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diff --git a/38020-8.txt b/38020-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9897f46 --- /dev/null +++ b/38020-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9021 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Transgression of Andrew Vane, by Guy Wetmore Carryl + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Transgression of Andrew Vane + a novel + +Author: Guy Wetmore Carryl + +Release Date: November 15, 2011 [EBook #38020] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRANSGRESSION OF ANDREW VANE *** + + + + +Produced by Rory OConor, Suzanne Shell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + BOOKS BY GUY WETMORE CARRYL + + + _PUBLISHED BY HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY_ + THE TRANSGRESSION OF ANDREW VANE $1.50 + + _PUBLISHED BY HARPER AND BROTHERS_ + FABLES FOR THE FRIVOLOUS $1.50 + MOTHER GOOSE FOR GROWN-UPS $1.50 + + _PUBLISHED BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO._ + GRIMM TALES MADE GAY $1.50 + THE LIEUTENANT GOVERNOR $1.50 + ZUT, AND OTHER PARISIANS $1.50 + + + [Illustration: Guy Wetmore Carryl.] + + + + + The Transgression of + Andrew Vane + + _A NOVEL_ + + BY + GUY WETMORE CARRYL + _Author of "Zut, and Other Parisians"_ + + [Illustration] + + NEW YORK + HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY + 1904 + + + + + Copyright, 1904 + BY + HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY + _Published April, 1904_ + + ROBERT DRUMMOND, PRINTER, NEW YORK + + + + + TO + HENRY HOLT + + + + +Table of Contents. + + + PAGE + PROLOGUE 1 + CHAPTER I. + MR. CARNBY RECEIVES A LETTER 22 + CHAPTER II. + NEW FRIENDS AND OLD 36 + CHAPTER III. + THE GIRL IN RED 51 + CHAPTER IV. + MOTHER AND DAUGHTER 71 + CHAPTER V. + THE GOOD AND FAITHFUL SERVANT 89 + CHAPTER VI. + A REVOLT SUPPRESSED 106 + CHAPTER VII. + A PLEDGE OF FRIENDSHIP 117 + CHAPTER VIII. + A PARLEY AND A PRAYER 130 + CHAPTER IX. + THE WOMAN IN THE CASE 143 + CHAPTER X. + THE FAIRY GODMOTHER 159 + CHAPTER XI. + SOME AFTER-DINNER CONVERSATION 175 + CHAPTER XII. + REACTION 192 + CHAPTER XIII. + RHAPSODIE HONGROISE, NO. 2 204 + CHAPTER XIV. + FATE IS HARD--CASH! 218 + CHAPTER XV. + "AS IT WAS IN THE BEGINNING, IS NOW, AND EVER SHALL BE." 237 + CHAPTER XVI. + A DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE 256 + CHAPTER XVII. + A DOG AND HIS MASTER 268 + CHAPTER XVIII. + FAIR EXCHANGE IS NO ROBBERY 283 + CHAPTER XIX. + REDEMPTION 297 + CHAPTER XX. + THE SHADOW 311 + + + + +The Transgression of Andrew Vane + + + + + For the things ye do, when your life is new, + And your sin is sinned with a smile, + Ye shall pay full sore, ye men, though the score + The Fates hold back for a while: + Ye shall pay, at the end, for your frauded friend, + For the secret your lips betray, + For the lust and the lie, to the Gods on High + Ye shall pay--ye shall pay--ye shall pay! + + Ye shall pay ten-fold, with your heart's best gold, + Ah, tempted women and true! + Ye shall render account, to the full amount, + For each beautiful thing ye do. + For the youth ye yield, for the soul ye shield, + For the pitiful prayers ye pray, + 'Tis the fancy of Fate that, soon or late, + Ye shall pay--ye shall pay--ye shall pay! + + + + +The Transgression of Andrew Vane. + + + + +PROLOGUE. + + +For months past, she had felt that she was weakening, that the crescent +wretchedness of five long years--an uninterrupted descent from level to +level, on each of which the thorns of disillusion caught at, and tore +from her, some shred of hope or self-respect--had done its work at last. +Her courage and her faith, inherited, the one from the mental, the other +from the moral, vigour of a rigid and uncompromising Puritan ancestry, +were slipping from her. What the end was to be, she did not dare to ask; +but it lay there ahead, grim and ominous, gradually taking form, through +the mist of the immediate future. Its very suggestion of divergence from +all that was familiar to her, of being even a degree more monstrous than +what she had already suffered, sickened and appalled her, who had never +known a dread of mere death, but drew back with unspeakable fear before +the looming of this unknown, ultimate degradation. + +John Vane had wooed his wife with the easy confidence born of adequate +position, adequate means, and more than adequate ability. Four years of +Harvard had taught him to believe life in the little Western town which +had been his birthplace, to be, for a man of literary bent, a practical +impossibility; and when he stepped easily from the halls of his Alma +Mater into the offices of a Boston magazine, it was a practical +renunciation of his early environment, and an expression of his resolve +to follow in the actual as well as the metaphorical footprints of some +of the greatest figures in American literature. + +Six months later, he announced his engagement to Helen Sterling, the +only daughter of a pioneer in copper, whose character had long since +built him up a reputation, to which, later, the five figures of his +income lent an added lustre. From first to last, from the occasion of +the young collegian's presentation to the reigning belle of her season +to the moment when she said, "I, Helen, do take thee, John"--and the +rest of it--there was, by way of proving the rule, never a +stumbling-block in the exceptionally smooth course of their love. They +were made for each other, people said, and no one subscribed more +confidently to this opinion than themselves. + +But--and does ever a honeymoon pass without the uneasy awakening of that +latent 'But'?--Helen was not a month older before she was forced to the +unwilling conclusion that there was a singular, intangible something +lacking in her husband's character. It was not that he was not gifted; +for that, his most casual acquaintance knew him to be;--or in love with +her; for of that he gave evidence almost as conclusive as would have +been furnished by the ceaseless reiteration of that spoken devotion +which a woman craves, without hope of receiving, from the man she loves. +But things had come to him so easily, so independent of any effort of +his own, that he was become the chief of optimists, imbued with the +serene and confident _laisser aller_ of the clan; and, now that +association was making her intimate with his methods of work, she found +them to be wholly haphazard, inspired merely by the whim of the moment, +unregulated by any remotest evidence of system. His performances were +the meaningless flashes and snaps of Chinese crackers, not the steady +and purposeful, if less imposing, fire of a skilfully laid fuse, leading +on to great results. His confidence in his own ability, in the certainty +of his ultimate triumph, was so absolute that he was content with the +minimum of endeavor, oblivious to the fact that only statues can remain +thus passive with the assurance that laurel wreaths will be laid before +them. He did not realize that the living must pluck their laurels for +themselves. + +Lacking the initiative which is its indispensable ally, Vane +nevertheless possessed all the impatience of restraint or routine +characteristic of the creative faculty. A year of editorial work was +sufficient to convince him that it was not possible for such a +temperament as his to be trammelled by fixed hours, and strait-jacketed +by observance of detail. He resigned his position, on the plea of +devoting himself entirely to writing, and there ensued a period during +which he sunned himself in society's favour, and received his share of +flattery in return for several trifles contributed to the magazines, but +created nothing worthy even of the infinitesimal effort which he made. A +man had to think, to arrange, to compose, he told his wife. Rome was not +built in a day, and the mere manual act of transferring his thoughts to +paper was a trifle, when contrasted with the process of incubation. So +month after month dragged by, and little by little, as his novelty wore +off, John Vane dropped out of society's consideration as a literary +potentiality, and came to be regarded as nothing more than one of many +good-looking, agreeable men-about-town, to whom, in the matter of his +wife and his worldly weal, the Fates had been generous beyond the +ordinary. + +One of the first unmistakable signs of degeneration was his now constant +complaint that he was unappreciated. The average man's share of applause +is in strict proportion to his deserts. In Vane's case the allowance had +been appreciably in excess of his due, but it was exhausted at last; and +flattery is a drug which, with indulgence, becomes, a necessity. +Deprived of it, he grew fretful and impatient, made occasional abortive +efforts at performance of the great things formerly expected of him, and +talked savagely of prejudice when his manuscripts came back from the +editors, accompanied by polite notes wherein the pill of +non-availability was sugar-coated with reference to the pleasure of +examining his work, and the regret with which it was returned. + +For a time he had his wife's most loyal support and sympathy. She liked +to believe that what he said was true, that literary excellence counted +for nothing in a commercial age, and that a man who would not conform to +silly superficial standards had no chance of recognition. But Helen was +a woman to whom a goose was a goose, and a swan a swan, at all times, +and regardless of ownership. Moreover, she had been a lover of the best +in literature since first she had been given the run of her father's +library, and sat for entire afternoons curled into a big arm-chair, +skipping the long words of Thackeray or Charles Lamb. Her critical +sense, thus perfected, was now too alert to allow of any treachery to +standard. Intensely loyal she was, but intensely just, as well; and all +her eagerness to believe her husband what he claimed to be could not +blind her to the mediocrity, often the utter worthlessness, of his later +work. With revelation arose, naturally, an ardent desire to aid him, and +strict sincerity, which was her most admirable quality, pointed to +candour as the only adequate means. With his resentment of her counsel +came her first disheartening insight into the shallowness and perversity +of his nature. That he could accuse her of attempting to belittle him, +rank her as at one with those who misunderstood him, hurt her more +keenly than if he had turned and cursed her. It was the parting of +their ways, the first decisive step on the road which she was to follow +wearily for five years of discouragement and disillusion. + +With the waning of his popularity Vane renounced Boston, as he had +renounced his birthplace, and they moved to New York. Here, for a time, +he contributed listlessly to the humorous weeklies and the less +pretentious magazines; but reputation of the kind he sought was not to +be won by mere facility in rhyming or in writing around a dozen +illustrations; and, presently, he reverted to his old complaint of +prejudice and non-appreciation. Then a chance acquaintance led him into +speculation. Where abler men failed, John Vane was swept into complete +disaster. In a transient panic, he was caught long of a big line of +stocks, tried to average too soon, and was finally forced to let go his +holdings at about the bottom of the market. + +It was ruin, absolute and utter; but Helen almost welcomed it, in the +belief that the spur of a necessity he had never known before would goad +him to the achievement of better things. But the character of John Vane +was not the stuff whereof is made the moral phoenix. He shrivelled +before the fire of defeat, and sank hopelessly into the ashes of +surrender. + +They moved from their luxurious apartment to a cheap hotel, thence to a +cheaper one, thence to a boarding-house. The backward path was strewn +with unsettled bills, and loans never to be repaid. Vane wrote +spasmodically for the daily papers, and for such of the magazines as +would still accept his work, and, on the pittance thus earned, and the +generosity of Helen's father, they contrived to exist, in a fashion, for +something over two years. + +But, given the temperament of John Vane, the next development was +inevitable. At first Helen sturdily refused to believe that a new demon +had entered the hell which he was making of her life. She met him, at +night, with an attempt at a smile, deliberately ignoring his unsteady +gait, his sodden face, his hot, rank breath. But the evidence was plain, +constant, incontestable. Drink had gripped him, and she knew too well +that whatever of weakness laid hand upon her husband never relinquished +hold. + +So another year went by, the gulf between them widening and widening. +Finally, he struck her--and then, or the first time, that final +degradation, that ominous, unknowable end of hope and self-respect, +loomed, hideous and shadowy, through the fog before her. Unable to +interpret its significance, she told herself, nevertheless, that it was +very near. + +They were living in Kingsbridge, in a little frame house into which a +man who had known her husband in his Wall Street days had come, in +settlement of a bad debt, and which he had offered them, for charity's +sake, at a paltry annual rental. The same Samaritan had given Vane a +small position in his office, and the latter now went to and fro, +between the city and its gruesome little neighbour on the Harlem, taking +leave of his wife with a curt, contemptuous nod, and returning, bloated +and foul-breathed, to pass the evenings in a semi-stupor. + +The chance had been too good to be disregarded, but life under such +conditions was no better than sheer existence. The cottage was one of a +squat, ill-favoured row on a side street, within a stone's throw of the +railway station. They had found it equipped, in a way, with cheap, +yellowish furniture, worn and faded carpets, and kitchen utensils +distinguished by the grime of many meals and the musty inheritance of +insufficient washings. About the house there was a stale, moist smell of +plaster, and the plot of turf in the little front yard was dry and +discoloured, like the mats of imitation grass in the establishment of a +country photographer. Helen had striven to redeem the desolation of the +tiny living-room with the few pictures and articles of furniture which +she had contrived to save from the wreck of their former fortunes; but +the attempt was not successful. The rare prints were out of place +against the tawdry wall-paper, and the few pieces of Sheraton and +Chippendale to which she had clung took on, in such surroundings, the +shabbiness of what was already there. + +She was obliged to do her own marketing and cooking and housework, since +a servant, in their straitened circumstances, was out of the question: +and not the least part of her martyrdom was the purchase of scrawny +yellow fowls, and vegetables of a freshness past, and their preparation +in the dingy little kitchen, which left an odour of frying lard on the +very clothes she wore. + +Vane had left her, an hour before, on his way to the city; and now, as +the weight of depression became intolerable, she took her hat, locked +the door behind her, and started for a long walk over the hill-roads +back of the town. This had lately come to be her habit. It was something +to escape, even for half a day, from the dispirited little suburb, with +its sallow frame houses, its patched fences, and its cinder-strewn +roadways, along which lean cats slunk guiltily, and dishevelled fowls +picked their way in search of food. Up on the hills, the air of late +November was keen and chill, and grayed with a drifting smoke-mist from +distant fires of dried leaves. The brown grass was veiled here and there +with thin patches of snow, stippled with faint shadows, cast by the +filial oak-leaves, which cling longer than any other to the maternal +bough. As Helen passed, squirrels darted nimbly away to a safe distance, +and then sat up to watch her, with their fore paws held coquettishly +against their breasts. It was all very sane and healthy, all in +wonderful contrast to her morbid life in the shadow of John Vane's +personality. + +There had been no children--a fact which, in happier hours, she had +deplored, but for which she was now profoundly grateful. There are +things which it is easier to bear alone. To share with another--and +that other her child--the humiliation of