steep streets had not been made for each other), +and began trotting down the hill, in advance of the guide. +They had finished with him, too, and were already deep in +a discussion as to whether rum punch, or hot whisky-and-water +with sugar and lemon were better, for warding +off a chill. I didn't see why I shouldn't linger a little +on the wide plateau, with the Dead City looming above +me like a skeleton seated on a ruined throne, and half +southern France spread out in a vast plain, a thousand +feet below.</p> + +<p>It was wonderful there, and strangely, almost terribly +still. Once the sea had washed the feet of the cliff, dim +ages ago. Now my eyes had to travel far to the Mediterranean, +where Marseilles gloomed dark against the +burnished glimmer of the water. I could see the Etang +de Berre, too, and imagine I saw the Aurelian Way, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>gloomy old Aigues-Mortes, which we were to visit later. +At lunch we had talked of a poem of Mistral's, which a +friend of Mr. Dane's had put into French—a poem all +about a legendary duel. And it was down there, in that +far-stretching field, that the duel was fought.</p> + +<p>As I looked I realized that the clouds boiling up from +some vast cauldron behind the world were choking the +horizon with their purple folds. They were beautiful +as the banners of a royal army advancing over the horizon, +but—they would hide the sun as he went down to bathe +in the sea. He was embroidering their edges with gold +now. I was seeing the best at this moment. If I started +to go back, I should have time to pause here and there, +gazing at things the Turnours had hurried past.</p> + +<p>I went down slowly, reluctantly, the melancholy charm +of the place catching at my dress as I walked, like the +supplicating fingers of a ghost condemned to dumbness. +There was one rock-hewn house I had wanted to see, +coming up, which Lady Turnour had scorned, saying +"when you've been in one, you've been in all." +And she had not understood the guide's story of a legend +that was attached to this particular house. Perhaps +if she had she would not have cared; but now I was +free I couldn't resist the temptation of going in, to +poke about a little. You could go several floors down, +the guide had said; that was certain, but the tale was, +that a secret way led down from the lowest cellar of this +cave house, continuing—if one could only find it—to +the enchanted cavern far below, where Taven, the witch, +kept and cured of illness the girl loved by Mireio.</p> + +<p>I didn't know who Mireio was, except that he lived in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>songs and legends of Old Provence, but the story sounded +like a beautiful romance; and then, the guide had added +that some people thought the Kabre d'Or, or Phoenician +treasure, was hidden somewhere between Les Baux and +the "Fairy Grotto," or the "Gorge of Hell," near by.</p> + +<p>Caves have always had the most extraordinary, magical +fascination for me. When I was a child, I believed that +if I could only go into one I should be allowed to find +fairyland; and even in an ordinary, every-day cellar +I was never quite without hope. The smell of a cellar +suggested the most cool, delightful, shadowy mysteries +to me, at that time, and does still.</p> + +<p>It was as if the ghostly hand that had been pulling +me back, begging me not to leave Les Baux, led me +gently but insistently through the doorway of the rock +house.</p> + +<p>It was not yet dark inside. I tiptoed my way through +some rough bits of debris, to the back of the big room, +crudely cut out of stone. There were shelves where the +dwellers had set lights or stored provisions, and there +was nothing else to see except a square hole in the floor, +below which a staircase had been hewn. A glimmer of +light came up to me, gray as a bat's wing, and I knew +that there must be some opening for ventilation below.</p> + +<p>I felt that I would give anything to go down those +rough stone stairs, only half way down, perhaps; just +far enough to see what lay underneath. It was as if +Taven herself had called me, saying: "Come, I have +something to show you."</p> + +<p>I put a foot on the first step, then the other foot wanted +a chance to touch the next step, and so on, each demanding +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>its own turn in fairness. I had gone down eight steps, +counting each one, when I heard a faint rustling noise. +I stopped, my heart giving a jump, like a bird in a cage.</p> + +<p>There were no windows in the underground room, +which was much smaller and less regular in shape than +the one above, but a faint twilight seemed to rain down +into it in streaks, like spears of rain, and I guessed that +holes had been made in the rock to give light and ventilation. +Something alive was down there, moving. +I was frightened; I hardly dared to look. And I had a +nightmare feeling of being struck dumb and motionless. +I tried to turn and run up the stairs but I had to look, +and the gray filtering light struck into a pair of eyes.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + + +<p>They were great black eyes, sunken into the face +of an old woman. She stood in a corner, and +it occurred to me that she had perhaps run +there, as much afraid of me as I was of her. No eyes +were ever like those, I thought, except the eyes of +a gipsy.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing?" I stammered, in French, +hardly expecting her to understand and answer me; but +she replied in an old, cracked voice that sounded hollow +and unreal in the cavern.</p> + +<p>"I have been asleep," she said. "I am waiting for +my sons. We are in Les Baux on business. I thought, +when I heard you, it was my boys coming to fetch +me. I can't go till they are here, because I have +dropped my rosary with a silver crucifix down below, +and the way is too steep for me. They must get it."</p> + +<p>"Do they know you are here?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," she returned. "They will come at six. +We shall perhaps have our supper and sleep in this house +to-night. Then we will go away in the morning."</p> + +<p>"It is only a little after five now," I told her. "You +frightened me at first."</p> + +<p>She cackled a laugh. "I am nothing to be afraid of," +she chuckled. "I am very old. Besides, there is no harm +in me. If you have the time, I could tell your fortune."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>"I'm afraid I haven't time," I said, though I was +tempted. To have one's fortune told in a cavern under +a rock house where Romans had lived, told by a real, +live gipsy who looked as if she might be a lineal descendant +from Taven, and who was probably fresh from worshipping +at the tomb of Sarah! It would be an experience. +No girl I knew, not even Pam herself, who is always +having adventures, could ever have had one as good as +this. If only I need not miss it!</p> + +<p>"It would take no more than five minutes," she pleaded +in her queer French, which was barely understandable, +and evidently not the tongue in which she was most at +home.</p> + +<p>"Well, then," I said, hastily calculating that it was no +more than ten minutes since Lady Turnour and Sir +Samuel left me, and that the water for their punch +couldn't possibly have begun to boil yet. "Well, then, +perhaps I might have five minutes' fortune, if it +doesn't cost too much; but I'm very poor—poorer +than you, maybe."</p> + +<p>"That cannot be, for then you would have less than +nothing," said the old woman, cackling again. "But it +is your company I like to have, more than your money. +I have been waiting here a long time, and I am dull. No +fortune can be expected to come true, however, unless the +teller's hand be crossed with silver, otherwise I might give +it you for nothing. But a two-franc piece—"</p> + +<p>"I think I have as much as that," I cut her short, as +she paused on the hint; and deciding not to ask her, as +I felt inclined, to come to the upper room lest we should +be interrupted, I went down the remaining five or six +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>high steps, and got out my purse under a long, straight +rod of gray light.</p> + +<p>There were only a few francs left, but I would have +beggared myself to buy this adventure, and thought it +cheap at the price she named. I found a two-franc +piece—a bright new one, worthy of its destiny—and +looking up as I shut my purse, I saw the old woman's eyes +fixed on me, and sharp as gimlets. Used to the +dusk now, I could see her dark face distinctly, and so +like a hungry crow did she look that I was startled. +But it was only for a second that I felt a little uncomfortable. +She was so old and weak, I was so young and +strong, that even if she were an evil creature who wanted +to do me harm, I could shake her off and run away as +easily as a bird could escape from a tied cat.</p> + +<p>"Make a cross with the silver piece on my palm," she said.</p> + +<p>I did as she told me, and it was a dark and dirty palm, +in the hollow of which seemed to lie a tiny pool of shadow. +Her eyes darted to the bracelet-watch as my wrist slipped +out of the protecting sleeve, and I drew back my hand +quickly. She plucked the coin from my fingers, and +then told me to give her my left hand.</p> + +<p>"You can't see the lines," I said. "It's too dark."</p> + +<p>"I see with my night eyes," she answered, as a witch +might have answered. "And I feel. I have the quick +touch of the blind. I can feel the pores in a flower-petal."</p> + +<p>Impressed, I let her hold my hand in one of her lean +claws while she lightly passed the spread fingers of the +other down the length of mine from the tips to the joining +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>with the palm, and then along the palm itself, up and +down and across. It was like having a feather drawn +over my hand.</p> + +<p>"You have foreign blood in your veins," she said. +"You are not all French. But you have the charm of +the Latin girl. You can make men love you. You make +them love you whether you wish or not, and whether <i>they</i> +wish or not. Sometimes that is a great trouble to you. +You are anxious now, for many reasons. One of the +reasons is a man, but there is more than one who loves +you. You make one of them unhappy, and yourself +unhappy, too. The man you ought to love is young and +handsome, and dark—very dark. Do not think ever +of marrying a fair man. You are on a journey now. +Something very unexpected will happen to you at the +end—something to do with a man, and something to do +with a woman. Be careful then, for your future happiness +may depend on your actions in a moment of surprise. +You are not rich, but you have a lucky hand. +You could find things hidden if you set yourself to look +for them."</p> + +<p>"Hidden treasure?" I asked, laughingly, and venturing +to break in because she was speaking slowly now, as if +she had come to the end of her string of prophecies.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps. Yes. If you looked for the hidden treasure +here, you might be the one to find it after all these +hundreds of years. Who knows? These things happen +to the lucky ones."</p> + +<p>"Well, if I believed that I'd been born for such luck, +I'd try to come back some day, and have a look," I said. +"I should begin in this house, I think."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>"It is never so lucky to return for things as to try and +get them at the right time," the old woman pronounced. +"If you would like to wait till my sons come—"</p> + +<p>"No, I wouldn't," I said. "I must go now."</p> + +<p>"If you would at least do me a favour, for the good +fortune I have told you so cheap," she begged. "I, +who in my day have had as much as two louis from +great ladies who would know their fortune!"</p> + +<p>"What is the favour?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is next to nothing. Only to go down to the +foot of the stairs in the cellar below this, and pick up my +rosary, which I dropped, and which I know is lying +there."</p> + +<p>"It's too dark," I said. "I couldn't see to find it—and +you said your sons were coming soon."</p> + +<p>"Not soon enough, for when you are gone, and I am +alone, I should like to pray at the time of vespers. And +it is not so dark as you think. Besides, this will be the +test of the fortune I have just told you. If it's true that +you have the lucky hand for finding you will put it on +the rosary in an instant. That will be a sign you can find +anything. Unless you are afraid, mademoiselle—"</p> + +<p>"Of course I'm not afraid," I said, for I always +have been ashamed of my fear of the dark, and have +forced myself to fight against it. "If the rosary is at the +foot of the staircase I'll try and get it for you, but I +won't go any farther."</p> + +<p>Her corner was close by the opening where more steps +were cut into the rock. I could see the bottom, I thought, +and started down quickly, because I was in a hurry to +come back and be on my way home—to the Aigle.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>Six, seven steps, and then—crash! down I came on +my hands and knees.</p> + +<p>Oh, how it hurt! And how it made my head ring! +Fireworks went off before my eyes, and I felt stupid, +inclined to lie still. But suddenly the idea flashed into +my brain, like lightning darting among dark clouds, +that the old woman had made me do this thing on purpose. +She had played me a trick—and if she had, she +must have some bad reason for doing it. Those two +sons of hers! I scrambled up, shocked and jarred by +the fall, my hands and knees smarting as if they were skinned.</p> + +<p>"I've fallen down," I cried. "Do you hear?"</p> + +<p>No answer.</p> + +<p>I called again. It was as still as a grave up above. +It seemed to me that it could not be so unnaturally, so +inhumanly still, if there were a living, breathing creature +there. I was sure now that the horrible old thing had +known what would happen, had wanted it to happen, +and had gone hobbling away to fetch her wicked gipsy +sons. How she had looked at my poor little purse! +How she had looked at Pamela's watch!</p> + +<p>I saw now how it was that I had been so stupid. The +dim light from above had lain on the last step and +made it appear as if the floor were near; but there was +a gap between the stairway and the bottom of the cellar. +The lower steps had been hewn away—perhaps in a +quest for the ever-elusive treasure. Maybe a crack had +appeared, and people, always searching, had suspected +a secret opening and tried to find it. Anyway, there +was the gap, and there was a rough pile of broken stone +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>not far off, which had once been the end of the rocky +stairway. It was lucky that I hadn't struck my forehead +against it in falling—the only bit of luck which the +fortune-teller had brought me!</p> + +<p>As it was, I was not seriously hurt. Perhaps I had +torn my dress, and I should certainly have to buy a new +pair of gloves, whether I could afford them or not; otherwise +I didn't think I should suffer, except for a few +black-and-blue patches. But how was I to get out of this +dark hole? That was the question. I was too hot with +anger against the sly old fox of a woman, who had pretended +that she wanted to say her prayers, to feel the +chill of fear; but I couldn't help understanding that she +had got me into this trap with the object of annexing my +watch and purse or anything else of value. Perhaps the +gipsy sons would rob me first, and then murder me, rather +than I should live to tell; but if they meant to do that +they would have to come and be at it soon, or I should +be missed and sought.</p> + +<p>This last fancy really did turn me cold, and the nice +hot anger which had kept me warm began to ooze out +at my fingers and toes. I thought of my brave new +brother, who would fight ten gipsy men to save me if +he only knew; and then I wanted to cry.</p> + +<p>But that would be the silliest thing I could do. Soon +they would begin to look for me (oh, how furious Lady +Turnour would be that I should dare keep her waiting, +and at the fuss about a servant!) and if I screamed at +the top of my voice maybe some one would hear.</p> + +<p>I took a long breath, and gave vent to a blood-curdling +shriek which would have made the fortune of an actress +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>on the stage. Odd! I couldn't help thinking of that at +the time. One thinks of queer things at the most inappropriate +moments.</p> + +<p>It was a glorious howl, but the rock walls seemed +to catch it as a battledore catches a shuttlecock, and +send it bounding back to me. I knew then that a cry +from those depths would not carry far; and the fear at +my heart gave a sharp, rat-like bite.</p> + +<p>If I could scramble up! I thought; and promptly tried.</p> + +<p>It looked almost easy; but for me it was impossible. +A very tall woman might have done it, perhaps, but I +have only five foot four in my Frenchiest French heels; +and the broken-off place was higher than my waist. With +good hand-hold I might have dragged myself up, +but the steps above did not come at the right height to +give me leverage; and always, though I tried again and +again, till my cut hands bled, I couldn't climb up. And +how silly it seemed, the whole thing! I was just like a +young fly that had come buzzing and bumbling round an +ugly old spider's web, too foolish to know that it was a +web. And even now how lightly the fly's feet were +entangled! A spring, and I should be out of prison.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"Oh, the little more, and how much it is!</p> +<p class="i0">And the little less, and what worlds away!"</p> +</div></div> + +<p>The words came and spoke themselves in my ears, as +if they were determined to make me cry.</p> + +<p>I was desperately frightened and homesick—homesick +even for Lady Turnour. I should have felt like +kissing the hem of her dress if I could only have seen +her now—and I wasn't able to smile when I thought +what a rage she'd be in if I did it. She would have me +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>sent off to an insane asylum: but even that would be +much gayer and more homelike than an underground +cellar in the Ghost City of Les Baux.</p> + +<p>Dear old Sir Samuel, with his nice red face! I almost +loved him. The car seemed like a long-lost aunt. And +as for the chauffeur, my brother—I found that I dared +not think of him. As in my imagination I saw his eyes, +his good dark eyes, clear as a brook, and the lines his +brown face took when he thought intently, the tears began +running down my cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jack—Jack, come and help me!" I called.</p> + +<p>That comes of <i>thinking</i> people's Christian names. +They will pop out of your mouth when you least expect +it. But it mattered little enough now, except that the +sound of the name and the echo of it fluttering back to me +made my tears feel boiling hot—hotter than the +punch which the Turnours must have finished by this time.</p> + +<p>"Jack! Jack!" I called again.</p> + +<p>Then I heard a stone rattle up above, somewhere, and +a sick horror rushed over me, because of the gipsy men +coming back with their wicked old mother.</p> + +<p>It was only a very dark gray in the cellar, to my +unaccustomed eyes, but suddenly it turned black, with +purple edges. I knew then I was going to faint, because +I've done it once or twice before, and things always began +by being black with purple edges.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + + +<p>"For heaven's sake, wake up—tell me you're not +hurt!" a familiar voice was saying in my ear, or +I was dreaming it. And because it was such a +good dream I was afraid to break it by waking to some +horror, so I kept my eyes shut, hoping and hoping for +it to come again.</p> + +<p>In an instant, it did come. "Child—little girl—wake +up! Can't you speak to me?"</p> + +<p>His hand, holding mine, was warm and extraordinarily +comforting. Suddenly I felt so happy and so perfectly +safe that I was paid for everything. My head was on +somebody's arm, and I knew very well now who the +somebody was. He was real, and not a dream. I sighed +cozily and opened my eyes. His face was quite close to +mine.</p> + +<p>"Thank God!" he said. "Are you all right?"</p> + +<p>"Now you're here," I answered. "I thought they +were coming to kill me."</p> + +<p>"Who?" he asked, quite fiercely.</p> + +<p>"An old gipsy woman and her sons."</p> + +<p>"Those people!" he exclaimed. "Why, it was they +who told me you were in this place. If it hadn't been +for them I shouldn't have found you so soon—though +I <i>would</i> have found you. The wretches! What made +you think—"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>"The old woman was in the room above," I said, +"waiting for her sons; and she begged me to look down +here for a rosary she dropped. She must have known +the bottom steps were gone. She <i>wanted</i> me to fall; +and though I called, she didn't answer, because she'd +probably hobbled off to find her sons and bring them +back to rob me. I haven't hurt myself much, but when +I found I couldn't climb up I was so frightened! I +thought no one would ever come—except those horrible +gipsies. And when I heard a sound above I was sure +they were here. I felt sick and strange, and I suppose +I must have fainted."</p> + +<p>"I heard you call, just as I got into the upper room. +Then, though I answered, everything was still. Jove! +I had some bad minutes! But you're sure you're all +right now?"</p> + +<p>"Sure," I answered, sitting up. "Did I call you +'Jack'? If I did, it was only because one can't shriek +'Mister,' and anyway you told me to."</p> + +<p>"Now I <i>know</i> you're all right, or you wouldn't bother +about conventionalities. I wish I had some brandy for you—"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't take it if you had."</p> + +<p>"That sounds like you. That's encouraging! Are +you strong enough to let me get you up into the light +and air?"</p> + +<p>"Quite!" I replied briskly, letting him help me to my +feet. "But how are we to get up?"</p> + +<p>"I'll show you. It will be easy."</p> + +<p>"Let's look first for the wicked old creature's rosary. +If it isn't here, it's certain she's a fraud."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>"I should think it's certain without looking. I'd like +to put the old serpent in prison."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't care to trouble, now I'm safe. And +anyway, how could we prove she meant her sons to rob +me, since they hadn't begun the act, and so couldn't be +caught in it?"</p> + +<p>"She didn't know you had a man to look after you. +When the guide and I came this way, searching, we met +a gipsy woman with two awful brutes, and asked if +they'd seen a young lady in a gray coat. They were all +three on their way here, as you thought; but when they +saw us close to this house, of course, they dared not carry +out their plan, and the old woman made the best of a +bad business. No doubt they're as far off by this time +as they could get. It might be difficult to prove anything, +but I'd like to try."</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> wouldn't," I said. "But let's look for that rosary. +Have you any matches?"</p> + +<p>"Plenty." He took out a match-case, and held a wax +vesta for me to peer about in the neighbourhood of the +broken stairway.</p> + +<p>"Here's something glittering!" I exclaimed, just as +I had been about to give up the search in vain. "She +said there was a silver crucifix."</p> + +<p>I slipped my fingers into a crack where the rock +had been split in breaking off the lower steps. A +small, bright thing was there, almost buried in débris, +but I could not get my fingers in deep enough to +dislodge it. Impatiently I pulled out a hat-pin, and +worked until I had unearthed—not the rosary, but a +silver coin.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>"Somebody else has been down here, dropping money," +I said, handing the piece up for Mr. Dane to examine.</p> + +<p>"Then it was a long time ago," he replied, "for the +coin has the head of Louis XIII. on it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, then she was right!" I cried. "I <i>can</i> find lost +treasure. I'm going to look for more. I believe that +piece must have fallen out of a hole I've found here, +which goes back ever so far into the rock. I can get my +arm in nearly to the elbow."</p> + +<p>"<i>Who</i> was 'right'?" my brother wanted to know.</p> + +<p>"The gipsy. She told my fortune. That was why I +didn't refuse to look for her rosary."</p> + +<p>"I should have thought a child would have known +better," he remarked, scornfully; and his tone hurt my +sensitiveness the more because his voice had been so +anxious and his words so kind when I was fainting. He +had called me "child" and "little girl." I remembered +well, and the words had been saying themselves over +in my mind ever since. I rather thought that they +betrayed a secret—that perhaps he had been getting to +care for me a little. That idea pleased me, because he +had been abrupt sometimes, and I hadn't known what to +make of him. Every girl owes it to herself to understand +a man thoroughly—at least, as much of his character +and feelings as may concern her. Besides, it +is not soothing to one's vanity to try—well, yes, I +may as well confess that!—to <i>try</i> and please a man, +yet to know you've failed after days of association so +constant and intimate that hours are equal to the +same number of months in an ordinary acquaintance. +Now, after thinking I'd made the discovery that he +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>really had found me attractive, it was a shock to be +spoken to in this way.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you <i>are</i> cross!" I exclaimed, still poking about +in the hole under the stairway.</p> + +<p>"I'm not cross," he said, "but if I were, you'd +deserve it, because you know you've been foolish. And +if you don't know, you ought to, so that you may be wiser +next time. The idea of a sensible young woman chumming +up in a lonely cave, with a dirty old gipsy certain +to be a thief, if not worse, letting her tell fortunes, and +then falling into a trap like this. I wouldn't have +believed it of you!"</p> + +<p>"I think you're perfectly horrid," said I. "I wish +you had let the guide find me. He would have done it +just as well, and been much more polite."</p> + +<p>"Doubtless he would have been more polite, but he +isn't as young, and might have had trouble in getting +you out. There! that's my last match, and you mustn't +waste any more time looking for treasure which you +won't find."</p> + +<p>"Which I <i>have</i> found!" I announced. "I've got +something more—away at the back of the hole. Not +that you deserve to see it!"</p> + +<p>However, I held up my hand in its torn, bloodstained +glove, with two silver pieces displayed on the palm.</p> + +<p>"A child's hidey-hole, I suppose," he said without +showing as much interest as the occasion warranted. +"Otherwise there would be something more valuable. +A young servant of the Grimaldis, perhaps; these coins +are all of the same period—of no great value as antiques, +I'm afraid."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>"They're of value to me," I retorted. "They'll bring +me luck." I would of course have given him one, if +he hadn't been so disagreeable; but now I felt that he +shouldn't have anything of mine if he were starving.</p> + +<p>"You are very superstitious, among other childlike +qualities," he replied, laughing. So <i>that</i> was what he +thought of me, and <i>that</i> was why he had called me +"child"! It was all spoiled now, from the beginning; +and the guide might as well have found me, as I had +said, without <i>quite</i> meaning it at the time.</p> + +<p>"If you don't like lucky things, you can throw away +my St. Christopher," I said, coldly. "You must have +thought it very silly."</p> + +<p>"I thought it extremely kind of you to give it, and +I've no intention of throwing it away, or parting with +it," said he. "Now, are you ready?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I snapped.</p> + +<p>In an instant he had me by the waist between two +hands which felt strong as steel buckles, and swung me +up like a feather on to the first step of the broken stairs. +Then, in another second, he was at my side, supporting +me to the top without a word, except a muttered "Don't +be childish!" when I would have pushed away his arm.</p> + +<p>Strange to say, I forgot Lady Turnour and Sir Samuel +until we saw the guide, to whom long ago Mr. Dane had +called up a reassuring <i>"Tout va bien!</i>" Then, suddenly, +the awful truth sprang into my mind. All this time +they had been waiting for me! What would they say? +What would they do?</p> + +<p>In my horror, I even forgot my righteous anger with +the chauffeur. "Oh!" I gasped. "<i>The Turnours!</i>"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>Then Mr. Dane spoke kindly again. "Don't worry," +he said. "It's all right. They've gone on."</p> + +<p>"In the car?" I cried.</p> + +<p>"No. Sir Samuel can't drive the car. And as +Lady Turnour thought she had a chill, rather than wait +for me to find you they took a carriage which was here, +and drove down to St. Remy. They'll go on by rail to +Avignon, and—"</p> + +<p>"There must have been a dreadful row!" I groaned.</p> + +<p>"Not at all. You're not to worry. Lady Turnour +behaved like a cad, as usual, but what can you expect? +Sir Samuel did the best he could. He would have liked to +wait, but if he'd insisted she would have had hysterics."</p> + +<p>"How came there to be a carriage here?" I asked the guide.</p> + +<p>"The gentleman paid three young men who had driven +up in it a good sum to get it for himself," he explained, +"and they are walking down. They are of Germany."</p> + +<p>"Was it a long time?" I went on. "Oh, it <i>must</i> have +been. It's nearly dark now, except for the moonlight."</p> + +<p>"It is perhaps an hour altogether since mademoiselle +separated herself from the others," the guide admitted. +"But they have been gone for more than half that +time. They did not delay long, after the little dispute +with monsieur about the car."</p> + +<p>"Oh, there was a dispute!" I caught him up, wheeling +upon the chauffeur. "You <i>must</i> tell me."</p> + +<p>"It was nothing much," he said, still very kindly, "and +it was her ladyship's fault, of course. If you were plain +and elderly she'd have more patience; but as it is, +you've seen how quick she is to scold; so, of course, she +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>was angry when she'd finished her grog and you +didn't turn up."</p> + +<p>"What did she say," I asked.</p> + +<p>He laughed. "She was quite irrelevant."</p> + +<p>"I must know!"</p> + +<p>"Well, she seemed to lay most of the blame on the +colour of your hair and eyelashes."</p> + +<p>"She said—"</p> + +<p>"What could be expected of a girl that dyed her hair +yellow and her eyelashes black?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Horrid</i> woman! You don't believe I do, do you?"</p> + +<p>"I must say it hadn't occurred to me to think of it."</p> + +<p>Then I remembered how angry I was with him, and +didn't pursue that subject, but turned again to the +other. However, I made a mental note that there was +one more thing to punish him for when I got the chance.</p> + +<p>"What else did she say?"</p> + +<p>"She began to turn purple when Sir Samuel would +have defended you, and said she wouldn't stand your +taking such liberties. That it was monstrous, and a few +other things, to be kept freezing on mountains by one's +domestics, and that she should be ill if she waited. Sir +Samuel persuaded her to give you fifteen minutes' grace, +but after that she was determined to start. Of course, +she didn't know that an accident had happened. She +thought you were simply dawdling, and wanted Sir +Samuel to arrange for you to drive down with the newly +arrived German tourists. Sir Samuel and I objected to +this, and later it was settled for the Turnours to do what +her ladyship planned for you, without the company of +the tourists. Lady Turnour resents <i>lèse-majesté</i>."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>"It's a miracle she consented to leave the car," I said.</p> + +<p>"She couldn't use it without a chauffeur, and naturally +I refused to go without knowing what had happened to you."</p> + +<p>"You refused!" I stammered.</p> + +<p>"Of course. That was where the row came in. We +had a few words, and eventually I was deputed to look you up."</p> + +<p>"Deputed!" I echoed, desperately. "They never +'deputed' you to do it, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>"They jolly well couldn't help themselves. You can't +make a man drive a car if he won't. So they went off +in the Germans' carriage, and the Germans were enchanted."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" I exclaimed, so miserable now that anger +leaked out of my heart like water through a sieve. "It's +all my fault. Did they discharge you?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't give them the chance. After a few little +things her ladyship said, I felt rather hot in the collar, +and discharged myself. That is, I gave them notice that +I would go as soon as they could get another chauffeur. +It would have been bad form to leave them in the lurch, +without anyone, on tour."</p> + +<p>The tears came to my eyes, and I was thinking so +little about myself that I let them roll down without +bothering to wipe them away. "Do, do forgive +me," I implored. "But you never can, of course. +All through my foolishness you're out of an engagement. +And you depended upon it, I know, from what you said."</p> + +<p>"There's nothing to forgive, my dear little sister,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +he said. "It's you who must forgive me, if I've distressed +you by telling the story in a clumsy way. It wasn't +your fault. I couldn't stand that bounderess's cruel +tongue, so I have myself to blame, if anyone. And it's +sure to turn out right in the end."</p> + +<p>"You refused to drive their car because you would +stay behind and find me—"</p> + +<p>"Any decent chap would do that—even a chauffeur." +He spoke lightly to comfort me. "Besides, I wanted +to stop. You're the only sister I ever had."</p> + +<p>"You must hate me," I moaned.</p> + +<p>"I don't. Please don't cry. I shall faint if you do."</p> + +<p>I was obliged to laugh a little through my tears.</p> + +<p>"Come," he said, gently. "Let me take you down. +Just a word with the guide about those gipsies, and—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, leave the wretched gipsies alone!" I begged. +"Who cares, now? If you say anything, they may call +us as witnesses at St. Remy or some town where we +don't want to stop. Let them go."</p> + +<p>"I suppose we might as well," he said, "for we can't +prove anything worth proving. Come, then." He +slipped some money into the guide's hand, and thanked +him for his courtesy and kindness. But another pang +shot through my remorseful heart. More money spent +by this man for me, when he had so little, and had lost the +engagement which, though unworthy his rank in life, +was the only present means he had of earning a livelihood. +I came, obeying in forlorn silence, and could +not answer when he tried to cheer me up as we walked +down to the Hotel Monte Carlo. There stood the +Aigle in charge of a youth from the inn, and there was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>more money to be paid to him. I wanted to give it, but +saw that if I insisted Mr. Dane would be vexed.</p> + +<p>He suggested putting me inside, as the air was now +very cold, with the chill that falls after sunset; but I +refused. "I want to sit by you!" I implored, and he +said no more. With the glass cage behind us empty, +and the great acetylene lamps alight, the Aigle turned and +flew down the hill.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + + +<p>For some time we did not speak, but my thoughts +moved more quickly than the beating of the +engine. At last I said meekly, "Of course, I +may as well consider myself discharged, too. And even +if I weren't, I should go."</p> + +<p>"I've been thinking about that," Mr. Dane answered. +"It was the first thought that came into my head when +the row began. It isn't likely she'll want you to leave, +because she won't like getting on without a maid. I +think, in the circumstances, unless she is brutal, you'd +better stay with her till your friends can receive you. +Someone <i>must</i> come forward and help you now."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't ask anyone but Pamela, who's gone to +America," I protested. "Besides, I can't stand Lady +Turnour after what's happened—with you gone."</p> + +<p>(As I said this, I remembered again how I had dreaded +to associate with the chauffeur, and planned to avoid him. +It was rather funny, as it had turned out; but somehow +I didn't feel like laughing.)</p> + +<p>"Of course <i>you</i> won't mind," I went on. "It's +different for a man. If you were left and I going, it +wouldn't matter, because you'd have the car. But +I've nothing—except Lady Turnour's 'transformation.' +Luckily, she won't want me to stop."