her ill-starred association +with her husband, would but have been to double the burden's weight. In +her own case the period of martyrdom was well-nigh done. For his son and +hers it would simply be at its beginning, tragic in its boundless +possibilities of shame. + +As the thought came of the motherhood thus denied her, she wondered why +she had been faithful to John Vane. Once she had believed in him, and so +strong had been this faith that some shreds of it yet remained, to bind +her to him through all the unspeakably humiliating days of his gradual +but inevitable degradation. Nor was her fidelity of the negative, +meaningless kind which is strong simply because unassailed. As a woman +of the world, she had, more than once, been brought into contact with +men lax in their scrupulosity, but scrupulous in their laxity. She had +had her temptations, her chances of escape; and the price to be paid was +not exorbitant, in view of the relief to be obtained. But upon these she +had resolutely turned her back, hoping against hope for the miracle +which never came. Even now, her father's door stood wide to her, and +every instinct of reason impelled her to a separation. But Vane had not +only killed her love for him; he had destroyed her very taste for life +itself, under any circumstances whatever. She clung to him now, not +because she loved him, not because it was impossible to do without him, +but because he had sapped her youth, her faith, her craving for +anything short of oblivion. + +She stood for a long time, motionless, at a point where a little stream +tinkled pleasantly over the stones beneath its first thin sheathing of +ice. The trees, saving only the oaks, were bare, and stood stiffly, in +close proximity, in the weird, white brilliance of _contre-lumière_; and +for a few moments the barren tranquillity of the scene was indescribably +restful. Then the light changed, as a slow cloud crept across the sun, +and, with the coming of the resultant shadow, Helen, always exquisitely +sensible to the moods of nature, returned suddenly to a consciousness of +her extremity. It was not real, then, this negative beauty, this serene +simplicity of nun-like, early winter; it was not real, her own unwonted +calm! What _was_ actual, material, inevitable, was the personality of +the man who dominated her life like an evil spirit, using her as his +chattel, abusing her as his slave. Abruptly, the whole course of their +association spread itself before her, up to her last glimpse of him, +that morning, shambling on his way to the miserable daily duty to which +he had sunk. And this was the life which she had been so eager to share +with him, the life which, in those early days, his promises had made to +seem so fair! Together, they were to have seen the world--the wonderful, +great world, that had shone in the distance, like a Promised Land, from +the Pisgah of her girlish imaginings: London, Paris, Rome, the Nile, +Greece, India, and Japan. They were to have seen them all--drunk, in +company, of the wine of beauty and inspiration, doubling their +individual pleasures with the magic wand of mutual comprehension, as he +should turn the treasures found along their enchanted way into such +words as men preserve to praise, and she stand at his side, the first to +read and reverence. And now? For the first time, the full splendour of +the dream, the full squalor of the reality, swept down upon her. She saw +him, diverted from his own ideals, and ignorant of hers, taking the +initial step upon his downward way, no foot of which was ever to be +retraced: drunken, debauched, impotent to write one worthy word, +skulking, shamefaced and sodden, through a world of sunlight and manly +endeavour, like some noisome prowler of the night, surprised, far from +its lair, by the dawn of sweet young day. She was no more than a girl, +and already it was too late. The blitheness of life was gone, never to +return. For a moment she stood with her worn hands crushed against her +face, and then she stretched her arms upward to their full length, and +cried aloud, "Ah, God! Ah, _God_!" to the chill, clear sky of the +November day. + +A voice at her side aroused her before she realized that she was not +alone. At the sound she turned guiltily, and found herself face to face +with a man she had never seen. He stood quite near, hat in hand, +surveying her with cool, steel-blue eyes. In that first instant, with a +perception sharpened by her mental anguish, she became suddenly as +familiar with every detail of his appearance as if they had been +intimates for years. He was tall and slender, and unmistakably young; +and, in singular contrast to his pallid complexion, his lips, under the +thin mustache, were full and red, with a strange, sensual crookedness +that was half a smile and half a sneer. There was about him a curious, +compellant air of mastery and self-possession, as of one sure of +himself, and accustomed to control; and his first words, under their +veneer of polite solicitude, were, in their total lack of surprise or +idle curiosity, significant of the trained man of the world, while the +quaint, foreign flavour of the title by which he addressed her was +equally suggestive of the cosmopolite. + +"You are in distress, _madame_?" + +Helen paused before replying. With the instinctive delicacy of her sex, +she realized that in the approach of a stranger who had surprised her in +a betrayal of extreme emotion there was something which she would do +well to resent; and yet she was come to one of those crises which every +woman knows; when the need of sympathy, even the most casual, was +imperative--when, albeit at the sacrifice of conventionality, she was +fain to seek support, to grasp a firm hand, to hear a friendly, though +an unknown, voice. Pride, her stanch ally through all the bitter hours +of her despair, had weakened at this the most crucial point, and, like a +frightened child, she would have run for reassurance into the arms of +the veriest passer-by. + +"Perhaps," she answered presently. "But, believe me, the expression of +my feeling was purely involuntary. I thought myself alone. There are, +ordinarily, few passers by this road." + +He had replaced his hat now, and was no longer looking at her, but down +across the shelving slope of hillside, spiked with slender trees, as +close-set as the bristles of a giant brush. When he spoke again, his +tone had curiously assumed the existence of a relation between them, as +if, instead of total strangers, they had been old acquaintances, come +together at this spot, and exchanging impressions of the scene before +them. + +"Strange," he said slowly, "that you should be in distress, when Nature, +which always seems to me the most sympathetic of companions, is wrapped +in so great repose. In my dealings with humanity, I've frequently met +with misunderstanding; but never, in the attitude of Nature, a lack of +what I felt to be completest comprehension of my mood. She always seems +to divine our difficulties, and to have some little helpful hint, some +small parable, which, if we read it aright, will point out the solution +of our problem, or at least serve to soothe the momentary pang. This +little stream at our feet, for example: how it preaches the lesson that +while we must meet with days that are cold, unsympathetic, drear, it's +not only possible, but best, to preserve, under the ice in which +adversity wraps our hearts, the life and laughter which friendlier suns +have taught us! I wonder if that is not the secret of all human +contentment--to resign oneself to the chilling touch of the wintry days +of life, secure in the knowledge that summer will return, the +compensation be made manifest, and the wrong turned to right." + +The rebuff which was on Helen's lips an instant before was never spoken. +It was one of those moments when the intuitive assertion of dignity and +self-reliance lays down its arms before the need of comfort and +companionship. She did not look at him, but in her silence there was +that which encouraged him to continue. + +"You don't resent my speaking to you in this way?" he asked. "After all, +why should you? You are a bubble on this strange, erratic stream of +life, and I another. Bubble does not ask bubble the reason of their +meeting, at some predestined spot between source and sea. Instead, they +touch, perhaps to drift apart again after a moment; perhaps, as one +often sees them, to unite in one larger, better, brighter bubble than +either had been before. Neither cares a tittle for its chance +companion's previous history, or for what the other bubbles say. +Curiosity as to another's past is the prerogative of small-spirited man, +as is also the dread of adverse criticism. Now the commingling bubbles +are one of Nature's little parables, and my conception of ideal +sympathy." + +His eyes were upon her now, and, strangely impelled, her own came round +to meet them. + +"I'm not wholly sure that I get your meaning," she said, feeling that he +exacted a reply. "Is it that association and sympathy are merely the +result of chance?" + +"Chance is only a word that we use to express the workings of a force +beyond our understanding." He stooped and picked up a little stone, +weighed it momentarily in his palm, and then, reversing his hand, let it +fall. "One would hardly be apt to call it chance," he added, "that, +after leaving my hand, that pebble reached the ground. If we understood +destiny as we understand gravitation, we should not say that our present +meeting was due to chance, but rather that it was the logical outcome of +a natural law." + +There was a long pause, during which he glanced at her more than once, +with the seemingly careless but actually keenly observant air of a +skilled physician studying a nervous patient. She was a little +frightened, she confessed to herself, as she gathered her wits, staring +at the bit of river which was visible from where they stood, and the +slopes beyond. For weeks she had been prey to an apathy which was only +broken, at intervals, by an outburst of passionate revolt. Now, in some +inexplicable fashion, the burden seemed to have slipped from her +shoulders, and the feeling of depression was replaced by one of +uplifting, of unreasonable exhilaration. The sensation was vaguely +familiar to her, and, groping for a clue, she found its parallel in the +preliminary action of ether, which she had taken a year or so before. +Through the growing, not unpleasurable, dizziness which came upon her +thus, the man's voice made its way. + +"Let me try to explain myself more clearly," he was saying. +"Something--God, or chance, or destiny, or whatever you choose to call +it--led me around that last turn of the road at a moment when, if I'm +not mistaken, a fellow being came to the snapping-point of self-control. +I can't think our meeting without significance. I believe I was sent to +help you. The question is, whether you're broad and generous and +courageous enough to take for granted a formal introduction, and the +gradual evolution of acquaintance into intimacy, up to the moment when +you would naturally turn to me, as your most loyal friend, for sympathy. +And I think you will do that." + +Once more Helen looked at him. Her mind was curiously clouded, but the +sensation gave her no uneasiness. Instead, she felt that she was +smiling. + +"I think you will do it," he repeated. + +He was holding out his hand with the confidence of one who knows it will +be accepted, and, after a moment, she laid her own within it. His +fingers closed firmly on hers, and, of a sudden, the world drew in about +her, graying, as under the touch of fog. Her last perception was of his +eyes fixed full on hers with an expression of quiet amusement. + +"I'm faint," she murmured, "I am--faint--" + +When she came to herself, his eyes still held her. + +"In the strange, unknowable book of Fate," he said, "it was written, +from the beginning of time, that you and I should meet upon a dull +hillside in late November, and--and that all that has been should be!" + +Before she had time to answer, he had left her. + +Briefly she stood, dizzy and perplexed, and then, after one great leap, +her heart seemed to shudder and stand still. _She was in the sordid +little living-room of the Kingsbridge cottage, and outside the day was +glooming into twilight!_ + +Without power to move, she watched from the window the man who had just +gone, pass down the path and through the gate, and, turning, wave a +farewell, before he hurried away in the direction of the station. Then +she was fully aroused by the entrance of the postman, and went slowly to +meet him at the door. There was only one letter, but this was directed +in her husband's unsteady hand, and, as she opened it, the contents +leapt at her like a blow: + + + "HELEN:" + + "Let me be as brief as you will think me brutal. When this reaches + you I shall already be far at sea--with another woman. I have seen + how you despised me, and I think that you know this, and that I + hate you for it. I shall not ask you to forgive me, for I, too, have + many things to forgive. If you had understood me, much that has + happened might never have been. But what is past is past. Let us + bury it and have done." + + "JOHN." + + +For minutes, which seemed an eternity, Helen stood, fingering the +wretched sheet, and gazing straight before her with blank, unwinking +eyes. Then, with a rush, came remembrance, and with it a great wave of +relief. Before she fully comprehended her intention, she was at the gate +of the cottage. But there she halted, with a nameless sense of loss and +desperation. From the distance had come the yelp of a signalled +locomotive, and then a dozen short, choking pants, as it dragged the +reluctant train into motion. He had gone! + +"But he will come back!" she murmured, "and, that he may come sooner, I +will write." + +It was only towards the end of her black, sleepless night that she +remembered that she did not even know his name. + +Late autumn slid gloomily into winter, and winter into spring, before +she realized that he would never come. To her father she had written +nothing of Vane's desertion. For a year past, his name had not been +mentioned in their letters, so the omission was no longer noted, and Mr. +Sterling's remittances enabled her to live in material comfort. She +clung to the forlorn little cottage with a vague feeling that by it +alone could she be traced when He should come back for her; but took a +servant, a slovenly little wench, who moved in a circumambient odour of +carbolic acid, and amassed dust under beds and sofas as a miser hoards +his gold. + +Helen herself saw nothing, heeded nothing. Save in the impulse which +followed her reading of Vane's letter, her mind was never wholly clear +from the shadow which had descended upon it at the moment of that +hand-grip on the hillside. Hour after hour, day after day, week after +week, she sat at the window, motionless, listening for the creak of the +gate, the crunch of footsteps on the gravel path, which would tell her +that He had returned. + +With spring the disillusion came, and she crept back to the shelter of +her father's house, but to no change, save slow and listless surrender +to the inevitable. Sometimes they heard her whispering to herself, as +she sat, with some book which they had brought her, unopened on her +knee--odd scraps of sentences, and broken phrases, without apparent +relevancy or connection. The family physician, a friend from boyhood of +Andrew Sterling, tapped his forehead significantly at such times as +these, and the hands of the two men would meet in a grasp of mutual +understanding. + +One night in late August her child was born, and the west wind that +brought a new soul to the Sterling door, pausing an instant in its +passing, gathered up, and in its kind arms bore away, on its pathless +flight into the Great Unknown, the tired spirit of Helen Vane. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +MR. CARNBY RECEIVES A LETTER. + + +Mr. and Mrs. Jeremy Carnby furnished to the reflective observer a +striking illustration of the circumstance that extremes not only meet, +but, not infrequently, marry. Mrs. Carnby confessed to fifty, and was in +reality forty-seven. As, in any event, incredulity answers "Never!" when +a woman makes mention of her age, she preferred that the adverb should +be voiced with flattering emphasis and in her presence, rather than +sarcastically and behind her back. She was nothing if not original. + +Mrs. Carnby was distinctly plain, a fact which five minutes of her +company effectually deprived of all significance: her power of +attraction being as forceful as that of a magnet, and similar to a +magnet's in its absence of outward evidence. She was a woman of +temperate but kaleidoscopic enthusiasms, who had retained enough of the +atmosphere of each to render her interesting to a variety of persons. +Prolonged experience of the world had invested her with an admirable +broad-mindedness, which caused her to tread the notoriously dangerous +paths of the American Colony, in which she was a constant and +conspicuous figure, with the assurance of an Indian fakir walking on +broken glass--pleasurably appreciative of the risk, that is, while +assured by consummate _savoir faire_ against cutting her feet. Her +_fort_ was tact. She had at one and the same time a faculty for +forgetting confidences which commended her to women, and a knack of +remembering them which endeared her to men. It was with the latter that +she was preëminently successful. What might have been termed her +masculine method was based on the broad, general principle that the +adult male is most interested in the persons most interested in him, and +it never failed, in its many modifications, of effect. Men told her of +their love-affairs, for example, with the same unquestioning assurance +wherewith they intrusted their funds to a reputable banker; and were apt +to remember the manner in which their confidences were received, longer +than the details of the confidences themselves. And when you can listen +for an hour, with every evidence of extreme interest, to a man's +rhapsodies about another woman, and, at the end, send him away with a +distinct recollection of the gown you wore, or the perfume on the +handkerchief he picked up for you, then, dear lady, there is nothing +more to be said. + +Mr. Jeremy Carnby infrequently accompanied his wife to a reception or a +_musicale_, somewhat as Chinese idols and emperors are occasionally +produced in public--as an assurance of good faith, that is, and in +proof of actual existence. As it is not good form to flaunt one's +marriage certificate in the faces of society, an undeniable, +flesh-and-blood husband is, perhaps, the next best thing--when +exhibited, of course, with that golden mean of frequency which lies +between a hint of henpeck on the one side and a suggestion of neglect +upon the other. Mrs. Carnby blazed in the social firmament of the +American Colony with the unwavering fixity of the Polar Star: Jeremy +appeared rarely, but with extreme regularity, like a comet of wide +orbit, as evidence that the marital solar system was working smoothly +and well. + +Mrs. Carnby was, and not unreasonably, proud of Jeremy. They had lived +twenty-five years in Paris, and, to the best of her knowledge and +belief, he was as yet unaware, at least in a sentimental sense, that +other women so much as existed. Since one cannot own the Obélisque or +the Vénus de Milo, it is assuredly something to have a husband who never +turns his head on the Avenue du Bois, or finds a use for an opera-glass +at the Folies-Bergère. Jeremy was not amusing, still less brilliant, +least of all popular; but he was preëminently loyal and unfeignedly +affectionate--qualities sufficiently rare in the world in which Mrs. +Carnby lived, and moved, and had the greater portion of her being, to +recommend themselves strongly to her shrewd, uncompromising mind. In her +somewhat over-furnished life he occupied a distinct niche, which one +else could have filled; and in this, to her way of thinking, he was +unique--as a husband. After _foie gras_ and champagne, Mrs. Carnby +always breakfasted on American hominy, a mealy red apple, and a glass of +milk. She was equally careful, however, to take the meal in company with +Jeremy. He was part of the treatment. + +The Carnby _hôtel_ was one of the number in the Villa Dupont. One turned +in through a narrow gateway, from the sordid dinginess of the Rue +Pergolèse, and, at a stone's throw from the latter's pungent cheese and +butter shops, and grimy _charbonneries_, came delightfully into the +shade of chestnuts greener than those exposed to the dust of the great +avenues, and to the sound of fountains plashing into basins buried in +fresh turf. It was very quiet, like some charming little back street at +St. Germain or Versailles, and the houses, with their white walls and +green shutters and glass-enclosed porticos, were more like country +villas than Parisian _hôtels_. The gay stir of the boulevards and the +Avenue du Bois might, to all seeming, have been a hundred kilometres +distant, so still and simple was this little corner of the capital. +Jeremy frankly adored it. He had a great office looking out upon the +Place de l'Opéra, and when he rose from his desk, his head aching with +the reports and accounts of the mighty insurance company of which he was +the European manager, and went to the window in search of distraction, +it was only to have his eyes met by a dizzier hodge-podge than that of +the figures he had left--the moil of _camions_, omnibuses, and cabs, +threading in and out at the intersection of the six wide driveways, +first up and down, and then across, as the brigadier in charge regulated +the traffic with sharp trills of his whistle, which jerked up the right +arms of the policemen at the crossings, as if some one had pulled the +strings of so many marionettes with white batons in their hands. All +this was not irritating, or even displeasing, to Jeremy. He was too +thorough an American, despite his long residence in Paris, and too keen +a business man, notwithstanding his wife's fortune, not to derive +satisfaction from every evidence of human energy. The Place de l'Opéra +appealed to the same instincts in his temperament that would have been +gratified by the sight of a stop-cylinder printing-machine in action. +But, not the less for that, his heart was domiciled in the _hôtel_ in +the Villa Dupont. + +On a certain evening in mid-April, Jeremy had elaborated his customary +half-hour walk homeward with a detour by way of the Boulevard +Malesherbes, the Parc Monceau, and the Avenue Hoche, and it was close +upon six when he let himself in at his front door, and laid his derby +among the shining top-hats of his wife's callers, on the table in the +_antichambre_. Through the half-parted curtains at the _salon_ door came +scraps of conversation, both in French and English, and the pleasant +tinkle of cups and saucers; and, as he passed, he had a glimpse of +several well-groomed men, in white waistcoats and gaiters, sitting on +the extreme edges of their chairs, with their toes turned in, their +elbows on their knees, and tea-cups in their hands; and smartly-dressed +women, with big hats, and their veils tucked up across their noses, +nibbling at _petits fours_. He turned into his study with a feeling of +satisfaction. It was incomprehensible to his mind, this seemingly +universal passion for tea and sweet cakes; but if the institution was to +exist under his roof at all, it was gratifying to know that, albeit the +tea was the finest Indian overland, and the sweet cakes from the Maison +Gagé, it was not for these reasons alone that the 16th Arrondissement +was eager, and the 7th not loath, to be received at the _hôtel_ in the +Villa Dupont. Jeremy knew that his wife was the most popular woman in +the Colony, as to him she was the best and most beautiful in the world. +Before he touched the _Temps_ or the half-dozen letters which lay upon +his table, he leaned forward, with his elbows on the silver-mounted +blotter, and his temples in his hands, and looked long at her photograph +smiling at him out of its Russian enamel frame. If the world, which +laughed at him for his prim black neckties and his common-sense shoes, +even while it respected him for his business ability, had seen him thus, +it would have shared his wife's knowledge that Jeremy Carnby was an +uncommonly good sort. + +He opened his letters carefully, slitting the envelopes with a slender +paper-knife, and endorsing each one methodically with the date of +receipt before passing on to the next. All were private and personal, +his voluminous business mail being handled at his office by a secretary +and two stenographers. With characteristic loyalty, Jeremy wrote +regularly to a score of old acquaintances and poor relations in the +States, most of whom he had seen but once or twice in the twenty-five +years of his exile, and read their replies with interest, often with +emotion: and his own left hand knew not how many cheques had been +signed, and cheering words written, by his unassuming right, in reply to +the plaints and appeals of his intimates of former years. For the +steady, white light of Jeremy Carnby's kindliness let never a glint of +its brightness pass through the closely-woven bushel of his modesty. + +He hesitated with the last letter in his hand, reread it slowly, and +then lit a cigar and sat looking fixedly at his inkstand, blowing out +thin coils of smoke. So Mrs. Carnby found him, as she swept in, dropped +into a big red-leather arm-chair, and slid smoothly into an especial +variety of small talk, wherewith she was wont to smooth the business +wrinkles from his forehead, and bring him into a frame of mind proper to +an appreciation of the efforts of their _chef_. + +"If it isn't smoking a cigar at fifteen minutes before the dinner-hour!" +she began, with an assumption of indignation. "Really, Jeremy, you're +getting quite revolutionary in your ways. I think I shall tell Armand +that hereafter we shall begin dinner with coffee, have salad with the +Rüdesheimer, and take our soup in the conservatory." + +Mr. Carnby laid down his cigar. + +"I lit it absent-mindedly," he answered. "Have they gone?" + +"No, of course not, stupid!" retorted his wife. "They're all out there. +I told them to wait until we'd finished dinner. Now, Jeremy! why _will_ +you ask such questions?" + +"It _was_ stupid of me," he admitted. + +"And to punish you, I shall tell you who they were," announced Mrs. +Carnby. "I might do worse and tell you all they said. You're so--so +_comfortable_, Jeremy. When I'm on the point of boiling over because of +the inanities of society I can always come in here and open my +safety-valve, and you don't care a particle, do you, if I fill your +study full of conversational steam?" + +Jeremy smiled pleasantly. + +"You _nice_ person!" added his wife. "Well, here goes. First, there was +that stupid Mrs. Maitland. She told me all about her portrait. It seems +Benjamin-Constant is painting it--and I thought the others would never +come. Finally, however, they did--the Villemot girls and Mrs. Sidney +Kane, and a few men--Daulas and De Bousac and Gerald Kennedy and that +insufferable little Lister man. Then Madame Palffy. It makes me furious +every time I hear her called 'madame.' The creature was born in +Worcester--and do you know, Jeremy, I'm positive she buys her gowns at +an upholsterer's? No mere dressmaker could lend her that striking +resemblance to a sofa, which is growing stronger every day! Her French +is too impossible. She was telling Daulas about something that never +happened to her on her way out to their country place, and I heard her +say '_compartiment de dames soûles_' quite distinctly. I can't imagine +how she contrives to know so many things that aren't so. One would +suppose she'd stumble over a real, live fact now and again, if only by +accident. And her husband's no better. Trying to find the truth in one +of his stories severely taxes one's aptitude in long division. I saw him +at the Hatzfeldts' _musicale_ night before last. Pazzini was playing, +and Palffy was sound asleep in a corner, after three glasses of punch. I +really felt sorry that a man with such a wife should be missing +something attractive, and I was going to poke him surreptitiously with +my fan, but Tom Radwalader said, 'Better let the lying dog sleep!' He +positively _is_ amusing, that Radwalader man!" + +Mrs. Carnby looked up at her husband for the admiring smile which was +the usual guarantee that she had amused him, but only to find Jeremy's +eyes once more riveted upon the inkstand, and the cigar between his thin +lips again. + +"My dear Jeremy," she said, "I'm convinced that you've not heard one +syllable of my carefully prepared discourse." + +"My dear Louisa," responded Mr. Carnby with unwonted readiness, "I'm +convinced that I have not. The truth of the matter is," he added +apologetically, "that I've received an unusual letter." + +"It must indeed be unusual if it can cause you to ignore my +conversation," said Louisa Carnby. + +"That is perfectly true," said Jeremy with conviction. + +His wife rose, came over to his side, and kissed him on the tip of his +nose. + +"Good my lord," she said, "I think I like your tranquil endorsement of +the compliments I make for myself better than those which other men +invent out of their own silly heads! Am I to know what is in your +unusual letter?" + +"Why not?" asked Jeremy seriously. + +"Why not, indeed?" said Mrs. Carnby. "I have taken you for better or +worse. There's so little 'worse' about the contract, Jeremy, that I +stand ready to accept such as there is in a willing spirit, even when it +comes in the form of a dull letter." + +Jeremy looked up at her with his familiar smile. + +"Louisa," he said, "if I were twenty years of age, I should ask nothing +better than the chance to marry you again." + +"Man! but thou'rt the cozener!" exclaimed Mrs. Carnby. "Thou'dst fair +turn the head of a puir lassis. There--that'll do. Go on with your +letter!" + +"It's from Andrew Sterling," said Jeremy. "You'll remember him, I think, +in Boston. He was a friend of my father's, and kept a friendly eye on me +after the old gentleman's death. We've always corresponded, more or less +regularly, and now he writes to say--but perhaps I'd best read you that +part of his letter." + +"Undoubtedly," put in his wife. "That is, if you can. People write so +badly, nowadays." + +"Um--um--" mumbled Jeremy, skipping the introductory sentences. "Ah! +Here we have it. Mr. Sterling says: 'Now for the main purpose of this +letter. My poor daughter's only son, Andrew Sterling Vane, is sailing +to-day on the _Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse_. He has been obliged to leave +Harvard, as his health is not robust, and I have thought that perhaps +the sea-voyage and some months in Paris might put him in shape--'" + +"_Good_ Lord!" broke in Mrs. Carnby. "Imagine some months in Paris by +way of rest-cure!" + +"'And so,'" continued Jeremy, "'I'm sending him over, in hopes that the +change may be of benefit. He is a singular lad--sensitive in the +extreme, and utterly inexperienced--and I am going to ask if, "for auld +lang syne," you will be so good as to make him welcome. I don't mean, of +course, that I expect you to exercise any sort of supervision. The boy +must take care of himself, like all of us, but I would like to feel +that, in a strange city, there is one place where he may find a hint of +home." + +Jeremy paused. + +"Go on!" observed Mrs. Carnby. + +"There is really nothing more of importance," said her husband, "except +that I've also received a note from young Vane. He's at the Ritz." + +"Of course!" ejaculated Mrs. Carnby. "Paying two louis per diem for his +room, and making semi-daily trips to Morgan, Harjes'. They're wonderful, +these tourist bank-accounts. Their progress from a respectable amount to +absolute zero is as inevitable as the recession of the sea from +high-water mark to dead low tide--a steady withdrawal from the bank, my +dear Jeremy! How old might the young gentlemen be?" + +Mr. Carnby made a mental calculation. + +"His mother was about my own age," he said presently. "I know she and I +used to go to dancing-school together. And she died in childbirth, if I +remember rightly. Her husband was a scamp--ran off with another woman. I +never saw him. That would make the boy about twenty or twenty-one." + +"He will be rather good-looking," said Mrs. Carnby reflectively, "with a +general suggestion of soap and cold water about him. He will wear +preposterously heavy boots with the soles projecting all around like +little piazzas, and a straw hat, and dog-skin gloves with seams like +small hedges, and turned back at the wrists. They're all exactly alike, +the young Americans one sees over here. One would think they came by the +dozen, in a box. And when he is sitting down he will be hitching at his +trousers all the time, so that the only thing one remembers about him +afterwards is the pattern of his stockings." + +"We ought to invite him to dinner," suggested Jeremy. + +"Without doubt," agreed his wife; "but to breakfast first, I think--and +on Sunday. One can judge a man's character so well by the way he behaves +at Sunday breakfast. If he fidgets, and drinks quantities of water, then +he's dissipated! I don't know why Saturday night is always fatal to +dissipated men, but it is. If his top hat looks as if it had been +brushed the wrong way, then he's religious, and has been to church. I +shall go out and inspect it while you're smoking. If he does all the +talking, he's an ass; and if I do it all, he's a fool." + +"You're a difficult critic, my dear," said Jeremy. "You must remember he +is only twenty or so." + +"To be twenty or so in appearance is a man's misfortune," replied Mrs. +Carnby. "To be twenty or so in behaviour is his fault. I'll write to him +to-night, and ask him to breakfast on Sunday, _tout à fait en famille_, +and we'll try him on a--you don't mind my calling you a dog, Jeremy?" + +"Not in the least," said Mr. Carnby. + +"_Eh bien!