</p> + +<p>"I think she will," he said, "because your only fault +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>was in having an accident. You weren't impudent, as +she thinks I was in refusing to drive the car. Also in +letting her see that I thought her willingness to leave a +young girl in a place like this, alone for hours (she did +propose to let me drive back for you) was the most brutal +thing I'd ever heard of."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how good you were, to sacrifice yourself like that +for me!" I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't entirely for you," he said. "One owes +some things to oneself. But when we get to Avignon, +and it's settled between you and Lady Turnour, promise +to let me know what you mean to do and give me a chance +to advise you."</p> + +<p>I promised. But I was so melancholy as to the future +and so ashamed of myself for the trouble brought upon +my only friend, that his efforts to cheer me were hopeless +as an attempt to let off wet fireworks. Mine were soaked; +and instead of admiring the moonlight, which soon flooded +the wild landscape, it made me the more dismal.</p> + +<p>The drive by day had seemed short, but now it was +long, for I was in haste to begin the expected battle.</p> + +<p>"Courage! and be wise," said Mr. Dane, as he helped +me out of the car in front of the Hotel de l'Europe. "I +shall bring up your dinner again—it's no use saying +you don't want anything—and we'll exchange news."</p> + +<p>When lions have to be faced, my theory is that the +best thing is to open the cage door and walk in +boldly, not crawl in on your knees, saying: "Please +don't eat me."</p> + +<p>I expected Lady Turnour to have a fine appetite for +any martyrs lying about loose, but to my surprise a faint<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +"Come in!" answered my dauntless knock, and I beheld +her prostrate in bed.</p> + +<p>She said that I had nearly killed her, and that she +would probably not be able to move for a week; but the +story of my adventures with the gipsy interested her somewhat, +and she brightened when she heard of the old coins +found in a hole in the rock. There was not a word about +sending me away, and I suspected that a scene with Sir +Samuel had crushed the lady. Even a worm will turn, +and Sir Samuel may be one of those mild men who, when +once roused, are capable of surprising those who know +them best. Quite meekly she desired that I would show +her the coins, and having seen them, she said that she +would buy them off me. Not that they were of any intrinsic +value, but they might be "lucky," and she would +give me a sovereign for the three.</p> + +<p>Then an idea came and whispered in my ear. I thanked +Lady Turnour politely, but said I thought I had better +keep the coins and show them to an antiquary. They +might be more valuable than we supposed, and I should +need all the money, as well as all the luck possible, now +that I was leaving her ladyship's service.</p> + +<p>"Leaving!" she echoed. "But as you had an accident +I've made up my mind to excuse you this time, +and not discharge you as I intended. You don't +know your business too well, but any maid is better +than no maid on a tour like this, as Sir Samuel pointed +out to me."</p> + +<p>"But, begging your ladyship's pardon," I ventured, +"I understand that the chauffeur is to go because he +stopped at Les Baux to look for me. As he very likely +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>saved my life, I couldn't be so ungrateful as to stay on +in my situation when he is losing his for my sake."</p> + +<p>"What nonsense!" snapped her ladyship. "As if that +had anything to do with you, and if it has, it <i>oughtn't</i>. +Besides, if he will apologize, he can stop. Sir Samuel +says so."</p> + +<p>"He doesn't seem to think he was in the wrong, my +lady," said I. "As your ladyship will probably be at +Avignon some time before finding another chauffeur, +it will be easy to look for a maid at the same time."</p> + +<p>"Be here some time!" she cried. "I won't! We want +to get on to a château where my stepson's visiting."</p> + +<p>"I should be delighted to offer your ladyship two of +the lucky coins for nothing," said I, my impertinence +wrapped in honey, "if she would persuade Sir Samuel to +<i>ask</i> the chauffeur to stay."</p> + +<p>"Why, that's just what Sir Samuel wants to do, if +I would hear of it!" The words popped out before she +had stopped to think.</p> + +<p>"It might be too late after this evening," I suggested. +"The chauffeur will perhaps take steps at once to secure +some other engagement; and I fear that a good man is +always in great demand. I hope that your ladyship will +kindly understand that it would be nothing to <i>me</i>, if he +hadn't got into trouble for my sake."</p> + +<p>"You can leave the coins, and call Sir Samuel, who is +in his room next door," remarked Lady Turnour with +dignity. "I will talk with him."</p> + +<p>The greedy creature was delighted to have the coins +without paying for them, and delighted with the excuse +to do what she would have liked to do without an excuse, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>if obstinacy had not forbidden. I kept one coin for my +own luck; I called Sir Samuel, who was sulking in his +den, was dismissed with an order for her ladyship's dinner, +which she would have in bed, and told to return with +the menu.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later, coming back, I met Mr. Jack +Dane in the corridor.</p> + +<p>"Have you seen Sir Samuel yet?" I inquired.</p> + +<p>"No. He's sent for me, and I'm on my way to him now."</p> + +<p>"He's going to ask you to stay," I said.</p> + +<p>"I think you're mistaken there," replied the chauffeur. +"The old boy himself has a strong sense of justice, and +would like to make everything all right, no doubt, but +his wife would give him no peace if he did."</p> + +<p>"If he does, though, what shall you do?" I inquired anxiously.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dane looked into space. "I think I'd better go in any case."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>If he'd been a woman, I think he would have answered +"Because," but being a man he reflected a few +seconds, and said he thought it would be better for him +in the end.</p> + +<p>"Do you want to go?" I asked, drearily.</p> + +<p>"No. But I ought to want to."</p> + +<p>"Please stay," I begged. "Please—brother."</p> + +<p>"Sir Samuel mayn't ask me; and you wouldn't have +me crawl to him?"</p> + +<p>"But if he does ask you."</p> + +<p>"I'll stay," he said.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>Impulsively, I held out my hand. He took it, and +pressed it so hard that it hurt, then dropped it suddenly. +His manner is certainly very odd sometimes. I suppose +he doesn't want me to flatter myself that I am of any +importance in his scheme of existence. But he needn't +worry. He has shown me very plainly that he is one of +those typical, unsusceptible Englishmen French writers +put in their books, men with hearts whose every +compartment is warranted love-tight.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + + +<p>Lady Turnour opened her heart and her wardrobe +and gave me a blouse the first thing in the +morning, which act of generosity was the more +remarkable as morning is not her best time. I have found +that it is the early maid who catches the first snub, which +otherwise might fall innocuously upon a husband. The +blouse was one which I had heard her ladyship say she +hated; but then her idea of true charity, combined, as +it should be, with economy, is always to give to the poor +what you wouldn't be found dead in yourself, because it +is more blessed to give than to receive badly made things. +On the same principle I immediately passed the gift on +to a chambermaid of the hotel, who perhaps in her turn +dropped it a grade lower in the social scale, and so it +may go on forever, blouse without end; but all that is +apart from the point. The important part of the transaction +was the token that the dead past was to bury its +dead; and possibly Sir Samuel timidly offered a waistcoat +or a pair of boots to the chauffeur.</p> + +<p>Instead of lying in bed, as Lady Turnour had threatened +to do for a week, she was up earlier than usual, +as well as ever she had been, and not more than half +as disagreeable. Although the sky looked as if it +might burst into tears at any moment, and although +Orange has nothing but historic remains and historic +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>records to show, she was ready to start, almost cheerfully, +at ten o'clock.</p> + +<p>I was allowed to be of the party, laden with mackintoshes +for my master and mistress; and I didn't admire +the triumphal arch at Orange nearly as much as I had +admired the smaller and older one at St. Remy. But +Lady Turnour admired it far more, and was so nice to Sir +Samuel that he thought it <i>the</i> arch of the world. They +put their heads together over the same volume of Baedeker, +which was an exquisite pleasure to the poor man, and +he was so pathetic I could have cried into his footsteps, +as he read (pronouncing almost everything wrong) about +the building of the Arch of Tiberius. "Why, that's +just like a sweet little statuette I used to have standing +on a table in my drawing-room window!" exclaimed +Lady Turnour, looking up at the beautiful Winged Victory. +"You might think it was a copy!"</p> + +<p>Although the histories say Orange wasn't very important +in Roman days, it has taken revenge by letting +everything not Roman fall into decay, except, of course, +its memories of the family through which William the +Silent of Holland became William of Orange. The house +of the first William of Orange, the hero of song who rode +back wounded from Roncesvalles to his waiting wife, +is gone now, save for a wall and a buttress or two on a +lonely hill of the old town; yet the arch, which was old +when his château was begun, still towers dark yellow as +tarnished Etruscan gold against the sky; and the Roman +theatre is the grandest out of Italy. Lady Turnour +could not see why the Comédie Française should produce +plays there, even once a year, when they could do +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>it so much more comfortably at any modern theatre in +the provinces if they <i>must</i> travel; and as to the gathering +of the Felibres, she didn't even know what Felibres were, +nor did she care, as she was unlikely to meet any in +society. She would have proposed going on somewhere +else, as there was so "little to see in Orange," but +that rain came sweeping down, cold from the east, when +I had followed the pair a quarter of a mile from the motor. +They fled into their mackintoshes as a hermit-crab flees +into his borrowed shell, and I was the only one the +worse for wear when we reached the car. I didn't +much mind the wetting, but it was rather nice to be +fussed over by a brother, and forced into a coat of his, +whether I liked or not. "The quality" must have seen +me in it, through the glass, but Lady Turnour ignored +the sight. Altogether, everything was agreeable, and +the thunder-storm of last night, in clearing, had turned us +into quite a happy family party.</p> + +<p>It rained all day, and I sat in my room before a blazing +fire of olive wood which a dear old waiter, exactly like +a confidential servant of a pope, bestowed upon me out +of sheer Provençal good nature. As he's been in the +hotel for thirty years, he is a privileged person, and can +do what he likes.</p> + +<p>Lady Turnour gave me a pile of stockings to look +over, lest Satan should find some more ornamental +use for my idle hands; so I asked Mr. Dane for his socks +too; and pretended that I should consider it a slight upon +my skill if he refused.</p> + +<p>That was our last night at Avignon, and early in the +morning I packed for Arles, where we would sleep.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +But on the way we stopped at Tarascon, so splendid with +its memories of Du Guesclin, and the towers of King +René's great château reflected in a water-mirror, that +no Tartarin could be blamed if he were born with a +boasting spirit. And there are other things in Tarascon +for its Tartarins to be proud of, besides the noble old +castle where King René used to spend his springs and +summers when he was tired of living in state at Aix. +There is the church of Saint Martha, and the beautiful +Hotel de Ville, and—almost best of all for its quaintness, +though far from beautiful—the great Tarasque lurking +in a dark and secret lair.</p> + +<p>We couldn't go into the château, but perhaps it was +better to see it only from the outside, and remember it +always in a crystal picture, framed with the turquoise of +the sky. Besides, not going in gave us more time for +Beaucaire, just across the river—Beaucaire of the Fair; +Beaucaire of sweet Nicolete and her faithful lover Aucassin.</p> + +<p>I know a song about Nicolete of the white feet and +hair of yellow gold, and I sang it below my breath, sitting +beside my brother Jack, as we crossed the bridge. +Although I sang so softly, he heard, and turned to me for +an instant. "You <i>can</i> sing!" he said.</p> + +<p>"You don't like singing," I suggested.</p> + +<p>"Only better than most things—that's all."</p> + +<p>"Yet you didn't want me to sing the other night."</p> + +<p>"That was because your hair was down. I couldn't +stand both together."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean."</p> + +<p>"Don't you? All the better. Never mind trying +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>to guess. Let's think about the fair. Wouldn't you +have liked to come here in the days when it was one +of the greatest shows in all France?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't have come in a motor then."</p> + +<p>"You're getting to be an enthusiast. You'll have to +marry a millionaire with at least a forty-horse-power car."</p> + +<p>"I happen to be running away from one now, in a +sixty-horse-power car. But I don't want to think of him +in this romantic country. The idea of Corn Plasters, +near the garden where Nicolete's little feet tripped among +the daisies by moonlight, is too appalling."</p> + +<p>"Up on the hill are the towers of the castle where +Aucassin was in prison for his love of Nicolete," said +the chauffeur. "If only I can induce them to go there, +and walk in the garden on the battlements! It's beautiful, +full of great perfumed Provençal roses, and quantities +of fleur-de-lys growing wild under pine trees and peering +out of formal yew hedges. You never saw anything +quite like it. Oh, I must manage the thing somehow."</p> + +<p>"I think you could, in their present mood," said I. +"They're quite properly honey-moony since the storm, +which was a blessing in disguise. They'll go up, and +feel romantic and young; but as for me—"</p> + +<p>"You'll go up, and <i>be</i> the things they can only feel. +I should like to go with you there—" he broke off, +looking wistful.</p> + +<p>"Oh, do get some one to guard the car, and come," +I begged him. "You've seen it all before?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"You look as if the place had sentimental memories for you."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>He smiled. "There is a sentiment attaching to it. +Someday I may tell you—" he stopped again. "No, +I don't think I'll do that."</p> + +<p>Suddenly the thought of the garden was spoiled for +me. I imagined that, in happier days, he must have +walked there with a girl he loved. Perhaps he loved her +still, only misfortune had come to him, and they could not +marry. In that case, I'd been misjudging him, maybe. +His bluntnesses and abruptnesses and coldnesses didn't +mean that the compartments were "love-tight," as I'd +fancied, but that they were already full to overflowing.</p> + +<p>He did induce the Turnours to see the garden on the +old battlements, and he did find a suitable watch-dog for +the car in order to be my companion. And he was less +self-conscious and happier in his manner than he had +been since the first day or two of our acquaintance. +Also the garden, starred with spring flowers, was even +more lovely than I had expected. I ought to have enjoyed +every moment there; but—it is never pleasant to be +with a man when you think he is wishing that you were +another girl.</p> + +<p>"Was she pretty?" I couldn't resist asking.</p> + +<p>For an instant he looked bewildered; then he understood. +"Very," he replied, smiling. "About the prettiest +girl I ever saw. The description of Nicolete would +fit her very well. 'The clear face, delicately fine,' and +all that. But I don't let my mind dwell much on girls +in these days, when I can help it, as you can well imagine."</p> + +<p>"And when you can't help it?" I wanted to know.</p> + +<p>"Oh, when I can't help it, I feel like a bear with a +sore head, and no honey in my hollow tree."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>So that is why he is so disagreeable, sometimes! He +is thinking of the girl of the battlemented garden at +Beaucaire. I shall try and find out all about her; but +I don't know that I shall feel better satisfied when I have.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + + +<p>The garden on the battlements at Beaucaire +seemed to bring out all that's best in Lady +Turnour, and she was—for her—quite +radiant when we arrived at Arles. Not that it was +much credit to her to be radiant, when the road +had been perfect, and the car had behaved like an +angel, as usual; but small favours from small natures +are thankfully received; and just as it is a blight +upon the spirits of the whole party when her ladyship +frowns, so do we cheer up and hope for better things +when she smiles.</p> + +<p>As we were to spend the night at Arles, and arrived at +the quaint, delightful Hôtel du Forum before lunch, even +the working classes (meaning my alleged brother and +myself) could afford that pleasant, leisured feeling which +is the right of those more highly placed.</p> + +<p>The moment we arrived I knew that I was going to +fall in love with Arles, and I hurried to get the unpacking +done, so that I might be free to make its acquaintance. +Lady Turnour, still in her garden mood, told me to +do as I liked till time to dress her for dinner, but to mind +and have no more accidents, as all her frocks hooked at the back.</p> + +<p>I am getting to be quite a skilled lady's-maid now, +and am not sure it ought not to be my permanent <i>métier</i>, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>though I do like to think I was born for better things, +and comfort myself by remembering how mother used +to say that a lady can always do everything better than a +common person if she chooses to try, even menial work, +because she puts her intelligence and love for daintiness +into all she does. I unpacked my master's and mistress's +things with the flashing speed of summer lightning and +the neatness of a drill-sergeant. In a twinkling everything +was in exactly the right place, and my conscience +felt as if it were growing wings as I flew off to my luncheon. +The whole afternoon free, and the saints only knew what +nice, unexpected adventures might happen! Cousin +Catherine used to say, not meaning to be complimentary, +that I "attracted adventures as some people seem to attract +microbes," and I could almost hear them buzzing round +my head as I ran down-stairs.</p> + +<p>There, waiting for me as if he were an incarnate adventure, +was the chauffeur, who appeared to be quite excited. +"You must have a peep into the dining-room," he said. +"The door's open. You can look in without being +noticed, and see the walls, which are painted with pictures +from Mistral's works. Also there's something else of +interest, but I won't tell you what it is. I want to see if +you can discover it for yourself."</p> + +<p>I peeped, and found the pictures charming. After +following them with my eyes all round the green walls +which they decorate effectively, my gaze lit upon a man +sitting at one of the small tables. He was with two or +three friends who hung upon the words which he accompanied +by the most graceful, spirited, yet unconscious +gestures. Old he may have been as years go, but the fire +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>of eternal youth was in his vivid dark eyes, and his +smile, which had in it the tenderness of great experience, +of long years lived in sympathy and love for mankind. +His head was very noble; and its shape, and the way he +had of carrying it, would alone have shown that he was Someone.</p> + +<p>"Who is that man?" I whispered to Jack Dane. +"That one who is so different from all the others."</p> + +<p>"Can't you guess?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Not Mistral?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. It's one of his days here. He'll be in the +museum after lunch. I'll take you there, and if he sees +that you're interested in things, he'll talk to you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how glorious!" I breathed, quite awed at the +prospect. "But if he should find out that we're only +lady's-maid and chauffeur?"</p> + +<p>"Do you think it would matter to him <i>who</i> we +were—a great genius like that? He wouldn't care +if we were beggars, if we had souls and brains and hearts."</p> + +<p>"Well, we have got <i>some</i> of those things," I said. +"Do let's hurry, and get to the museum before our +betters. They can always be counted upon to spend +an hour and a half at lunch if there's a good excuse, +such as there's sure to be in this place, famous for rich +Provençal cooking. Whereas Monsieur Mistral looks +as if he would grudge more than half an hour on an +occupation so prosaic as eating."</p> + +<p>"Nothing could be prosaic to him," said Mr. Dane. +"And that's the secret of life, isn't it? I think you have +it, too, and I'm trying to take daily lessons from you.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> +By the time we part I hope I shan't be quite such a +sulky, discontented brute as I am now."</p> + +<p>"By the time we part!" The words gave me a queer, +horrid little prick, with just that nasty ache that comes +when you jab a hatpin into your head instead of into your +hat, and have got to pull it out again. I have grown so +used to being constantly with him, and having him look +after me and order me about in his dictatorial but curiously +nice way, that I suppose I shall rather miss him for a +week or two when this odd association of ours comes to an end.</p> + +<p>It is strange how one ancient town can differ utterly +from its neighbour, and what an extraordinary, unforgettable +individuality each can have.</p> + +<p>The whole effect of Avignon is mediæval. In Arles +your mind flies back at once to Rome, and then pushes +away from Rome to find Greece. All among the red, +pink, and yellow houses, huddled picturesquely together +round the great arena, you see Rome in the carved +columns and dark piles of brick built into mediæval walls. +The glow and colour of the shops and houses seem only +to intensify the grimness and grayness of that Roman +background, the immense wall of the arena. Greece +you see in the eyes of the beautiful, stately women, young +and old, in their classic features, and the moulding of +their noble figures. (No wonder Epistemon urged his +giant to let the beautiful girls of Arles alone!) You feel +Greece, too, in the soft charm of the atmosphere, the +dreamy blue of the sky, and the sunshine, which is not +quite garish golden, not quite pale silver; a special sky +and special sunshine, which seem to belong to Arles +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>alone, enclosing the city in a dream of vanished days. +The very gaiety which must have sparkled there for happy +Greek youths and maidens gives a strange, fascinating +sadness to it now, as if one felt the weight of Roman rule +which came and dimmed the sunlight.</p> + +<p>It was delightful to walk the streets, to look at +the lovely women in their becoming head-dresses, and +to stare into the windows of curiosity shops. But there +was the danger of committing <i>lèse-majesté</i> by running into +the arms of the bride and groom at the museum, so "my +brother" hurried me along faster than I liked, until the +fascination of the museum had enthralled me; then I +thanked him, for Mistral was there, for the moment all alone.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dane hadn't told me that they had met before, +but Monsieur Mistral greeted him at once as an acquaintance, +smiling one of his illuminating smiles. He even +remembered certain treasures of the museum which the +chauffeur—in unchauffeur days—had liked best. +These were pointed out and their interest explained to +me, best of all to my romantic, Latin side being +the "Cabelladuro d'Or," the lovely golden hair of the +dead Beauty of Les Baux, that enchanted princess whose +magic sleep was so rudely broken. We all talked together +of the exquisite Venus of Arles, agreeing that it was +wicked to have transplanted her to the Louvre; and +Mistral's eyes rested upon me with something like interest +for a moment as I said that I had seen and loved her +there. I felt flattered and happy, forgetting that I was +only a servant, who ought scarcely to have dared speak +in the presence of this great genius.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>"She seems to understand something of the charm of +Provence, which makes our country different from any +other in the world, does she not?" the poet said at last +to my companion. "She would enjoy an August fête at +Arles. Some day you ought to bring her."</p> + +<p>Mr. Dane did not answer or look at me; and I was +thankful for that, because I was being silly enough to +blush. It was too easy so see what Monsieur Mistral thought!</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you tell me you knew him already?" +I asked, when we had reluctantly left the museum (which +might be invaded by the Philistines at any minute) and +were on our way to the famous Church of St. Trophime. +That we meant to see first, saving the theatre for sunset.</p> + +<p>"Oh," answered the chauffeur evasively, "I wasn't +at all sure he'd remember me. He has so many admirers, +and sees so many people."</p> + +<p>"I have a sort of idea that your last visit to this part of +the world was paid <i>en prince</i>, all the same!" I was +impertinent enough to say.</p> + +<p>He laughed. "Well, it was rather different from this +one, anyhow," he admitted. "A little while ago it made +me pretty sick to compare the past with the present, but +I don't feel like that now."</p> + +<p>"Why have you changed?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Partly the influence of your cheerful mind."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. And the other part?"</p> + +<p>"Another influence, even more powerful."</p> + +<p>"I should like to know what it is, so that I might try to +come under it, too, if it's beneficent," that ever-lively +curiosity of mine prompted me to say.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>"I am inclined to think it is not beneficent," he +answered, smiling mysteriously. "Anyhow, I'm not +going to tell you what it is."</p> + +<p>"You never do tell me anything about yourself," I +exclaimed crossly, "whereas I've given you my whole +history, almost from the day I cut my first tooth, up to +that when I—adopted my first brother."</p> + +<p>"Or had him thrust upon you," he amended. "You +see, you've nothing to reproach yourself with in your +past, so you can talk of it without bitterness. I can't—yet. +Only to think of some things makes me feel +venomous, and though I really believe I'm improving +in the sunbath of your example, which I have every day, +the cure isn't complete yet. Until I am able to talk of +a certain person without wanting to sprinkle my conversation +with curses, I mean to be silent. But I owe +it to you that I don't <i>want</i> to curse her any more. A +short time ago it gave me actual pleasure."</p> + +<p>So it is to a woman he owes his misfortunes! As Alice +said in Wonderland, it grows "mysteriouser and mysteriouser." +Also it grows more romantic, when one puts two +and two together; and I have always been great at that. +The "sentimental association" of the battlement garden +plus the inspiration to evil language, equal (in my fancy) +one fair, faithless lady, once loved, now hated. I hate +her, too, whatever she did, and I should like to box her +ears. I hope she's <i>quite</i> old, and married, and that she +makes up her complexion, and everything else which +causes men to tire of their first loves sooner or later. +Not that it is anything to me, personally; but one owes +a little loyalty to one's friends.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>The porch and cloisters of St. Trophime's were too +perfectly beautiful to be marred by a mood; but my +brother Jack's mysteriously wicked sweetheart would +keep coming in between me and the wonderful carvings +in the most disturbing way. Some women never know +when they are wanted! But I did my best to make Mr. +Dane forget her by taking an intelligent interest in everything, +especially the things he cared for most, though once, +in an absent-minded instant, I did unfortunately say: +"I don't admire that type of girl," when we were talking +about a sculptured saint; and although he looked surprised +I thought it too complicated to try and explain.</p> + +<p>The afternoon light was burnishing the ancient stone +carvings to copper when we left the cloisters of St. Trophime, +took one last look at the porch, and turned toward +the amphitheatre. We were right to have waited, for +the vast circle was golden in the sunset, like a heavy +bracelet, dropped by Atlas one day, when he stretched a +weary arm; and the beautiful fragments of coloured +marbles, which the Greeks loved and Christians destroyed, +were the jewels of that great bracelet. The place was so +pathetically beautiful in the dying day that a soft sadness +pressed upon me like a hand on my forehead, and echoes +of the long-dead past, when Greek Arles was a harbour of +commerce by sea and river, or when it was Roman Arelate, +rich and cruel, rang in my ears as we wandered +through the cells of prisoners, the dens of lions, and the +rooms of gladiators, where the young "men about town" +used to pat their favourites on oiled backs, or make their +bets on ivory tablets.</p> + +<p>"If we were here by moonlight, we should see ghosts,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +I said. "Come, let us go before it grows any darker or +sadder. The shadows seem to move. I think there's +a lion crouching in that black corner."</p> + +<p>"He won't hurt you, sister Una," said my brother +Jack. "There's one thing you must see here before +I take you home—back to the hotel, I mean; and that is +the Saracen Tower, as they call it."</p> + +<p>So we went into the Saracen Tower, and high up on +the wall I saw the presentment of a hand.</p> + +<p>"That is the Hand of Fatima," explained the guide, +who had been following rather than conducting +us, because the chauffeur knew almost as much about +the amphitheatre as he did. "You should touch it, +mademoiselle, for luck. All the young ladies like to do +that here; and the young men also, for that matter."</p> + +<p>Instantly my brother lifted me up, so that I might touch +the hand; and then I would not be content unless he +touched it too.</p> + +<p>I had dinner in the couriers' room that evening, with +my brother, when I had dressed Lady Turnour for hers. +We were rather late, and had the room to ourselves, for +the crowd which had collected there at luncheon time +had vanished by train or motor. There was a nice old +waiter, who was frankly interested in us, recognizing +perhaps that, as a maid and chauffeur, we were out of +the beaten track. He wanted to know if we had done +any sight-seeing in Arles, and seemed to take it as a +personal compliment that we had.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle touched the Hand of Fatima, of course?" +he asked, letting a trickle of sauce spill out of a sauce-boat +in his friendly eagerness for my answer.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>"Oh, yes, I saw to it that she did that," replied Mr. +Dane, with conscious virtue in the achievement.</p> + +<p>"It is for luck, isn't it?" I said, to make conversation.</p> + +<p>"And more especially for love," came the unexpected answer.</p> + +<p>"For love!" I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"But yes," chuckled the old man. "If a young girl +puts her hand on the Hand of Fatima at Arles, that hand +puts love into hers. Her fate is sealed within the +month, so it is said."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" remarked Mr. Dane, "I never heard +that silly story before." And he went on eating his dinner +with extraordinary nonchalance and an unusual, almost +abnormal, appetite.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + + +<p>I shall always feel that I dreamed Aigues Mortes: +that I fell asleep at night—oh, but fell very far, so +much farther than one usually falls even when one +wakes with the sensation of dropping from a great height, +that I went bumping down, down from century to century, +until I touched earth in a strange, drear land, to find I +had gone back in time about seven hundred years.</p> + +<p>Not that there is a conspicuous amount either of land +or earth at Aigues Mortes, City of Dead Waters—if +the place really does exist, which I begin to doubt already; +but I have only to shut my eyes to call it up; and in my +memory I shall often use it as a background for some +mediæval picture painted with my mind. For with my +mind I can rival Raphael. It is only when I try to +execute my fancies that I fail, and then they "all come +different," which is heart breaking. But it will be something +to have the background always ready.</p> + +<p>The dream did not begin while we spun gaily from +Arles to Aigues Mortes, through pleasant if sometimes +puerile-seeming country (puerile only because we hadn't +its history dropping from our fingers' ends); but there +was time, between coming in sight of the huge, gray-brown +towers and driving in through the fortified gateway, +for me to take that great leap from the present far +down into the past.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>To my own surprise, I didn't want to think of the +motor-car. It had brought us to older places, but within +this walled quadrangle it was as if we had come full tilt into +a picture; and the automobile was not an artistic touch. +Ingrate that I was, I turned my back upon the Aigle, and +was thankful when Sir Samuel and Lady Turnour walked +out of my sight around the corner of the picture. I pretended, +when they had disappeared, that I had painted +them out, and that they would cease to exist unless I +relented and painted them in again, as eventually I should +have to do. But I had no wish to paint the driver of the +car out of my picture, for in spite of his chauffeur's dress +he is of a type which suits any century, any country—that +clear-cut, slightly stern, aquiline type which you find +alike on Roman coins and in modern drawing-rooms. He +would have done very well for one of St. Louis's crusaders, +waiting here at Aigues Mortes to sail for Palestine with +his king, from the sole harbour the monarch could claim +as his on all the Mediterranean coast. I decided to let +him remain in the dream picture, therefore, and told +him so, which seemed to please him, for his eyes lighted +up. He always understands exactly what I mean when +I say odd things. I should never have felt <i>quite</i> the same +to him again, I think, if he had stared and asked "What +dream picture?"</p> + +<p>I had been brought on this expedition strictly for use, +not for ornament. We were going from Aigues Mortes +to St. Gilles and from St. Gilles to Nîmes, therefore Arles +was already a landmark in our past. I could walk +about and amuse myself if I liked, but I must be at the +inn before the return of my master and mistress to arrange +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>a light repast collected at Arles, as we should have to +lunch later at Nîmes, and the resources of Aigues Mortes +were not supposed to be worthy of millionaires in search +of the picturesque. There were several neat packages, +the contents of which would aid and abet such humble +refreshment as the City of Dead Waters could produce; +but I had more than an hour to play with; and much can +be done in an hour by an enthusiast with a good +circulation.</p> + +<p>I had not quite realized, however, how largely my +brother's companionship contributed to my pleasure on +these excursions. We had seen almost everything together, +and suddenly it occurred to me that I was taking his presence +too much for granted. He would not go with me +now, because in so small a round we were certain to +run up against the Turnours, and her ladyship might +be pleased to give me another lecture like that of evil +memory at Avignon. I would have risked future punishment +for the sake of present pleasure, and it was on my +tongue to say so; but I swallowed the words with difficulty, +like an over-large pill.