_" said his wife. "We'll have him to breakfast on Sunday, and +try him on a dog! If he's presentable and amusing, I shall make him my +exclusive property. If he's dull, I shall tell him Madame Palffy is a +woman he should cultivate assiduously. I send her all the people who +don't pass muster at my dinners. She has them next day, like warmed-over +_vol-au-vents_. My funeral baked meats do coldly furnish forth her +breakfast-table." + +"When you wish to appear most unmerciful, my dear," said Jeremy, "you +always pick out Madame Palffy; and whenever you do, I spoil the effect +of what you say by thinking of--" + +"Margery?" put in Mrs. Carnby. "Yes, of course, that's my soft spot, +Jeremy. There's only one thing which Margery Palffy ought to be that she +isn't, and that's--ahem!--an orphan." + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +NEW FRIENDS AND OLD. + + +In ordinary, Mrs. Carnby was one of the rare mortals who succeed in +disposing as well as in proposing, but there were times when there was +not even a family resemblance between her plans and her performances. +She had fully intended that young Vane should be the only guest at her +Sunday breakfast, but as she came out of church that morning into the +brilliant sunlight of the Avenue de l'Alma, she found herself face to +face with the Ratchetts, newly returned from Monte Carlo, and promptly +bundled the pair of them into her victoria. Furthermore, as the carriage +swung round the Arc, and into the Avenue du Bois, she suddenly espied +Mr. Thomas Radwalader, lounging, with an air of infinite boredom, down +the _plage_. + +"There's that Radwalader, thinking about himself again!" she exclaimed, +digging her coachman in the small of his ample back with the point of +her tulle parasol. "Positively, it would be cruelty to animals not to +rescue him. _Arretez_, Benoit!" + +Radwalader came up languidly as the carriage stopped. + +"Where are you going?" demanded Mrs. Carnby, after greetings had been +exchanged. + +"Home," answered Radwalader. "I met Madame Palffy back there a bit, and +couldn't get away for ten minutes. You know, it's shocking on the +nerves, that kind of thing, so I thought I'd drop in at my quarters for +a pick-me-up." + +"Well, if I'm not a pick-you-up, I'm sure I don't know what is," said +Mrs. Carnby. "You're to come to breakfast. You'll have to walk, though. +We're three already, you see, and I don't want people to take my +carriage for a _panier à salade_. I hadn't the most remote intention of +asking you; but when a man tells me he's been talking for ten minutes to +that Palffy, I always take him in and give him a good square meal." + +"You're very kind," said Radwalader. "Are you going to play bridge +afterwards? If so, I must go home for more money." + +"Nothing of the sort!" said Mrs. Carnby emphatically. "There's a +_protégé_ of Jeremy's coming to breakfast--a Bostonian, twenty years +young, and over here for his health. You must all go, directly after +coffee. I'm going to spend the afternoon feeding him with sweet spirits +of nitre out of a spoon, and teaching him his catechism. Perhaps you'd +like to stay and learn yours?" + +"I think I know it," laughed Radwalader. + +"If you do, it's one of your own fabrication, then--with just a single +question and answer. 'What is my duty toward myself? My duty toward +myself is, under all circumstances, to do exactly as I dee please.'" + +"If that were the case, my good woman, I should live up to my profession +of faith, not only by accepting your invitation, as I mean to do, but by +staying the entire afternoon." + +"That's very nicely said indeed," answered Mrs. Carnby. "_Allez_, +Benoit!" + +Twenty minutes later the whole party were assembled in her _salon_. +Carnby, caught by his wife as he was scuttling into his study, was now +doing his visibly inadequate best to entertain Philip Ratchett, who +stood gloomily before him, with his legs far apart, his hands in his +pockets, and his eyes on the top button of his host's waistcoat. He was +a typical Englishman, of the variety which leans against door-jambs in +the pages of _Punch_, and makes unfortunate remarks beginning with "I +say--" about the relatives of the stranger addressed. Society bored him +to the verge of extinction, but it is only fair to say that he repaid +the debt with interest. He was tolerated--as many a man before and after +him has been--for the sake of his wife. + +Mrs. Ratchett patronized, with equal ardour, a sewing-class which +fabricated unmentionable garments of red flannel for supposedly grateful +heathen, and a society for psychical research which boasted of +liberal-mindedness because it was willing to admit that, at the dawn of +the twentieth century, the causes of certain natural phenomena yet +remained unexplained. Her entire conception of life underwent a radical +change whenever she read a new book, which she did at fortnightly +intervals. She was thirty, clever, and frankly beautiful, hence a factor +in the Colony. + +The fifth member of the company in Mrs. Carnby's _salon_, Mr. Thomas +Radwalader, enjoyed the truly Parisian distinction of being an +impecunious bachelor who did not accept all the invitations he received. +He might have been thirty-five or forty-five or fifty-five. His +smooth-shaven, impassive face offered no indication whatever of his age. +He was already quite gray, but, in contrast to this, his speech was +tinged with a frivolity, rather pleasant than otherwise, which hinted at +youth. Mrs. Carnby had once described him as being "dappled with +knowledge," and this, in common with the majority of Mrs. Carnby's +estimates, came admirably near to being exact. Radwalader's actual fund +of information was far less ample than was indicated by the facility +with which he talked on any and every subject, but he was master of the +science of selection. He judged others--and rightly--by himself, and +went upon the often-proven theory that a polished brilliant attracts +more attention than an uncut Koh-i-nur. He made the superficial things +of life his own, and on the rare occasions when the trend of +conversation led him out of his depth, he caught at the life-belt of +epigram, and had found his feet again before men better informed had +finished floundering. He lived in a tiny apartment, on the safe side of +nothing a year, and kept up appearances with a skill that was little +short of genius. Gossip passed him by, a circumstance for which he was +devoutly grateful, though it was due less to chance than to management. + +Such was the company into which Mr. Andrew Sterling had despatched his +grandson--in hopes that the change might be of benefit. As he came +through the _portières_, young Vane proved to tally, in the main +essentials of appearance, with Mrs. Carnby's prophetic estimate. He was +somewhat more than rather good-looking, and essentially American, with +the soap-and-cold-water suggestion strongly to the fore. Mrs. Carnby +always noted three things about a man before she spoke to him--his +hands, his linen, and his eyes. In the first two Andrew Vane qualified +immediately; in the third his hostess was forced to confess herself at a +loss. In singular contrast to a complexion dark almost to swarthiness, +his eyes were large and of an intense steel-blue. He met those of +another squarely, not alone with the frankness characteristic of youth, +but with the strange calm of confidence typical of men accustomed to the +command of a battle-ship or an army corps. Mrs. Carnby, in ordinary the +most self-possessed of women, gave, almost guiltily, before the keen, +clear eyes of Andrew Vane. + +"He has no business whatever to have eyes like that, at his age," she +told herself, almost angrily. "They ought to _grow_ in a man's head, +after he has seen everything there is to be seen." + +The thought was involuntary, but it recalled to her memory where she had +seen their like before. + +"Radwalader has them," she added mentally. "_Good_ Lord! _Radwalader_! +And this child hasn't even graduated!" + +During the brief interval between the general introduction and the +announcement of breakfast, she studied her new guest with unwonted +interest. He was of the satisfactory medium height at which a man is +neither contemptible nor clumsy, slight in build, but straight as an +arrow, with narrow hips and a square backward fling of shoulder which +spoke of resolution. + +"He has 'No Compromise' written all over his back," said Mrs. Carnby to +herself. "I should believe everything he told me, and not be afraid of +what I told him." + +Then she noted that he was eminently at ease. There is something out of +the common about twenty that keeps its hands hanging at its sides, and +its feet firmly planted, without suggesting a tailor's dummy. Andrew was +talking to Mr. Carnby about his grandfather and Boston, and from the +first to the last word of the short colloquy he did not once shift his +position. As he stood thus, in some curious fashion consideration of his +years was completely eliminated from one's thought of him. He was +deferential, but in the negative manner of guest to host, rather than in +the positive of youth to age; and, at the same time, he was assertive, +but with the force of personality, not the conspicuity of awkwardness. +He fitted into his surroundings instantly, like a wisely placed +_bibelot_, but he dominated them as well. + +"That Palffy," was Mrs. Carnby's final resolve, "shall get him only over +my dead body." + +And so, unconsciously, Andrew scored his first Parisian triumph. + +For the first ten minutes of breakfast, Mrs. Carnby, at whose left he +sat, let him designedly alone. It was her belief that men, like +saddle-horses, should be given their heads in strange territory, and +left to find themselves--this in contrast to the policy of her social +rival, Madame Palffy, who boasted of being able to draw out the best +there was in a new acquaintance in the first quarter-hour of +conversation. In this she was probably correct, though in a sense which +she did not perceive--for few good qualities survived the strain of that +initial quarter-hour. + +But if Mrs. Carnby's attention appeared to be engrossed by Radwalader on +her right, and Mrs. Ratchett beyond Radwalader, she kept, nevertheless, +a weather eye on Andrew; and when, presently, his spoon tinkled on his +_bouillon_ saucer, she turned to him. + +"I've been watching you," she began, "to see how you would take to +French oysters. It's a test I always apply to newcomers from America. +If they eat only one _Marennes verte_, I know at once that they approve +of forty-story buildings, and are going to talk about 'getting back to +God's country'; if they eat all six, I know I may venture to hint that +there are advantages about living in Paris, without having my head +bitten off for being an expatriate." + +"It would seem your head is quite safe, so far as I am concerned," +laughed Andrew, "for I finished off my half-dozen, and thought them very +good." + +"Then you have the soul of a Parisian in the body of a Bostonian," +affirmed Mrs. Carnby. "A liking for _Marennes vertes_ is a survival of a +previous state of existence. Here's Mr. Radwalader, for instance, who +can't abide them, even after Heaven knows _how_ many years in Paris." + +"They taste so much like two-sou pieces that, whenever I eat them, they +make me feel like a frog savings-bank," said Radwalader. + +"There you are!" cried Mrs. Carnby triumphantly. "That would never have +arisen as an objection in the mind of any one who had known what it is +to be a Parisian." + +"Or a frog savings-bank," said Radwalader. "No, I suppose not. I can't +seem to live down the fact that I was born in the shadow of Independence +Hall. But I'm doing so much to make up for the bad beginnings of my +present incarnation, that I shall undoubtedly be a Parisian in my next. +Have you been here long, Mr. Vane?" + +"Three days." + +"Do you speak French?" put in Mrs. Carnby. "No? What a pity! You've no +idea what a difference it makes." + +"I've only such a smattering as one gets in school and college," said +Andrew. "Of course I didn't _know_ I was coming over here. But, after +all, one seems to get on very well with English." + +"That's just the trouble, Mr. Vane," volunteered Mrs. Ratchett. "So many +Americans are content just to 'get on' over here. That isn't the cue to +Paris at all! It only means that you and she are on terms of bowing +acquaintance. You'll never get to know her till you can talk to her in +her own tongue." + +"Or listen to her talk to you," observed Radwalader. "So long as we're +using the feminine gender--" + +"Oh!" interrupted Mrs. Carnby. "A remark like that _does_ come with +_extreme_ grace from you, I _must_ say. Here," she added, turning to +Mrs. Ratchett, and indicating Radwalader with her fish-fork, "here's a +man, my dear, who spent two solid hours of last Monday telling me the +story of his life. And it reminded me precisely of a peacock--one long, +stuck-up tale with a hundred I's in it. Radwalader, you're a brute!" + +Carnby, with his eyes fixed vacantly upon a spot midway between a +pepper-mill and a little dish of salted almonds, appeared to be +revolving some complicated business problem in his mind; and, as his +wife caught sight of him, her fish-fork swung round a quarter-circle in +her fingers, like a silver weathercock, until, instead of Radwalader, it +indicated the point of her husband's nose. + +"That person," she said to Andrew, "is either in Trieste or Buda. His +company has an incapable agent in both cities, and whenever he glares at +vacancy, like a hairdresser's image, I know he is in either one town or +the other. With practice, I shall come to detect the shade of difference +in his expression which will tell me which it is. Mr. Ratchett--some +more of the _éperlans_?" + +Ratchett was deeply engaged in dressing morsels of smelts in little +overcoats of _sauce tartare_, assisting them carefully with his knife to +scramble aboard his fork, and, having braced them there firmly with +cubes of creamed potato, conveying the whole arrangement to his mouth, +where he instantly secured it from escape by popping in a piece of bread +upon its very heels. He looked up, as Mrs. Carnby spoke to him, murmured +"'k you," and immediately returned to the business in hand. Radwalader +and Mrs. Ratchett had fallen foul of each other over a chance remark of +his, and were now just disappearing into a fog of art discussion, from +which, in his voice, an abrupt "Besnard" popped, at intervals, as +indignantly as a ball from a Roman candle, or, in hers, the word +"Whistler" rolled forth with an inflection which suggested the name of a +cathedral. + +"Tell me a little about yourself," said Mrs. Carnby, turning again to +Andrew. + +"If it's to be about myself," he answered, "I think it's apt to be +little indeed. I've been in college almost three years, but I've been +kept back, more or less, by a touch of fever I picked up on a trip to +Cuba. It crops out every now and again, and knocks me into +good-for-nothingness for a while. I'm not sure that I shall go back to +Harvard. You see, I want to _do_ something." + +"What?" demanded Mrs. Carnby. + +"I'm not sure. I'm over here in search of a hint." + +"And a very excellent idea, too!" said his hostess. "Because, if you +will keep your eyes open in the American Colony, you'll see about +everything which a man ought _not_ to do; and after that it should be +comparatively easy to make a choice among the few things that remain." + +"You're not very flattering to the American Colony," said Andrew. + +"That's because I belong to it," replied Mrs. Carnby, "and you'll find +I'm about the only woman in it, able to speak French, who will make that +admission. I belong to it, and I love it--for its name. It's about as +much like America as a cold veal cutlet with its gravy coagulated--if +you've ever seen _that_!