</p> + +<p>So it fell out that I wandered off alone, sustaining myself +on high thoughts of Crusaders as I gazed up at the statue +of St. Louis, and paced the sentinels' pathway round the +gigantic ramparts, unchanged since Boccanegra built +them. Looking down from the ramparts the town, +enclosed in the fortress walls, was like a faded chessboard +cast ashore from the wreck of some ancient ship; +and round the dark walls and towers waves of yellow +sand and wastes of dead blue waters stretched as far as +my gaze could reach, toward the tideless sea.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>Louis bought this tangled desert of sand and water +in the middle of the thirteenth century from an Abbot of +Psalmodi, so the guide told me, and I liked the name of +that abbot so much that I kept saying it over and over, +to myself. Abbot of Psalmodi! It was to the ear what +an old, illuminated missal is to the eye, rich with crimson +lake, and gold, and ultramarine. It was as if I heard an +echo from King Arthur's day, that dim, mysterious day +when history was flushed with dawn; the Abbot of Psalmodi!</p> + +<p>The heart of Aigues Mortes for me was the great tower +of Constance, but a very wicked heart, full of clever and +murderous devices, which was at its wickedest, not in +the dark ages, but in the glittering times of Louis XIV. and +of other Louis after him. That tower is the bad part +of the dream where horrors accumulate and you struggle +to cry out, while a spell holds you silent. In the days +when Aigues Mortes was not a dream, but a terrible +reality to the prisoners of that cruel tower, how many +anguished cries must have broken the spell; cries from +hideous little dungeons like rat-holes, cries from the far +heights of the tower where women and children starved +and were forgotten!</p> + +<p>I was almost glad to get away; yet now that I am +away I shall often go back—in my dream.</p> + +<p>Alexander Dumas the elder went from Aigues Mortes +to St. Gilles, driving along the Beaucaire Canal, on that +famous tour of his which took him also to Les Baux; +and we too went from Aigues Mortes to St. Gilles, though +I'm sure the Turnours had no idea that it was a pilgrimage +in famous footprints. Only the humble maid and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>chauffeur had the joy of knowing that. We had both +read Dumas' account of his journey, and we laughed +over the story of the little saint he stole at Les Baux.</p> + +<p>It was a pleasant run to St. Gilles, though there was a +shrewish nip in the wind which made me hope that Lady +Turnour's mind was not running ahead to the mountains +and gorges in front of her, not far away by days +or miles now. I wanted her to get tangled up in them +before she had time to think of the cold, and then it would +be too late to turn tail.</p> + +<p>I had just begun to call the little town of St. Gilles an +"ugly hole," and wonder what St. Louis saw to love in it, +when, coming out of a squalid, hilly street through which +I had tried to pick my way on foot, alone, suddenly the +façade of the wonderful old church burst upon my sight, +a vision of beauty.</p> + +<p>No self-respecting motor-car would have condescended +to trust itself in such a street, and as a rabble of small +male St. Gillesites swarmed round the Aigle when she +stopped at the beginning of the ascent, Mr. Dane had to +play guardian angel. "I've been here before," he said, +as usual, for this whole tour seems to be a twice-told tale +for him. A few days ago I should have pitied him aloud +for not being able to blow the dust off his old impressions; +but now, when he speaks of past experiences, I think: +"Oh, I wonder if this is another place associated in his +mind with that <i>horrid</i> woman?" For on mature deliberation +I have definitely niched her among the Horrors in +my mental museum. In front of me walked Sir Samuel +and Lady Turnour, whose very backs cried out their +loathing of St. Gilles; but abruptly the expression of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>their shoulders changed; they had seen the façade, and +even they could not help feeling vaguely that it must be +unique in the world, that of its kind nothing could be more +beautiful.</p> + +<p>That was before I saw it, for a respectful distance must +be maintained between Those Who Pay and Those Who +Work; but I guessed from the backs that something +extraordinary was about to be revealed. Then it was +revealed, and I would have given a good deal to have +some one to whom I could exclaim "Isn't it glorious!"</p> + +<p>Still, I am luckily very good chums with myself, and +it is never too much trouble to think out new adjectives +for my own benefit, or to indicate quaint points of view. +I was soon making the best of my own society in the way +of intelligent companionship, shaking crumbs of half-forgotten +history out of my memory, and finding a dried +currant of fact here and there. In convent days there +was hardly a saint or saintess with whom I hadn't a +bowing acquaintance, and although a good many have +cut me since, I can generally recall something about them, +if necessary, as title worshippers can about the aristocracy. +I thought hard for a minute, and suddenly up rolled a +curtain in my mind, and there in his niche stood St. Gilles. +He was born in Athens, and was a most highly connected +saint, with the blood of Greek kings in his veins, all +of which was eventually spilled like water in the name +of religion. It seemed very suitable that such perfection +of carving and proportion as was shown in steps, towers, +façade, and frieze should be dedicated to a Greek saint, +who must have adored and understood true beauty as +few of his brother saints could.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>Mr. Dane had said, just before I started, that there +was a gem of a spiral staircase, called the Vis de St. +Gilles, which I ought to see, and a house, unspoiled since +mediæval days; but the question of these sights was +settled adversely for me by my master and mistress. +The frieze they did admire, but it sufficed. Their inner +man and woman clamoured for a feast, and the eyes must +be sacrificed.</p> + +<p>As for me, I did not count even as a sacrifice, of course, +but I followed them back to the car as I'd followed them +from it, and the car flew toward Nîmes.</p> + +<p>Just at first, for a few moments which I hate to confess +to myself now, I was disappointed in Nîmes. The town +looked cold, and modern, and conceited after the melancholy +charm of Arles and the mediæval aspect of Avignon; +but that was only as we drove to our stately hotel in its +large, dignified square. Afterward—after the inevitable +lunching and unpacking—when I started out once again +in the society of my adopted relative, I prayed to be forgiven.</p> + +<p>A gale was blowing, but little cared we. A toque or +a picture-hat make all the difference in the world to a +woman's impressions, even of Paradise—if the wind be +ever more than a lovely zephyr there. Lady Turnour had +insisted on changing her motoring hat for a Gainsborough +confection which would, I was deadly certain, cause +her to loathe Nîmes while memory should last; but the +better part was mine. Toqued and veiled, the mistral +could crack its cheeks if it liked; it couldn't hurt mine, +or do unseemly things to my hair.</p> + +<p>In the gardens of Louis XIV. I gave myself to Nîmes +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>as devotee forever; and as the glories of the past slowly +dawned upon me, that Past round which the King had +planted his flowers and formal trees, and placed vases and +statues, I wished I were a worthier worshipper at the shrine.</p> + +<p>I think that there can be no more beautiful town in +the world than Nîmes in springtime. The wind brought +fairy perfumes, and lovely little green and golden puff-balls +fell from the budding trees at our feet, as if they +wanted to surprise us. The fish in the crystal clear water +of the old Roman baths, which King Louis tried to spoil +but couldn't, swam back and forth in a golden net of sunshine. +We two children of the twentieth century amused +ourselves in attempting to reconstruct the baths as they +must have looked in the first century; and the glimmering +columns under the green water, now lost to the eye, now +seen again, white and elusive as mermaids playing hide +and seek, helped our imagination.</p> + +<p>Far easier was it to go back to Rome in the Temple +of Diana, so beautiful in ruin and so little changed except +by time, as to bring to the heart a pang of mingled joy +and pain, of sadness which women love and men resent—unless +they are poets. Doves were cooing softly there, +the only oracles of the temple in these days; and what +they said to each other and to us seemed more mysterious +than the sayings of common doves, because their ancestors +had no doubt handed down much wisdom to them, from +generation to generation, ever since Diana was taken +seriously as a goddess, or perhaps even since the dim days +when Celtic gods were reigning powers.</p> + +<p>From the gardens we went slowly to that other temple +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>which unthinking people and guide-books have named +the Maison Carrée, the most lovely temple out of Greece, +and the one which has suffered most from sheer, uncompromising +stupidity in modern days. Now it rests from +persecution, though it shows its scars; and I wondered +dully, as I stood gazing at the Corinthian columns—strong, +yet graceful—how so dull a copy as the Madeleine +could possibly have been evolved from such perfection.</p> + +<p>Inside in the museum was the dearest old gentleman in +a tall hat, who explained to us with ingenuous pride and +dignity the splendid collection of coins which he himself +had given to the town. It was easy to see that they were +the immediate jewels of his soul; there was not one piece +which he did not know and love as if it had been his child, +though there were so many thousands that he alone could +keep strict count of them. He insisted gravely upon the +superlative value of the least significant in appearance, +but he could joke a little about other things than coins. +There was an old mosaic which we admired, with a faded +God of Love riding a winged steed.</p> + +<p>"<i>L'Amour s'en va</i>," he chuckled, pointing to the half-obliterated +figure. "<i>N'est pas?</i>" and he turned to me +for confirmation. "I don't know yet," I answered.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle is very fortunate—but very young," +said the dear old gentleman, looking like a late eighteenth-century +portrait as he smiled under his high hat. "And +what thinks monsieur?"</p> + +<p>"That it is better not to give him a chance to fly away, +by keeping the door shut against him in the beginning," +replied Mr. Dane, as coldly as if he kept his heart on ice.</p> + +<p>Sunset was fading, like Love on the mosaic, when we +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>came to the amphitheatre; but the sky was still stained +red, and each great arch of stone framed a separate ruby. +It was a strange effect, almost sinister in its splendour, +and all the air was rose-coloured.</p> + +<p>"Is it a good omen or an evil one for our future?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Means storms, I think," the chauffeur answered in the +laconic way he affects sometimes, but there was an odd +smile in his eyes, almost like defiance—of me, or of Fate. +I didn't know which but I should have liked to know.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + + +<p>The wind sang me to sleep that night in Nîmes—sang +in my dreams, and sang me awake +when morning turned a white searchlight on +my eyelids.</p> + +<p>I was glad to see sunshine, for this was the day of our +flight into the north, and if the sky frowned on the enterprise +Lady Turnour might frown too, in spite of Bertie +and his château.</p> + +<p>It was cold, and I trembled lest the word "snow" +should be dropped by the bridegroom into the ear of the +bride; but nothing was said of the weather or of any +change in the programme, while I and paint and powder +and copper tresses were doing what Nature had refused +to do for her ladyship.</p> + +<p>"Cold morning, madame!" remarked the porter, who +came to bring more wood for the sitting-room fire before +breakfast. He was a polite and pleasant man, but I could +have boxed his ears. "Madame departs to-day in her +automobile? Is it to go south or north? Because in the +north—"</p> + +<p>With great presence of mind I dropped a pile of maps +and guide-books.</p> + +<p>"What a clumsy creature you are!" exclaimed her ladyship, +playing into my hands. "I couldn't understand +the last part of what he said."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>Luckily by this time the man was gone; and my memory +of his words was extraordinarily vague. But a dozen +things contrived to keep me in suspense. Every one +who came near Lady Turnour had something to say about +the weather. Then, for the first time, it occurred to the +Aigle to play a trick upon us. Just as the luggage was +piled in, after numerous little delays, she cast a shoe; +in other words, burst a tyre, apparently without any +reason except a mischievous desire to be aggravating. +Another half hour wasted! And fat, silvery clouds were +poking up their great white heads over the horizon in the +north, where, perhaps, they were shaking out powder.</p> + +<p>The next thing that happened was a snap and a tinkle +in our inner workings, rather like the sound you might +expect if a giantess dropped a hairpin. "Chain broken!" +grumbled the chauffeur, as he stopped the car on the +level of a long, straight road, and jumped nimbly down. +"We oughtn't to have boasted yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Who's superstitious now?" I taunted him, as he +searched the tool-box in the same way a child ransacks +a Christmas stocking.</p> + +<p>"Oh, about motor-cars! That's a different thing," +said he calmly. "Cold, isn't it? My fingers are so +stiff they feel as if they were all thumbs."</p> + +<p>"Et tu, Brute," I wailed. "For <i>goodness</i>' sake, don't +let <i>her</i> hear you. She's capable even now of turning +back. The invitation to the château hasn't come—and +we're not safely in the gorges yet."</p> + +<p>"Nor shan't be soon, if this sort of thing keeps on," +remarked the chauffeur. "We shall have to lunch at Alais."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>"You say that as if it was the devil's kitchen."</p> + +<p>"There's probably first rate cooking in the devil's +kitchen; I'm not so sure about the inns at Alais."</p> + +<p>"But it's arranged to picnic on the road to-day for the +first time, you know. They put up such good things at +Nîmes, and I was to make coffee in the tea-basket."</p> + +<p>"That's why I wanted to get on. Picnic country +doesn't begin till after Alais. Who could lunch on a +dull roadside like this? Only a starving tramp wouldn't +get indigestion."</p> + +<p>It was true, and I began to detest the unknown Alais. +Perhaps, after all, we might sweep through the place, I +thought, without the idea of lunch occurring to the +passengers. But Mr. Dane's heart-to-heart talk with +the Aigle resulted in quite a lengthy argument; and no +sooner did a town group itself in the distance than Sir +Samuel knocked on the glass behind us.</p> + +<p>"What place is this?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Alais," was the answer the chauffeur made with his +lips, while his eyebrows said "I told you so!" to me.</p> + +<p>"I think we'd better lunch here," Sir Samuel went +on. And the arrival of a princely blue motor car at the +nearest inn was such a shock to the nerves of the +landlady and her staff that the interval before lunch +was as long and solemn as the Dead March in Saul. To +show what he could do in an emergency, the chef +slaughtered and cooked every animal within reach for +miles around.</p> + +<p>They appeared in a procession, according to their kind, +when necessary disguised in rich and succulent sauces +which did credit to the creator's imagination; and there +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>were reserve forces of cakes, preserves, and puddings, +all of which coldly furnished forth the servants' meal when +they had served our betters.</p> + +<p>It was nearly three o'clock when we were ready to +leave Alais, and the chauffeur had on his bronze-statue +expression as he took his seat beside me after starting +the car.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said he, "except that I don't know where +we're likely to lay our heads to-night."</p> + +<p>"Where do you want to lay them?" I inquired +flippantly. "Any gorge will do for mine."</p> + +<p>"It won't for Lady Turnour's. But it may have to, and +in that case she will probably snap yours off."</p> + +<p>"Cousin Catherine has often told me it was of no use +to me, except to show my hair. But aren't there hotels +in the gorge of the Tarn?"</p> + +<p>"There are in summer, but they're not open yet, and +the inns—well, if Fate casts us into one, Lady Turnour +will have a fit. My idea was: a splendid run through +some of the wildest and most wonderful scenery of France—little +known to tourists, too—and then to get out of +the Tarn region before dark. We may do it yet, but if +we have any more trouble—"</p> + +<p>He didn't finish the sentence, because, as if he had +been calling for it, the trouble came. I thought that an +invisible enemy had fired a revolver at us from behind +a tree, but it was only a second tyre, bursting out loud, +instead of in a ladylike whisper, like the other.</p> + +<p>Down got Mr. Dane, with the air of a condemned +criminal who wants every one to believe that he is delighted +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>to be hanged. Down got I also, to relieve the car of my +weight during the weird process of "jacking up," though +the chauffeur assured me that I didn't matter any more +than a fly on the wheel. Our birds of paradise remained +in their cage, however, Lady Turnour glaring whenever +she caught a glimpse of the chauffeur's head, as if he +had bitten that hole in the tyre. But before us loomed +mountains—disagreeable-looking mountains—more like +<i>embonpoints</i> growing out of the earth's surface than +ornamental elevations. On the tops there was something +white, and I preferred having Lady Turnour glare at the +chauffeur, no matter how unjustly, than that her attention +should be caught by that far, silver glitter.</p> + +<p>Suddenly my brother paused in his work, unbent his +back, stood up, and regarded his thumb with as much +intentness as if he were an Indian fakir pledged to look +at nothing else for a stated number of years. He pinched +the nail, shook his hand, and then, abandoning it as +an object of interest, was about to inflate the mended +tyre when I came forward.</p> + +<p>"You've hurt yourself," I said.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know you were looking," he replied, fixing +the air-pump. "Your back seemed to be turned."</p> + +<p>"A girl who hasn't got eyes in the back of her head is +incomplete. What have you done to your hand?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing much. Only picked up a splinter somehow. +I tried to get it out and couldn't. It will do when we +arrive somewhere."</p> + +<p>"Let me try," I said.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! A little flower of a thing like you! Why, +you'd faint at the sight of blood."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>"Oh, is it bleeding?" I asked, horrified, and forgetting +to hide my horror.</p> + +<p>He laughed. "Only a drop or two. Why, you're +as white as your name, child."</p> + +<p>"That's only at the thought," I said. "I don't mind +the <i>sight</i>, although I <i>do</i> think if Providence had made +blood a pale green or a pretty blue it would have been less +startling than bright red. However, it's too late to change +that now. And if you don't show me your thumb, I'll +have hysterics instantly, and perhaps be discharged by +Lady Turnour on the spot."</p> + +<p>At this awful threat, which I must have looked terribly +capable of carrying out, he obeyed without a word.</p> + +<p>A horrid little, thin slip of iron had gone deep down +between the nail and the flesh, and large drops of the +most sensational crimson were splashing down on to the ground.</p> + +<p>"The idea of your driving like that!" I exclaimed +fiercely. But my voice quivered. "One, two, three!" +I said to myself, and then pulled. I wanted to shut my +eyes, but pride forbade, so I kept them as wide open as +if my lids had been propped up with matches. Out +came the splinter of metal, and seeing it in my hand—so +long, so sharp—things swam in rainbow colours +for a few seconds; but I was outwardly calm as a Stoic, +and wrapped the thumb in my handkerchief despite my +brother's protests.</p> + +<p>"Brave child," he said. "Thank you."</p> + +<p>I looked up at him, and his eyes had such a beautiful +expression that a queer tenderness began stirring in my +heart, just as a young bird stirs in a nest when it wakes +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>up. I couldn't help having the impression that he felt +the same thing for me at the moment. It was as if our +thoughts rushed together, and then flew away in a hurry, +frightened at something they'd seen. He dashed back +to his tyre pumping, and I pranced away down the road +to look intently at a small white stone, as if it had been a +pearl of price.</p> + +<p>Afterward I stooped and picked it up. "You're +a kind of little milestone in my life," I said to it. "I +think I'd like to keep you, I hardly know why." And I +slipped it into the pocket of my coat.</p> + +<p>Every sort of work that you do on a motor-car always +seems to take exactly half an hour. You may <i>think</i> it +will be twenty minutes, but you know in your heart that +it will be thirty, to the last second. The people in the +glass-house lost count of time after the first, through playing +some ghastly kind of double dummy bridge, and as they +seemed cheerful Lady Turnour and her dummy were +evidently winning. But Mr. Dane did not lose count, +I was sure; and when we had started again, and got a +mile or two beyond Alais, he looked somewhat sternly +at the mountains which no longer appeared ill-shapen. +We mounted toward them over the heads of their children +the foothills, and came into a region which promised +wild picturesqueness. There was an extra thrill, too, +because the mountains were the Cévennes, where Robert +Louis Stevenson wandered with his Modestine, and slept +under the stars. Judging from the gravity of the +chauffeur's face he was not sure that we, too, might not +have to sleep under the stars (if any), a far less care-free +company than "R.L.S." and his donkey.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>Sir Samuel has now exchanged cards for a Taride +map, which he often studied with no particular result +beyond mental satisfaction, as he generally held it upside +down and got his information by contraries. But at a +straggling hillside village where two roads bifurcated he +suddenly became excited. Down went the window, and +out popped his head.</p> + +<p>"You go to the left here!" he shouted, as the Aigle was +winging gracefully to the right.</p> + +<p>"I think you're mistaken, sir," replied the chauffeur, +stopping while the car panted reproachfully. "I know +the 'Routes de France' says left, but they told me at +Alais a new road had now been finished, and the old one +condemned."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'd take anything I heard there with a grain of +salt," said Sir Samuel. "How should they know? +Motor-cars are strange animals to them. If there were +a new road the 'Routes' would give it, and <i>I</i> vote for +the left."</p> + +<p>"Whose car is it, anyway?" Lady Turnour was heard +to murmur, not having forgiven my Fellow Worm two +burst tyres and a broken chain.</p> + +<p>Since chauffeurs should be seen and not heard, Mr. +Jack Dane looked volumes and said not a word. Backing +the big Aigle, who was sulking in her bonnet, he put her +nose to the left. Now we were making straight, almost +as the crow flies, for the Cevennes; but luckily for Lady +Turnour's peace of mind the snowy tops were hidden from +sight behind other mountains' shoulders as we approached. +A warning chill was in the air, like the breath of a ghost; +but it could not find its way through the glass; and a few +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>cartloads of oranges which we passed opportunely looked +warm and attractive, giving a delusive suggestion of the +south to our road.</p> + +<p>It was gipsy-land, too, for we met several tramping +families: boldly handsome women, tall, dark men and +boys with eagle eyes, and big silver buttons so well cared +for they must have been precious heirlooms. "'Steal all +you can, and keep your buttons bright,' is a gipsy +father's advice to his son," said Jack Dane, as we wormed +up the road toward a pass where the brown mountains +seemed to open a narrow, mysterious doorway. +So, fold upon fold shut us in, as if we had entered +a vast maze from which we might never find our way +out; and soon there was no trace of man's work anywhere, +except the zigzag lines of road which, as we glanced +up or down, looked like thin, pale brown string tied as +a child ties a "cat's-cradle." We were in the ancient +fastnesses of the Camisards; and this world of dark rock +under clouding sky was so stern, so wildly impressive, that +it seemed a country hewn especially for religious martyrs, +a last stand for such men as fought and died praying, +calling themselves "enfants de Dieu." Bending out +from the front seat of the motor, my gaze plunged far +down into the beds of foaming rivers, or soared far up to +the dazzling white world of snow and steely sky toward +which we steadily forged on. Oh, there was no hope +of hiding the snow now from those whom it might concern! +But Lady Turnour still believed, perhaps, that +we should avoid it.</p> + +<p>The higher the Aigle rose, climbing the wonderful road +of snakelike twistings and turnings above sheer precipices, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>the more thrilling was the effect of the savage landscape +upon our souls—those of us who consciously possess souls.</p> + +<p>We had met nobody for a long time now; for, since +leaving the region of pines, we seemed to have passed +beyond the road-mender zone, and the zone of waggons +loaded with dry branches like piled elks' horns. Still, as +one could never be sure what might not be lurking behind +some rocky shoulder, where the road turned like a tight +belt, our musical siren sang at each turn its gay little +mocking notes.</p> + +<p>After a lonely mountain village, named St. Germain-en-Calberte, +and famous only because the tyrant-priest +Chayla was burned there, the surface of the road changed +with startling abruptness. Till this moment we'd known +no really bad roads anywhere, and almost all had been as +white as snow, as pink as rose leaves, and smooth as +velvet; but suddenly the Aigle sank up to her expensive +ankles in deep, thick mud.</p> + +<p>"Hullo, what's this bumping? Anything wrong with +the car?"</p> + +<p>Out popped Sir Samuel's anxious head from its luxurious +cage.</p> + +<p>"The trouble is with the road," answered the chauffeur, +without so much as an "I told you so!" expression on his +face. "I'm afraid we've come to that <i>déclassée</i> part."</p> + +<p>Poor Sir Samuel looked so humble and sad that I was +sorry for him. "My mistake!" he murmured meekly. +"Had we better turn after all?"</p> + +<p>"I fear we can't turn, or even run back, sir," said +Mr. Dane. "The road's so bad and so narrow, it would +be rather risky."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>This was a mild way of putting it; and he was considerate +in not mentioning the precipice which fell abruptly +down under the uneven shelf he generously called a road.</p> + +<p>Sir Samuel gave a wary glance down, and said no more. +Luckily Lady Turnour, sitting inside her cage, on the +side of the rock wall we were following up the mountains, +could not see that unpleasant drop under the shelf, or +even quite realize that she was on a shelf at all. Her +husband sat down by her side, more quietly than he had +got up, even forgetting to shut the window; but he was +soon reminded of that duty.</p> + +<p>"Are you frightened?" the chauffeur asked me; and I +thought it no harm to answer: "Not when you're driving."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that? Or is it only an empty little +compliment?" he catechized me, though his eyes did +not leave the narrow slippery road, up which he was steering +with a skill of a woman who aims for the eye of a +delicate needle with the end of a thread a size too big.</p> + +<p>"I mean it!" I said.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad," he answered. "I was going to tell you +not to be nervous, for we shall win through all right with +this powerful car. But now I will save my breath."</p> + +<p>"You may," I said, "I'm very happy." And so +I was, though I had the most curious sensation in my toes, +as if they were being done up in curl papers.</p> + +<p>On we climbed, creeping along the high shelf which +was so untidily loaded with rough, fallen stones and +layers of mud, powdered with bits of ice from the rocky +wall that seemed sheathed in glass. Icicles dangled +heavy diamond fringes low over the roof of the car; snow +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>lay in dark hollows which the sun could never reach even +in summer noons; and as we ploughed obstinately on, +always mounting, the engine trembling, our fat tyres +splashed into a custardy slush of whitish brown. The +shelf had been slippery before; now, slopping over with +this thick mush of melting snow or mud, it was like driving +through gallons of ice pudding. The great Aigle began +to tremble and waltz on the surface that was no surface; +yet it would have been impossible to go back. I saw +by my companion's set face how real was the danger we +were in; I saw, as the car skated first one way, then +another, that there were but a few inches to spare on +either side of the road shelf; the side which was a rocky +wall, the side which was a precipice; I saw, too, how the +man braced himself to this emergency, when three lives +besides his own depended on his nerve and skill, almost +upon his breath—for it seemed as if a breath too long, a +breath too short, might hurl us down—down—I dared +not look or think how far. Yet the fixed look of courage +and self-confidence on his face was inspiring. I trusted +him completely, and I should have been ashamed to +feel fear.</p> + +<p>But it was at this moment, when all hung upon the +driver's steadiness of eye and hand, that Lady Turnour +chose to begin emitting squeaks of childish terror. I +hadn't known I was nervous, and only found out that +I was highly strung by the jump I gave at her first shriek +behind me. If the chauffeur had started—but he +didn't. He showed no sign of having heard.</p> + +<p>I would not venture to turn, and look round, lest the +slightest movement of my body so near his arm might +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>disturb him; but poor Sir Samuel, driven to desperation +by his wife's hysterical cries, pushed down the glass again.</p> + +<p>"Good Lord, Dane, this is appalling!" he said. "My +wife can't bear it. Isn't it possible for us to—to—" +he paused, not knowing how to end so empty a sentence.</p> + +<p>"All that's possible to do I'm doing," returned the +chauffeur, still looking straight ahead. And instead +of advising the foolish old bridegroom to shake the bride +or box her ears, as surely he was tempted to do, he +added calmly that her ladyship must not be too anxious. +We were going to get out of this all right, and before long.</p> + +<p>"Tell him to go back. I <i>shall</i> go back!" wailed Lady +Turnour.</p> + +<p>"Dearest, we can't!" her husband assured her.</p> + +<p>"Then tell him to stop and let me get out and walk. +This is too awful. He wants to kill us."</p> + +<p>"<i>Can</i> you stop and let us get out?" pleaded Sir Samuel.</p> + +<p>"To stop here would be the most dangerous thing we +could do," was the answer.</p> + +<p>"You hear, Emmie, my darling."</p> + +<p>"I hear. Impudence to dictate to you! Whatever +<i>you</i> are willing to do, <i>I</i> won't be bearded."</p> + +<p>One would have thought she was an oyster. But +she was quite right in not wishing to add a beard to her +charms, as already a moustache was like those coming +events that cast a well-defined shadow before. For an +instant I half thought that Mr. Dane would try and stop, +her tone was so furious, but he drove on as steadily as +if he had not a passenger more fit for Bedlam than for a motor-car.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>Seeing that Dane stuck like grim death to his determination +and his steering-wheel, Sir Samuel shut the +window and devoted himself to calming his wife who, +I imagine, threatened to tear open the door and jump +out. The important thing was that he kept her from +doing it, perhaps by bribes of gold and precious stones, +and the Aigle moved on, writhing like a wounded snake +as she obeyed the hand on the wheel. If the slightest +thing should go wrong in the steering-gear, as we read +of in other motor-cars each time we picked up a newspaper—but +other cars were not in charge of Mr. Jack +Dane. I felt sure, somehow, that nothing would ever +go wrong with a steering-gear of whose destiny he was master.</p> + +<p>Not a word did he speak to me, yet I felt that my +silence of tongue and stillness of body was approved of by +him. He had said that we would be "out of this before +long," so I believed we would; but suddenly my eyes +told me that something worse than we had won through +was in store for us ahead.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + + +<p>All this time we'd been struggling up hill, but +abruptly we came to the top of the ascent, and had +to go sliding down, along the same shelf, which +now seemed narrower than before. Looking ahead, it +appeared to have been bitten off round the edge here and +there, just at the stiffest zigs and zags of the nightmare +road. And far down the mountain the way went winding +under our eyes, like the loops of a lasso; short, jerky loops, +as we came to each new turn, to which the length of our +chassis forced us to bow and curtsey on our slippery, +sliding skates. Forward the Aigle had to go until her +bonnet hung over the precipice, then to be cautiously +backed for a foot or two, before she could glide ticklishly +down the next steep gradient.</p> + +<p>Involuntarily I shrank back against the cushions, bit +my lip, and had to force myself not to catch at the arm +of the seat in those giddy seconds when it felt as if we +were dropping from sky to earth in a leaky balloon; +but if the blood in your veins has been put there by decent +ancestors who trail gloriously in a long line behind you, +I suppose it's easier for you not to be a coward than it +is for people like the Turnours, who have to be their +own ancestors, or buy them at auctions.</p> + +<p>The first words my companion spoke to me came as +the valley below us narrowed. "Look there," he said, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>nodding; and my gaze followed the indication, to light +joyously upon a distant <i>col</i>, where clustered a friendly +little group of human habitations.</p> + +<p>The sight was like a signal to relax muscles, for though +there was a long stretch still of the appalling road +between us and the <i>col</i>, the eye seemed to grasp safety, +and cling to it.</p> + +<p>"Beyond that <i>col</i> we shall strike the <i>route nationale</i>, +which we missed by coming this way," said Mr. Dane; +and then it was the motor only which gave voice, until +we were close to the oasis in our long desert of danger. +That comforting voice was like a song of triumph as the +Aigle paused to rest at last before a <i>gendarmerie</i> and a +rough, mountain inn. Some men who had been standing +in front of the buildings gave us a hearty cheer as we drew +up at the door, and grinned a pleasant welcome.</p> + +<p>"We have been watching you a long way off," said a +tall gendarme to the chauffeur, "and to tell the truth we +were not happy. That road has been <i>déclassée</i> for some +time now, and is one of the worst in the country, even in +fine weather. It was not a very safe experiment, monsieur; +but we have been saying to each other it was a +fine way to show off your magnificent driving."</p> + +<p>Laughing, Jack Dane assured the gendarme that it +was not done with any such object, and Sir Samuel, out +of the car by this time, with the indignant Lady Turnour, +wanted the conversation translated. I obeyed immediately, +and he too praised his chauffeur, in a nice manly +way which made me the more sorry for him because he +had succeeded in marrying his first love.</p> + +<p>"I should like to pay you compliments too," said I +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>hurriedly, in a low voice, when Sir Samuel and Lady +Turnour had gone to the inn door to revive themselves +with blood-warming cordials after their thrilling +experience. "I should like to, only—it seems to go +beyond compliments."</p> + +<p>"I hate compliments, even when I deserve them, which +I don't now," replied the young man whom I'd been +comparing sentimentally in my mind with the sun-god, +steering his chariot of fire up and down the steeps of +heaven from dawn to sunset. "And I'd hate them above +all from my—from my little pal."</p> + +<p>Nothing he could have named me would have pleased +me as well. During the wild climb, and wilder drop, we +had hardly spoken to each other, yet I felt that I could +never misunderstand him, or try frivolously to aggravate +him again. He was too good for all that, too good to be +played with.</p> + +<p>"You are a man—a real <i>man</i>," I said to myself. I +felt humble compared with him, an insignificant wisp of +a thing, who could never do anything brave or great +in life; and so I was proud to be called his "pal." +When he asked if I, too, didn't need some cordial, I +only laughed, and said I had just had one, the strongest +possible.</p> + +<p>"So have I," he answered. "And now we ought to +be going on. Look at those shadows, and it's a good +way yet to Florac, at the entrance of the gorge."</p> + +<p>Already night was stretching long gray, skeleton fingers +into the late sunshine, as if to warm them at its glow +before snuffing it out.</p> + +<p>It was easier to say we ought to go, however, than to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>induce Lady Turnour to get into the car again, after all +she had endured, and after that "bearding" which evidently +rankled still. She had not forgiven the chauffeur +for the courage which for her was merely obstinacy and +impudence, nor her husband for encouraging him; but +the glow of the cordial in her veins warmed the cockles +of her heart in spite of herself (I should think her heart +was <i>all</i> cockles, if they are as bristly as they sound); +and as it would be dull to stop on this <i>col</i> for the rest +of her life, she at last agreed to encounter further +dangers.</p> + +<p>"Come, come, that's my brave little darling!" we +heard Sir Samuel coo to her, and dared not meet each +other's eyes.</p> + +<p>The road, from which we ought never to have strayed, +was splendid in engineering and surface, and we winged +down to earth in a flight from the clouds. Ice and snow +were left behind on the heights, and the Aigle gaily careered +down the slopes like a wild thing released from a weary +bondage. As we whirled earthwards, embankments and +railway bridges showed here and there by our side, but we +lost all such traces of feverish modern civilization as we +swept into the dusky hollow at the bottom of which Florac +lay, like a sunken town engulfed by a dark lake.</p> + +<p>We did not pause in the curiously picturesque place, +which looked no more than a village, with its gray-brown +houses and gray brown shadows huddled confusedly +together. Probably it looked much the same when the +Camisards used to hide themselves and their gunpowder +in caves near by; and certainly scarce a stone or brick +had been added or removed since Stevenson's eyes saw +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>the town, and his pen wrote of it, as he turned away +there from the Tarn region, instead of being the first +Englishman to explore it. And what a wild region it +looked as we and the Aigle were swallowed up in the +yawning mouth of the gorge!</p> + +<p>In an every-day world, above and outside, no doubt it +was sunset, as on other evenings which we had known +and might know again; but this hidden, underground +country had no place in an every-day world. It seemed +almost as if my brother and I (I can't count the Turnours, +for they were so unsuitable that they temporarily ceased +to exist for us) were explorers arriving in an air-ship, +unannounced, upon the planet Mars.</p> + +<p>The moon, a glinting silver shield, shimmered pale +through ragged red clouds like torn and blood-stained +flags; and the walls of the gorge into which we penetrated, +bleakly glittering here and there where the moon touched +a vein of mica, were the many-windowed castles of the +Martians, who did not yet know that they had visitors +from another world.</p> + +<p>There were fantastic villages, too, whose builders and +inhabitants must have drawn their architectural inspiration +from strange mountain forms and groupings, after +the fashion of those small animals who defend themselves +by looking as much as possible like their surroundings. +And if by some mistake we hadn't landed on Mars, we +were in gnome-land, wherever that might be.</p> + +<p>There was no ordinary twilight here. The brown-gray +of rocks and wild rock-villages was flushed with red +and shadowed with purple; but as the moon drank up +the ruddy draught of sunset, the landscape crouched +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>and hunched its shoulders into shapes ever more extraordinary. +The white light spilled down from the tilted +crescent like silver rain, and bleached the few pink peach-blossoms, +which bloomed timidly under the shelter of +snow-mountains, to the pallor of fluttering night-moths, +throwing out their clusters in sharp contrast against dark +rocks. The River Tarn, gliding onward through the gorge +toward the Garonne, was scaled with steel on its emerald +back, like a twisting serpent. Over a bed of gravel, white +as scattered pearls, the sequined lengths coiled on; and +the snake-green water, the strange burnt-coral vegetation +like a trail of blood among the pearls, the young foliage of +trees, filmy as wisps of blowing gauze, were the only +vestiges of colour that the moon allowed to live in the +under-world which we had reached. But above, on +the roof of that world—"les Causses"—where we had +left ice and snow, we could see purple chimneys of rock +rising to an opal sky, and now and then a mountain bonfire, +like a great open basket of witch-rubies, glowing +beneath the moon.</p> + +<p>"This is the last haunt of the fairies," I said under +my breath, but the man by my side heard the murmur.</p> + +<p>"I thought you'd find that out," he said. "Trust +you to get telepathic messages from the elf-folk! Why, +this gorge teems with fairy tales and legends of magic, +black and white. The Rhine Valley and the Black Forest +together haven't as many or as wonderful ones. I should +like you to hear the stories from some of the village people +or the boatmen. They believe them to this day."</p> + +<p>"Why, <i>of course</i>," I said, gravely. Then, a question +wanted so much to be asked, that when I refused it asked +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>itself in a great hurry, before I could even catch it by its +lizard-tail. "Was <i>she</i> with you when you were here +before?"</p> + +<p>"She?" he echoed. "I don't understand."</p> + +<p>"The lady of the battlement garden," I explained, +ashamed and repentant now that it was too late.</p> + +<p>He did not answer for a moment. Then he laughed, +an odd sort of laugh. "Oh, my romance of the battlement +garden? Yes, she was with me in this gorge. She +is with me now."</p> + +<p>"I wonder if she is thinking about you to-night?" I +asked, knowing he meant that the mysterious lady was +carried along on this journey in his spirit, as I was in +the car.</p> + +<p>"Not seriously, if at all," he answered, with what seemed +to me a forced lightness. "But I am thinking of her—thoughts +which she will probably never know."</p> + +<p>Then I did wish that I, too, had a hidden sorrow in +my life, a man in the background, but as unlike Monsieur +Charretier as possible, for whose love I could call upon +my brother's sympathy. And I suppose it was because +he had some one, while I had no one, in this strange, +hidden fairyland like a secret orchard of jewelled fruits, +that I felt suddenly very sad.</p> + +<p>He pointed out Castlebouc, a spellbound château on +a towering crag that held it up as if on a tall black finger, +above a village which might have fallen off a canvas by +Gustave Doré. Farther on lay a strange place called +Prades, memorable for a huge buttress of rock exactly +like the carcass of a mammoth petrified and hanging on a +wall. Then, farther on still, over the black face of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>rocks flashed a whiteness of waving waters, pouring cascades +like bridal veils whose lace was made of mountain snows.</p> + +<p>"Here we are at Ste. Enemie," said Mr. Dane. "Don't +you remember about her—'King Dagobert's daughter, +ill-fated and fair to look upon?' Well, at this village of +hers we must either light our lamps or rest for the night, +which ever Sir Samuel—I mean her ladyship—decides."</p> + +<p>So he stopped, in a little town which looked a place of +fairy enchantment under the moon. And as the song +of the motor changed into jogging prose with the putting +on of the brakes, open flew the door of an inn. Nothing +could ever have looked half so attractive as the rosy glow +of the picture suddenly revealed. There was a miniature +hall and a quaint stairway—just an impressionist glimpse +of both in play of firelight and shadow. With all my +might I willed Lady Turnour to want to stay the night. +The whole force of my mind pressed upon that part of her +"transformation" directly over the deciding-cells of her brain.</p> + +<p>The chauffeur jumped down, and respectfully inquired +the wishes of his passengers. Would they remain here, +if there were rooms to be had, and take a boat in the +morning to make the famous descent of the Tarn, while the +car went on to meet them at Le Rosier, at the end of the +Gorge? Or would they, in spite of the darkness, risk—</p> + +<p>"We'll risk nothing," Lady Turnour promptly cut +him short. "We've run risks to-day till I feel as if +I'd been in my grave and pulled out again. No more +for me, by dark, <i>thank</i> you, if I have to sleep in the car!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>"I hope your ladyship won't have to do that," returned +my Fellow Worm, alive though trodden under foot. "I +have never spent a night in Ste. Enemie, but I've lunched +here, and the food is passable. I should think the rooms +would be clean, though rough—"</p> + +<p>"I don't find this country attractive enough to pay +us for any hardships," said the mistress of our fate. "I +never was in such a dreary, God-forsaken waste! Are +there no decent hotels to get at?"</p> + +<p>Patiently he explained to her, as he had to me, how the +better hotels which the Gorge of the Tarn could boast +were not yet open for the summer. "If we had not +had such a chapter of accidents we should have run +through as far as this early in the day, and could then +have followed the good motoring road down the gorge, +seeing its best sights almost as well as from the river; but—"</p> + +<p>"Whose fault were the accidents, I should like to know?" +demanded the lady. But obviously there was no answer +to that question from a servant to a mistress.</p> + +<p>"Shall I inquire about rooms?" the chauffeur asked, calmly.</p> + +<p>And it ended in Sir Samuel going in with him, conducted +by a smiling and somewhat excited young person +who had been holding open the door.</p> + +<p>They must have been absent for ten minutes, which +seemed half an hour. Then, when Lady Turnour had +begun muttering to herself that she was freezing, Sir +Samuel bustled back, in a cheerfulness put on awkwardly, +like an ill-fitting suit of armour in a pageant.</p> + +<p>"My dear, they're very full, but two French gentlemen +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>were kind enough to give up their room to us, and the +landlady'll put them out somewhere—"</p> + +<p>"What, you and I both squashed into one room!" +exclaimed her ladyship, forgetful, in haughty horror, +of her lodging-house background.</p> + +<p>"But it's all they have. It's that or the motor, since +you won't risk—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well, then, I suppose it can't <i>kill</i> me!" groaned +the bride, stepping out of the car as if from tumbril to scaffold.</p> + +<p>What a way to take an adorable adventure! I was +sorry for Sir Samuel, but dimly I felt that I ought to be +still sorrier for a woman temperamentally unable to enjoy +anything as it ought to be enjoyed. Next year, maybe, +she will look back on the experience and tell her friends +that it was "fun"; but oh, the pity of it, not to gather the +flowers of the Present, to let them wither, and never pluck +them till they are dried wrecks of the Past!</p> + +<p>I was ready to dance for joy as I followed her ladyship +into the miniature hall which, if not quite so alluring when +viewed from the inside, had a friendly, welcoming air +after the dark mountains and cold white moonlight. I +didn't know yet what arrangements had been made +for my stable accommodation, if any, but I felt that I +shouldn't weep if I had to sit up all night in a warm +kitchen with a purry cat and a snory dog.</p> + +<p>The stairs were bare, and our feet clattered crudely +as we went up, lighted by a stout young girl with bared +arms, who carried a candle. "What a hole!" snapped +Lady Turnour; but when the door of a bedroom was +opened for her by the red-elbowed one, she cried out in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>despair. "Is <i>this</i> where you expect me to sleep, Samuel? +I'm surprised at you! I'm not sure it isn't an insult!"</p> + +<p>"My darling, what can <i>I</i> do?" implored the unfortunate +bridegroom.</p> + +<p>The red-elbowed maiden, beginning to take offence, set +the candlestick down on a narrow mantelpiece, with a +slap, and removed herself from the room with the dignity +of a budding Jeanne d'Arc. We all three filed in, I in the +rear; and for one who won't accept the cup of life as the +best champagne the prospect certainly was depressing.</p> + +<p>The belongings of the "two gentlemen" who were +giving up their rights in a lady's favour, had not yet been +transferred to the "somewhere outside." Those slippers +under the bed could have belonged to no species of human +being but a commercial traveller; and on the table and +one chair were scattered various vague collars, neckties, +and celluloid cuffs. There was no fire in the fireplace, +nor, by the prim look of it, had there ever been one in the +half century or so since necessity called for an inn to be built.</p> + +<p>I snatched from the chair a waistcoat tangled up in +some suspenders, and Lady Turnour, flinging herself down +in her furs, burst out crying like a cross child.</p> + +<p>"If this is what you call adventure, Samuel, I hate it," +she whimpered. "You <i>would</i> bring me motoring! I +want a fire. I want hot water. I want them now. And +I want the room cleared and all these awful things taken +away this instant. I don't consider them <i>decent</i>. Whatever +happens, I shan't dream of getting into that bed +to-night, and I don't feel now as if I should eat any dinner."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>Distracted, Sir Samuel looked piteously at me, and I +sprang to the rescue. I assured her ladyship that everything +should be made nice for her before she quite knew +what had happened. If she would have patience for +<i>five</i> minutes, <i>only</i> five, she should have everything she +wanted. I would see to it myself. With that I ran +away, followed by Sir Samuel's grateful eyes. But, once +downstairs, I realized what a task I had set myself.</p> + +<p>The whole establishment had gone mad over us. +There had been enough to do before, with the house full +of <i>ces messieurs</i>, <i>les commis voyageurs</i>, +but it was comparatively +simple to do for them. For <i>la noblesse Anglaise</i> +it was different.</p> + +<p>There were no men to be seen, and the three or four +women of the household were scuttling about crazily in +the kitchen, like hens with their heads cut off. The +patronage was so illustrious and so large; there was so +much to do and all at once, therefore nobody tried to do +anything but cackle and plump against one another.</p> + +<p>Enter Me, a whirlwind, demanding an immediate +fire and hot water for washing. Landlady and assistants +were aghast. There had never been anything in any +bedroom fireplace of the inn less innocent than paper +flowers; bedroom fireplaces were for paper flowers; +while as for washing it was a <i>bêtise</i> to want to do so in +the evening, especially with hot water, which was a madness +at any time, unless by doctor's orders. Besides, +did not mademoiselle see that everybody had more than +they could do already, in preparing dinner for the great +people! There was plenty of time to put the bedroom +in order when it should be bedtime. If the noble lady +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>were so fatigued that she must lie down, why, the bed had +only been slept in for one night by two particularly sympathetic +messieurs. It would be <i>presque un crime</i> to change +linen after so brief an episode, nevertheless for a client +of such importance it should eventually be done.</p> + +<p>For a moment I was dashed by this volume of eloquence, +but not for long, for I was pledged. A wild glance round +the kitchen showed me a kettle standing empty in a corner. +I seized it, and though it was heavy, swung it to an open +door near which I could see a ghostly pump. I flew out, +and seized that ghost by its long and rigid arm.</p> + +<p>"Let me," said a voice.</p> + +<p>It was the voice of Mr. Jack Dane.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + + +<p>"You dear!" I thought. But I only said, "How +sweet of you!" in a nice, ladylike tone. And +while he pumped the wettest and coldest water +I ever felt, he drily advised me to call him "Adversity" if +I found his "uses sweet," since he wasn't to be Jack +for me. What if he had known that I always call him +"Jack" to myself?</p> + +<p>He not only pumped the kettle full, but carried it +into the kitchen, and bullied or flattered the goddesses +there until they gave him the hottest place for it on the +red-hot stove. Meanwhile, as my eyes accustomed themselves +to darkness after light, I spied in the courtyard of +the pump a shed piled with wood; and my uncomfortably +prophetic soul said that if Lady Turnour were to have a +fire, the woodpile and I must do the trick together. Souls +can be mistaken though, sometimes, if consciences never +can; and Brother Adversity contradicted mine by darting +out again to see what I was doing, ordering me to stop, +and doing it all himself.</p> + +<p>I ran to beg for immediate bed-linen while he annexed +a portion of the family woodpile, and we met outside my +mistress's door. On the threshold I confidently expected +her grateful ladyship to say: "What <i>are</i> you doing with +that wood, Dane?" But she was too much crushed +under her own load of cold and discomfort to object to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>his and wish it transferred to me. I'd knelt down to +make a funeral pyre of paper roses, when in a voice low +yet firm my brother ordered me to my feet. This wasn't +work for girls when men were about, he grumbled; and +perhaps it was as well, for I never made a wood fire in +my life. As for him, he might have been a fire-tamer, so +quickly did the flames leap up and try to lick his hands. +When it was certain that they couldn't go stealthily +crawling away again, he shot from the room, and in two +minutes was back with the big kettle of hot water under +whose weight I should have staggered and fallen, perhaps.</p> + +<p>By this time I had made the bed, and tumbled all +reminders of the two "sympathetic messieurs" ruthlessly +into no-man's land outside the door. Things began to +look more cheerful. Lady Turnour brightened visibly; +and when appetizing smells of cooking stole through the +wide cracks all round the door she decided that, after all, +she would dine.</p> + +<p>It was not until after I had seen her descend with her +husband, and had finished unpacking, that I had a chance +to think of my own affairs. Then I did wonder on what +shelf I was to lie, or on what hook hang, for the night. I +had no information yet as regarded my own sleeping or +eating, but both began to assume importance in my eyes, +and I went down to learn my fate. Where was I to dine? +Why, in the kitchen, to be sure, since the <i>salle à manger</i> was +in use as a sitting-room until bedtime. As for sleeping—why, +that was a difficult matter. It was true that the +English milord had spoken of a room for me, but in the +press of business it had been forgotten. What a pity that +the chauffeur and I were not a married couple, <i>n'est pas?</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> +That would make everything quite simple. But—as +it was, no doubt there was a box-room, and matters +would arrange themselves when there was time to attend +to them.</p> + +<p>"Matters have already arranged themselves," announced +Mr. Jack Dane, from the door of the pump-court. "I +heard Sir Samuel speak about your accommodation, and +I saw that nothing was being done, so I discovered the +box-room, and it is now ready, all but bed-covering. And +for fear there might be trouble about that, I've put Lady +Turnour's cushions and rugs on the alleged bed. Would +you like to have a look at your quarters now, or are you +too hungry to care?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not too hungry to thank you," I exclaimed. +"You are a kind of genie, who takes care of the poor who +have neither lamps nor rings to rub."</p> + +<p>"Better not thank me till you've seen the place," said +he. "It's a villainous den; but I didn't think any one +here would be likely to do better with it than I would. +Anyhow, you'll find hot water. I unearthed—literally—another +kettle. And it's the first door at the top of +the back stairs."</p> + +<p>I flew, or rather stumbled, up the ladder-like stairway, +with a candle which I snatched from the high kitchen +mantelpiece, and at the top I laughed out, gaily. In the +narrow passage was a barricade of horrors which my +knight had dragged from the box-room. On strange old +hairy trunks of cowhide he had piled broken chairs, +bandboxes covered with flowered wall-paper, battered +clocks, chipped crockery, fire-irons, bundles done up in +blankets, and a motley collection of unspeakable odds +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>and ends that would have made a sensational jumble +sale. I opened the low door, and peeped into the room +with which such liberties had been taken for my sake. +Although it was no more than a store cupboard, my +wonderful brother had contrived to give it quite an air +of coziness. The tiny window was open, and was doing +its best to drive out mustiness. A narrow hospital cot +stood against the wall, spread with a mattress quite an +inch thick, and piled with the luxurious rugs and cushions +from the motor car. I was sure Lady Turnour would +have preferred my sitting up all night or freezing coverless +rather than I should degrade her possessions by making +use of them; but Mr. Dane evidently hadn't thought +her opinion of importance compared with her maid's +comfort. Two wooden boxes, placed one upon another, +formed a wash-hand stand, which not only boasted a +beautiful blue tin basin, but a tumbler, a caraffe full of +water, and a not-much-cracked saucer ready for duty +as a soap-dish. The top box was covered with a rough, +clean towel, evidently filched from the kitchen, and this +piece of extra refinement struck me as actually touching. +A third box standing on end and spread with another +towel, proclaimed itself a dressing-table by virtue of at +least half a looking glass, lurking in one corner of a +battered frame, like a sinister, partially extinguished eye. +Other furnishings were a kitchen chair and a small +clothes-horse, to compensate for the absence of wall-hooks +or wardrobe. On the bare floor—oh, height of +luxury!—lay the fleecy white rug whose high mission it +was to warm the toes of Lady Turnour when motoring. +On the floor beside the box wash-hand stand, a small +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span>kettle was pleasantly puffing, doing its best to heat the +room with its gusty breath; and the clothes-horse had a +saddle of towels which I shrewdly suspected had been +intended for her ladyship or some other guest of importance +in the house.</p> + +<p>How these wonders had been accomplished in such a +short space of time, and by a man, too, would have passed +my understanding, had I not begun to know what manner +of man the chauffeur was. And to think that there was +a woman in the world who had known herself loved by +him, yet had been capable of sending him away! +If he would do such things as these for an acquaintance, +at best a "pal," what would he not do for a woman +beloved? I should have liked to duck that creature +under the pump in the court, on just such a nipping night +as this.</p> + +<p>He had not forgotten my dressing bag, which was on +the bed, but I could not stop to open it. I had to run +down to the kitchen again, and tell him what I thought +of his miracles. He was not there, but, at the sound of +my voice, he appeared at the door of the court, drying his +hands, having doubtless been making his toilet at the +accommodating pump. In the crude light of unshaded +paraffin lamps with tin reflectors, he looked tired, and +I was sharply reminded of the nervous strain he had +gone through in that ordeal on the mountains, but he +smiled with the delight of a boy when I burst into thanks.</p> + +<p>"It was jolly good exercise, and limbered me up a bit, +after sitting with my feet on the brake for so long," said +he. "May I have my dinner with you?"</p> + +<p>My answer was rather enthusiastic, and that seemed +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>to please him, too. A quarter of an hour later I came +down again, having made myself tidy meanwhile, in the +room which he had retrieved from the jungle. Had the +landlady but had the ordering of the change, my quarters +would have been fifty per cent. less attractive, I was +sure, and told my brother so.</p> + +<p>We were both starving, but there was too much to do +in the dining-room for domestics to expect attention. +As for Monsieur le Chauffeur, he was informed that the +presence of a mechanician would be permitted in the +<i>salle à manger</i>, though a <i>femme de chambre</i> might not +enter there. I begged him to go, but, of course, I should +have been surprised if he had. "I have a plan worth +two of that," he said to me. "Do you remember the +picnic preparations we brought from Nîmes? It seems +about a week ago, but it was only this morning. We +might as well try to eat on a battlefield as in this kitchen, +at present, and if we're kept waiting, we may develop +cannibal propensities. What about a picnic <i>à deux</i> in +the glass cage, with electric illuminations? The water's +still hot in the automatic heater under the floor, and +you shall be as warm as toast. Besides, I'll grab a jug +of blazing soup for a first course, and come back for +coffee afterward."</p> + +<p>I clapped my hands as I used to when a child and my +fun-loving young parents proposed an open air fête. +"Oh, how too nice!" I cried. "If you don't think the +Turnours would be angry?"</p> + +<p>"I think the labourers are worthy of their hire," said +he. "I'll fetch your coat for you. No, you're not to +come without it."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>The car, it appeared, was lodged in the court; and my +brother's prophecies for the success of the picnic were +more than fulfilled. Never was such a feast! I got out +the gorgeous tea-basket, trembling with a guilty joy, and +Jack washed the white and gold cups and plates at the +pump between courses, I drying them with cotton waste, +which the car generously provided. Besides the cabbage +soup and good black coffee, foraging expeditions produced +apricot tarts, nuts, and raisins. We both agreed that +no food had ever tasted so good, and probably never +would again; but I kept to myself one thought which +crept into my mind. It seemed to me that nothing would +ever be really interesting in my life, when the chauffeur—the +terrible, dreaded chauffeur—should have gone +out of it forever. In a few weeks—but I wouldn't +think ahead; I put my soul to enjoying every minute, +even the tidying of the tea-basket after the picnic was +over, for that business he shared with me, like the rest. +And when I dreamed, by-and-by in my box-room, that +he was polishing my boots, Lady Turnour's boots, the +boots of the whole party, I waked up to tell myself that +it was most likely true.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + + +<p>"You selfish little brute!" was my first address to +myself as I realized my Me-ness, between waking +and sleeping, in the morning at Ste. Enemie. +I had never asked Jack where and how he was going +to spend the night. Think of that, after all he had +done for me!</p> + +<p>It was only just dawn, but already there was a stirring +under my window. Perhaps it was that which had +roused me, not the early prick of an awakening conscience.</p> + +<p>The first thing I did to-day was (as it had been yesterday) +to bounce up and climb on to a chair to look out of +the high window; but it was a very different window +and a very different scene. I now discovered that +my room gave on the pump court, and to my surprise, +I saw that through the blue silk blinds of +the Aigle which were all closely drawn, a light was +streaming. This was very queer indeed, and must +mean something wrong. My imagination pictured a +modern highwayman inside, with the electric lamps +turned on to help him rifle the car, and I stood on tiptoe, +peering out of the tiny aperture which was close under +the low ceiling of the box-room. Ought I to scream, +and alarm the household, since I knew not where to go +and call the chauffeur?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>To be sure, there was very little, if anything, of value, +which a thief could carry away, but an abandoned villain +might revenge himself for disappointment by slashing +the tyres, or perhaps even by setting the car on fire.</p> + +<p>At the thought of such a catastrophe, which would +bring the trip to an end and separate me at once from the +society of my brother (I'm afraid I cared much more +about losing him than for the Turnours' loss of their +Aigle) I was impelled to run down in my nightgown and +<i>mules</i> to do battle single-handed with the ruffian; but +suddenly, before I had quite decided, out went the light +in the blue-curtained glass cage. In another instant +the car door opened, and Jack Dane quietly got out.</p> + +<p>In a second I understood. I knew now, without +asking, where he had spent his night. Poor fellow—after +such a day!</p> + +<p>Someone spoke to him—someone who had been making +that disturbing noise in the woodshed. The household +was astir, and I would be astir, too. I didn't yet know +what was to happen to-day, but I wanted to know, and +I was prepared to find any plan good, since, in a country +like this, all roads must lead to Adventures. My one +fear was, that if the Turnours took to a boat, I should +have to go with them to play cloak-bearer, or hot-water-bag-carrier, +while the car whirled away, free and glorious. +The thought of a whole day in my master's and mistress's +society, undiluted by the saving presence of my adopted +brother, was like bolting a great dry crust of yesterday's +bread. What an indigestion I should have!</p> + +<p>I was too wise, however, to betray the slightest anxiety +one way or the other; for if her ladyship suspected me of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>presuming to have a preference she would punish me by +crushing it, even if inconvenient to herself. I was exquisitely +meek and useful, lighting her fire (with wood brought +me by Jack) supplying her with hot water, and wrangling +with the landlady over her breakfast, which would have +consisted of black coffee and unbuttered bread, had it not +been for my exertions. Breakfasts more elaborate were +unknown at Ste. Enemie; but coaxings and arguments +produced boiled eggs, goats' milk, and <i>confiture</i>, which I +added to the repast, and carried up to Lady Turnour's room.</p> + +<p>No definite plans had been made even then; but +harassed Sir Samuel told his chauffeur to engage a boat, +and have it ready "in case her ladyship had a whim to +go in it." The motor was to be in readiness simultaneously, +and then the lady could choose between the two +at the last moment.</p> + +<p>Thus matters stood when my mistress appeared at +the front door, hatted and coated. At last she must +decide whether she would descend the rapids of the Tarn +(quite safe, kind rapids, which had never done their worst +enemies any harm), or travel by a newly finished road +through the gorge, in the car, missing a few fine bits of +scenery and an experience, but, it was to be supposed, +enjoying extra comfort. There was the big blue car; +there was the swift green river, and on the river a boat +with two respectful and not unpicturesque boatmen.</p> + +<p>"Ugh! the water looks hideously cold and dangerous," +she sighed, shivering in the clear sunlight, despite her +long fur coat. "But I have a horror of the motor, since +yesterday. I <i>may</i> get over it, but it will take me days.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> +It's a hateful predicament—between <i>two</i> evils, one +as bad as the other. I oughtn't to have been subjected to it."</p> + +<p>"Dane says everyone does go by the river. It's the +thing to do," ventured Sir Samuel, becoming subtle. +"They've put a big foot-warmer in the boat, and you can +have your own rugs. There's a place where we land, by +the way, to get a hot lunch."</p> + +<p>With a moan, the bride pronounced for the boat, which +was a big flat-bottomed punt, as reliable in appearance as +pictures of John Bull. I fetched her rugs from the car. +She was helped into the boat, and then, as my fate remained +to be settled, I asked her in a voice soft as silk what were +her wishes in regard to her handmaiden.</p> + +<p>"Why, you'll come with us in the boat, of course. +What else did you dream?" she replied sharply.</p> + +<p>Down went my heart with a thump like a fish dropping +off its hook. But as I would have moved toward the +pebbly beach, a champion rode to my defence.</p> + +<p>"Your ladyship doesn't think a load of five might +disturb the balance of the boat?" mildly suggested the +chauffeur. "The usual load is two passengers and two +boatmen; and though there's no danger in the rapids if—"</p> + +<p>She did not give him time to finish. "Oh, very well, +you must stop with the car, Elise," said she. "It is +only one inconvenience more, among many. No doubt +I can put up with it. Get me the brandy flask out of the +tea-basket."</p> + +<p>I would have tried to scoop all the green cheese out of +the moon for her, if she had asked me, I was so delighted.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> +And part of my joy was mixed up with the thought that +<i>he</i> wanted me to be with him. He had actually schemed +to get me! I envied no one in the world, not even the +lovely lady of the battlement garden. He was mine for +to-day, in spite of her—so there!</p> + +<p>Sir Samuel got into the boat, and wrapped his wife in +rugs. The boatmen pushed off. Away the flat-bottomed +punt slid down the clear green stream, the sun shining, +the cascades sparkling, the strange precipices which wall +the gorge, copper-tinted in the morning light. It was the +most wonderful world; yet Lady Turnour was cackling +angrily. Was she afraid? Had she changed her mind? +No, the saints be praised! She was only burning holes +in her petticoat on the brazier supplied by the hotel! I +turned away to hide a smile almost as wicked as a grin, +and before I looked round again, the swift stream had +swept the boat out of sight round a jutting corner +of rock. We were safe. This time it really <i>was</i> our +world, our car, and our everything. We didn't even +need to "pretend."</p> + +<p>Ste. Enemie is only at the gates of the gorge—a +porter's lodge, so to speak, and in the Aigle we sped on +into the fairyland of which we'd had our first pale, +moonlit peep last night. There were castles made by +man, and castles made by gnomes; but the gnomes were +the better architects. Their dwellings, carved of rock, +towered out of the river to a giddy height, and some were +broken in half, as if they had been rent asunder by +gnome cannon, in gnome battles. There were gnome +villages, too, which looked exactly like human habitations, +with clustering roofs plastered against the mountain-side.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> +But the hand of man had not placed one of these stones +upon another.</p> + +<p>There were gigantic rock statues, and watch-towers +for gnomes to warn old-time gnome populations, perhaps, +when their enemies, the cave-dwellers, were coming that +way from a mammoth-hunt; and there was a wonderful +grotto, fitted with doors and windows, a grotto whose +occupants must surely have inherited the mansion from +their ancestors, the cave-dwellers. Every step of the way +History, gaunt and war-stained, stalked beside us, +followed hot-foot by his foster-mother, Legend; and the +first stories of the one and the last stories of the other +were tangled inextricably together.