--is like the same thing fresh off the grill. +But I don't allow any one but myself to say so!" + +"You're patriotic," suggested Andrew. + +"Only passively. I'm extremely doubtful as to the exact location of +'God's country,' and, even if you were to prove to my satisfaction that +it lies between Seattle and Tampa, I'm not sure I should want to live +there. America's a kind of conservatory on my estate. I don't care to +sit in it continually, but, at the same time, I don't like to have other +people throwing stones through the roof. But about what you want to do?" + +"I really haven't the most remote idea. I want it to be something worth +while--something which will attract attention." + +"Nothing does, nowadays," said Mrs. Carnby, "except air-ships and +remarriage within two hours of divorce." + +"What _are_ you talking about?" asked Mrs. Ratchett, suddenly abandoning +the argument in which it was evident that she was coming out second +best. + +"My choice of a profession," replied Andrew. "I don't want to make a +mistake. But everything seems to be overcrowded." + +"Exactly," observed Radwalader. "It isn't so much a question of +selecting what's right as of getting what's left. Haven't you a special +talent?" + +"I'm afraid not," said Andrew. + +"And if you had, it wouldn't do you much good in the States," commented +Mrs. Carnby. "Nothing counts over there but money and social position. +It's the only country on earth where it's less blessed to be gifted than +received." + +"I had thought of civil engineering," said Andrew. + +"Civil engineering?" repeated Mrs. Carnby. "But, my dear Mr. Vane, +_that's_ not a profession. It's only a synonym for getting on in +society. We're all of us civil engineers!" + +She pushed back her chair as she spoke. + +"We'll wait for you in the _salon_," she added, "and, meanwhile, Mrs. +Ratchett and I will think up a profession for Mr. Vane. Jeremy, you're +to give them the shortest cigars you have." + +"I was once in the same quandary," said Radwalader to Andrew, when the +men were left alone, "and concluded to let Time answer the question for +me. You may have noticed that Time is prone to reticence. So far, he has +not committed himself one way or another." + +"I'm afraid I haven't the patience for that," said Andrew. "Besides, +it's different in America. One _has_ to do something over there. It's +almost against the law to be idle." + +"Of course. The only remedy for that is to live in Paris. You might do +that. It's a profession all by itself--of faith, if nothing else. Only +one has need of the golden means." + +"I think I am a homeopathist, so far as Europe is concerned," said +Andrew. "I'm already a little homesick for the Common." + +"It's a bad pun," answered Radwalader, "but is there anything in America +but--the common?" + +"You can't expect me to agree with you there." + +"I don't. I never expect any one to agree with me. It takes all the +charm out of conversation. You may remember that Mark Twain once said +that it's a difference of opinion which makes horse-races. He should +have made it human races. That would have been truer, and so, more +original. But a homeopathist is only a man who has never tried +allopathy. You must let me convert you by showing you something of +Paris. If I've any profession at all, it's that of guide." + +"You're very kind," said Andrew, "but you mustn't let your courtesy put +you to inconvenience on my account. There must be a penalty attached to +knowing Paris well, in the form of fellow country-men who want to be +shown about." + +"'Never a rose but has its thorn,'" quoted Radwalader. "If you know +Paris well, you're overrun; and if you don't, you're run over. Of the +two, the former is the less objectionable. When we leave here, perhaps +you'd like to go out to the races for a while? If you haven't been, +Auteuil is well worth seeing of a Sunday afternoon." + +"I should be very glad," said Andrew. + +"Then we'll consider it agreed. I see Carnby is getting to his feet. He +is about to make his regular postprandial speech. It is one to be +commended for its brevity." + +"The ladies?" suggested Jeremy interrogatively. + +"By all means!" said Radwalader, as his cigarette sizzled into the +remainder of his coffee. "It's a toast to which we all respond." + +"By the way," said Ratchett, as they moved toward the _portières_, "I +was going to ask you chaps about membership in the Volney." + +The three men gathered in a group, and Andrew, seeing that they were +about to speak of something in which he had no concern, passed into the +_salon_. Here he was surprised to find three women instead of two--still +more surprised when the newcomer wheeled suddenly, and came toward him +with both hands outstretched. + +"How do you _do_?" she said. "What a charming surprise! Mrs. Carnby was +just speaking of you, and I've been telling her what jolly times we used +to have last summer at Beverly. How delightful to find you here! Mrs. +Carnby's my dearest friend, you must know, Mr. Vane." + +"Miss Palffy is one of the few people to whom I always feel equal," +observed Mrs. Carnby. + +"I can say the same, I'm sure," agreed Andrew. + +"That means that you and I are to be friends as well, then," answered +Mrs. Carnby, "because things that are equal to the same thing are bound +to be equal to each other. Are you going out with Jeremy, Margery?" + +"Yes--our usual Sunday spree, you know. He's a dear!" + +She bent over as she spoke and buried her nose in one of the big roses +on the table. + +"Lord, girl, but I'm glad to see you again!" said the inner voice of +Andrew Vane. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE GIRL IN RED. + + +The saddling-bell was whirring for the third race as Andrew and +Radwalader slipped in at the main entrance of Auteuil, and made their +way rapidly through the throng behind the _tribunes_, in the direction +of the betting-booths beyond. + +"We'll just have time to place our bets," said Radwalader, as he scanned +the bulletins. "Numbers two, five, six, and eleven are out. Scratch them +off your programme and we'll take our pick of the rest." + +"You'll have to advise me," answered Andrew. "One couldn't very well be +more ignorant of the horses than I am." + +"I never give advice," said Radwalader, with an air of seriousness. "I +used to, long ago. I went about vaccinating my friends, as it were, with +counsel, but none of it ever took, or was taken--whichever way you +choose to put it--so I gave it up. Besides, a French race-horse is like +the girl one elects to marry. The choice is purely a matter of luck, and +there's no depending upon the record of previous performances. I've +always thought that if _I_ had to choose a wife, I'd prefer to do it in +the course of a game of blind-man's buff. The one I caught I'd keep. +Then the choice would at least be unprejudiced. Shut your eyes, my dear +Vane, and stick your pencil-point through your programme. Then open them +and bet on the horse nearest the puncture." And he went through this +little performance himself with the utmost solemnity. "It's Vivandière," +he added. "I shall stake a louis on Vivandière." + +"And I, for originality's sake, shall choose Mathias, with my eyes +open," said Andrew, laughing, as they took their places in line before +the booth. + +"Well, you couldn't do better," observed his companion. "He's a willing +little beast, and not unlikely to romp home in the lead. I'd bet on him +myself, except that I'm so damnably unlucky that it really wouldn't be +fair to you, Vane. I never back a horse but what he falls. I had ten +louis up, last Sunday, on a steeplechase, and the water-jump was so full +of the horses I'd chosen that, upon my soul, you couldn't see the water! +It was for all the world like the sunken road at Waterloo after the +charge of the _cuirassiers_." + +When they had purchased their tickets, Radwalader led the way to the +front of the _tribunes_, and, mounting upon the bench along the rail, +turned his back upon the course, and began to survey the throng in the +tiers of seats above. + +"This is my favourite way of introducing a newcomer to Paris," he said +presently. "She never appears to better advantage than when she is +togged out in her Sunday-go-to-race-meeting-best." + +With his stick he began to point out people here and there, until, from +a narrow gateway to their right, the horses filed out upon the track, +and they turned, resting their elbows on the railing, to watch them go +by. + +"That's Vivandière," said Radwalader. "Poor animal! She runs the best +possible chance of breaking her neck. If the jockey so much as suspected +that I'd her number in my pocket, he'd probably have taken out a policy +on his life. There's Mathias--the little chestnut. He looks in rattling +good form. I suspect you haven't thrown away that louis." + +"It wouldn't be a very ruinous loss, in any event," said Andrew. + +Radwalader was choosing a cigarette from his case. + +"I wonder," he answered, rolling it between his fingers, "if you'd mind +my asking you if you mean that? To some people it would be a +consideration; to others, none whatever. It isn't conventional, or even +good form, to pry into a man's finances, but we shall probably be going +about together, more or less, during your stay, and in such a case I +always like to know how a man stands in regard to expenses. I don't want +to embarrass you by proposing things you don't feel you can afford, +still less to be a clog upon you when you wish to go beyond my means." + +He looked up, smiling frankly. + +"Don't misunderstand me," he added. "It's not in the least an idle +curiosity. I'm an old friend of Mrs. Carnby's, and it would be a great +pleasure to do anything to make your visit a success. But, if you'll +trust me, I'd be glad to know how you propose to live. You don't think +me impertinent?" + +"Not in the least," said Andrew. "I understand perfectly. It's a very +sensible point of view. And I'll say candidly that my grandfather, Mr. +Sterling, has been very generous; so that, unless I'm totally reckless, +there's no reason why I shouldn't have the best of everything." He +paused for a moment, and then added: "My letter of credit is for thirty +thousand francs." + +"Thank you," said Radwalader. "It makes things easier. I'd forgotten for +the moment your relationship to Mr. Sterling, or I shouldn't have needed +to take the liberty of speaking as I did. I met him once in Boston, I +think. Isn't he called the 'Copper Czar'?" + +"I believe he is," replied Andrew. "But there's not much in nicknames, +you know." + +"No, of course not," agreed his companion. "There goes the bell. For +once, it's a fair start." + +Far away, beyond the thickly-peopled stretch of the _pelouse_, a group +of gaily-coloured dots went rocking rapidly to the left, vanished for an +instant at the turn, and then flashed into view again in the form of +jockeys standing stiffly in their stirrups, as the horses swept down the +transverse stretch. People were shouting all about them, and in Andrew's +unaccustomed ears the blood surged and hammered madly. He was at the age +when there is nothing more inspiring than such a play of life and +action, under the open sky and over the close-cropped turf. The ripple +of lithe muscles along the sleek flanks of the horses; the set, +smooth-shaven faces of the rigid jockeys; the gleam of sunlight and +colour; and the deep, crescendo voice of the multitude, swelling to +thunder as the racers flew past--all these set his pulses tingling, +until he, too, cried out impulsively in his excitement. It was his first +horse-race, and his first glimpse of Paris into the bargain. There is +more than enough in the combination to set young blood aglow. + +"_Houp! Houp! Houp!_" With sharp, staccato cries of encouragement, the +jockeys were raising their mounts at the water-jump, over which they +sailed gallantly, one after another, like great brown birds, until the +very last. There was a lisp of grazed twigs, a long "A-ah!" from +_pelouse_ and _pesage_ alike, a dull splash which sent the spray flying +high in silver beads and then a jockey in a crimson blouse rolled +heavily forward on the turf, arose, stamped his foot, and swore +profusely in picturesque cockney at his mare, who had regained her feet +and, with dangling rein and saddle all askew, stood looking back at +him, as if uncertain whether to stop and inquire after his injuries or +go on alone. Abruptly deciding upon the latter as the wiser course, she +set off at a leisurely gallop, to the accompaniment of shrill, sarcastic +comments from the crowd, and an additional exposition of the jockey's +astonishing wealth of vocabulary. + +"_Voilà!_" sighed Radwalader. "That was Vivandière! What did I tell you? +It's absolutely inhuman of me to bet on a horse. And look at Mathias! +He's twenty metres ahead of the rest, and going better every minute. +You've hit it this time, Vane. There's one comfort. You'll win back my +louis, at all events. It's something to know that the money's not going +out of the family." + +The crowd was already shouting "_Mathias! C'est Mathias qui gagne!_" as +Andrew bent forward to see the horses wheel again into the transverse +cut. Mathias was far in the lead, and seemed to gain yet more at the +hurdle. The race was practically over, a thousand yards from the finish, +and, as Mathias flashed past the post, a winner by twenty lengths, and +Vivandière came ambling complacently in, at the end of the procession, +with the stirrups bouncing grotesquely up and down, Radwalader replaced +his field-glass with a deep sigh of resignation, and the two men went +back toward the bulletins to see the posting of the payments. + +It appeared, when the figures snapped into place, that Mathias returned +one hundred and ten francs, which meant a clear gain of ten louis. +Andrew had "hit it" in good earnest. + +"I think I shall adopt horse-racing as my profession," he laughed, as +they cashed the ticket at the _caisse_. "Let's see: forty dollars a +race, six races a day, seven days to the +week--two-forty--twenty-eight--fourteen--sixteen--sixteen hundred and +eighty dollars a week. By Jove! That's not bad, by way of a start!" + +"The start's the easiest part of it," observed Radwalader. "Even +Vivandière can manage that. It's the finish that counts, and the finish +of horse-racing is commonly the penitentiary. It's the only profession +where the hard labor comes at the end instead of at the beginning." + +"I think I'll hang on to what I've won, then," answered Andrew. "If +you've nothing better to do, perhaps you'll help me to spend part of it +on a dinner to-night. You know all the best places. And now, if you +don't mind, I'd like to walk about a bit, and see the people." + +"I accept both proposals with pleasure," said his companion. "We might +dine at the Tour d'Argent, if you like. I haven't had one of Frédéric's +ducks in a little eternity." + +Back of the _tribunes_ the crowd was greater now than it had been at the +time of their arrival. There was the usual gay commingling of elaborate +spring _toilettes_, brilliant parasols, white waistcoats, gloves, and +gaiters, and red and blue uniforms; and, all about them, a babble of +brilliant nothings. It was, as Radwalader had said, Paris at her best. +He resumed his comments, which had been interrupted by the race, +punctuating each sentence with a nod, or a few words, in French or +English, to passing acquaintances, and flicking the gravel with the +point of his stick. + +"I envy you your first impressions, my dear Vane. It's an old story with +me, all this, but I remember