</p> + +<p>Legend and history were alike in one regard; both +told of brave men and beautiful women; and the people +we met as we drove, looked worthy of their forebears who +had fought and suffered for religion and independence, +in this strange, rock-walled corridor, shared with fairies +and gnomes. The men were tall, with great bold, good-natured +eyes and apple-red cheeks, to which their indigo +blouses gave full value. The women were of gentle +mien, with soft glances; and the children were even +more attractive than their elders. Tiny girls, like walking +dolls, with dresses to the ground, bobbed us curtseys; +and sturdy little boys, curled up beside ancient grandfathers, +in carts with old boots protecting the brakes, +saluted like miniature soldiers, or pulled off their quaint +round caps, as they stared in big-eyed wonder at our +grand, blue car. For them we were prince and princess, +not chauffeur and maid.</p> + +<p>Sometimes our road through the gorge climbed high +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>above the rushing green river, and ran along a narrow +shelf overhanging the ravine, but clear of snow and ice; +sometimes it plunged down the mountain-side as if on +purpose to let us hear the music of the water; and one +of these sudden swoops downward brought us in sight +of a château so enchanting and so evidently enchanted, +that I was sure a fairy's wand had waved for its creation, +perhaps only a moment before. When we were gone, +it would disappear again, and the fairy would flash down +under the translucent water, laughing, as she sent up a +spray of emeralds and pearls.</p> + +<p>"Of course, it isn't real!" I exclaimed. "But do +let's stop, because such a knightly castle wouldn't be +rude enough to vanish right before our eyes."</p> + +<p>"No, it won't vanish, because it's a most courteous +little castle, which has been well brought up, and even +though its greatness is gone, tries to live up to its traditions," +said Jack. "It always appears to everyone it +thinks likely to appreciate it; and I was certain it would +be here in its place to welcome you."</p> + +<p>We smiled into each other's eyes, and I felt as if the +castle were a present from him to me. How I should +have loved to have it for mine, to make up for one poor +old château, now crumbled hopelessly into ruin, and +despised by the least exacting of tourists! Coming upon +it unexpectedly in this green dell, at the foot of the precipice, +seeing it rise from the water on one side, reflected +as in a broken mirror, and draped in young, golden +foliage on the other, it really was an ideal castle for a +fairy tale. A connoisseur in the best architecture of the +Renaissance would perhaps have been ungracious enough +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>to pick faults; for to a critical eye the turrets and +arches might fall short of perfection; and there was +little decoration on the time-darkened stone walls, save +the thick curtain of old, old ivy; but the fairy grace +of the towers rising from the moat of glittering, bright +green water was gay and sweet as a song heard in +the woods.</p> + +<p>"Some beautiful nymph ought to have lived here," I +said dreamily, when we had got out of the car. "A +nymph whose beauty was celebrated all over the world, +so that knights from far and near came to this lovely +place to woo her."</p> + +<p>"Why, you might have heard the story of the place!" +said Jack. "It's the Château de la Caze, usually +called the Castle of the Nymphs, for instead of one, +eight beautiful nymphs lived in it. But their beauty +was their undoing. I don't quite know why they were +called 'nymphs,' for nymphs and naiads had gone out +of fashion when they reigned here as Queens of Beauty, +in the sixteenth century. But perhaps in those days to +call a girl a 'nymph' was to pay her a compliment. It +wouldn't be now, when chaps criticize the 'nymphery' +if they go to a dance! Anyhow, these eight sisters, +were renowned for their loveliness, and all the unmarried +gentlemen of France—according to the story—as well +as foreign knights, came to pay court to them. The +unfortunate thing was, when the cavaliers saw the eight +girls together, they were all so frightfully pretty it wasn't +possible to choose between them, so the poor gentlemen +fought over their rival charms, and were either killed or +went away unable to make up their minds. The sad end +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>was, if you'll believe me, that all the eight maidens died +unmarried, martyrs to their own incomparable charms."</p> + +<p>"I can quite believe it," I answered, "and it wasn't +at all sad, because I'm sure any girl who had once had +this place for her home would have pined in grief at being +taken away, even by the most glorious knight of the world."</p> + +<p>"Come in and see their boudoir," said the knight who +worked, if he did not fight, for me.</p> + +<p>So we went in, without the trouble of using battering +rams; for alas, the family of the eight nymphs grew tired +of their château and the gorge in the dreadful days of +the religious wars, and now it is an hotel. It would not +receive paying guests until summer, but a good-natured +caretaker opened the door for us, and we saw a number +of stone-paved corridors, and the nymphs' boudoir.</p> + +<p>Their adoring father had ordered their portraits to be +painted on the ceiling; and there they remain to this +day, simpering sweetly down upon the few bits of ancient +furniture made to match the room and suit their taste.</p> + +<p>They smiled amiably at us, too, the eight little faces +framed in Henrietta Maria curls; and their eyes said +to me, "If you want to be happy, <i>m'amie</i>, it is better not +to be too beautiful; or else not to have any sisters. Or +if Providence <i>will</i> send you sisters, go away yourself, and +visit your plainest friend, till you have got a husband."</p> + +<p>Gazing wistfully back, as one does gaze at places +one fears never to see again, the Castle of the Nymphs +looked like a fantastic water-flower standing up out of +the green river, on its thick stem of rock. Then it was +gone; for our time was not quite our own, and we dared +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>not linger, lest the boat with our Betters should arrive +at the meeting place before we reached it in the car. But +there were compensations, for almost with every moment +the gorge grew grander. Cascades sparkled in the sun +like blowing diamond-dust. The rocks seemed set with +jewels, or patterned with mosaic; and there were caves—caves +almost too good to be true. Yet if we could believe +our eyes, they were true, even the dark cavern where, +once upon a time, lived a scaly dragon who terrorized +the whole country for miles around, and had no relish +for his meals unless they were composed of the most +exquisite young maidens—though he would accept a +child as an <i>hors d'oeuvre</i>. In such a strange world as +this, after all, it was no harder to believe in dragons, than +in hiding countesses, fed and tended for months upon +months by faithful servants, while the red Revolution +raged; yet the countess and her cave were vouched for +by history, which ignored the dragon and his.</p> + +<p>Not only had each mountain at least one cavern, but +every really eligible crag had its ruined castle; and each +ruin had its romance, which clung like the perfume of +roses to a shattered vase. There were rocks shaped +like processions of marching monks following uplifted +crucifixes; and farther on, one would have thought that +half the animals had scrambled out of the ark to a height +where they had petrified before the flood subsided. As +we wound through the gorge the landscape became so +strange, hewn in such immensity of conception, that it +seemed prehistoric. We, in the blue car, were anachronisms, +or so I felt until I remembered how, in pre-motoring +days, I used to think that owning an automobile must be +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>like having a half-tamed minotaur in the family. As +for the Aigle, she was a friendly, not a vicious, monster, +and as if to make up for her mistakes of yesterday, she +was to-day more like a demi-goddess serving an earthly +apprenticeship in fulfilment of a vow than a dragon +of any sort. Swinging smoothly round curve after curve, +the noble car running free and cooing in sheer joy of +fiery life, as she swooped from height to depth, I, too, felt +the joy of life as I had hardly ever felt it before. The +chauffeur and I did not speak often, but I looked up at +him sometimes because of the pleasure I had in seeing +and re-seeing the face in which I had come to have perfect +confidence; and I fancied from its expression that +he felt as I felt.</p> + +<p>So we came to Les Vignes, and lunched together at a +table set out of doors, close to the car, that she might not +be left alone. We had for food a strange and somewhat +evil combination; wild hare and wild boar; but they +seemed to suit the landscape somehow, as did the mystical +music of the conch-shells, blown by passing boatmen. +It was like being waked from a dream of old-time romance, +by a rude hand shaking one's shoulder, to hear the voices +of Sir Samuel and Lady Turnour, he mildly arguing, she +disputing, as usual.</p> + +<p>Poetry fled like a dryad of some classic wood, scared +by a motor omnibus; and, though the gorge as far as +Le Rozier was magnificent, and the road all the way to +Millau beautiful in the sunset, it was no longer <i>our</i> +gorge, or <i>our</i> road. That made a difference!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + + +<p>There was a telegram from "Bertie" at Millau. +The invitation to the château where he was stopping +near Clermont-Ferrand, had been asked for +and given. I heard all about it, of course, from the conversation +between the bride and groom; for Lady Turnour +prides herself on discussing things in my presence, as if +I were deaf or a piece of furniture. She has the idea +that this trick is a habit of the "smart set"; and she would +allow herself to be tarred and feathered, in Directoire +style, if she could not be smart at smaller cost.</p> + +<p>Nothing was ever more opportune than that telegram, +for her ladyship had burnt her frock and chilled her +liver in the boat, and though the hotel at Millau was +good, she arrived there with the evident intention of making +life a burden to Sir Samuel. The news from Bertie +changed all that, however; and though the weather was +like the breath of icebergs next morning, Lady Turnour +was warmed from within. She chatted pleasantly with +Sir Samuel about the big luggage which had gone on to +Clermont-Ferrand, and asked his advice concerning the +becomingness of various dresses. The one unpleasant +thing she allowed herself to say, was that "certainly +Bertie wasn't doing this for nothing," and that his stepfather +might take her word for it, Bertie would be neither +slow nor shy in naming his reward. But Sir Samuel only +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>grinned, and appeared rather amused than otherwise at +the shrewdness of his wife's insight into the young man's +character.</p> + +<p>I was conscious that my jacket hadn't been made for +motoring, when I came out into the sharp morning air +and took my place in the Aigle. I was inclined to envy +my mistress her fur rugs, but to my surprise I saw lying +on my seat a Scotch plaid, plaider than any plaid ever +made in Scotland.</p> + +<p>"Does that belong to the hotel?" I asked the chauffeur, +as he got into the car.</p> + +<p>"It belongs to you," said he. "A present from Millau +for a good child."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you mustn't!" I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"But I have," he returned, calmly. "I'm not going +to watch you slowly freezing to death by my side; for +it won't be exactly summer to-day. Let me tuck you +in prettily."</p> + +<p>I groaned while I obeyed. "I've been an expense +to you all the way, because you wouldn't abandon me +to the lions, even in the most expensive hotels, where I +knew you wouldn't have stayed if it hadn't been for me. +And now, <i>this!</i>"</p> + +<p>"It cost only a few francs," he tried to reassure me. +"We'll sell it again—afterward, if that will make you +happier. But sufficient for the day is the rug thereof—at +least, I hope it will be. And don't flaunt it, for if her +ladyship sees there's an extra rug of any sort on board +she'll be clamouring for it by and by."</p> + +<p>Northward we started, in the teeth of the wind, which +made mine chatter until I began to tingle with the rush +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>of ozone, which always goes to my head like champagne. +Our road was a mere white thread winding loosely through +a sinuous valley, and pulled taut as it rose nearer and +nearer to the cold, high level of <i>les Causses</i>, the roof of that +gnome-land where we had journeyed together yesterday. +From snow-covered billows which should have been +sprayed with mountain wild-flowers by now, a fierce blast +pounced down on us like a swooping bird of prey. We +felt the swift whirr of its wings, which almost took our +breath away, and made the Aigle quiver; but like a bull +that meets its enemy with lowered horns, the brave car's +bonnet seemed to defy the wind and face it squarely. We +swept on toward the snow-reaches whence the wind-torrent +came. Soon we were on the flat plateau of the +Causse, where last year's faded grass was frosted white, +and a torn winding-sheet wrapped the limbs of a dead +world. There was no beauty in this death, save the wild +beauty of desolation, and a grandeur inseparable from +heights. Before us grouped the mountains of Auvergne, +hoary headed; and looking down we could see the twistings +of the road we had travelled, whirling away and +away, like the blown tail of a kite trailed over mountain +and foothill.</p> + +<p>"The people at Millau told me I should get up to St. +Flour all right, in spite of the fall of snow," said the +chauffeur, his eyes on the great white waves that piled +themselves against a blue-white sky, "but I begin to think +there's trouble before us, and I don't know whether I +ought to have persisted in bringing you."</p> + +<p>"Persisted!" I echoed, defending him against himself. +"Why, do you suppose wild horses would have dragged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> +Lady Turnour in any other direction, now that she's +actually invited to be the guest of a marquis in a real +live castle?"</p> + +<p>"A railway train could very well have dragged her in +the same direction and got her to the castle as soon, if not +a good deal sooner than she's likely to get in this +car, if we have to fight snow. I proposed this way +originally because I wanted you to see the Gorge of the +Tarn, and because I thought that you'd like Clermont-Ferrand, +and the road there. It was to be <i>your</i> adventure, +you know, and I shall feel a brute if I let you in for a worse +one than I bargained for. Even this morning it wasn't +too late. I could have hinted at horrors, and they would +have gone by rail like lambs, taking you with them."</p> + +<p>"Lady Turnour can do nothing like a lamb," I +contradicted him. "I should never have forgiven you +for sending me away from—the car. Besides, Lady +Turnour wants to teuf-teuf up to the château in her +sixty-horse-power Aigle, and make an impression on the +aristocracy."</p> + +<p>"Well, we must hope for the best now," said he. "But +look, the snow's an inch thick by the roadside even at +this level, so I don't know what we mayn't be in for, +between here and St. Flour, which is much higher—the +highest point we shall have to pass in getting to the +Château de Roquemartine, a few miles out of Clermont-Ferrand."</p> + +<p>"You think we may get stuck?"</p> + +<p>"It's possible."</p> + +<p>"Well, that <i>would</i> be an adventure. You know I love +adventures."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>"But I know the Turnours don't. And if—" He +didn't finish his sentence.</p> + +<p>Higher we mounted, until half France seemed to lie +spread out before us, and a solitary sign-post with "Paris-Perpignans" +suggested unbelievable distances. The Aigle +glided up gradients like the side of a somewhat toppling +house, and scarcely needed to change speed, so well did +she like the rarefied mountain air. I liked it too, though +I had to be thankful for the plaid; and above all I liked +the wild loneliness of the Causse, which was unlike anything +I ever saw or imagined. The savage monotony +of the heights was broken just often enough by oases of +pine wood; and the plains on which we looked down were +blistered with conical hills, crowned by ancient castles +which would have rejoiced the hearts of mediæval painters, +as they did mine. Severac-le-Château, perched on its +naked pinnacle of rock, was best of all, as we saw it from +our bird's-eye view, and then again, almost startlingly +impressive when we had somehow whirled down below +it, to pass under its old huddled town, before we flew up +once more to higher and whiter levels.</p> + +<p>Never had the car gone better; but Lady Turnour had +objected to the early start which the chauffeur wanted, +and the sun was nearly overhead when many a huge +shoulder of glittering marble still walled us away from our +journey's end. The cold was the pitiless cold of northern +midwinter, and I remembered with a shiver that Millau +and Clermont-Ferrand were separated from one another +by nearly two hundred and fifty kilometres of such mountain +roads as these. Oh yes, it was an experience, a +splendid, dazzling experience; nevertheless, my cowardly +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>thoughts would turn, sunflower-like, toward warmth; +warm rooms, even stuffy rooms, without a single window +open, fires crackling, and hot things to drink. Still, I +wouldn't admit that I was cold, and stiffened my muscles +to prevent a shudder when my brother asked me cheerfully +if I would enjoy a visit to the Gouffre de Padirac, close by.</p> + +<p>A "gouffre" on such a day! Not all the splendours +of the posters which I had often seen and admired, could +thrill me to a desire for the expedition; but I tried to +cover my real feelings with the excuse that it must now +be too late to make even a small détour. Mr. Jack Dane +laughed, and replied that he had no intention of making +it; he had only wanted to test my pluck. "I believe +you'd pretend to be delighted if I told you we had plenty +of time, and mustn't miss going," said he. "But don't +be frightened; this isn't a Gouffre de Padirac day, though +it really is a great pity to pass it by. What do you say +to lunch instead?"</p> + +<p>And we rolled through a magnificent mediæval gateway +into the ancient and unpronounceable town of Marvejols.</p> + +<p>Before he had time to make the same suggestion to his +more important passengers, it came hastily from within +the glass cage. So we stopped at an inn which proudly +named itself an hotel; and chauffeur and maid were +entertained in a kitchen destitute of air and full of clamour. +Nevertheless, it seemed a snug haven to us, and never +was any soup better than the soup of "Marvels," as Sir +Samuel and Lady Turnour called the place.</p> + +<p>The word was "push on," however, for we had still +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>the worst before us, and a long way to go. The Quality +had promised to finish its luncheon in an hour; and +well before the time was up, we two Worms were out in +the cold, each engaged in fulfilling its own mission. I +was arranging rugs; the chauffeur was pouring some +libation from a long-nosed tin upon the altar of his goddess +when our master appeared, wearing such an "I +haven't stolen the cream or eaten the canary" expression +that we knew at once something new was in the wind.</p> + +<p>He coughed, and floundered into explanations. "The +waiter, who can speak some English, has been frightening +her ladyship," said he. "After the day before yesterday +she's grown a bit timid, and to hear that the cold she has +suffered from is nothing to what she may have to experience +higher up, and later in the day, as the sun gets down +behind the mountains, has put her off motoring. It +seems we can go on from here by train to Clermont-Ferrand +and that's what she wants to do. I hate deserting +the car, but after all, this <i>is</i> an expedition of pleasure, and +if her ladyship has a preference, why shouldn't it be +gratified?"</p> + +<p>"Quite so, sir," responded the chauffeur, his face a blank.</p> + +<p>"My first thought on making up my mind to the train +was to have the car shipped at the same time," went on +Sir Samuel, "but it seems that can't be done. There's +lots of red tape about such things, and the motor +might have to wait days on end here at Marvels, before +getting off, to say nothing of how long she might be on +the way. Whereas, I've been calculating, if you start +now and go as quick as you can, you ought to be at the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>château" (he pronounced it 'chattoe') "before us. Our +train doesn't leave for more than an hour, and it's a very +slow one. Still, it will be warm, and we have cards and +Tauchnitz novels. Then, you know, you can unload the +luggage at the château and run back to the railway station +at Clermont-Ferrand, see to having our big boxes sent +out (they'll be there waiting for us) and meet our train. +What do you think of the plan?"</p> + +<p>"It ought to do very well—if I'm not delayed on the +road by snow."</p> + +<p>"Do you expect to be?"</p> + +<p>"I hope not. But it's possible."</p> + +<p>"Well, her ladyship has made up her mind, and we +must risk it. I'll trust you to get out of any scrape."</p> + +<p>The chauffeur smiled. "I'll try not to get into one," +he said. "And I'd better be off—unless you have +further instructions?"</p> + +<p>"Only the receipt for the luggage. Here it is," said +Sir Samuel. "And here are the keys for you, Elise. Her +ladyship wants you to have everything unpacked by the +time she arrives. Oh—and the rugs! We shall need +them in the train."</p> + +<p>"Isn't mademoiselle going with you?" asked my +brother, showing surprise at last.</p> + +<p>"No. Her mistress thinks it would be better for her +to have everything ready for us at the 'chattoe.' You +see, it will be almost dinner-time when we get there."</p> + +<p>"But, sir, if the car's delayed—"</p> + +<p>"Well," cut in Sir Samuel, "we must chance it, I'm +afraid. The fact is, her ladyship is in such a nervous +state that I don't care to put any more doubts into her +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>head. She's made up her mind what she wants, and +we'd better let it go at that."</p> + +<p>If I'd been near enough to my brother I should have +stamped on his foot, or seized some other forcible method +of suggesting that he should kindly hold his tongue. As +it was, my only hope lay in an imploring look, which he +did not catch. However, in pity for Sir Samuel he said +no more; and before we were three minutes older, if her +ladyship had yearned to have me back, it would have been +too late. We were off together, and another day had been +given to us for ours.</p> + +<p>The chauffeur proposed that I should sit inside the car; +but I had regained all my courage in the hot inn-kitchen. +I was not cold, and didn't feel as if I should ever be cold +again.</p> + +<p>The road mounted almost continuously. Sometimes, +as we looked ahead, it seemed to have been broken off +short just in front of the car, by some dreadful earth convulsion; +but it always turned out to be only a sudden dip +down, or a sharp turn like the curve of an apple-paring. +At last we had reached the highest peak of the Roof of +France—a sloping, snow-covered roof; but steep as was +the slant, very little of the snow appeared to have +slipped off.</p> + +<p>The Cévennes on our right loomed near and bleak; +the Auvergne stretched endlessly before us, and the virgin +snow, pure as edelweiss, was darkened in the misty distance +by patches of shadow, purple-blue, like beds of early violets.</p> + +<p>At first but a thin white sheet was spread over our road, +but soon the lace-like fabric was exchanged for a fleecy +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>blanket, then a thick quilt of down, and the motor began +to pant. The winds seemed to come from all ways at +once, shrieking like witches, and flinging their splinters of +ice, fine and small as broken needles, against our cheeks. +Still I would not go inside. I could not bear to be warm +and comfortable while Jack faced the cold alone. I knew +his fingers must be stiff, though he wouldn't confess to +any suffering, and I wished that I knew how to drive the car, +so that we might have taken turns, sitting with our hands +in our pockets.</p> + +<p>In the deepening snow we moved slowly, the wheels +slipping now and then, unable to grip. Then, on a +steep incline, there came a report like a revolver shot. +But it didn't frighten me now. I knew it meant a +collapsed tyre, not a concealed murderer; but there +couldn't have been a much worse place for "jacking up." +Nevertheless, it's an ill tyre that blows up for its own +good alone, and the forty minutes out of a waning afternoon +made the chauffeur's cold hands hot and the hot engine cold.</p> + +<p>Starting on again, we had ten miles of desolation, then +a tiny hamlet which seemed only to emphasize that +desolation; again another ten-mile stretch of desert, and +another hamlet; here and there a glimpse of the railway line, +like a great black snake, lost in the snow; now and +then the gilded picture of an ancient town, crowning some +tall crag that stood up from the flat plain below like a +giant bottle. And there was one thrilling view of a high +viaduct, flinging a spider's web of glittering steel across a +vast and shadowy ravine. "Garabit!" said the chauffeur, +as he saw it; and I remembered that this road was not +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>new for him. He did not talk much. Was he thinking +of the companion who perhaps had sat beside him before? +I wondered. Was it because he thought continually of +her that he looked at me wistfully sometimes, often in +silence, wishing me away, maybe, and the woman who +had spoilt his life by his side again for good or ill?</p> + +<p>Suddenly we plunged into a deep snow-bank which +deceitfully levelled a dip in the road, and the car stopped, +trembling like a horse caught by the hind leg while in +full gallop.</p> + +<p>On went the first speed, most powerful of all, but not +powerful enough to fight through snow nearly up to the +hubs. The Aigle was prisoned like a rat in a trap, and +could neither go back nor forward.</p> + +<p>"Well?" I questioned, half laughing, half frightened, +at this fulfilment of the morning's prophecy.</p> + +<p>"Sit still, and I'll try to push her through," said Jack +jumping out into the deep snow. "It's only a drift in a +hollow, you see; and we should have got by the worst, +just up there at St. Flour."</p> + +<p>I looked where his nod indicated, and saw a town as +dark and seemingly as old as the rock out of which it +grew, climbing a conical hill, to dominate all the wide, +white reaches above which it stood, like an armoured +sentinel on a watch-tower. As I gazed, struck with admiration, +which for an instant made me forget our plight, +he began to push. The car, surprised at his strength +and determination, half decided to move, then changed +her mind and refused to budge. In a second, before he +could guess what I meant to do, I had flashed out of my +seat into the snow, and was wading in his tracks to help +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>him when he snatched me up—a hand on either side of +my waist—and swung me back into my place again.</p> + +<p>"Little wretch!" he exclaimed. "How dare you disobey me?"</p> + +<p>Then I was vexed, for it was ignominious to be treated +as a child, when I had wanted to aid him like a comrade.</p> + +<p>"You are very unkind—very rude," I said. "You +wouldn't dare to do that, or speak like that to <i>Her</i>."</p> + +<p>He laughed loudly. "What—haven't you forgotten +'Her?'" (As if I ever could!) "Well, I may tell you, +it's just because I did dare to 'speak like that' to a +woman, that I'm a chauffeur stuck in the snow with +another man's car, and the—"</p> + +<p>"The rest is another epithet which concerns me, I suppose," +I remarked with dignity, though suddenly I felt +the chill of the icy air far, far more cruelly than I had +felt it yet. I was so cold, in this white desolation, that +it seemed I must die soon. And it wouldn't matter at +all if I were buried under the drifts, to be found in the late +spring with violets growing out of the places where my +eyes once had been.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said he, in that cool way he has, which can +be as irritating as a chilblain. "It was an epithet concerning +you, but luckily for me I stopped to think before +I spoke—an accomplishment I'm only just beginning to learn."</p> + +<p>I swallowed something much harder and bigger than +a cannon ball, and said nothing.</p> + +<p>"Of course you're covered with snow up to your knees, +foolish child!" He was glaring ferociously at me.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't matter."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>"It does matter most infernally. Don't you know +that you make no more than a featherweight of difference +to the car?"</p> + +<p>"I feel as if I weighed a thousand pounds, now."</p> + +<p>"It's that snow!"</p> + +<p>"No. It's you. Your crossness. I <i>can't</i> have +people cross to me, on lonely mountains, just when I'm +trying to help them."</p> + +<p>His glare of rage turned to a stare of surprise. "Cross? +Do you think I was cross to you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. And you just stopped in time, or you would +have been worse."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see," he said. "You thought that the 'epithet' +was going to be invidious, did you?"</p> + +<p>"Naturally."</p> + +<p>"Well, it wasn't. I—no, I <i>won't</i> say it! That would +be the last folly. But—I wasn't going to be cross. I +can't have you think that, whatever happens. Now sit +still and be good, while I push again."</p> + +<p>I weighed no more than half the thousand pounds now, +and the cannon ball had dissolved like a chocolate cream; +but the car stood like a rock, fixed, immutable.</p> + +<p>"There ought to be half a dozen of me," said the chauffeur. +"Look here, little pal, there's nothing else for it; +I must trudge off to St. Flour and collect the missing five. +Are you afraid to be left here alone?"</p> + +<p>Of course I said no; but when he had disappeared, +walking very fast, I thought of a large variety of horrors +that might happen; almost everything, in fact, from an +earthquake to a mad bull. As the sun leaned far down +toward the west, the level red light lay like pools of blood +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>in the snow-hollows, and the shadows "came alive," +as they used when I was a child lying awake, alone, watching +the play of the fire on wall and ceiling.</p> + +<p>Long minutes passed, and at last I could sit still no +longer. Gaily risking my brother's displeasure, now I +knew that he wasn't "cross," I slipped out into the snow +again, opened the car door, stood in the doorway, hanging +on with one hand, and after much manoeuvring extricated +the tea-basket from among spare tyres and luggage +on the roof. Then, swinging it down, planted it inside +the car, opened it, and scooped up a kettleful of snow. +As soon as the big white lump had melted over a rose +and azure flame of alcohol, I added more snow, and still +more, until the kettle was filled with water. By the time +I had warmed and dried my feet on the automatic heater +under the floor, the water bubbled; and as jets of steam +began to pour from the spout I saw six figures +approaching, dark as if they had been cut out in black +velvet against the snow.</p> + +<p>"Tea for seven!" I said to myself; but the kettle was +large, if the cups were few.</p> + +<p>It took half an hour to dig the car out, and push her +up from the hollow where the snow lay thickest. When +she stood only a foot deep, she consented readily to move. +We bade good-bye to the five men, for whom we had +emptied our not-too-well filled pockets, and forged, +bumbling, past St. Flour. It was a great strain for a +heavy car, and the chauffeur only said, "I thought so!" +when a chain snapped five or six miles farther on.</p> + +<p>"What a good thing Lady Turnour isn't here!" said I, +as he doctored the wounded Aigle.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 384px;"> +<a id="image3" name="image3"></a> +<hr /> +<a href="images/page272L.jpg"> +<img src="images/page272.jpg" width="384" height="600" + alt="It took half an hour to dig the car out..." + title="It took half an hour to dig the car out..." +/> +</a> +<p class="caption"> +“It took half an hour to dig the car out, +and push her up from the hollow where the snow lay thickest” +</p> +<hr /> + +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>"Lots of girls would be in a blue funk," said he. "I +could shake that beastly woman for not taking you with her."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" I exclaimed. "When I'm not doing you <i>any</i> harm!"</p> + +<p>He glanced up from his work, and then, as if on an +irresistible impulse, left the chain to come and stand beside +me, as I sat wrapped up in his gift "for a good girl."</p> + +<p>He gazed at me for a moment without speaking, and I +wonderingly returned the gaze, not knowing what was to follow.</p> + +<p>The moon had come sailing up like a great silver ship, +over the snow billows, and gleamed against a sky which +was still a garden of full-blown roses not yet faded, though +sunset was long over. The soft, pure light shone on his +dark face, cutting it out clearly, and he had never looked +so handsome.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to do <i>me</i> any harm, do you?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't if I would, and wouldn't if I could," I +answered in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Yet you <i>do</i> me harm."</p> + +<p>"You're joking!"</p> + +<p>"I never was further from joking in my life. You +do me harm because you make me wish for something I +can't have, something it's a constant fight with me, ever +since we've been thrown together, not to wish for, not to +think of. Yet you say I'm cross! Now, do you know +what I mean, and will you help me a little to remain +your faithful brother, instead of tempting me—tempting +me, however unconsciously, to—to wish—for—for—what +a fool I am! I'm going to finish my mending."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span>I sat perfectly still, with my mouth open, feeling as if +it were <i>my</i> chain, not the car's, which had broken!</p> + +<p>Of course if it hadn't been for all his talk of <i>Her</i>, I +should have known, or thought that I knew, well enough +what he meant. But how could I take his strange words +and stammered hints for what they seemed to suggest, +knowing as I did, from his own veiled confessions, that +he was in love with some beautiful fiend who had ruined +his career and then thrown him over!</p> + +<p>I longed to speak, to ask him just one question, but I +dared not. No words would come; and perhaps if they +had, I should have regretted them, for I was so sure he +was not a man who would fall out of love with one woman +to tumble into love for another, that I didn't know what +to make of him; but the thought which his words shot +into my mind, swift and keen, and then tore away again, +showed me very well what to make of myself.</p> + +<p>If I hadn't quite known before, I knew suddenly, all in +a minute, that I was in love, oh, but humiliatingly deep in +love, with the chauffeur! It seemed to me that no nice, +well-regulated girl could ever have let herself go tobogganing +down such a steep hill, splash into such a sea of love, +unless the man were at the bottom in a boat, holding out +his arms to catch her as she fell. But the chauffeur hadn't +the slightest intention of holding out his arms to the poor +little motor maid. He went on mending the chain, and +when he got into the car beside me again he began to +talk about the weather.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + + +<p>It was ten o'clock when we came into Clermont-Ferrand, +which looked a beautiful old place in the +moonlight, with the great, white Puy de Dome +floating half way up the sky, like a marble dream-palace.</p> + +<p>I trembled for our reception at the château, for everything +would be our fault, from the snow on the mountains +to Lady Turnour's lack of a dinner dress; and the consciousness +of our innocence would be our sole comfort. +Not for an instant did we believe that it would help our +case to stop at the railway station and arrange for the big +luggage to be sent the first thing in the morning; nevertheless, +we satisfied our consciences by doing it, though we +were so hungry that everything uneatable seemed +irrelevant.</p> + +<p>A young woman in a book, who had just pried into the +depths of her soul, and discovered there a desperate love, +would have loathed the thought of food; but evidently I +am unworthy to be a heroine, for my imagination called up +visions of soup and steak; and because it seemed so +extremely important to be hungry, I could quite well put +off being unhappy until to-morrow.</p> + +<p>It is only three miles from Clermont-Ferrand to the +Château de Roquemartine, and we came to it easily, without +inquiries, Jack having carefully studied the road map +with Sir Samuel. He had only to stop at the porter's lodge +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>to make sure we were right, and then to teuf-teuf up a long, +straight avenue, sounding our musical siren as an announcement +of our arrival. It was only when I saw +the fine old mansion on a terraced plateau, its creamy +stone white as pearl in the moonlight, its rows upon rows +of windows ablaze, that I remembered my position disagreeably. +I was going to stay at this charming place, as +a servant, not as a member of the house-party. I would +have to eat in the servants' hall—I, Lys d'Angely, whose +family had been one of the proudest in France. Why, +the name de Roquemartine was as nothing beside ours. +It had not even been invented when ours was already old. +What would my father say if he could see his daughter +arriving thus at a house which would have been too much +honoured by a visit from him? I was suddenly ashamed. +My boasted sense of humour, about which I am usually +such a Pharisee, sulked in a corner and refused to come out +to my rescue, though I called upon it. Funny it might be +to eat in the kitchens of inns, but I could not feel that it was +funny to be relegated to the servants' brigade in the private +house of a countryman of my father.</p> + +<p>What queerly complicated creatures we little human +animals are! An avalanche of love hadn't destroyed my +hunger. A knife-thrust in my vanity killed it in an instant; +and I can't believe this was simply because I'm female. +I shouldn't be surprised if a man might feel exactly the +same—or more so.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear!" I sighed. "It's going to be horrid here. +But"—with a stab of remorse for my self-absorption—"it's +just as bad for you as for me. <i>You</i> don't need to +stay in the house, though. You're a man, and free.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> +Don't stop for my sake. I won't have it! Please live in +an inn. There's sure to be one near by."</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to look for it," said my brother. "You +needn't worry about me. I've got pretty callous. I shall +have quarters for nothing here—you're always preaching +economy."</p> + +<p>But I wouldn't be convinced. "Pooh! You're only +saying that, so that I won't think you're sacrificing yourself +for me. Do you know anything about the Roquemartines?"</p> + +<p>"A little."</p> + +<p>"Good gracious, I hope you've never met them?"</p> + +<p>"I believe I lunched here with them once three years +ago, with a motoring friend of theirs."</p> + +<p>He stated this fact so quietly, that, if I hadn't begun +to know him and his ways, I might have supposed him +indifferent to the situation; but—I can hardly say why—I +didn't suppose it. I supposed just the contrary; and +I respected him, and his calmness, twenty times more than +before, if that were possible. Besides, I would have loved +him twenty times more, only that was impossible. How +much stronger and better he was than I—I, who blurted +out my every feeling! I, a stranger, felt the position almost +too hateful for endurance, simply because it was ruffling +to my vanity. He, an acquaintance of these people, who +had been their guest, resigned himself to herding with their +servants, because—yes, I knew it!—because he would +not let me bear annoyances alone.</p> + +<p>"You can't, you <i>shan't</i> stop in the house!" I gasped. +"Leave me and the luggage. Drive the car to the nearest village."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>"I don't <i>want</i> to leave you. Can't you understand +that?" he said. "I'm not sacrificing myself."</p> + +<p>We were at the door. We had been heard. If I had +suddenly been endowed with the eloquence of Demosthenes, +the gift would have come too late. The door was +thrown open, not by servants, but by a merry, curious +crowd of ladies and gentlemen, anxious to see the arrival +of the belated, no doubt much talked of, automobile. +Light streamed out from a great hall, which seemed, at +first glance, to be half full of people in evening dress, girls +and young men, gay and laughing. Everybody was talking +at the same time, chattering both English and French, +nobody listening to anybody else, all intent on having a +glimpse of the car. I believe they were disappointed not +to see it battered by some accident; sensations are so dear +to the hearts of idle ones.</p> + +<p>Sir Samuel Turnour came out, with two young men and +a couple of girls, while Lady Turnour, afraid of the cold, +remained on the threshold in a group of other women +among whom she was violently conspicuous by the blazing +of her jewels. The others were all in dinner dress, with +very few jewels. She had attempted to atone for her +blouse and short skirt by putting on all her diamonds and +a rope or two of pearls. Poor woman! I knew her +capable of much. I had not supposed her capable of this.</p> + +<p>Instinct told me that one of the young men with Sir +Samuel was the Marquis de Roquemartine, and I trembled +with physical dread, as if under a lifted lash, of his greeting +to Jack. But the <i>pince-nez</i> over prominent, near-sighted +eyes, gave me hope that my chauffeur might be spared an +unpleasant ordeal. Joy! the Marquis did not appear to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>recognize him, and neither did the Marquise, if she were +one of the young women who had run out to the car. +Maybe, if he could escape recognition now, he might escape +altogether. Once swept away among the flotsam and +jetsam below stairs, he would be both out of sight and out +of mind. I did not care about myself now, only for him, +and I was beginning to cheer up a little, when I noticed +that the other young man was gazing at the chauffeur very intently.</p> + +<p>His flushed face, and small fair moustache, his +light eyes and hair, looked as English as the Marquis' +short, pointed chestnut beard and sleek hair <i>en brosse</i>, +looked French. "Bertie!" I said to myself, flashing a +glance at him from under my veil.</p> + +<p>Bertie, if Bertie it was, did not speak. He simply stared, +mechanically pulling an end of his tiny moustache, while +Sir Samuel talked. But he was so much interested in his +stepfather's chauffeur that when the really very pretty girl +near him spoke, over his shoulder, he did not hear.</p> + +<p>"Well, we began to think you'd tumbled over a precipice!" +exclaimed Sir Samuel, with the jovial loudness that +comes to men of his age from good champagne or the rich +red wines of Southern France.</p> + +<p>Jack explained. The fair-haired young man let him +finish in peace, and then said, slowly, "Isn't your name Dane?"</p> + +<p>"It is," replied my brother.</p> + +<p>"Thought I knew your face," went on the other. "So +you've taken to chauffeuring as a last resort—what?"</p> + +<p>He was intended by Providence to be good looking, but +so snobbish was his expression as he spoke, so cruelly +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>sarcastic his voice, that he became hideous in my eyes. +A bleached skull grinning over a tall collar could not +have seemed more repulsive than the pink, healthy features +of that young man with his single eye-glass and his sneer.</p> + +<p>Jack paid no more attention than if he had not heard, but +the slight stiffening of his face and raising of his eyebrows +as he turned to Sir Samuel, made him look supremely +proud and distinguished, incomparably more a gentleman +in his dusty leather livery, than Bertie in his well-cut +evening clothes.</p> + +<p>"I called at the railway station, and the luggage will be +here before eight to-morrow morning," he said, quietly.</p> + +<p>"All right, all right," replied Sir Samuel, slow to understand +what was going on, but uncomfortable between the +two young men. "I didn't know that you were acquainted +with my stepson, Dane."</p> + +<p>"It was scarcely an acquaintance, sir," said the chauffeur. +"And I wasn't aware that Mr. Stokes was your stepson."</p> + +<p>"If you had been, you jolly well wouldn't have taken the +engagement—what?" remarked Bertie, with a hateful laugh.</p> + +<p>This time Jack condescended to look at him; from the +head down, from the feet up. "Really," he said, after +an instant's reflection, "it wouldn't have been fair to Sir +Samuel to feel a prejudice on account of the relationship. +If one of the servants would kindly show me the garage—"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + + +<p>If it hadn't been for the hope of seeing Jack again, +I should have said that I wanted nothing to eat, +when I was asked; but I thought that he might +come to the servants' dining-room, if only because he +would expect to find me there; and I was right: he came.</p> + +<p>"What an imbroglio!" I whispered, as he joined me +at the table, where hot soup and cold chicken were set forth.</p> + +<p>"Not at all," said he, cheerfully. "Things are better +for me than I thought. Roquemartine didn't recognize +me, I'm sure, for if he had, he would have said so. He +isn't a snob. But I rather hoped he would have forgotten. +I came as a stranger, brought by a friend of his and mine, +was here only for a meal (we were motoring then, too)—and +it's three years ago."</p> + +<p>"But the marquise?"</p> + +<p>"She's a bran new one. I fancied I'd heard that the +wife died. This one has the air of a bride, and I should +say she's an American."</p> + +<p>"Yes. She is. The maid who showed me my room +told me. The other girl who came out of doors, is her +sister. They're fearfully rich, it seems, and that young +brute wants to marry her."</p> + +<p>"Thank you for the descriptive adjective, my little +partizan, but you're troubling yourself for me more than +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span>you need. I don't mind, really. It's all in a life-time, +and I knew when I went in for this business, that I should +have to take the rough with the smooth. I was down +on my luck, and glad to get anything. What I have got +is honest, and something that I know I can do well—something +I enjoy, too; and I'm not going to let a vulgar +young snob like that make me ashamed of myself, when +I've nothing to be ashamed of."</p> + +<p>"You ought to be proud of yourself, not ashamed!" +I cried to him, trying to keep my eyes cold.</p> + +<p>"Heaven knows there's little enough to be proud of. +You'd see that, if I bored you with my history—and +perhaps I will some day. But anyhow, I've nothing +which I need to hide."</p> + +<p>"As if I didn't know that! But Bertie hates you."</p> + +<p>"I don't much blame him for that. In a way, the +position in which we stand to each other is a kind +of poetical justice. I don't blame myself, either, for I +always did loathe a cad and Stokes is a cad par excellence. +He visited, more or less on suffrance, at two or three +houses where I used to go a good deal, in my palmy days. +How he got asked, originally, I don't exactly know, for +the people weren't a bit his sort; but money does a lot +for a man in these days; and once in, he wasn't easy to +get rid of. He had a crawling way with any one he +hoped to squeeze any advantage out of—"</p> + +<p>"I suppose he crawled to you then," I broke in.</p> + +<p>"He did try it on, a bit, because I knew people he +wanted to know; but it didn't work. I rather put myself +out to be rude to him, for I resented a fellow like that +worming himself into places where he had no earthly +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>right to be—no right of brains, or heart, or breeding. I +must admit, now I think of it, that he has several scores +to wipe off; and judging from the way he begins, he +will wipe hard. Let him!"</p> + +<p>"No, no," I protested. "You mustn't let him. It's +too much. You will have to tell Sir Samuel that he must +find a new chauffeur at once. It hurts me like a blow +to think of such a creature humiliating you. I couldn't +see it done."</p> + +<p>He looked at me very kindly, with quite all a brother's +tenderness. "My dear little pal," he said, "you won't +have to see it."</p> + +<p>"You mean—you will go?" Of course, I wanted +him to take my advice, or I wouldn't have offered it, yet +it gave me a heartache to think he was ready to take it so easily.</p> + +<p>"I mean that I'm not the man to let myself be humiliated +by a Bertie Stokes. Possibly he may persuade his +stepfather to sack me, but I don't think he'll succeed +in doing that, even if he tries. Sir Samuel, I suppose, +has given him every thing he has; sent him to Oxford +(I know he was there, and scraped through by the skin +of his teeth), and allows him thousands enough to mix +with a set where he doesn't belong; but though the old +boy is weak in some ways, he has a strong sense of justice, +and where he likes he is loyal. I think he does like me, +and I don't believe he'd discharge me to please his stepson. +Not only that, I should be surprised if the promising +Bertie wanted me discharged. It would be more in his +line to want me kept on, so that he might take it out of me."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>I shuddered; but Jack smiled, showing his white teeth +almost merrily. "You may see some fun," he said, "but +it shan't be death to the frogs; not so bad as that. And +I shall have you to be kind to me."</p> + +<p>"Kind to you!" I echoed, rather tremulously. (If +he only knew how kind I should like to be!) "Yes, I +will be kind. But I can't do anything to make up for what +you'll have to bear. You had better go."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I would, if I could take you away with me, +but that can't be. And, no, even in that case, I should +prefer to stick it out. I shouldn't like to let that young +bounder drive me from a place, whether I wanted to go +or not. And do you think I would clear out, and leave +him to worry you?"</p> + +<p>"He can't," I said.</p> + +<p>"I wish I were sure of that. When the beast sees +you without your veil—oh, hang it, you mustn't let +him come near you, you know."</p> + +<p>"He isn't likely to take the slightest notice of his stepfather's +wife's maid," said I, "especially as he's dying +to marry the American heiress here."</p> + +<p>"Anyhow, be careful."</p> + +<p>"I shan't look at him if I can help it. And we shall +be gone before long. I believe the Turnours' invitation, +which their Bertie was bribed to ask for, is only for two +or three days. How you <i>must</i> have been feeling when +you were told to drive here! But you showed nothing."</p> + +<p>"I had a qualm or two when I was sure of the place; +but then it was over. It's far worse for you than for me. +And I told you I've been learning from you a lesson of +cheerfulness. I was merely a Stoic before."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span>"It's nothing for me, comparatively," I said, and by +this time, I was quite sincere; but I didn't know then +what the next twenty-four hours were to bring.</p> + +<p>We were not left alone for long, but in ten minutes +we had had our talk out, while we played at eating the +meal we had looked forward to with eagerness before our +appetites were crowded into the background. A fat +<i>sous chef</i> flitted about; maids and valets glanced in; +nevertheless, we found time for a heart-warming hand +pressure before we parted for the night. Altogether, I +had not had more than fifteen minutes in the dining-room; +yet when I left I felt a hundred times braver and +more cheerful.</p> + +<p>Already I had been to my mistress's quarters. The maid +who took charge of me on my arrival showed me that room +before she showed me mine, and explained the way from +one to the other. My "bump of locality" was tested, +however, in getting back to her ladyship's part of the +house, for the castle has its intricacies.</p> + +<p>The word "château," in France, covers a multitude of +comfortable, unpretentious family mansions, as I had not +to find out now, for the first time; and the dwelling of the +Roquemartines, though a fine old house of the seventeenth +century, is no more imposing, under its high, slate roof, +than many another. It is Lady Turnour's first experience, +though, as a visitor in the "mansions of the great," and +when I had been briskly unpacking for half an hour or so, +she came in, somewhat subdued by her new emotions. +I think that she was rather glad to see a familiar face, to +have someone to talk to of whom she did not feel in awe, +with whom she need not be afraid of making some +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span>mistake; and she seemed quite human to me, for the first time.</p> + +<p>Never had I seen her in such an expansive mood, not +even when she gave me the blouse. Instead of the cross +words I had braced myself to expect, she was almost +friendly. She had felt a fool, she said, not being able +to dress for dinner, but then no one else could touch +her, for jewels; and didn't every one just stare, at the +table, though, of course, she hadn't put on her tiara, +as that wouldn't have been suitable with a blouse +and short skirt! Sir Samuel's stepson had been quite +nasty and superior about the jewels, when he got at her, +afterward, and she believed would have been rude if +he'd dared, but luckily he didn't know her well enough +for that; and he'd better be careful how far he went, +or he'd find things very different from what they'd +been with him, since his mother married Sir Samuel. +As if men knew when women ought to wear their jewels, +and when not! But he was green with jealousy of the +things his stepfather had given her; wanted everything himself.</p> + +<p>She went on to describe the other members of the house +party, and mouthed their titles with delight, though she +had only her own maid to impress. Everyone had a +title, it seemed, except Bertie, and the American girl he +wanted to marry, Miss Nelson, a sister of the young +marquise. Some of the titles were very high ones, too. +There were princes and princesses, and dukes and duchesses +all over the place, mostly French and Italian, though +one of the duchesses was American, like the marquise +and her sister.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>"Not the Duchesse de Melun!" I exclaimed, before I stopped to think.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's the name," said her ladyship, twisting +round to look up at me, as I wound her back hair in +curling-pins. "What do you know about her?"</p> + +<p>How I wished that I knew nothing—and that I hadn't spoken!</p> + +<p>The name had popped out, because the Duchesse de +Melun is the only American-born duchess of my acquaintance, +and because I was hoping very hard that the duchess +of the Château de Roquemartine might <i>not</i> be the Duchesse +de Melun. What bad luck that the Roquemartines had +selected that particular duchess for this particular house +party, when they must know plenty, and could just as +well have chosen another specimen!</p> + +<p>"I have heard her name," I admitted, primly. And +so I had, too often. "A friend of mine was—was with +her, once."</p> + +<p>"As her maid?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly."</p> + +<p>"Another sort of servant, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>As her ladyship stated this as a fact, rather than asked +it as a question, I ventured to refrain from answering. +Fortunately she didn't notice the omission, as her thoughts +had jumped to another subject. But mine were not so +readily displaced. They remained fastened to the +Duchesse de Melun; and while Lady Turnour talked, I +was wondering whether I could successfully contrive to +keep out of the duchess's way. She is quite intimate +with Cousin Catherine; and I told myself that she was +pretty sure already to have heard the truth about my +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span>disappearance. Or, if even with her friends, Cousin +Catherine clings to conventionalities, and pretends that +I'm visiting somewhere by her consent, people are almost +certain to scent a mystery, for mysteries are popular. +"If that duchess woman sees me, she'll write to Cousin +Catherine at once," I thought. "Or I wouldn't put it +<i>past</i> her to telegraph!"</p> + +<p>("Put it past" is an expression of Cousin Catherine's +own, which I always disliked; but it came in handy now.)</p> + +<p>I tried to console myself, though, by reflecting that, if +I were careful, I ought to be able to avoid the duchess. +The ways of great ladies and little maids lie far apart in +grand houses and—</p> + +<p>"There is going to be a servants' ball to-morrow night," +announced Lady Turnour, while my thoughts struggled +out of the slough of despond. "And I want you to be the +best dressed one there, for <i>my</i> credit. We're all going to +look on, and some of the young gentlemen may dance. +The marquise and Miss Nelson say they mean to, too, but +I should think they are joking. <i>I</i> may not be a French +princess nor yet a marquise, but I <i>am</i> an English lady, +and I must say I shouldn't care to dance with my cook, +or my chauffeur."</p> + +<p>Her chauffeur would be at one with her there! But I +could think of nothing save myself in this crisis. "Oh, +miladi, I <i>can't</i> go to a servants' ball!" I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>She bridled. "Why not, I should like to know? Do +you consider yourself above it?"</p> + +<p>"It isn't that," I faltered. (And it wasn't; it was +that duchess!) "But—but—" I searched for an +excuse. "I haven't anything to wear."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>"I will see to that," said my mistress, with relentless +generosity. "I intend to give you a dress, and as you have +next to nothing to do to-morrow, you can alter it in time. +If you had any gratitude in you, Elise, you'd be out of +yourself with joy at the idea."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am out of myself, miladi," I moaned.</p> + +<p>"Well, you might say 'Thank your ladyship,' then."</p> + +<p>I said it.</p> + +<p>"When you have unpacked the big luggage in the +morning, I will give you the dress. I have decided on it +already. Sir Samuel doesn't like it on me, so I don't +mind parting with it; but it's very handsome, and cost me +a great deal of money when I was getting my trousseau. It +is scarlet satin trimmed with green beetle-wing passementerie, +and gold fringe."</p> + +<p>My one comfort, as I gasped out spasmodic thanks, was +this: I would look such a vulgar horror in the scarlet satin +trimmed with green beetle-wings and gold fringe, that the +Duchesse de Melun might fail to recognize Lys d'Angely.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + + +<p>I dusted and shook out every cell in my brain, +during the night, in the hope of finding any inspiration +which might save me from the servants' ball; +but I could think of nothing, except that I might suddenly +come down with a contagious disease. The objection to +this scheme was that a doctor would no doubt be sent +for, and would read my secret in my lack of temperature.</p> + +<p>When morning came, I was sullenly resigned to the +worst. "Kismet!" said I, as I unfolded her ladyship's +dresses, and was blinded by the glare of the scarlet satin.</p> + +<p>"Try it on," commanded my mistress. "I want to get +an idea how you will look."</p> + +<p>Naturally, the red thing was a Directoire thing; and +putting it on over my snug little black frock, I was like a +cricket crawling into an empty lobster-shell. But to my +surprise and annoyance, the lobster-shell was actually +becoming to the cricket.</p> + +<p>I didn't want to look nice and be a credit to Lady Turnour. +I wanted to look a fright, and didn't care if I were +a disgrace to her. But the startling scarlet satin was +Liberty satin, and therefore had a sheen, and a soft way +of folding that redeemed it somewhat. Its bright poppy +colour, its emerald beetle-wings shading to gold, and its +glittering fringes that waved like a wheat-field stirred by +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>a breeze, all gave a bizarre sort of "value," as artists say, +to my pale yellow hair and dark eyes. I couldn't help +seeing that the dreadful dress made my skin pearly +white; and I was afraid that, when I had altered the +thing, instead of looking like a frump, I should only present +the appearance of a rather fast little actress. I should be +looked at in my scarlet abomination. People would stare, +and smile. The Duchesse de Melun would say to the +Marquise de Roquemartine: "Who is that young person? +She looks exactly like someone I know—that little Lys +d'Angely the millionaire-man, Charretier, is so silly about."</p> + +<p>"You see, you can alter it very easily," said Lady Turnour.</p> + +<p>"Yes, miladi."</p> + +<p>"Have you got any dancing slippers?"</p> + +<p>"No—that is—I don't know—"</p> + +<p>"Don't be stupid. I will give you ten francs to buy +yourself a pair of red stockings and red slippers to match. +The stockings needn't be silk. They won't show much. +Dane can take you in the car to Clermont-Ferrand this +afternoon. I want you to be all right, from head to feet—different +from any of the other maids."</p> + +<p>I didn't doubt that I would be different—very different.</p> + +<p>Tap, tap, a knock at the door.</p> + +<p>"Ontray!" cried her ladyship.</p> + +<p>The door opened. Mr. Herbert Stokes stood on the threshold.</p> + +<p>"I say, Lady T—" he began, when he saw the scarlet vision, and stopped.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" inquired the wife of his stepfather—rather a +complicated relation.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>"I—er—wanted—" drawled Bertie. "But it doesn't matter. Another time."</p> + +<p>"You needn't mind <i>her</i>," said Lady Turnour, with a +nod toward me. "It's only my maid. I'm giving her +a dress for the servants' ball to-night."</p> + +<p>Bertie gave vent to the ghost of a whistle, below his +breath. He looked at me, twisting the end of his small fair +moustache, as he had looked at Jack Dane last night; and +though his expression was different, I liked it no better.</p> + +<p>"Thought it was a new guest," said he.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you didn't take her for a lady, did you?" +my mistress was curious to know. "You pride yourself +on your discrimination, your stepfather says."</p> + +<p>"There's nothing the matter with my discrimination," +replied the young man, smiling. But his smile was not +for her ladyship. It was for me; and it was meant to be +a piquant little secret between us two.</p> + +<p>How well I remembered asking the chauffeur, "<i>Could</i> +you know a Bertie?" And how he answered that he had +known one, and consequently didn't want to know +another. Here was the same Bertie; and now that I too +knew him, I thought I would prefer to know another, +rather than know more of him. Yet he was good-looking, +almost handsome. He had short, curly light hair, eyes as +blue as turquoises, seen by daylight, full red lips under +the little moustache, a white forehead, a dimple in the +chin, and a very good figure. He had also an educated, +perhaps too well educated, voice, which tried to advertise +that it had been made at Oxford; and he had hands as +carefully kept as a pretty woman's, with manicured, +filbert-shaped nails.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>"You're making her jolly smart," he went on. "She'll +do you credit."</p> + +<p>"I want she should," retorted her ladyship, gratified +and ungrammatical.</p> + +<p>"She must give me a dance—what?" condescended the +gilded youth. "Does she speak English?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. So you'd better be careful what you say before her."</p> + +<p>Bertie telegraphed another smile to me. I looked at the +faded damask curtains; at the mantelpiece with its gilded +clock and two side-pieces, Louis Seize at his worst, considered +good enough for a bedroom; at the drapings of +the enormous bed; at the portière covering the door of +Sir Samuel's dressing-room; at the kaleidoscopic claret-and-blue +figures on the carpet; in fact, at everything within +reach of my eyes except Mr. Herbert Stokes.</p> + +<p>"I've nothing to say that she can't hear," said he, +virtuously. "I only wanted to know if you'd like to see +the gardens? The marquise sent me to ask. Several +people who haven't been here before are goin'. It's a +lot warmer this mornin', so you won't freeze."</p> + +<p>Lady Turnour said that she would go, and ordered me to +find her hat and coat. As I turned to get them, Bertie +smiled at me again, and threw me a last glance as he +followed my mistress out of the room.</p> + +<p>I begin to be afraid there is an innate vanity in me +which nothing can thoroughly eradicate without tearing +me up by the roots; for when I was ready to alter that red +dress, instead of trying to make it look as ridiculous as +possible, something forced me to do my best, to study +fitness and becomingness. I do hope this is self-respect +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span>and not vanity; but to hope that is, I fear, like believing +in a thing which you know isn't true.</p> + +<p>I worked all the morning at ensmalling the gown (if one +can enlarge, why can't one ensmall?) and by luncheon time +it was finished. I had seen Jack at breakfast, but had no +chance for a word with him alone, although he succeeded +valiantly in keeping other chauffeurs, and valets, from +making my acquaintance. As I stopped only long enough +for a cup of coffee and a roll, I didn't give him too much +trouble; but at luncheon it was different. Everyone was +chattering about the ball in the evening (a privilege +promised, it seemed, as a reward for hard work on the +occasion of a real ball above stairs), and house servants +and visitors alike were all so gay and good-natured that it +would have been stupid to snub them. Jack saw this, and +though he protected me as well as he could in an unobtrusive +way, he put out no bristles.</p> + +<p>The general excitement was contagious, and if it hadn't +been for the panic I was in about the duchess, I should have +thrown myself wholly into the spirit of the hive, buzzing +like the busiest bee in it. Even as it was, I couldn't help +entering into the fun of the thing, for it was fun in its queer +way. Something like being on the stage of a third-rate +theatre in the midst of a farce, where the actors mistake +you for one of themselves, calling upon you to play your +part, while you alone know that you are a leading member +of the Comédie Française, just dropped in at this funny +place to look on.</p> + +<p>Here, the stage was on a much grander scale, and the +play more amusing than in the couriers' dining-rooms at +the hotels where I had been. At the hotels, the maids +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>and valets scarcely knew each other. Some were in a +hurry, others were tired or in a bad humour. Here the +little company had been together for days. Meals were a +relaxation, a time for flirtation and gossip about their own +and each other's masters and mistresses. Each servant +felt the liveliest interest in the "Monsieur" or "Madame" +of his or her neighbour; and the stories that were +exchanged, the criticisms that were made, would have +caused the hair of those <i>messieurs</i> and those <i>mesdames</i> +to curl.</p> + +<p>If I was openly approved by the gentlemen's gentlemen, +Mr. Jack Dane had the undisguised admiration of the +ladies' ladies; and he received their advances with tact. +Dances for the evening were asked for and promised right +and left, among the assemblage, always dependent upon +summons from Above. It was agreed that, if a Monsieur +or Madame wished to dance with you, no previous +engagement was to stand, for all the castles and big houses +from far and near would be emptied in honour of the ball, +from drawing-rooms to servants' halls, and quality was to +mingle with quantity, as on similar occasions in England, +whence—the chef explained—came the fashion. It +was a feature of <i>l'entente cordiale</i>, and the same agreeable +understanding was to level all barriers, for the night, +between high and low.</p> + +<p>Some of the visitors' <i>femmes de chambres</i> were pretty, +coquettish creatures, and I was delighted to find that they +were all called by their mistresses' titles. The maid of +my <i>bête noire</i> was "Duchesse"; she who pertained to our +hostess was "Marquise," and I blossomed into "Miladi." +The girls were looking forward to rivalling their mistresses +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span>in <i>chic</i>, and also in the admiration of the real princes and +dukes and counts; that they would have an exclusive +right to the attentions of these gentlemen's understudies +also seemed to be expected.</p> + +<p>After half an hour at table in the servants' hall, there was +nothing left for me to find out about the owners of the +castle and their guests; but the principal interest of everyone +seemed to centre upon the affair between Mr. Herbert +Stokes and the heiress sister of Madame la Marquise. +There were even bets among the valets as to how it was to +end, and Bertie's man, who looked as if he could speak +volumes if he would, was a person of importance.</p> + +<p>All the men admired Miss Nelson extremely, but the +women were divided in opinion. Her own maid, a bilious +Frenchwoman, with a jealous eye, said that the American +miss was <i>une petite chatte</i>, who was playing off Mr. Stokes +against the Duc de Divonne, and it was a pity that the +handsome young English monsieur could not be warned +of her unworthiness. The duke was not handsome, +and he was neither young nor rich, but—these Americans +were out for titles, just as titles were out for American +money. Why else had the marriage of Madame la +Marquise, Miss Daisy's elder sister, made itself? Miss +Daisy liked Mr. Stokes, but he could not give her a title. +The duke could—<i>if</i> he would. But would he? She was +rich, but there were others richer. People said that he +was wary. Yet he admired Miss Daisy, it was true, and +if by her flirtation with Mr. Stokes she could pique him +into a proposal, she would have her triumph.</p> + +<p>This was only one of many dramas going on in the +house, but it was the most interesting to me, as to others, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span>and I determined to look with all my might at the duke +and at pretty Miss Nelson, of whom I had only had a +glimpse on arriving. If she were really nice, I did hope +that Bertie wouldn't get her!</p> + +<p>My costume pressed as weightily on her ladyship's +mind, as if I had been a favourite poodle about to be sent, +all ribboned and clipped, to a dog show. She did not +forget the slippers and stockings, and the chauffeur was +ordered to take me into Clermont-Ferrand to buy them. +Fortunately she didn't know how much I looked forward +to the excursion!</p> + +<p>At precisely three o'clock I walked out to the castle +garage, near the stables, and found Jack getting the car +ready; but I did not find him alone. The garage is a big +and splendid one, and not only were the three household +dragons in their stalls, but four or five strange beasts, pets +of visitors; and the finest of these (after our blue Aigle) +was the white Majestic of the Duc de Divonne. That +gentleman, whom I recognized easily from a description +breathed into my ear by a countess's countess, at luncheon, +was in the garage when I arrived, showing off his +automobile to Miss Nelson. The ducal chauffeur lurked +in the background, duster in hand, and Mr. Herbert Stokes +occupied as large a space as possible in the foreground.</p> + +<p>Nobody deigned to take any open notice of me, though +Bertie threw me a stealthy smile of recognition, carefully +screened from Miss Nelson, but as the Aigle was swallowing +a last refreshing draught of petrol, I had time to observe +the actors in the little drama whose plot I had already heard.</p> + +<p>Yes, though Miss Daisy Nelson looked even prettier +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>than I thought her last night, I could quite believe the +bilious maid's statement that she was <i>une petite chatte</i>. +Her green-gray eyes, very effective under thick masses of +auburn hair, were turned up at the outer corners in a fascinating, +sly little way; and her cupid-bow lips, which turned +down at <i>their</i> corners, were a bit redder than Nature's +formula ordains. Nevertheless I couldn't help liking her, +just as one likes a lovely, playful Persian kitten which may +rub its adorable nose against your hand, or scratch with +its naughty claws. And she was enjoying herself so much, +the pretty, expensive-looking creature! As Pamela would +say, it was evident that she was "having the time of her +life," revelling in the admiration and rivalry of the two +men; delighted with her own power over them, and her +importance as a beauty and an heiress, the only unmarried +girl in the house party; amusing herself by making one +man miserable and the other happy, sending them up and +down on a mental sea-saw, by turns.</p> + +<p>As for the little Duc de Divonne, his profile is of the +Roman Emperor order, and his eyes like the last coals +in a dying fire. I said to myself that, if Miss Nelson +should become a duchess, she would have to pay for some +of her girlish antics in pre-duchess days. Still, I decided +that if I had to choose, it would be the duke before Bertie.</p> + +<p>The girl kept both her men busy, and after the first +glance Bertie ignored my existence: but the Duke, fired +by a moment's neglect, flamed out with an inspiration. +He "dared" Miss Nelson to take a lesson from him in +driving his car, with no other chaperon than the chauffeur. +"All right, I will," said she, "and I bet you I'll be +an expert after one trial."