quite distinctly my first day on a French +racecourse. It seemed to me the most wonderful spot on earth. I'd always +lived in Philadelphia, and from Philadelphia to Paris is something in +the nature of a resurrection. For the first time in my life, I saw +people in possession of something to live _for_, instead of merely +something to live _on_. There wasn't so much as a wrinkle of anxiety in +sight. Then and there, I adopted Paris as my permanent abode. You know +this town is a kind of metaphorical fly-paper. When once one has +settled, one stops buzzing and banging one's head against the +window-screens of circumstance." + +"And flops over, and dies?" asked Andrew. "It seems to me that's the +unpleasant part about fly-paper." + +"I'm not sure of that," said Radwalader. "I'd have to have the fly's +word for it. All of us must die in one manner or another, and perhaps +being suffocated by a surfeit of sugar and molasses is not the most +disagreeable way. However, you are only going to browse along the +edges." + +"There are some stunning women here," said Andrew. + +"That's singularly _à propos_," replied Radwalader. "Are there any in +particular whom you'd like to meet? I know about all of them." + +"Oh, do you?" said Andrew. "I hadn't noticed you bow." + +For a fraction of a second Radwalader glanced at his companion's face. +Then-- + +"Hadn't you?" he said, with a short laugh. "I'm afraid your eyes have +been too busy with the women themselves to take note of my salutations." + +The next moment he doffed his hat ceremoniously to a little black-eyed +creature with a superb triple string of pearls hanging almost to the +waist of her black lace gown. + +"That's Suzanne Derval," he explained, as they passed. "She's one of the +brightest women in Paris." + +"And alone?" said Andrew. + +"Her escort," answered Radwalader, with an almost imperceptible pause +between the words, "is probably placing his bet. As I said before, if +there's any one you want to meet--" + +"Well, there is," replied Andrew, colouring a little. "We passed a girl +in red back there a bit. It's possible you know her. I'm afraid you +think me a good deal of a boy." + +"I'm afraid you think a good deal of a girl," laughed Radwalader. "No, +my dear chap. Or, rather, if your desire is an evidence of extreme +youth, then the majority of men are fit subjects for a _crèche_. Come +along, and we'll try to track your scarlet siren." + +"We'll not have much difficulty," said Andrew, as they turned. "There +she is now. Do you see? By the tree--in red." + +"Oh," answered Radwalader, "oh, yes. That's Mirabelle Tremonceau. Your +'red' is _cerise_, as a matter of fact, but that's as near as the +average man comes to the colour of a woman's gown." + +"I can't imagine one spending much time in learning such things." + +"Anywhere but in Paris, perhaps not. Here the knowledge is vital. It's +part of one's education--like being able to distinguish a Louis Quatorze +chair from a Louis Quinze, or a Fragonard from a Boucher ten feet away. +If you want to meet Mademoiselle Tremonceau, I'll be very glad to +present you." + +"I might wait here while you ask her," suggested Andrew. + +"Eh?" said Radwalader. "Oh, yes--by all means." + +The girl was talking with an officer of _chasseurs_, on the turf, a +short distance away. She was tall and slender, very pale, with +magnificent violet eyes and golden-bronze hair. From the gauze +_aigrettes_ on her hat to the tips of her patent-leather shoes, her +costume was absolutely flawless. Her gown, of cherry-coloured _crêpe de +Chine, pailleté_ with silver, breathed from its every fold the +talismanic word "Paquin," and the Lalique ornament of emeralds and ruddy +gold which swung at her throat by a slender chain said as plainly +"Charlier." There was not a dot missing from her veil, not the +suggestion of a wrinkle in her white gloves, and not a displeasing note +in the harmony of the whole. + +"There's nothing wrong about the boy's judgment," was Radwalader's +mental comment. "He's picked out the prettiest and best gowned woman in +Paris. And it couldn't be better," he added, with an odd little smile. + +Mademoiselle Tremonceau greeted him with a nod, a gloved hand, and a +"_Comment vas-tu?_" + +"_B'en, pas mal, merci_," answered Radwalader. With his left hand he +caressed his chin reflectively, and, as if this had been a signal--which +indeed it was--the girl turned to the young _chasseur_, who was staring +at the intruder out of round, resentful eyes, and dismissed him with a +hint. + +"You've had fifteen minutes of my time, _mon cher_." + +Then, as he retired, discomfited, she faced Radwalader again, and seemed +to search his face for the answer to some unspoken question. + +"I want to present one of my friends," he said, as if replying. "Mr. +Andrew Vane--an American who has been in Paris three days. We'll have to +speak English. Have I your permission?" + +"You're strangely ceremonious of a sudden," answered Mademoiselle +Tremonceau. "I don't seem to remember your asking permission before." + +"It was his suggestion," observed Radwalader laconically. + +For a moment the girl made no reply. Her questioning look had observably +become more keen, and with one finger she picked at the turquoise matrix +in the handle of her parasol. + +"Well?" she said finally. + +"_Galetteux_," said Radwalader. "Go softly, my friend." + +Mademoiselle Tremonceau bowed with ineffable dignity. + +"You have my gracious permission to present him," she said. + +Whistling softly, as was his habit when pleased, the air of "_Au Clair +de la Lune_," Radwalader observed their meeting from the corners of his +eyes, and was struck, as Mrs. Carnby had been, by Andrew's perfect +repose. They spoke in English, of trivialities--Paris, the weather, the +crowd, and the victory of Mathias--and, as the saddling-bell rang for +the fifth race, all walked out together to the trackside. Here +Radwalader left them, to place his bet, and Andrew found two little +wooden chairs on which they seated themselves to await his return. + +"You and Mr. Radwalader are old friends?" asked the girl. + +"On the contrary," said Andrew, "we met for the first time only this +morning." + +"Oh! And what do you think of him?" + +"I find him very agreeable," said Andrew; "a little cynical, perhaps, +but clever--and cleverness, to twist an English saying, covers a +multitude of sins." + +"Yes, he's clever," answered Mademoiselle Tremonceau. "There are the +horses. Are you coming to tea?" she added, after a silence, as +Radwalader rejoined them. + +Radwalader turned to Andrew. + +"The poet says that opportunity has no back hair," he observed. "I think +we might grasp at this forelock, don't you?" + +"Since Mademoiselle Tremonceau is so kind, I should say, by all means." + +They watched the race in silence, and then: + +"I can find room for you both in the victoria," suggested the girl. + +"Better yet!" said Radwalader with alacrity, "provided Vane takes the +_strapontin_. The only place where I feel my age is in my knees. Since +you've never occupied Mademoiselle Tremonceau's _strapontin_, my dear +Vane, you can have no idea of the physical discomfort attendant upon +being a little lower than an angel. Think of my having won--even a +_placé_! Shall we go now? I abhor the crush at the end. Give me a minute +to cash my ticket, and then we'll look up the carriage." + +"Do you speak French?" said Mademoiselle Tremonceau to Andrew, as +Radwalader strolled off in the direction of the _caisse_. + +"I seem to be able to say what I want when the occasion arises," he +answered, "but I much prefer English. I am trying to adjust myself to +new conditions, and I need all my energy for the task, without +undertaking a strange language at the same time. You can have no idea +how one's first visit to Paris sends preconceived notions tumbling about +one's ears. So far, the Eiffel Tower is the only thing which looked as I +expected it would. There's a surprise at every turn." + +"For example?" + +"Well, for example, French women. Even so far as my own town of Boston +we know you're beautiful, and beautifully gowned, although nothing short +of personal experience can teach one to what an extent. But I've always +been brought up to believe that you were so hemmed in by +conventionality, so strictly watched, that a chap wasn't allowed so much +as to say 'Good-morning' to one of you, so long as you were unmarried, +at least, except under the eyes of mothers and fathers and guardians. +But it seems that it's not so at all." + +As he spoke, Mademoiselle Tremonceau's lips parted in a little smile, +and as he paused, she slipped in an apparently irrelevant question. + +"Are you married, Mr. Vane?" + +"Good gracious, no!" said Andrew. "I suppose I may as well confess that +I'm only twenty." + +Mademoiselle Tremonceau looked off across the track to where, in the +interval preceding the next race, the restless thousands circled to and +fro about the betting-booths of the _pelouse_, in the manner of a +multitude of ants preparing to carry off a bulky bit of carrion. Then +she drew her veil tight, with a charmingly feminine little _moue_ which +shortened her upper lip, tilted her chin, and set her eyelids +fluttering. + +"Twenty?" she echoed. "My age precisely. _Tiens! C'est plutô drôlatique +ça!_ Here's Mr. Radwalader, at last. Did you get your payment? Only +twenty-two fifty? Well, that is your other louis back, at all events. +Don't you want to run along after the carriage, as long as you know how? +Mr. Vane will attend to me, I'm sure, and we'll meet you at the right of +the main entrance. Here's the carriage number. Simon is the _brigadier_ +in charge to-day. Tell him it's for me, and you won't have to wait." + +Radwalader undertook this commission with cheerfulness, although the +pace at which he started toward the gate was distinctly incompatible +with even the most liberal conception of "running along." Evidently he +was not unique in his abhorrence of the crush at the end. Many were +already making their way from the _pesage_, and the crowd behind the +_tribunes_ was densest about the _sorties_. Andrew and Mademoiselle +Tremonceau followed him, five minutes later. + +"I wonder if you mind my taking your arm?" asked the girl. "I'm always a +little nervous, going out." + +"With pleasure," said Andrew, adding, as her glove touched his sleeve, +"I was going to suggest it, but I don't know French etiquette as yet, +and I was afraid I might be presuming." + +He was unconscious that, as they passed through the throng, many heads +were turned, among them that of the young officer of _chasseurs_, who +drew the end of his mustache between his lips, and gnawed it savagely. A +perfectly appointed victoria, drawn up at the edge of the driveway, was +awaiting them, with Radwalader standing at the step. + +It was close upon seven o'clock when the two men emerged from +Mademoiselle Tremonceau's apartments on the Avenue Henri Martin, and, +hailing a passing cab, set off for the Tour d'Argent. Radwalader evinced +no desire to talk, as they bowled across to and then down the Champs +Elysées, and Andrew was conscious of being grateful for the silence. He +wanted to think. He did not wholly understand the hour and a half which +had just gone by. There had been no sign of Mademoiselle Tremonceau's +family. Tea was served in a _salon_ crowded with elaborate furniture, +and softly illumined by rose-shaded electric globes on bronze +_appliques_. Liveried servants came and went noiselessly, through +tapestry curtains, and over an inlaid floor, polished to mirror-like +brilliance, and strewn with mounted skins. The double _marqueterie_ +tea-table gleamed with a silver samovar and candlesticks, Baccarat +glass, and thin, cream-coloured cups and saucers, with a crest in +raised gold. Here and there, huge Gloire de Dijon roses leaned sleepily +from silver vases, and, on a little stand, a great bunch of wild violets +breathed summer from a blue Sèvres bowl. An indefinable atmosphere of +luxury and languor pervaded the room. From the girl herself came a faint +hint of some strangely sweet, but wholly unfamiliar, fragrance, which +Andrew had not noted in the open air. He watched her, fascinated, as her +slender white hands, with their blazing jewels, went to and fro among +the cups and saucers. Her every movement was deliciously and +suggestively feminine, as had been her tightening of her veil, an hour +before, and exquisitely languid and deliberate, as if the day had been a +thousand hours long instead of twenty-four. She said but little, +Radwalader maintaining a running thread of his half-banter, +half-philosophy, with its ingenious double-meanings and contortions of +the commonplace, whereby, in some fashion of his own, he contrived to +simulate and stimulate conviction. + +Andrew had found, presently, that he was growing sleepy. The abrupt +change from the cool air of outer afternoon to the perfume-laden +atmosphere of Mademoiselle Tremonceau's _salon_, the drone of +Radwalader's voice, the soft light, in contrast to the sunshine they had +left--all contributed to his drowsiness. Once, for nearly a minute, the +whole room melted, as it were, into one golden-gray mist, through which +silver and glass and fabrics glowed only as harmonious notes of colour, +and wherein the face of his hostess seemed to float like a reflection in +troubled water. Then, as suddenly, every detail of his surroundings +appeared to bulge at him out of the haze, and stood fixed and clear. For +an instant he thought that Radwalader had raised his voice. He seemed to +be speaking very loudly; but, when the first nervous start had passed, +Andrew realized that this was his own imagining, and that neither of his +companions had noticed his momentary somnolence. + +At the end, he had held Mademoiselle Tremonceau's hand for a second +beyond the limit of convention. She made no motion to withdraw it, but +looked him frankly in the eyes. + +"We've been neglecting you, haven't we?" she said. "Mr. Radwalader and I +are such old friends, that we're inclined to selfishness, and apt to +forget that our talk is not as interesting to others as to ourselves. +Perhaps you'll come in to tea on Tuesday, about five, and I'll try to +prove myself a more considerate hostess." + +"Thank you," said Andrew. "I shall be very pleased--though I suspect you +are undertaking the impossible." + +The _fiacre_ was passing the Rond Point when Radwalader spoke. + +"This is the hour when Paris seems to me supremely to deserve her title +of siren," he said. "In spring and summer, at least, I always try to +pass it out of doors. There is a fascination for me, that never grows +stale, in the coming of twilight, when the street-lamps begin to wink, +and the _cafés_ are lighting up. Did you ever feel softer air or see a +more tenderly saffron sky? And this constant murmur of passing +carriages, this hum of voices, broken, more often than anywhere else on +earth, by laughter--isn't it _life_, as one never understands the word +elsewhere? Isn't it full of suggestion and appeal? I've never been able +to analyze the charm of the Champs Elysées at sunset, more nearly than +to say that it seems to blot out one's remembrance of everything in the +world that is sordid and commonplace, and to bring boldly to the fore +the significance of all that is sweet and gay. Can you imagine +considering the price of stocks or the drift of politics just now? I +can't. I think of flowers, and Burgundy in slender-stemmed glasses, and +_tziganes_ playing waltz music, and women with good teeth, laughing. I +smell roses and _trèfle_. I see mirrors, and candlesticks with openwork +shades, silver over red, and sleek waiters bending down with bottles +swathed in napkins. I hear violins and the swish of silk skirts. I taste +caviar--and I _feel_--that I have underestimated Providence, after all!" + +"There is no Paris but Paris, and Radwalader is her prophet!" laughed +Andrew. + +"That suggests a religion," said the other, "and I suppose, all said and +done, that Paris _is_ my religion. How did you like Mirabelle +Tremonceau?" + +"Even more than I expected." + +"That's well--and very unusual. One almost always expects too much of a +beautiful woman. Beauty has this in common with an inherited +fortune--that it's apt to paralyze individual effort. Looking into +mirrors and cutting coupons don't leave one much time for anything else. +But she's exceptional. You're right in liking her, and what's more, +you'll probably like her better and better as time goes on." + +"She asked me if I was married," said Andrew. + +"Did she?" answered Radwalader. "Well--are you?" + +"No, assuredly not." + +"Engaged, perhaps." + +Instead of replying, Andrew glanced curiously at his companion, his lips +set in a thin, straight line. Radwalader met his glance fairly. + +"I beg your pardon, Vane," he said immediately. "That was unwarranted +impertinence, which you're quite justified in resenting. I'm too prone +to trifling, and the remark slipped out thoughtlessly. Pray consider it +unsaid." + +"With the best will in the world," said Andrew heartily. "There is +nothing more admirable, I always think, than a frank apology." + +In the words there was a faint, curiously suggestive echo of the tone in +which Radwalader was wont to voice his glittering generalities. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. + + +Madame Raoul Palffy would, in all probability, have been intensely +surprised and entirely incredulous had any one informed her that hers +was an irritating personality. But the fact remained. She was flagrantly +complacent, and her placidity enraged one immeasurably, and goaded +nervous temperaments to the verge of frenzy. Tradespeople had been known +to grit their teeth and swear almost audibly at her, and at least two +guards upon the Métropolitain had lost their positions because her +leisurely manner of locomotion had moved them irresistibly to breaches +of the courteous treatment enjoined upon them by the General Manager's +notice to the public. + +Madame Palffy was a large, florid person with a partiality for jet and +crimson velvet, and whose passing, much in the manner of a frigate under +full sail, was apt to be fatal to fragile ornaments standing unwarily +too near to table-edges. About her there was always a suggestion of +imminent explosion, due to her chronic shortness of breath, the extreme +snugness of her gowns, and the fashion in which her pudgy palms, +unmercifully compressed into white gloves two sizes too small, crowded +desperately out of the little ovals across which the top buttons yearned +toward their proper holes. Harmoniously, her face was fat, and dappled +all over with ruddy pink, with the eyes, nose, and mouth crowded +together in the centre, as if for sociability's sake, or in fear of +sliding off the smooth slopes of her cheeks and chin. Her hair, with its +variety of puffs and curls, appeared to have been laid out by a +landscape gardener. + +As for Raoul Palffy, all that one was apt to remember about him was the +fact that he had married a Miss Barrister of Worcester. He was as +completely eclipsed by this injudicious proceeding as if he had been +elected Vice-President of the United States. He closely resembled a frog +on the point of suffocation. With a loyalty worthy of a better cause, he +imbibed vast quantities of the wine of his native Bordeaux, and became +each year more shockingly apoplectic in appearance. Out of his wife's +sight, he swelled magnificently, like a red balloon, and, between +ignorance and exaggeration, was hardly on bowing terms with veracity: in +her presence, he was another man. It was more than anything as if some +one had taken a pin to the red balloon. As a natural result of their +relative assertiveness, the couple moved, for the most part, not in the +French society to which Monsieur Palffy's connections warranted their +aspiring, but in that of the Colony, where his wife's pretensions and +her deplorable mismanipulation of her adopted tongue were less +conspicuously burlesque. After twenty years of Paris, Madame Palffy +still said _nom de plume_ and _café noir_. + +It was to renew acquaintance with parents so curiously contrasted that +Margery Palffy had returned from ten years of almost continuous +residence in the States. To say that she proved a surprise to them would +be to do but faint justice to the mental perturbation with which they +surveyed this tall, self-possessed young person, who was, in practically +every particular, a total stranger. Her father, with his characteristic +lack of enterprise, had promptly given her up. He had neither the +faculty of rendering, nor that of inspiring, affection; and this his +daughter seemed, from the very outset, to understand, and tacitly to +accept. They rarely met, except at dinner, and then with such a +desperate lack of common interests as prevented any interchange of +conversation beyond the merest commonplaces. Madame Palffy, on the +contrary, made an earnest, if inept, attempt to fill, in her daughter's +life, a place which she had long since forfeited; and, to the best of +her ability, Margery strove to meet her half-way. But the gap made by +their years of separation was now too wide to be effectually bridged. +Madame Palffy was artificial from the summit of her elaborate _coiffure_ +to the tips of her inadequately ample shoes: her daughter, in every +detail of her sound and sensible make-up, was a convincing product of +all that is best, sincerest, and most wholesome in American education. +The two could no more mix than oil and water. It was to Mrs. Carnby and +her husband that Margery turned for sympathy, with an instant +recognition of qualities appealingly akin to her own: and these two +received her with open arms. For them, three months had sufficed to +render Margery Palffy indispensable, and the same period served to prove +to the girl, not only her need of friendship, but that here lay the +means of its satisfaction. As Madame Palffy complacently observed to +Mrs. Carnby. + +"I think that Margery feels that there's no place like home." + +And as Mrs. Carnby replied, with extreme relish: + +"I'm sure of it. It must be a most comforting conviction!" + +Margery Palffy, whose attitude toward the society to which she was a +comparatively recent recruit was sufficiently indicated by her desire to +be called "Miss" instead of "Mademoiselle," was accustomed to reserve +her Sunday afternoons for Mr. Carnby. They would go to the Bois, to walk +and watch the driving, or take a _bateau mouche_ to Suresnes and return, +or even slip out to Versailles or St. Germain. Jeremy was a man of small +enthusiasms, but he shared with his wife a profound affection, of the +type which is always pathetic in the childless, for this tall, slender +girl, as fresh and sweet as a ripe fig, grown on the family thistle of +the Palffys. An impulse, which, in the light of its results, could only +be regarded as an inspiration, had prompted Madame Palffy to send her +daughter, at the age of nine, to be educated in the States. A sound and +rational school in Connecticut, and ten vacations in the superbly +invigorating air of the North Shore under the care of a sensibly +indulgent aunt, had forthwith performed a miracle. A thin, brown child, +with an affected lisp, was now grown straight and tall, with an eye to +measure a putt or a friend, a hand which knew the touch of a tiller and +a rein, and a voice to win a dog, a child, or a man. Margery Palffy was +very beautiful withal, with her russet-brown hair, her finely chiselled +features, and her confident smile. She impressed one immediately as +having arranged her hair herself--by bunching it all up together, and +then giving it one inspirited twist which accomplished more than all the +system in the world. Some one--not her mother!--knew what kind of gown +she ought to wear, but--what was more important--she knew how to wear +it. One would have said that her eyes were by Helleu and her nose by +George du Maurier. Men looked to their hearts when her mouth was open, +and to their consciences when it was closed--tight-closed! A laugh to +make them worship her, a frown to make them despise themselves, a +suggestion that she was capable of giving all she would expect from +another, a somewhat stronger suggestion that she would be apt to expect +a considerable deal, very clean-cut, very sane, very good form--such was +Margery Palffy at what might be called her worst. As for Margery Palffy +at her best, as yet even the most casual of Colony gossips had never +more than hinted at a love-affair. + +Madame Palffy having attended two church services, and observed with +gratification that her new bonnet was far more imposing than the +bonnets, old and new, of her fellow worshippers, had now sought the +seclusion of her Empire boudoir. She was, above all things, consistent. +In this sacred spot she ventured to lay aside her society manner, but, +beyond this, she made no concessions to privacy. Her lounging-gown would +have been presentable at a garden-party, and she devoted five minutes to +rearranging her hair, before sinking massively upon the _chaise-longue_, +and giving her thoughts free rein. + +An unusually brilliant week had drawn to a close the evening before. +Madame Palffy's dinner-table had groaned beneath its burden of silver +and chiselled glass, and her box at "Louise" had presented to the +auditorium such a background of white linen and vicuna as had sent +poisonous darts to the hearts of a dozen ambitious and observant +mothers. + +The reason was not far to seek. From the moment of her _début_, two +months before, Margery Palffy had been a tremendous success. Her beauty, +her novelty, her shrewd wit and unfailing gaiety had swept through the +Colony as a sickle through corn. Madame Palffy smiled to herself as she +reviewed the past few weeks. Her daughter's had been a name to conjure +with. + +But, almost immediately, the smile became a sigh. Beneath her +satisfaction in Margery's triumph, the ambitious lady felt that there +was something lacking--and that something was a complete understanding +of the girl herself. Since her return from the States, her mother had +been slowly and reluctantly forced to the conviction that there was that +in her nature which it was beyond one's power to grasp, and her apparent +frankness and simplicity made the failure to read her doubly hard to +analyze. Her interest in life and the society world about her was +unquestionable. Fresh and unspoiled, she trod the social labyrinth +undeviatingly, received the flatteries, even the open devotion, of half +a hundred men with caution, and remained--herself. And Madame Palffy, to +whom social success was a guarantee of a status so little lower than the +seraphim as to make the difference unworthy of consideration, looked +with growing admiration upon that of her beautiful daughter, and +treasured every evidence thereof deep in her pompous heart. The +difficulty lay in the fact that Margery impressed not only the world in +general by her dignity, but abashed her ambitious parent as well. Madame +Palffy was content to have her daughter talk in parables, if she would, +and be as impartial as justice itself, but afterwards, when the lights +were out and the guests had departed, she wanted the parables explained +and the preferences laid bare. And this was precisely the confidential +relation which she had never been able to establish. In public she +figured naturally as Margery's confidant and mentor. In private she was, +in reality, hardly nearer to her than was the newest of her new +acquaintances. + +In this state of affairs Madame Palffy distinctly perceived all the +elements of a dilemma. As was naturally to be expected, her daughter had +no sooner been restored to her, than the ambitious lady's mind began to +wrestle with the problem of a suitable marriage--or "alliance," as she +preferred to think of it. To this intent, she had selected the Vicomte +de Boussac, whom she was wont to call, for no apparent reason, "one of +her boys." Nothing was further from the Vicomte's intention than a +marriage _à la mode_, imbued as he was with the national predilection +for marriage _au mois_, but he had a habit--had De Boussac--of +describing himself as _enchanté_ with whatsoever might be proposed to +him by one of the opposite sex. He was _enchanté_ to meet Madame's +beautiful daughter, _enchanté_ to act as their escort on any and every +occasion, _enchanté_, above all, at Madame's disregard of +conventionality, whereby he was permitted to enjoy frequent +_tête-à-têtes_ with Margery. But he had an eye for the boundary-line. He +smiled with inimitable charm at Madame Palffy's transparent hints, +derived considerable diversion from her daughter's society, and, +throughout, behaved in a manner nothing short of exemplary. At the end +of three months, during which Margery's _début_ had come and gone, the +wistful matchmaker was frankly in despair. + +A beneficent Providence had begrudged Madame Palffy a very liberal +allowance of diplomacy, and, this failing, she was now resolved upon a +desperate move, nothing less than a complete revelation of her plans, +and an appeal to Margery for confirmation of her hopes. Whenever she +considered this approaching ordeal, she seemed suddenly to lose a +cube-shaped section of her vital organs. Just now the sensation was +oppressive: for she had taken the decisive step that very morning, and +requested Margery to attend her at five o'clock; and, over there on the +mantel, the hands of her little ormolu clock were galloping +inconsiderately over the last quarter before the fatal hour. Even as she +glanced apprehensively at its face, the tinkle of the five strokes broke +the silence, and she had barely time to secure the lavender salts from +her dressing-table, when there came a tap at the door. + +"_Entrez!_" + +Margery had been walking, and with her entrance into the room came an +indescribable suggestion of the open air. Her face was radiant, and the +violets at her belt, brought suddenly from the slight chill without into +the warmth of her mother's boudoir, seemed to heave a perfumed sigh of +relief. The girl's brown eyes, aglow with youth and health, the proud +poise of her head, and her firm hands, ungloved and guiltless of rings, +were all in marked contrast to the heavy woman throned upon the divan, +and languidly sniffing at her salts. It was a confronting of nature and +art, unmistakably to the latter's disadvantage. Somehow, the +hopelessness of her self-appointed task was more than ever apparent to +the ambitious Madame Palffy. + +"And where do you suppose I've been?" began Margery. + +"Not to church, I know," said her mother. "I half expected to see you, +but I was alone in the pew." + +"No, not to church. Once a day is enough, surely. I've been with Mr. +Carnby to the Jardin d'Acclimatation." + +"Good gracious, my dear, what a plebeian expedition! What _were_ you +doing--visiting the _serres_?" + +"Nothing half so dignified. We were at the menagerie, feeding the +monkeys with gingernuts." + +Madame Palffy simply gasped. There are some situations with which words +are impotent to deal. + +"Monkeys," continued Margery, "are adorable. They are sufficiently human +to be typical, and then there's the advantage that one can stare at them +to one's heart's content, without being thought ill-mannered. I saw lots +of our friends--Mr. Radwalader, for instance, as vain as life and twice +as loquacious; and one haughty young creature who held himself aloof, +despising the rest, and taking no pains to conceal it. That was Monsieur +de Boussac. His manner was so unmistakable that I actually found myself +bowing, as our eyes met." + +"Margery!" + +"It's the solemn truth, mother; the Vicomte has a dual existence." + +"But my dear child--the monkey-house! What _could_ Jeremy Carnby have +been thinking of, to take you to such a place?" + +"He didn't. I took him." + +"But one never knows what one might catch there--typhoid--or--or fleas, +my dear!" + +Madame Palffy shuddered, and returned to her salts. + +"Fleas, mother? I never thought of that possibility, but if I had, it +would only have been an added inducement. Never having met a flea, I am +sure I should enjoy the experience. You know what somebody says? +'Incomparably the bravest of all the creatures of God.' And, above all +things, I adore courage." + +Here was an auspicious beginning to a serious conversation! In sheer +desperation, Madame Palffy assumed her society manner. + +"Margery," she said, "you're quite old enough to take care of yourself; +though, to speak frankly, you have a somewhat peculiar method of doing +so. Let us abandon the monkeys for the present. I have something to say +to you. I--I--" + +She hesitated for an instant, and then proceeded resolutely. + +"I've been thinking of you a great deal, of late, and you must forgive +me if I speak unreservedly to you. It's because of my affection for you, +and my deep interest in your welfare." + +She did not see the slight contraction of her daughter's eyebrows, and +it was well for her peace of mind that she did not. It argued ill for a +sympathetic reception of her carefully formulated appeal. + +"I'm sure, my dear mother, that it's very far from my desire to resent +anything you say. Why should I? Has any one a better right to +speak--er--unreservedly?" + +"I've been more than proud of you always," continued Madame Palffy, +"_more_ than proud, my dear. You've been a great comfort to me, and, if +I do say it, a wonderful success in the Colony. I remember no +_débutante_ in ten years who has received so much attention, and the +fact that it has not spoiled you shows how worthy of it all you are. And +now," she added, with an uneasy smile, "for _la grande serieux_." + +Again that curious drawing together of Miss Palffy's eyebrows. + +"_Le grand serieux?