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>"What do you bet?" asked the Duke.</p> + +<p>She smiled flirtatiously in answer and Bertie stood forlorn, +his nice pink complexion turning an ugly salmon +colour. In a minute the white car was off, Miss Nelson +beside the duke, the chauffeur like a small nut in a large +shell, lolling in the tonneau. Bertie turned to us, and +having looked kindly at me, sharply demanded of Jack +where he was going.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle has an errand."</p> + +<p>"Ah! then I'll drive Mademoiselle. Wish I had a +tenner for every time I've driven an Aigle! You can sit +inside, in case there's work to do."</p> + +<p>My eyes opened widely, but I said nothing. I glanced +at Jack, and saw his face harden.</p> + +<p>"I have been told to drive the car, and it is my duty to +drive it unless I receive different orders," said he.</p> + +<p>"I'm giving you different orders," said Bertie.</p> + +<p>"I take my orders only from the owner of the car."</p> + +<p>"You're beastly impertinent," snapped Bertie, "and +I'll report you to Sir Samuel."</p> + +<p>"As you choose," returned Jack, turning the starting-handle.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you say 'sir' when you speak to me? You +don't seem to have trained into chauffeur manners yet."</p> + +<p>"If I were your chauffeur, you would have the +right to criticize. As I'm not, and never will be, +you haven't. Mademoiselle, the car's ready. Will you get in?"</p> + +<p>I jumped into my usual place, beside the driver's seat.</p> + +<p>"Ah, you sit by the chauffeur, do you?" said Bertie. +"I don't wonder he wants to keep his job."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span>For an instant I was afraid that Jack would strike him.</p> + +<p>My blood rushed to my head, and I half rose from the +seat, with a choked, warning whisper of "Jack!"</p> + +<p>It was the first time I'd called him that, except to myself, +and I saw him give the faintest start. He looked at the +other man, and then, though Bertie stepped quickly forward +as if to open the car door and jump in, he sprang to +his place, and we were off.</p> + +<p>"He means mischief," I said, when I felt able to speak.</p> + +<p>"So do I, if he does," answered Jack.</p> + +<p>"I wish you'd do me a favour," I went on. "Keep +away from that awful ball to-night."</p> + +<p>"What! With you there? I know my business better."</p> + +<p>I couldn't help laughing. "Your present business, I +believe," said I, "is that of a chauffeur."</p> + +<p>"With extra duty as watch-dog."</p> + +<p>"I can't bear to have you see me in the ridiculous get-up +Lady Turnour is making me wear, that's the selfish part of +my reason—and—and it will be so <i>horrid</i> for you, in +every way."</p> + +<p>"I'm callous to anything they can do now, except one thing."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"If you don't know already, I mean where you're concerned."</p> + +<p>"You're very kind to me."</p> + +<p>"Kind? Yes, I am very 'kind.' A man has to be +abnormally 'kind' to want to look after a girl like you."</p> + +<p>"How bitterly you speak!" I exclaimed, hardly understanding him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span>"I feel bitter sometimes. Do you wonder? But for +heaven's sake, don't let's talk of me. Let's talk of something +pleasant. Would you care to do a little sight-seeing +in Clermont-Ferrand, if your shopping doesn't take us too long?"</p> + +<p>I assured him that it would not take ten minutes; and +it didn't take more. I saved a franc on the transaction, +too, which would console her ladyship if I got back a few +minutes late; and with that thought in my mind, I +abandoned myself to the joy of the expedition. We +went to the Petrifying Fountain, and inspected its strange +menagerie of stone animals; we made a dash into the +Cathedral where St. Louis was married, and looked at the +beautiful thirteenth-century glass in the windows, and the +strange frescoes; we rushed in and out of Notre Dame du +Port, stopping on the way in the <i>Place</i> where the first +Crusade was proclaimed, and to gaze at the house and +statue of Pascal. Jack would squander some of his +extremely hard earned money on a box of the burnt +almonds for which Clermont-Ferrand is celebrated; and +when we had seen everything I dared stop to see, he ran +the car to Montferrand, to show me some ancient and +wonderful houses, famous all over France. Eventually he +threatened to spin me out to Royat, but I pleaded the +certainty that Lady Turnour would wish to change into +her smartest tea-gown for "feef oclocky" and that I must +be there to assist at the ceremony.</p> + +<p>So we turned castleward, with all the speed the law +allows, if not a little more; and I arrived with a pair of red +stockings, cheap high-heeled slippers, a franc in change, +and a queer presentiment of dangerous things to happen.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + + +<p>Although a good many neighbours were coming +to the Château de Roquemartine to look on at +the servants' ball, they were all to drive or motor +over in their ordinary dinner dress; it was only the +servants themselves who were to "make toilettes."</p> + +<p>Lady Turnour, however, who regretted having missed +the smart ball for the great world, given a few nights before, +determined that people should be forced to appreciate +her wealth and position; and the wardrobe of Solomon +in all his glory could hardly have produced anything to +exceed her gold tissue, diamanté.</p> + +<p>When I had squeezed, and poked, and pushed her into +it, and was bejewelling her, Sir Samuel came, as usual, +to have his white cravat tied by me. Bertie, too, appeared, +dressed for dinner, and watched me with silent amusement +as I performed my evening duty for his stepfather.</p> + +<p>"Pretty gorgeous, aren't you?" he remarked to Lady +Turnour; but she was flattered rather than annoyed by +the criticism, and sailed away good-natured, leaving me +to gather up the few jewels of her collection which she +had discarded. Lately I had been trusted with her +treasures, and felt the responsibility disagreeably, especially +as my mistress—when she remembered it—counted +everything ostentatiously over, after relieving +me of my charge.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span>To-night I had just begun picking up the brooches, +bracelets, diamond stars, coronets and bursting suns +which illuminated the dressing-table firmament, when +Bertie walked in again, through the door that he had +left ajar.</p> + +<p>"I came back because my necktie's a failure," said he. +"My man must be in love, I should think. Probably +with you! Anyhow, something's the matter; his fingers +are all thumbs. But you turned out my old governor +rippin'ly. You'll do me, won't you?"</p> + +<p>As he spoke, he untied his cravat, and produced another.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," I said. "I don't know how to do <i>that</i> +kind of tie."</p> + +<p>"What—what?" he stared. "It's just the same as +the governor's—only a little better. Come along, +there's a dear." He had pushed the door to; now he shut it.</p> + +<p>I walked to the other end of the room, and began folding +a blouse. "You'd better give your valet another +trial," I said. "I'm <i>not</i> a valet. I'm Lady Turnour's +maid."</p> + +<p>"She's in luck to get you."</p> + +<p>"I'm engaged to wait upon <i>her</i>."</p> + +<p>"You are stiff! You do the governor's tie."</p> + +<p>"Sir Samuel's very kind to me."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll be kind, too. I'd like nothing better. +I'll be a lot kinder than he'd dare to be. I say, I've +got a present for you—something rippin', that you'll +like. You can wear it at the ball to-night, but you'd +better not tell anyone who gave it to you—what? You +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span>shall have it for tyin' my necktie. Now, don't you call +that 'kind'?"</p> + +<p>I stopped folding the blouse, and increased my height +by at least an inch. "No," I said, "I call it impertinent, +and I shall be obliged if you will leave Lady Turnour's +room. That's the only thing you can do for me."</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" said Bertie. "What theatre were you at +before you took to lady's maidin'?"</p> + +<p>To this I deigned no answer.</p> + +<p>"Anyhow, you're a rippin' little actress."</p> + +<p>Silence.</p> + +<p>"And a pretty girl. As pretty as they make 'em."</p> + +<p>I invented a new kind of sigh, a cross between a snarl +and a moan.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, what's the mystery? There is a mystery +about you, you know. Not a bit of good tryin' to deceive +me.... You might as well own up. I can keep a +secret as well as the next one."</p> + +<p>A tapping of my foot. A slamming of a wardrobe +door, which was able to squeak furiously without loss of dignity.</p> + +<p>"What <i>were</i> you before my lady took you on?... +Look here, if you don't answer, I shall begin to think +the secret's got to do with <i>those</i>." And he pointed to +the dressing table, where the jewels still lay. He even +put out his hand and took up the bursting sun. (How +I sympathized with it for bursting!) "Worth somethin'—what?"</p> + +<p>"You can think whatever you like," I flashed at him, +"if only you'll go out of this room."</p> + +<p>"Pity your chauffeur isn't at hand for you to run +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>to," Bertie half sneered, half laughed, for he was keeping +his hateful, teasing good nature. "And by the way, +talkin' of him, since you're such a little prude, I'll just +warn you in a friendly way to look out for that chap. +You don't know his history—what? I'm sure the +governor doesn't."</p> + +<p>"Sir Samuel knows he can drive, and that he's a <i>gentleman</i>," +said I, with meaning emphasis.</p> + +<p>"Well, I've warned you," replied Bertie, injured. +"You may see which one of us is really your friend, before +you're out of this galley. But if you want to be a good +and happy little girl, you'd best be nice to me. I shall +find out all about you, you know."</p> + +<p>That was his exit speech; and the only way in which I +could adequately express my opinion of it was to bang the +door on his back.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The ball was in a huge vault of a room which had once +been a granary. The stone floor had been worn smooth +by many feet and several centuries, and the blank gray +walls were brightened with drapery of flags, yards of +coloured cotton, paper flowers and evergreens, arranged +with an effect which none save Latin hands could have +given. Dinner above and below stairs was early, and +before ten the guests began to assemble in the ballroom. +All the servant-world had dined in ball costume, excepting +Jack and myself, and it was only at the last minute that the +cricket hopped upstairs and wriggled into its neatly +reduced lobster shell.</p> + +<p>I had visions of my brother lurking gloomily yet observantly +in obscure corners, ready at any moment for a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> +<i>sortie</i> in my defence; but when I sneaked, sidled, and slid +into the ballroom, making myself as small as possible that +I might pass unobserved in spite of my sensational redness, +I had a surprise. Near the door stood the chauffeur in +evening dress, out-princing and out-duking every prince +and duke among the Marquise de Roquemartine's guests. +And I, who hadn't even known that he possessed evening +clothes, could not have opened my eyes wider if my knight +had appeared in full armour.</p> + +<p>I had broken the news of the scarlet dress to him, nevertheless +I saw it was a shock. To each one, the other was +a new person, as we stood and talked together. I said not +a word about my scene with Bertie, for there was trouble +enough between the two already; but when Jack told me +that, if I were asked to dance by anyone objectionable, I +must say I was engaged to him, I knew which One loomed +largest and ugliest in his mind.</p> + +<p>A glance round the big, bright room showed me many +strangers. All were servants, however, for the grand people +had not yet come down to play their little game of condescension. +A band from Clermont-Ferrand was making +music, but the ball was to be opened by the marquise and +her guests, who were to honour their servants by dancing +the first dance with them. Each noble lady was to select a +cook, butler, footman, chauffeur, or groom, according to +her pleasure; and each noble lord was to lead out the +female worm which least displeased his eye.</p> + +<p>Hardly had I time to dive deep into the wave of domesticity, +when the great moment arrived, and a spray of aristocracy +sprinkled the top of that heavy wave, with the +dazzling sparkle of its jewels and its beauty. Really it +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span>was a pretty sight! I had to admire it; and in watching +the play of light and colour I forgot my private worries +until I saw Bertie bowing before me.</p> + +<p>The marquise had just honoured her own butler. The +marquis was offering his arm to the housekeeper; the Duc +de Divonne had led out Miss Nelson's bilious maid, appalling +in apple-green: Miss Nelson was returning the compliment +by giving her hand to his valet: why should not this +young gentleman dance with his step-mother-in-law's maid?</p> + +<p>There seemed no reason why not, except the maid's +disinclination; and sudden side-slip of the brain caused by +the glassy impudence in Mr. Stokes's eye so disturbed my +equilibrium that I forgot Jack's offer. He did not forget, +however—it would hardly have been Jack, if he had—but +stepped forward to claim me as I began to stammer +some excuse.</p> + +<p>"Oh, come, that isn't playin' the game," said Bertie. +"We're all dancin' with servants this turn. Go ask a +lady, Dane."</p> + +<p>"I have asked a lady, and she has promised to dance +with me," said Jack. "Miss d'Angely—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's the lady's name, is it? I'm glad to know," +mumbled Bertie, as Jack whisked me away from under +his nose.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, I oughtn't to have let that out, ought I?" +said Jack, remorseful. "The less he knows about you, the +better; and as Lady Turnour has no idea of pronunciation, +if it hadn't been for my stupidity—"</p> + +<p>"Don't call it that," I stopped him, as we began to dance. +"It doesn't matter a bit—unless it should occur to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> +Duchesse de Melun to ask him questions about me. And +I'd rather not think about that possibility, or anything +else disagreeable, to spoil this heavenly waltz."</p> + +<p>"You <i>can</i> dance a little, can't you?" said Jack, in a tone +and with a look that made the words better than any +compliment any other man had ever paid me on my dancing, +though I'd been likened to feathers, and vine-tendrils, +and various poetically airy things.</p> + +<p>"You aren't so bad yourself, brother," I retorted, in the +same tone. "Our steps suit, don't they?"</p> + +<p>He muttered something, which sounded like "Just a +little better than anything else on earth, that's all"; but +of course it couldn't really have been what my ears tried +to make my vanity believe.</p> + +<p>When we stopped—which we didn't do while there was +music to go on with—I was conscious that people were +looking at us, and nobody with more interest than the +Duchesse de Melun. I glanced hastily away before my +eye had quite caught hers; but no female thing needs to +give a whole eye to what is going on around her. I knew, +although my back was soon turned in her direction, that +the Duchesse de Melun was talking to Lady Turnour, and +I guessed the subject of the conversation. Thank goodness, +my mistress's mind had never compassed more than +a misleading "Elise," and thank goodness, also, many of +the great folk were preparing to leave us humble ones to +ourselves, now that their condescension had been proved +in the first dance. Would the duchess go? Yes—oh +joy!—she gets up from her seat. She moves toward +the door. Lady Turnour has risen too, but sits down +again, lured by the proximity of a princess. All will be +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span>well, perhaps! The duchess mayn't think of catechizing +Bertie, now that my mistress has put her off the track. He, +with several other young men, evidently means to stop and +see the fun out. If only he would sit still, now, beside the +marquise! But no. Miss Nelson and the Duc de +Divonne are going out together. Bertie must needs jump +up and dash across the room for a word with the girl. +Discouraged by some laughing answer flung over her +shoulder, he almost bumps against the duchess. Horror! +She speaks to him quite eagerly. She puts a question. +He replies. She bends her head near to him. They walk +slowly out of the room, talking, talking. All is up with +Lys d'Angely! The next thing that Meddlesome Matty +of a duchess will do, is to wire Cousin Catherine Milvaine. +Crash! thunder—lightning—hail!—Monsieur Charretier +on my track again.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>I resolved, as I saw myself lying shattered at my own +feet, to pick up the bits and say nothing to Jack, lest he +should blame his own inadvertent dropping of my name +for all present and future mischief. Being a man, he can +see things only with his eyes; and as he happened to be +looking at me, he missed the pantomime at the other end +of the room. I was looking at him too, but of course that +didn't prevent me from seeing other things; and while I +was chatting with him, and wondering how long it might +be before the thunderbolt (Monsieur Charretier) should +fall, I received another invitation to dance. This time +it was from a delightful old boy who looked sixty and +felt twenty-one.</p> + +<p>He was ruddy-brown, with tight gray curls on his head, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>and deep dimples in his cheeks. If anyone had told me +that he was not an English admiral I should have known +it was a fib.</p> + +<p>"I hope you aren't engaged for this next waltz?" said +he. "I should like very much to have it with you." And +he spoke as nicely as he would to a young girl of his own +world, although he must have heard from someone that I +was a lady's maid.</p> + +<p>I glanced at Jack, but evidently he approved of admirals +as partners for his sister. He kept himself in the background, +smiling benevolently, and I skipped away with my +brown old sailor, as the music for the dance began.</p> + +<p>"Heard you spoke English," said he, encircling my +Directoire waist with the arm of a sea-going Hercules, +"otherwise I shouldn't have had the courage to come up +and speak to you."</p> + +<p>I laughed. "A Dreadnought afraid of a fishing-smack!"</p> + +<p>"My word, if you were a fishin'-smack, my little friend, +you wouldn't lack for fish to catch," chuckled the old +gentleman, who was waltzing like an elderly angel—as +all sailors do. Now, if Bertie had said what he said, I +should have been offended, but coming from the admiral +it cheered me up.</p> + +<p>"You <i>are</i> an admiral, aren't you?" I was bold enough +to ask.</p> + +<p>"Who told you that?" he wanted to know.</p> + +<p>"My eyes," said I.</p> + +<p>"They're bright ones," he retorted. "But I suppose +I do look an old sea-dog—what? A regular old salt-water +dog. But by George, it's hot water I've got into +to-night. D'ye see that stout lady we're just passin'?—the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span>one in the red wig and yellow frock covered with paste +or diamonds?"</p> + +<p>(If she could have heard the description! It was Lady +Turnour, in her gold tissue, her Bond Street jewellery shop, +and, my charge, her beautifully undulated, copper-tinted +transformation.)</p> + +<p>"Yes, I see her," I said faintly, as we waltzed past; and +I wondered why she was glaring.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you didn't notice me doin' the first dance +with her? Well, I asked her because they said we'd all +got to invite servants to begin with, and as the best were +snapped up before I got a chance, I walked over to her +like a man. Give you my word, where all are dressed like +duchesses, I took her for a cook."</p> + +<p>I laughed so much that I shook my feet out of time with the music.</p> + +<p>"Did you treat her like a cook, too?" I gurgled. "Ask +her to give you her favourite recipe for soup?"</p> + +<p>"Heaven forbid, no. I treated her like a countess. +One would a cook, you know. It was afterward I got +into the hot water. I popped her down in a seat when +we'd scrambled through a turn or two of the dance, and +that was all right; but instead of stoppin' where she was +put, she must have stood up with some other poor chap +when my back was turned, and been plamped down +somewhere else. Anyhow, I danced the end of the waltz +with the Marquise de Roquemartine, when she'd finished +doin' the polite to the butler, and when we sat down to +breathe at last, for the sake of somethin' to say I asked if +the fat lady in yellow was her own cook, or a visitor's cook. +Anyhow, I was certain of the <i>cook</i>: fancied myself on +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span>spottin' a cook anywhere. Well, the marquise giggled +'Take care!' and nearly had a fit. And if there wasn't +my late partner close to my shoulder. 'That's Lady +Turnour, one of my guests,' said the marquise. Little +witch, she looked more pleased than shocked; but 'pon my +honour, you could have knocked me down with a feather. +I hope the good lady didn't hear, but my friends tell me I +talk as if I were yellin' through a megaphone, so I'm +afraid she got the news."</p> + +<p>"What did you do?" I gasped.</p> + +<p>"Do? I jumped up as if I'd been shot, and trotted +over to ask you to dance. But I expect it will get about."</p> + +<p>Now I knew why Lady Turnour had glared. Poor +woman! I was really sorry for her—on this, her happy night!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + + +<p>"It never rains, but it pours, after dry weather," +says Pamela de Nesle. And so it was for the +Turnour family. They had had their run of +luck, and everything determinedly went wrong for them +that night.</p> + +<p>For her ladyship, there was the dreadful douche of the +admiral's mistake, and the Marquise de Roquemartine's +coming to hear of it. (Wicked little witch, I'm sure she +couldn't resist telling the story to everyone!) For Bertie, +the blow of an announcement, before the ball was over, +that Miss Nelson was going to marry the Duc de Divonne +(she went out of the room to get engaged to him). For +Sir Samuel, a telegram from his London solicitors advising +him to hurry home and straighten out some annoying +business tangle.</p> + +<p>After all, however, I doubt that the telegram ought to be +classed among disasters, as it gave the family a good excuse +to escape without delay from the château which they had +so much wished to enter.</p> + +<p>Lady Turnour had hysterics in her bedroom, having +retired early on account of a "headache." She pretended +that her rage was caused by a rent in her golden train, +made by "that clumsy Admiral Gray who came over with +the Frasers, and had the impudence to almost <i>force</i> me to +dance with him—gouty old horror!" But I know it was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span>the rent in her vanity, not her dress, which made her gurgle, +and wail, and choke, until frightened Sir Samuel patted +her on the back, and she stopped short, to scold him.</p> + +<p>Bertie came in, ostensibly to learn his father's plans, +but really, I surmised, to suggest some of his own; and +Lady Turnour relieved her feelings by stirring up evil ones +in him. "So sure you were going to get the girl! Why, +you wrote your stepfather the other day, you were practically +engaged," she sneered, delighted that she was not the +only one who had suffered humiliations at the castle.</p> + +<p>"If she hadn't seen you, I believe it would have been all +right," growled Bertie, vicious as a chained dog who has +lost his bone. And then Lady Turnour had hysterics all +over again, and Sir Samuel told Bertie that he was an +ungrateful young brute. The three raged together, and I +could not go, because I had to hold sal-volatile under her +ladyship's nose. Lady Turnour said that the marquise +was no lidy, and for her part she was glad she wasn't going +to have that cat of a sister in <i>her</i> family. She'd leave the +beastly chattoe that night, if she could; but anyhow, she'd +go the first thing in the morning as ever was, so there! +People that let their visitors be insulted, and did nothing +but laugh!—<i>She'd</i> show them, if they ever came to London, +<i>that</i> she would, though she mightn't be a marquise +herself, exactly. Not one of the lot should ever be invited +to her house, not if they were all married to Bertie. And +who was Bertie, anyhow?</p> + +<p>Sir Samuel said 'darling' to her, and quite different +words that began with "d" to his stepson; and Bertie, +seeing the error of his ways, apologized humbly. His +apologies were eventually accepted; and when he had +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span>intimated to her ladyship that she should be introduced to +all his "swell friends" in England, it was settled that he +should make one of the party in the car, his valet travelling +by train. As this arrangement completed itself, Mr. +Bertie suddenly remembered my presence, and flashed me +a look of triumph.</p> + +<p>I, listening silently, had been rejoicing in the development +of the situation as far as I was concerned; for the +sooner we got away from the château, the less likely was +Monsieur Charretier to succeed in catching us up. But +when I heard that we were to have Bertie with us, my +heart sank, especially as his look told me that I counted +for something in his plan. The chauffeur counted for +something, too, I feared. In any case, the rest of the tour +was spoiled, and if it hadn't been for the thought that +when it was over, Jack and I might meet no more, I should +have wished it cut short.</p> + +<p>Good-byes were perfunctory in the morning, and +nobody seemed heartbroken at parting from the Turnour +family. The big luggage, packed early and in haste, +was sent on to Paris; and when the chauffeur had disposed +of Bertie's additions to the Aigle's load, hostilities began.</p> + +<p>"Put down that seat for me," said Mr. Stokes to Mr. +Dane, indicating one of the folding chairs in the glass +cage, and carefully waiting to do so until I was within eye +and earshot.</p> + +<p>They glared at each other like two tigers, for an instant, +and then Jack put the seat down—I knew why. A +refusal on his part to do such a service for his master's +stepson would mean that he must resign or be discharged—and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span>leave me to deal unaided with a cad. I think +Bertie knew, too, why he was unhesitatingly obeyed; +and racked his brain for further tests. It was not long +before he had a brilliant idea.</p> + +<p>The car stopped at a level crossing, to let a train go +by, and Bertie availed himself of the opportunity to +get out.</p> + +<p>"Sir Samuel's going' to let me try my hand at drivin'," +said he. "I don't think much of your form, and I've +been tellin' him so. My best pal is a director of the +Aigle company, and I've driven his car a lot of times. +Her ladyship will let Elise sit inside, and I'll watch your +style a bit before I take the wheel."</p> + +<p>Not a word said Jack. He didn't even look at me as +he helped me down from the seat which had been mine +for so many happy days. I crept miserably into the +stuffy glass cage, where, in the folding chair, I sat as far +forward as my own shape and the car's allowed; Sir +Samuel's fat knees in my back, Lady Turnour's sharp +voice in my ears. And for scenery, I had Bertie's aggressive +shoulders and supercilious gesticulations.</p> + +<p>The road to Nevers I scarcely saw. I think it was +flat; but Bertie's driving made it play cup and ball +with the car in a curious way, which a good chauffeur +could hardly have managed if he tried. We passed +Riom, Gannat, Aigueperse, I know; and at Moulins, +in the valley of the Allier, we lunched in a hurry. To +Nevers we came early, but it was there we were to stop +for the night, and there we did stop, in a drizzle of rain +which prevented sight-seeing for those who had the wish, +and the freedom, to go about. As for me, I was ordered +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span>by Lady Turnour to mend Mr. Stokes's socks, he having +made peace by offering to "give her a swagger dinner +in town."</p> + +<p>Bertie's cleverness was not confined to ingratiating +himself with her ladyship. He contrived adroitly to +damage the steering-gear by grazing a wall as he turned +the Aigle into the hotel courtyard, and by this feat disposed +of the chauffeur's evening, which was spent in +hard work at the garage. Such dinner as Jack got, he ate +there, in the shape of a furtive sandwich or two, otherwise +we should not have been able to leave in the +morning at the early hour suggested by Mr. Stokes.</p> + +<p>Warned by the incidents of yesterday, Sir Samuel +desired his chauffeur to take the wheel again from Nevers +to Paris. But—no doubt with the view of keeping us +apart, and devising new tortures for his enemy—Bertie +elected to play Wolf to Jack's Spartan Boy, and sit beside +him. This relegated me to the cage again, with back-massage +from Sir Samuel's knees.</p> + +<p>Before Fontainebleau, I found myself in a familiar +land. As far as Montargis I had motored with the +Milvaines more than once, conducted by Monsieur +Charretier, in a great car which might have been mine +if I had accepted it, not "with a pound of tea," but with +two hundred pounds of millionaire. I knew the lovely +valley of the Loing, and the forest which makes the +world green and shadowy from Bourrau to Fontainebleau, +a world where poetry and history clasp hands. I should +have had plenty to say about it all to Jack, if we had been +together, but I was still inside the car, and by this time +Bertie had induced his stepfather to consent to his driving +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span>again. He pleaded that there had been something wrong +with the ignition yesterday. That was why the car had +not gone well. It had not been his fault at all. Sir +Samuel, always inclined to say "Yes" rather than "No" +to one he loved, said "Yes" to Bertie, and had cause +to regret it. Close to Fontainebleau Mr. Stokes saw +another car, with a pretty girl in it. The car was going +faster than ours, as it was higher powered and had a +lighter load. Naturally, being himself, it occurred to +Bertie that it would be well to show the pretty girl what +he could do. We were going up hill, as it happened, and +he changed speed with a quick, fierce crash. The Aigle +made a sound as if she were gritting her teeth, shivered, +and began to run back. Bertie, losing his head, tried a +lower speed, which had no effect, and Lady Turnour had +begun to shriek when Jack leaned across and put on the +hand-brake. The car stopped, just in time not to run +down a pony cart full of children.</p> + +<p>No wonder the poor dear Aigle had gritted her teeth! +Several of them turned out to be broken in the gear box.</p> + +<p>"We're done!" said Jack. "She'll have to be towed +to the nearest garage. Pity we couldn't have got on to Paris."</p> + +<p>"Can't you put in some false teeth?" suggested Lady +Turnour, at which Bertie laughed, and was thereupon +reproached for the accident, as he well deserved to be.</p> + +<p>Then the question was what should be the next step +for the passengers. I expected to be trotted reluctantly +on to Paris by train, leaving Jack behind to find a "tow," +and see the dilemma through to an end of some sort, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span>but to my joyful surprise Bertie used all his wiles upon +the family to induce them to stop at Fontainebleau. +It was a beautiful place, he argued, and they would like +it so much, that they would come to think the breakdown +a blessing in disguise. In any case, he had intended +advising them to pause for tea, and to stay the night if +they cared for the place. They would find a good hotel, +practically in the forest; and he had an acquaintance +who owned a château near by, a very important sort +of chap, who knew everybody worth knowing in French +society. If the Governor and "Lady T." liked, he would +go dig his friend up, and bring him round to call. Maybe +they'd all be invited to the château for dinner. The +man had a lot of motors and would send one for them, +very likely—perhaps would even lend a car to take +them on to Paris to-morrow morning.</p> + +<p>I listened to these arguments and suggestions with a +creepy feeling in the roots of my hair, for I, too, have +an "acquaintance" who owns a château near Fontainebleau: +a certain Monsieur Charretier. He, also, +has a "lot of motors" and would, I knew, if he were "in +residence" be delighted to lend a car and extend an +invitation to dinner, if informed that Lys d'Angely was +of the party. Could it be, I thought, that Mr. Stokes +was acquainted with Monsieur Charretier, or that, not +being acquainted, he had heard something from the +Duchesse de Melun, and was making a little experiment with me?</p> + +<p>Perhaps I imagined it, but it seemed that he glanced +my way triumphantly, when Lady Turnour agreed to +stay in the hope of meeting the nameless, but important, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span>friend; and I felt that, whatever happened, I must have +a word of advice from Jack.</p> + +<p>The discussion had taken place in the road, or rather, +at the side of the road, where the combined exertions +of Jack and Bertie had pushed the wounded Aigle. The +chauffeur, having examined the car and pronounced her +helpless, walked back to interview a carter we had passed +not long before, with the view of procuring a tow. Now, +just as the discussion was decided in favour of stopping +over night at Fontainebleau, he appeared again, in the cart.</p> + +<p>We were so near the hotel in the woods that we could +be towed there in half an hour, and, ignominious as the +situation was, Lady Turnour preferred it to the greater +evil of walking. I remained in the car with her, the +chauffeur steered, the carter towed, and Sir Samuel and +his stepson started on in advance, on foot.</p> + +<p>At the hotel Jack was to leave us, and be towed to a +garage; but, in desperation, I murmured an appeal as +he gave me an armful of rugs. "I <i>must</i> ask you about +something," I whispered. "Can you come back in a +little less than an hour, and look for me in the woods, +somewhere just out of sight of the hotel?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said. "I can and will. You may depend on me."</p> + +<p>That was all, but I was comforted, and the rugs became +suddenly light.</p> + +<p>Rooms were secured, great stress being laid upon a +good sitting-room (in case the important friend should +call), and I unpacked as usual. When my work was +done, I asked her ladyship's permission to go out for a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span>little while. She looked suspicious, clawed her brains +for an excuse to refuse, but, as there wasn't a buttonless +glove, or a holey stocking among the party, she +reluctantly gave me leave. I darted away, plunged +into the forest, and did not stop walking until I had got +well out of sight of the hotel. Then I sat down on a +mossy log under a great tree, and looked about for Jack.</p> + +<p>A man was coming. I jumped up eagerly, and went to +meet him as he appeared among the trees.</p> + +<p>It was Mr. Herbert Stokes.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2> + + +<p>"I followed you," he said.</p> + +<p>"I thought so," said I. "It was like you."</p> + +<p>"I want to talk to you," he explained.</p> + +<p>"But I don't want to talk to you," I objected.</p> + +<p>"You'll be sorry if you're rude. What I came to +say is for your own good."</p> + +<p>"I doubt that!" said I, looking anxiously down one +avenue of trees after another, for a figure that would +have been doubly welcome now.</p> + +<p>"Well, I can easily prove it, if you'll listen."</p> + +<p>"As you have longer legs than I have, I am obliged to listen."</p> + +<p>"You won't regret it. Now, come, my dear little +girl, don't put on any more frills with me. I'm gettin' +a bit fed up with 'em."</p> + +<p>(I should have liked to choke him with a whole mouthful +of "frills," the paper kind you put on ham at Christmas; +but as I had none handy, I thought it would only +lead to undignified controversy to allude to them.)</p> + +<p>"I had a little conversation about you with the Duchesse +de Melun night before last," Bertie went on, with evident +relish. "Ah, I thought that would make you blush. I +say, you're prettier than ever when you do that! It was +she began it. She asked me if I knew your name, and +how Lady T. found you. Her Ladyship couldn't get any +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span>further than 'Elise,' for, if she knew any more, she'd +forgotten it; but thanks to your friend the shuvver, I +could go one better. When I told the duchess you called +yourself d'Angely, or something like that, she said 'I was +sure of it!' Now, I expect you begin to smell a rat—what?"</p> + +<p>"I daresay you've been carrying one about in your +pocket ever since," I snapped, "though I can't think +what it has to do with me. I'm not interested in dead rats."</p> + +<p>"This is your own rat," said Bertie, grinning. +"What'll you give to know what the duchess told me about you?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," I said.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, I'll be generous and let you have it for +nothing. She told me she thought she recognized you, +but until she heard the name, she supposed she must be +mistaken; that it was only a remarkable resemblance +between my stepmother's maid and a girl who'd run +away under very peculiar circumstances from the house +of a friend of hers. What do you think of that?"</p> + +<p>"That the duchess is a cat," I replied, promptly.</p> + +<p>"Most women are."</p> + +<p>"In <i>your</i> set, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"She said there was a man mixed up with the story, +a rich middle-aged chap of the name of Charretier, with +a big house in Paris and a new château he'd built, near +Fontainebleau. She gave me a card to him."</p> + +<p>"He's sure not to be at home," I remarked.</p> + +<p>Bertie's face fell; but he brightened again. "Anyhow +you admit you know him."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span>"One has all sorts of acquaintances," I drawled, with +a shrug of my shoulders.</p> + +<p>"You're a sly little kitten—if you're not a cat. You +heard me say I thought of calling at the château."</p> + +<p>"And you heard me say the owner wasn't at home."</p> + +<p>"You seem well acquainted with his movements."</p> + +<p>"I happened to see him, on his way south, at Avignon, +some days ago."</p> + +<p>"Did he see you?"</p> + +<p>"Isn't that my affair—and his?"</p> + +<p>"By Jove—you've got good cheek, to talk like this +to your mistress's stepson! But maybe you think you +won't have difficulty in finding a place that pays you +better—what?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't find one to pay me much worse."</p> + +<p>"Look here, my dear, I'm not out huntin' for repartee. +I want to have an understanding with you."</p> + +<p>"I don't see why."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you do, well enough. You know I like you—in +spite of your impudence."</p> + +<p>"And I dislike you because of yours. Oh, do go +away and leave me, Mr. Stokes."</p> + +<p>"I won't. I've got a lot to say to you. I've only +just begun, but you keep interruptin' me, and I can't +get ahead."</p> + +<p>"Finish then."</p> + +<p>"Well, what I want to say is this. I always meant we +should stop at Fontainebleau."</p> + +<p>"Oh—you damaged your stepfather's car on purpose! +He would be obliged to you."</p> + +<p>"Not quite that. I intended to get them to have tea +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span>here, and while they were moonin' about I was going to +have a chat with you. I was goin' to tell you about that +card to Charretier, and somethin' else. That the +duchess asked me where we would stop in Paris, and I +told her at the best there is, of course—Hotel Athenée. +She said she'd wire her friends you'd run away from, +that they could find you there; and if Charretier wasn't at +Fontainebleau when we passed through, these people +would certainly know where to get at him. I warned +you the other night, didn't I? that if you wouldn't +be good and confide in me I'd find out what you +refused to tell me yourself; and I have, you see. Clever, +aren't I?"</p> + +<p>"You're the hatefullest man I ever <i>heard</i> of!" I flung +at him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say! Don't speak too soon. You don't +know all yet. If you don't want me to, I won't call on +Charretier. Lady T. and her tuft-huntin' can go hang! +And you shan't stop at the Athenée to be copped by the +Duchess's friends, if you don't like. That's what I +wanted to see you about. To tell you it all depends on yourself."</p> + +<p>"How does it depend on myself?" I asked, cautiously.</p> + +<p>"All you have to do, to get off scot free is to be a +little kind to poor Bertie. You can begin by givin' him +a kiss, here in the poetic and what-you-may-call-'em +forest of Fontainebleau."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't kiss you if you were made of gold and +diamonds, and I could have you melted down to spend!" +I exclaimed. And as I delivered this ultimatum, I +turned to run. His legs might be longer than mine, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> +I weighed about one-third as much as he, which was in +my favour if I chose to throw dignity to the winds.</p> + +<p>As I whisked away from him, he caught me by the +dress, and I heard the gathers rip. I had to stop. I +couldn't arrive at the hotel without a skirt.</p> + +<p>"You're a cad—a <i>cad</i>!" I stammered.</p> + +<p>"And you're a fool. Look here, I can lose you your +job and have you sent to the prison where naughty girls +go. See what I've got in my pocket."</p> + +<p>Still grasping my frock, he scooped something out of +an inner pocket of his coat, and held it for me to +look at, in the hollow of his palm. I gave a little cry. +It was Lady Turnour's gorgeous bursting sun.</p> + +<p>"I nicked that off the dressin' table the other night, +when you weren't looking. Has Lady T. been askin' for it?"</p> + +<p>"No," I answered, speaking more to myself than to +him. "She—she's had too much to think of. She +didn't count her things that night; and at Nevers she +didn't open the bag."</p> + +<p>"So much the worse for you, my pet, when she does +find out. She left her jewels in your charge. When I +came into the room, they were all lyin' about on the dressin' +table, and you were playin' with 'em."</p> + +<p>"I was putting them back into her bag."</p> + +<p>"So you say. Jolly careless of you not to know +you hadn't put this thing back. It's about the +best of the lot she hadn't got plastered on for the +servants' ball."</p> + +<p>"It was careless," I admitted. "But it was your +fault. You came in, and were so horrid, and upset me +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span>so much that I forgot what I'd put into the bag already, +and what I hadn't."</p> + +<p>"Lady T. doesn't know I went back to her room."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell her!" I cried.</p> + +<p>"I'll bet you'll tell her, right enough. But I can +tell a different story. I'll say I didn't go near the +room. My story will be that I was walkin' through the +woods this afternoon on my way to Charretier's château +when I saw you with the thing in your hands, lookin' at +it. Probably goin' to ask the shuvver to dispose of it +for you—what? and share profits."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you coward!" I exclaimed, and snatched the +diamond brooch from him.</p> + +<p>Instantly he let go my dress, laughing.</p> + +<p>"<i>That's</i> right! That's what I wanted," he said. +"Now you've got it, and you can keep it. I'll tell Lady +T. where to look for it—unless you'll change your mind, +and give me that kiss."</p> + +<p>I was so angry, so stricken with horror and a kind of +nightmare fear which I had not time to analyze, that +I stood silent, trembling all over, with the brooch in my +hand. How silly I had been to play his game for him, +just like the poor stupid cat who pulled the hot chestnut +out of the fire! I don't think any chestnut could ever +have been as hot as that bursting sun!</p> + +<p>I wanted to drop it in the grass, or throw it as far as +I could see it, but dared not, because it would be my +fault that it was lost, and Lady Turnour would believe +Bertie's story all the more readily. She would think he +had seen me with the jewel, and that I'd hidden it because +I was afraid of what he might do.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span>"To kiss, or not to kiss. <i>That's</i> the question," +laughed Bertie.</p> + +<p>"Is it?" said Jack. And Jack's hand, inside Mr. Stokes's +beautiful, tall collar, shook Bertie back and forth +till his teeth chattered like castanets, and his good-looking +pink face grew more and more like a large, boiled +beetroot.</p> + +<p>I had seen Jack coming, long enough to have counted +ten before he came. But I didn't count ten. I just let him come.</p> + +<p>Bertie could not speak: he could only gurgle. And +if I had been a Roman lady in the amphitheatre of Nîmes, +or somewhere, I'm afraid I should have wanted to turn +my thumb down.</p> + +<p>"What was the beast threatening you with?" Jack +wanted to know.</p> + +<p>"The beast was threatening to make Lady Turnour +think I'd stolen this brooch, which he'd taken himself," +I panted, through the beatings of my heart.</p> + +<p>"If you didn't kiss him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. And he was going to do lots of other horrid +things, too. Tell Monsieur Charretier—and let my +cousins come and find me at the Hotel Athenée, in Paris, and—"</p> + +<p>"He won't do any of them. But there are several +things I am going to do to him. Go away, my child. +Run off to the house, as quick as you can."</p> + +<p>I gasped. "What are you going to do to him?"</p> + +<p>"Don't worry. I shan't hurt him nearly as much as +he deserves. I'm only going to do what the Head must +have neglected to do to him at school."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 383px;"> +<a id="image4" name="image4"></a> +<hr /> +<a href="images/page328L.jpg"> +<img src="images/page328.jpg" width="383" height="600" + alt="Jack's hand, inside Mr. Stokes's beautiful, tall collar..." + title="Jack's hand, inside Mr. Stokes's beautiful, tall collar..." +/> +</a> + +<p class="caption">“Jack's hand, inside Mr. Stokes's +beautiful, tall collar, shook Bertie back and forth until his +teeth chattered like castanets” +</p> + +<hr /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span>Bertie had come out into the woods with a neat little +stick, which during part of our conversation he had +tucked jauntily under his arm. It now lay on the ground. +I saw Jack glance at it.</p> + +<p>"Ah!"—I faltered. "Do—do you think you'd <i>better</i>?"</p> + +<p>"I know I had. Go, child."</p> + +<p>I went.</p> + +<p>I had great faith in Jack, faith that he knew what +was best for everyone.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> + + +<p>Unfortunately I forgot to ask for +instructions as to how I should behave when I +came to the hotel. And I had the bursting sun +still in my hand.</p> + +<p>I thought things over, as well as I could with a pounding +pulse for every square inch in my body.</p> + +<p>If I were a rabbit, I could scurry into my hole and +"lay low" while other people fought out their destiny +and arranged mine; but being a girl, tingling with my +share of American pluck, and blazing with French fire, +rabbits seemed to me at the instant only worthy of being +made into pie.</p> + +<p>Bertie, at this moment, was being made into pie—humble +pie; and I don't doubt that the chauffeur, whom +he had consistently tortured (because of me) would make +him eat a large slice of himself when the humble pie was +finished—also because of me. And because it was +because of me, I knocked at the Turnours' sitting-room +door with a bold, brave knock, as if I thought myself +their social equal.</p> + +<p>They had had tea, and were sitting about, looking graceful +in the expectation of seeing Bertie and his French friend.</p> + +<p>It was a disappointment to her ladyship to see only +me, and she showed it with a frown, but Sir Samuel +looked up kindly, as usual.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span>I laid the bursting sun on the table, and told them +everything, very fast, without pausing to take breath, +so that they wouldn't have time to stop me. But I +didn't begin with the bursting sun, or even with the beating +that Bertie was enjoying in the woods; I began with +the Princess Boriskoff, and Lady Kilmarny; and I +addressed Sir Samuel, from beginning to end. Somehow, +I felt I had his sympathy, even when I rushed at the most +embarrassing part, which concerned his stepson and +the necktie.</p> + +<p>Just as I'd told about the brooch, and Bertie's threat, +and was coming to his punishment, another knock at +the door produced the two young men, both pale, but +Jack with a noble pallor, while Bertie's was the sick +paleness of pain and shame.</p> + +<p>"I've brought him to apologize to Miss d'Angely, +in your presence, Sir Samuel, and Lady Turnour's," +said the chauffeur. "I see you know something of the story."</p> + +<p>"They know all now," said I. For Bertie's face +proved the truth of my words, if they had needed proof. +His eyes were swimming in tears, and he looked like a +whipped school-boy.</p> + +<p>But suddenly a whim roused her ladyship to speak +up in his defence—or at least to criticize the chauffeur +for presuming to take her stepson's chastisement into +his hands.</p> + +<p>"What right have you to set yourself up as Elise's +champion, anyway?" she demanded, shrilly. "Have +you and she been getting engaged to each other behind +our backs?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span>"It would be my highest happiness to be engaged +to Miss d'Angely if she would marry me," said Jack, +with such a splendidly sincere ring in his voice that I +could almost have believed him if I hadn't known he was +in love with another woman. "But I am no match for +her. It's only as her friend that I have acted in her +defence, as any decent man has a right to act when a +lady is insulted."</p> + +<p>Then Bertie apologized, in a dull voice, with his eyes +on the ground, and mumbled a kind of confession, +mixed with self-justification. He had pocketed the +brooch, yes, meaning to play a trick, but had intended +no harm, only a little fun—pretty girl—lady's-maids +didn't usually mind a bit of a flirtation and a present +or two; how was he to know this one was different? +Sorry if he had caused annoyance; could say no more—and +so on, and so on, until I stopped him, having heard enough.</p> + +<p>Poor Sir Samuel was crestfallen, but not too utterly +crushed to reproach his bride with unwonted sharpness, +when she would have scolded me for carelessness +in not putting the brooch away. "Let the girl alone!" +he grumbled, "she's a very good girl, and has behaved +well. I wish I could say the same of others nearer to me."</p> + +<p>"Of course, Sir Samuel, after what's happened, you +wouldn't want me to stay in your employ, any more +than I would want to stay," said Jack. "Unfortunately +the Aigle will be hung up two or three days, till new pinions +can be fitted in, at the garage. I can send them out +from Paris, if you like; but no doubt you'll prefer to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span>have my engagement with you to come to an end to-day. +Mr. Stokes has driven the car, and can again."</p> + +<p>"Not if I have anything to say about it," murmured +her ladyship. "Scattering the poor thing's teeth all over +the place!"</p> + +<p>"There are plenty of good chauffeurs to be got at short +notice in Paris," Jack suggested, "and you are certain +to find one by the time you're ready to start."</p> + +<p>"You're right, Dane. We'll have to part company," +said Sir Samuel. "As for Elise here—"</p> + +<p>"She'll have to go too," broke in her ladyship. "It's +most inconvenient, and all your stepson's fault—though +she's far from blameless, in my humble opinion, whatever +yours may be. Don't tell me that a young man will go +about flirting with lady's maids unless they encourage him!"</p> + +<p>"I shall leave of course, immediately," said I, my ears tingling.</p> + +<p>"Who wants you to do anything else? Though nobody +cares for <i>my</i> convenience. <i>I</i> can always go to the wall. +But thank heaven there are maids in Paris as well as +chauffeurs. And talking of that combination, my advice +to you is, if Dane's willing to have you, don't turn up your +nose at him, but marry him as quickly as you can. I +suppose even in your class of life there's such a thing as +<i>gossip</i>."</p> + +<p>I was scarlet. Somehow I got out of the room, and +while I was scurrying my few belongings into my dressing +bag, and spreading out the red satin frock to leave as a +legacy to Lady Turnour (in any case, nothing could have +induced me to wear it again), Sir Samuel sent me up an +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span>envelope containing a month's wages, and something +over. I enclosed the "something over" in another +envelope, with a grateful line of refusal, and sent it back.</p> + +<p>Thus ends my experience as a motor maid!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>What was going to become of me I didn't know, but +while I was jamming in hatpins and praying for ideas, +there came a knock at the door. A pencilled note from +the late chauffeur, signed hastily, "Yours ever, J.D.," +and inviting me down to the couriers' dining-room for a +conference. There would be no one there but ourselves +at this hour, he said, and we should be able to talk over +our plans in peace.</p> + +<p>What a place to say farewell forever to the only man I +ever had, could or would love—a couriers' dining room, +with grease spots on the tablecloth! However, there was +no help for it, since I was facing the world with fifty francs, +and could not afford to pay for a romantic background.</p> + +<p>After all that had happened, and especially after certain +impertinent references made to our private affairs, I felt +a new and very embarrassing shyness in meeting the man +with whom I'd been playing that pleasant little game +called "brother and sister." He was waiting for me in +the couriers' room, which was even dingier and had more +grease spots than I had fancied, and I hurried into speech +to cover my nervousness.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how I'm going to thank you for all +you've done for me," I stammered. "That horrible Bertie—"</p> + +<p>"Let's not talk of him," said Jack. "Put him out +of your mind for ever. He has no place there, or in your +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span>life—and no more have any of the incidents that led +up to him. You've had a very bad time of it, poor little +girl, and now—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I haven't," I exclaimed. "I've been happier +than ever before in my life. That is—I—it was all +so novel, and like a play—"</p> + +<p>"Well, now the play's over," Jack broke in, pitying +my evident embarrassment. "I wanted to ask you if +you'd let me advise and perhaps help you. We <i>have</i> +been brother and sister, you know. Nothing can take +that away from us."</p> + +<p>"No," said I, in a queer little voice. "Nothing can."</p> + +<p>"You want to go to England, I know," he went on. +"And—if you'll forgive my taking liberties, you haven't +much money in hand, you've almost told me. I suppose +you haven't changed your mind about your relations in +Paris? You wouldn't like to go back to them, or write, +and tell them firmly that you won't marry the person they +seem to have set their hearts on for you? That you've +made your own choice, and intend to abide by it; but that +if they'll be sensible and receive you, you're willing to +stop with them until—until the man in England—"</p> + +<p>"<i>What</i> man in England?" I cut him short, in utter +bewilderment.</p> + +<p>"Why, the—er—you didn't tell me his name, of +course, but that rich chap you expected to meet when +you got over to England. Don't you think it would be +better if he came to you at your cousins', if they—"</p> + +<p>"There <i>isn't</i> any 'rich chap'," I exclaimed. "I don't +know what you mean—oh, <i>yes</i>, I do, too. I did speak +about someone who was very rich, and would be kind to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span>me. I rather think—I remember now—I <i>guessed</i> you +imagined it was a man; but that seemed the greatest joke, +so I didn't try to undeceive you. Fancy your believing +that, all this time, though, and thinking about it!"</p> + +<p>"I've thought of it on an average once every three +minutes," said Jack.</p> + +<p>"You're chaffing now, of course. Why, the person I +hoped might be kind to me in England is an old lady—oh, +but such a funny old lady!—who wanted me to be +her companion, and said, no matter when I came, if it +were years from now, I must let her know, for she would +like to have me with her to help chase away a dragon of +a maid she's afraid of. I met her only once, in the train +the night before I arrived at Cannes; but she and I got +to be the greatest friends, and her bulldog, Beau—."</p> + +<p>"Her bulldog, Beau!"</p> + +<p>"A perfect lamb, though he looks like a cross between +a crocodile and a gnome. The old lady's name is Miss Paget—"</p> + +<p>"My aunt!"</p> + +<p>I stared at Jack, not knowing how to take this exclamation. +The few Englishmen I met when mamma and I +were together, or when I lived with the Milvaines, were +rather fond of using that ejaculation when it was +apparently quite irrelevant. If you told a youthful +Englishman that you were not allowed to walk or +bicycle alone in the Bois, he was as likely as not to +say "My aunt!" In fact, whatever surprised him was +apt to elicit this cry. I have known several young men +who gave vent to it at intervals of from half to +three-quarters of an hour; but I had never before heard Jack +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span>make the exclamation, so when I had looked at him and +he had looked at me in an emotional kind of silence for a +few seconds, I asked him, "Why 'My aunt'?"</p> + +<p>"Because she is my aunt."</p> + +<p>"Surely not my Miss Paget?"</p> + +<p>"I should think it highly improbable that your Miss +Paget and my Miss Paget could be the same, if you +hadn't mentioned her bulldog, Beau. There can't be a +quantity of Miss Pagets going about the world with bulldogs +named Beau. Only my Miss Paget never does go +about the world. She hates travelling."</p> + +<p>"So does mine. She said that being in a train was +no pursuit for a gentlewoman."</p> + +<p>"That sounds like her. She's quite mad."</p> + +<p>"She seemed very kind."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad she did—to you. She has seemed rather +the contrary to me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, what did she do to you?"</p> + +<p>"Did her best to spoil my life, that's all—with the +best intentions, no doubt. Still, by Jove, I thank her! +If it hadn't been for my aunt I should never have seen—my sister."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. You're always kind—and polite. Do +you mean it was because of <i>her</i> you took to what you call +'shuvving'?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly."</p> + +<p>"But I thought—I thought—"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"I—don't dare tell you."</p> + +<p>"I should think you might know by this time that you +can tell me anything. You <i>must</i> tell me!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span>"I thought it was the beautiful lady who was with +you the first time you saw the battlement garden at +Beaucaire, who ruined your life?"</p> + +<p>"Beautiful lady—battlement garden? Good heavens, +what extraordinary things we seem to have been thinking +about each other: I with my man in England; you with +your beautiful lady—"</p> + +<p>"She's a different thing. You <i>talked</i> to me about +her," I insisted. "Surely you must remember?"</p> + +<p>"I remember the conversation perfectly. I didn't +explain my meaning as a professor demonstrates a rule +in higher mathematics, but I thought you couldn't help +understanding well enough, especially a vain little thing +like you."</p> + +<p>"I, vain? Oh!"</p> + +<p>"You are, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>"I—well, I'm afraid I am, a little."</p> + +<p>"You could never have looked in the glass if you +weren't. Didn't you see, or guess, that I was talking +about an Ideal whom I had conjured into being, as a +desirable companion in that garden? I can't understand +from the way the conversation ran, how you could +have helped it. When I first went to the battlement +garden I was several years younger, steeped with the +spirit of Provence and full of thoughts of Nicolete. I +was just sentimental enough to imagine that such a girl +as Nicolete was with me there, and always afterward I +associated the vision of the Ideal with that garden. I +said to myself, that I should like to come there again +with that Ideal in the flesh. And then—then I did +come again—with you."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span>"But you said—you thought of her always—that +because you couldn't have her—or something of +the sort—"</p> + +<p>"Well, all that was no surprise to you, was it? You +must have known perfectly well—ever since that night +at Avignon when you let your hair down, anyhow, if not +before, that I was trying desperately hard not to be an +idiot about you—and not exactly radiant with joy in +the thought that whoever the man was who would get +you, it couldn't be I?"</p> + +<p>"O-oh!" I breathed a long, heavenly breath, that +seemed to let all the sorrows and worries pour out of my +heart, as the air rushed out of my lungs. "O-oh, you +<i>can't</i> mean, truly and really, that you're in love with +Me, can you?"</p> + +<p>"Surely it isn't news to you."</p> + +<p>"I should think it was!" I exclaimed, rapturously. +"Oh, I'm so happy!"</p> + +<p>"Another scalp—though a humble one?"</p> + +<p>"Don't be a beast. I'm so horribly in love with you, +you know. It's been hurting so <i>dreadfully</i>."</p> + +<p>Then I rather think he said "My darling!" but I'm +not quite sure, for I was so busy falling into his arms, +and he was holding me so very, very tightly.</p> + +<p>We stayed like that for a long time, not saying anything, +and not even thinking, but feeling—feeling. +And the couriers' dining-room was a princess's boudoir +in an enchanted palace. The grease spots were stars and +moons that had rolled out of heaven to see how two poor +mortals looked when they were perfectly happy. Just a +poor chauffeur and a motor maid: but the world was theirs.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII</h2> + + +<p>After a while we talked again, and explained all +the cross-purposes to each other, with the most +interesting pauses in between the explanations. +And Jack told me about himself, and Miss Paget.</p> + +<p>It seems that her only sister was his mother, and she +had been in love with his father before he met the sister. +The father's name was Claud, and Jack was named +after him. It was Miss Paget's favourite name, because +of the man she had loved. But the first Claud wasn't +very lucky. He lost all his own money and most of his +wife's, and died in South America, where he'd gone in +the hope of making more. Then the wife, Jack's mother, +died too, while he was at Eton. After that Miss Paget's +house was his home. Whenever he was extravagant at +Oxford, as he was sometimes, she would pay his debts +quite happily, and tell him that everything she had would +be his some day, so he was not to bother about money. +Accordingly, he didn't bother, but lived rather a lazy +life—so he said—and enjoyed himself. A couple of +years before I met him he got interested, through a +friend, in a newly invented motor, which they both +thought would be a wonderful success. Jack tried to +get his aunt interested, too, but she didn't like the friend +who had invented it—seemed jealous of Jack's affection +for him—and refused to have anything to do with +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span>the affair. Jack had gone so far, however, while taking +her consent for granted, that he felt bound to go on; and +when Miss Paget would have nothing to do with floating +the new invention, Jack sold out the investments of his +own little fortune (all that was left of his mother's money), +putting everything at his friend's disposal. Miss Paget +was disgusted with him for doing this, and when the +motor wouldn't mote and the invention wouldn't float, +she just said, "I told you so!"</p> + +<p>It was at this time, Jack went on to tell me, that Miss +Paget bought Beau. She had had another dog, given her +by Jack, which died, and she collected Beau herself. +Only a few days after Beau's arrival, Jack went down +into the country to see his aunt and talk things over; for +she had brought him up to expect to be her heir; and as +she wanted him with her continually, as if he had been her +son, she had objected to his taking up any profession. +Now that he'd lost his own money in this unfortunate +speculation, he felt he ought to do something not to be +dependent upon her, his income of two hundred a year +having been sunk with the unfloatable motor invention. +He meant to ask Miss Paget to lend him enough to go in +as partner with another friend, who had a very thriving +motor business, and to suggest paying her back so much +a year. But everything was against him on that visit +to his aunt's country house.</p> + +<p>In the first place, she was in a very bad humour with +him, because he had gone against her wishes, and she +didn't want to hear anything more about motors or +motor business. Then, there was Beau, as a <i>tertium quid</i>.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span>Beau had been bought from a dreadful man who had +probably stolen, and certainly ill-treated him. The dog +was very young, and owing to his late owner's cruelty, +feared and hated the sight of a man. Since she had had +him Miss Paget had done her very best to spoil the poor +animal, encouraging him to growl at the men-servants, +and laughing when he frightened away any male creature +who had come about the place. While she and Jack +were arguing over money and motors, who should stroll +in but Beau, who at sight of a stranger—a man—closeted +with his indulgent mistress, flew into a rage. He +seized Jack by the trouser-leg and began to worry it, +and Jack had to choke him before the dog would let go +his grip.</p> + +<p>The sight of this dreadful deed threw Miss Paget into +hysterics. She shrieked that her nephew was cruel, +ungrateful—that he had never loved her, that he cared +only for her money, and now that he grudged her the affection +of a dog with which <i>he</i> had had nothing to do; that +the dog's dislike for him was a warning to her, and made +her see him in his true light at last. "Go—go—out of +my sight—or I'll set my poor darling at you!" she +cried, and Jack went, after saying several rather frank things.</p> + +<p>At heart he was fond of his aunt, in spite of her eccentricities, +and believed that she was of him, therefore he +expected a letter of apology for her injustice and a request +to come back. But no such letter ever arrived. Perhaps +Miss Paget thought it was <i>his</i> place to apologize, and +was waiting for him to do so. In any case, they had +never seen each other again; and after a few weeks,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span> +Jack received a formal note from his aunt's solicitor +saying that, as she realized now he had "no real +affection for her or <i>hers</i>" he need look for no future +advantages from her, but was at liberty to take up +any line of business he chose. Miss Paget would "no +longer attempt to interfere with his wishes or direct +his affairs."</p> + +<p>This must have been a pleasant letter for a penniless +young man, just robbed of all his future prospects. His +own money gone, and no hope of any to put into a profession +or business! Jack lived as he could for some +months, trying for all sorts of positions, making a few +guineas by sketches and motoring articles for newspapers, +and somehow contriving to keep out of debt. He went +to France to "write up" a great automobile race, as a +special commission; but the paper which had given the +commission—a new one devoted to the interests of motoring—suddenly +failed. Jack found himself stranded; +advertised for a position as chauffeur, and got it. There +was the history which he "hadn't inflicted on me before, +lest I should be bored."</p> + +<p>He was interested to hear of Miss Paget's journey to +Italy, and knew all about the cousin who had died, leaving +her money which she didn't need, and a castle in Italy +which she didn't want. He laughed when I told him +how the redoubtable Simpkins refused to trust herself upon +that "great nasty wet thing," which was the Channel: +but nothing could hold his attention firmly except <i>our</i> +affairs. For his affairs and my affairs were not separate +any longer. They were joined together for weal or +woe. Whatever happened, however imprudent the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span>step might be, he decided that we must be married. +We loved each other; each was the other's world, and +nothing must part us. Besides, said Jack, I needed a +protector. I had no home, and he could not have me +persecuted by creatures who produced Corn Plasters. His +idea was to take me to England at once, and have me there +promptly made Mrs. John Dane, by special licence. He +had a few pounds, and a few things which he could sell +would bring in a few more. Then, with me for an +incentive, he should get something to do that was worth doing.</p> + +<p>I said "Yes" to everything, and Jack darted away to +converse with a nice man he had met in the garage, who +had a motor, and was going to Paris almost immediately. +If he had not gone yet, perhaps he would take us.</p> + +<p>Luckily he had not gone, and he did take us. He +took us to the Gare du Nord, where we would just +have time to eat something, and catch the boat train +for Calais. We should be in London in the morning, +and Jack would apply for a special licence as early as possible.</p> + +<p>I stood guarding our humble heap of luggage, while +Jack spent his hard-earned sovereigns for our tickets, +when suddenly I heard a voice which sounded vaguely +familiar. It was broken with distress and excitement; +still I felt sure I had heard it before, and turned quickly, +exclaiming "Miss Paget!"</p> + +<p>There she was, with a dressing bag in one hand, and +a broken dog-leash in the other. Tears were running +down her fat face (not so fat as it had been) under spectacles, +and her false front was put on anyhow.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span>"Oh, my dear girl!" she wailed, without showing the +slightest sign of astonishment at sight of me. "What a +mercy you've turned up, but it's just like you. Have +you seen my Beau anywhere?"</p> + +<p>"No," I said, rather stiffly, for I couldn't forgive her +or her dog for their treatment of my Jack.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, what shall I do!" she exclaimed. "He +hates railway stations. You can't think the awful +time we've had since you left me in the train at +Cannes. And now he's broken his leash, and run +away, and I can't speak any French, except to ask +for hot water in Italian, and I don't see how I'm going +to find my darling again. They'll snatch him up, to +fling him into some terrible, murderous waggon, and +take him to a lethal home, or whatever they call it. +For heaven's sake, go and ask everybody where he +is—and if you find him you can have anything on +earth I've got, especially my Italian castle which I +can't sell. You can come to England with me and +Beau, when you've got him, and I'll make you happy +all the rest of your life. Oh, go—<i>do</i> go. I'll look +after your luggage."</p> + +<p>"It's half your own nephew's, Jack Dane's, luggage," +said I, breathless and pulsing. "I'm going to England +with him, and <i>he's</i> going to make me happy all the rest +of my life, for we mean to be married, in spite of your +cruelty which has made him poor, and turned him into a +chauffeur. But—here he comes now. And—why, +Miss Paget, there's <i>Beau</i> walking with him, without any +leash. Beau must remember him."</p> + +<p>"Beau with Jack Dane!" gasped the old lady. "Jack +Dane's found Beau? <i>Beau's</i> forgiven him! Then so +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span>will I. You can both have the Italian castle—and +everything that goes with it. And everything else that's +mine, too, except Beau."</p> + +<p>"Hello, aunt, here's your dog," said Jack.</p> + +<p>Beau licked his foot.</p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="major" /> +<p> </p> +<div style="font-size:smaller;margin:2em auto 2em auto;"> +Transcriber's note:<br /> +<br /> +In converting this book the following evident +typographical errors were corrected, causing differences from the +original:<br /> +<span class="ind2">p. 65, correct spelling of "Gaspard de Besse";</span><br /> +<span class="ind2">p. 79, correct accent in "Hyères";</span><br /> +<span class="ind2">p. 102, correct spelling of "Le Buisson Ardent";</span><br /> +<span class="ind2">p.140, insert t in "At first";</span><br /> +<span class="ind2">p. 291, change "be began" to "he began."</span> +</div> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MOTOR MAID***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 17342-h.txt or 17342-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/3/4/17342">https://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/3/4/17342</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>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. 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