_" she repeated. She detested feeling her way in the +dark, and now groped dexterously for a clue. "That's usually taken to +mean something quite alien to our present conversation." + +"Not at all," said her mother, catching at this opening, "not at _all_ +alien, my dear. In fact, Margery, what I want to ask you is this. +Er--have you ever thought of marrying?" + +"Yes--often," said Margery promptly. + +The two words were characteristic of their curious relations, as Madame +Palffy realized, with a little inward sigh of despair. They answered her +question fully, and they answered it not at all. + +"You don't understand me, perhaps," she went on. "I mean, have you ever +seen--here in Paris, for instance--any particular man whom it has seemed +to you you might--er--love? Now--there is De Boussac--" + +"Ah!" + +"Wait a moment, my dear. Let me finish. I'll not conceal from you that +it has been a dear wish of mine to see you married to him. I've known +him since he was a baby. He's titled, rich, very talented, and more than +moderately good-looking. His position is irreproachable, and his family +goes straight back indefinitely." + +She stopped nervously. The speech which she had mentally prepared, +descriptive of De Boussac's desirability, had been some ten times this +length. In some fashion, Margery's eyes had shorn it of verbiage, and +reduced it, as it were, to its lowest terms. + +"But, my dear mother, this is the first inkling I've had of any such +idea. I can't imagine that Monsieur de Boussac has ever breathed a word +on the subject. Don't you think the first mention should come from him? +I've no reason to suppose that he cares a straw for me." + +"He does--I know he does," broke in Madame Palffy eagerly. "You're quite +wrong in supposing he's never spoken of it. Remember, these things are +managed differently over here. You have the American idea. In Paris one +speaks first to the girl's parents." + +Margery shrugged her shoulders. A kind of instinct told her that she +must ask no questions if she would be told no lies. + +"And there's another objection," she said. "I don't _want_ to marry him. +He may have money, but money isn't everything. Indeed, it's entered very +near the foot of my list of the things to be desired in life. As to +position, my own is sufficiently good to make his immaterial. We go back +indefinitely ourselves, you know; although, to be sure, I've found some +things in the family records which seemed to suggest that it might have +been better not to have gone back so far. Last, but very far from least, +I don't love him, and, in view of the fact that, if he really had the +slightest feeling for me, I should, in all probability, have known of it +long ago, I must say, my dear mother, that your suggestion strikes me as +having all the elements of a screaming farce." + +At this point Madame Palffy applied a minute handkerchief to her eyes, +and began to weep softly. + +"How cruelly you speak!" she moaned, "and I--I meant it all for the +best." + +Fortunately, Mrs. Carnby had never seen Madame Palffy cry. As it was, +she imagined that nothing about that lady could be more irritating than +her smile. But Margery, under whose faultlessly-fitting jacket beat the +tenderest and most considerate of hearts, was moved. She watched her +mother in silence for a moment, and then went across to the divan, and, +kneeling beside it, took Madame Palffy's available hand in hers. + +"I did speak cruelly," she said, "and I'm sorry. Let me see if I can't +put it more considerately, so that you'll understand. Love is--has +always been--to me the most sacred thing on earth. I've watched, as +every girl must watch, for its coming, believing that its touch would +transform all life. There can be, it seems to me, but one man in the +world able to do that, and I'm content to wait for him, without trying +to hurry the future, or aid fate or Providence, whichever it may be, in +the disposal of my heart. I've been glad all my life that we were not +rich enough for our means to be an object. Of course, poverty has barred +many out from happiness, but it pleases me to think that when a man +seeks me, there can be no doubt that it is for myself alone. Not only +that, but I've hoped that he would be poor as well, and it's been my +pride that, when I searched my heart, I found that wish deep within it, +without affectation, without a hint of uncertainty. I'm old-fashioned, I +suppose, and out of touch with the times, but I hold the faith that was +before riches or social position came into the world--I hold to love, +the love of a strong man for a pure woman, the love of a good woman for +an honest man! Let me but start honestly, with no motive that I am +ashamed to tell, no thought governing my action save reverence for those +three great responsibilities--love, marriage, and motherhood, and I have +no fear of what may come." + +As the girl was speaking, Madame Palffy's sobs grew fainter, and finally +she forgot to dab at her eyes with the morsel of lace. She was +interested. + +"It's this great reverence which I have for love," continued Margery, +"that prompted me to answer impatiently when you spoke of Monsieur de +Boussac. You didn't mean to hurt me, of course: I know that. But, to me, +it was as if you'd torn away the veil before my holy of holies, and cast +out the image I had cherished there, and were thrusting a grinning +golden idol in its place. I want love to come into my life freely--not +to be invited to dinner, and announced by the butler. There will be no +question in my mind when it has really come, no measuring of the man +with a yardstick. I shall feel that he is for me, even before he asks me +to be his. Above all, the question must come from his lips, and the +answer be for his ears alone. No man loving me as I would be loved would +be content to employ an ambassador." + +Here Madame Palffy came to herself, and moaned again. + +"I don't mean to reproach you, mother. I believe, and I'm very glad to +believe, that you've always had my happiness in view. But, in the nature +of things, there are many points upon which our ideas are bound to +differ, and this is one. You thought it best that I should be educated +in America, and you mustn't be surprised to find me American as a +result. Look back. Do you realize that I've not spent six full months in +Paris since I was a little girl? Now that I've come back to you, I can't +readjust all my ideas in a moment. I want to please you, dear, in any +way I can, but I'm an American all through, and you--well, perhaps +you're more French than you realize, yourself. We must try to grow +together, but in many ways it will not be easy. We must be patient with +each other, dear." + +"I see what you mean," said Madame Palffy mournfully. "We're as far +apart as the poles." + +"Not quite that, I think," answered Margery, with a smile, "but, in some +respects, three thousand miles. Let us try to remember that: it will +make things easier." + +"It's a terrible disappointment to me," came lugubriously from the +handkerchief. + +"I'm sorry," answered Margery, "very sorry. But I'm sure that I could +never love Monsieur de Boussac, and sure that I could never even believe +in his love unless he himself should tell me of it. I think we +understand each other now, mother. If I'd had any idea of this before, I +might have spared you this talk. But, painful as it has been, it has, at +all events, brought us nearer together. Don't let us speak of it +again." + +Then Madame Palffy unaccountably touched her zenith. + +"No," she agreed, rising majestically from the divan, "no, we'll not +speak of it again. It must make no change between us. I love you very +dearly, Margery, and I wish I could have seen you his wife, but if it +cannot be, that's all there is to it. Let's dress for dinner, my dear," +and, bending over, she kissed the air affectionately, a half-inch from +her daughter's cheek. "You're a strange girl," she added, "and I don't +pretend to understand you. But choose your own husband. I shall like him +for your sake." + +As Margery left the room, Madame Palffy turned to the mirror, and +surveyed with a sigh the ravages which this emotional half-hour had made +in her appearance. For the three following days she was a mute martyr, +and relished the _rôle_ immeasurably. + +Margery, dressing for dinner, hummed softly to herself, smiling as no +one of her Paris friends had ever seen her smile. + + "'Ah, Moon of my Delight, that knows no wane, + The Moon of Heav'n is rising once again'"-- + +Andrew Vane had played an accompaniment to that a hundred times, in her +aunt's big shore house at Beverly. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE GOOD AND FAITHFUL SERVANT. + + +On the following Thursday morning, the bell of St. Germain-des-Prés was +striking the hour of eleven when Monsieur Jules Vicot opened his eyes, +instantly closed them again, and groaned. It was the hour which he +disliked more than any other of the twenty-four, this of awakening, and +from day to day it did not differ in essential details. The weather +might be hot or cold, fair or foul, wet or dry--that was one thing and +not important. What _was_ important--what, in the estimation of Monsieur +Vicot, distinguished this hour so unenviably from its fellows, was the +variety of distressing physical symptoms which, in his own person, +inevitably accompanied it. They were symptoms long familiar to Monsieur +Vicot--a feeling under his eyelids which appeared to indicate the +presence of coarse sand; a throbbing of the heart which seemed, +inexplicably, to be taking place in his throat; a dull pain at his +temples and back of his ears which prompted him to hold his head +sedulously balanced, lest a sudden movement to right or left occasion an +acuter pang; finally, a taste on his tongue which suggested a +commingling of fur, blotting-paper, and raw quinces. + +Presently Monsieur Vicot opened his eyes once more and fixed them upon +the window, from which, from his position, nothing was visible save sky +of an intense blue. Against this background a number of small +reddish-brown blotches swam slowly to and fro, and among these tiny +whorls of a light gray colour expanded and contracted with inconceivable +rapidity. At one time these symptoms had caused him peculiar uneasiness. +Now he ignored them. They were less disturbing to his equanimity than +the remarkable twitching of his fingers. For two years he had made a +point of keeping his hands in the side pockets of his jacket, save when +he found it absolutely necessary to use them. He no longer made +gestures. They are desirable as aids to expression, but only when +steady. + +The majority of men, in waking, apply themselves to consideration of the +day which lies before them. It was Monsieur Jules Vicot's custom, on the +contrary, to undertake a mental review of the night which lay behind. +The review was not always complete. Often there were gaps, and, more +frequently, he found himself completely at a loss to account for his +return to his room on the _cinquième_ of 70, Rue St. Benoit, and the +indisputable fact that he was in bed, with his clothes reposing, with +something not unrelated to order, on the solitary chair. + +Now, as he surveyed it, he assured himself for the thousandth time that +it was not a cheerful room. Abundant sunlight, the recompense of Nature +for six flights of stairs, was its sole redeeming virtue. For the rest, +everything belonging to Monsieur Vicot was applied to some use entirely +foreign to the original purpose for which it had been designed. An +ink-stand served him as a candlestick, his chair was at once table and +clothes-rack, a ramshackle sofa played the _rôle_ of bed, and a frouzy +plush table-cover was his rug. An astonishing accumulation of +cigarette-ends and empty bottles suggested slovenliness in the occupant. +On the contrary, they stood for his economical instincts. It is not +every one who knows that twenty cigarette-ends make a pipe-ful of +tobacco, and that as many empty brandy-flasks may be exchanged for a +full half-pint, but the knowledge, if rare, is useful. + +"It is a pig-pen," said Monsieur Jules Vicot to himself, "and very +appropriate at that!" + +Then he set to work upon his matutinal review of the preceding night. +His recollections were more than usually hazy. After a wretched dinner +at _La Petite Chaise_, rendered yet more unpalatable by the proprietor's +unpleasant references to certain previous repasts, as yet unpaid, came a +distinct hour or so of leaning on the parapet of the Quai d'Orléans, in +dreamy contemplation of a man clipping a black poodle on the +cobblestones below; then another period, of gradually lessening +clearness, in a little wine-shop on the Rue de Beaune; then--nothing. + +"Well, I was drunk," reflected Monsieur Vicot; but again manifested his +dissimilarity from the majority of men by not committing himself in +respect to his intentions for the future. + +He arose with an air of languor, yawned, looked dubiously at one +trembling hand, shook his head, and then surveyed himself in a +triangular bit of looking-glass tacked against the wall. + +Candour is oftentimes a depressing thing--particularly in a mirror. +Monsieur Vicot's glass showed him a clean-shaven face almost devoid of +colour; eyes, the blackness of which seemed to have soaked out, like +water-colour through blotting-paper, into gray-blue circles on the lower +lids; hair almost white; a thin nose with widely dilated nostrils; a +tremulous mouth; and a weak, receding chin. It was a face which might +have been handsome before becoming a document with the signatures of the +seven cardinal vices written large upon it. Now it was evidence which +even Monsieur Vicot could not ignore. He leered defiantly at it, mixed +himself a stiff drink of cheap brandy and water, and forthwith applied +himself to his toilet. + +Seeing the result which he presently achieved, one perceived him to be a +man of a certain ability under crushing limitations. With a broken comb, +a well-worn brush, which he applied, with admirable impartiality, to +both his hair and his coat, a morsel of soap, and some cold water, +Monsieur Vicot accomplished what was little short of a miracle; and +when, a half-hour later, he emerged upon the Rue St. Benoit and turned +toward the boulevard, his appearance was akin to respectability. Luck +and his face were against him, but incidental obstacles he contrived to +overcome. + +He took a _mazagran_ and a roll at the Deux Magots, fortified himself +with a package of _vertes_, and swung aboard a passing tram. At one +o'clock he was sauntering down the Rue de Villejust, with his hands in +his pockets. Suddenly he stopped, looked intently for an instant at a +certain window on a level with his eye, and then went on at a brisker +gait. He had abruptly become cheerful, and that for no apparent reason. +There is, commonly, nothing particularly enlivening in the aspect of a +blue jar in an apartment window; yet that, and nothing else, was what +had arrested the attention of Monsieur Jules Vicot, and brought the tune +he was whistling to his lips. + +Mr. Thomas Radwalader occupied a _rez de chaussée_ on the Rue de +Villejust, which differed from the ordinary run of Paris apartments in +that its doorway gave directly on the street, independent of the _loge +de concierge_, and, what was more important, of the _concierges_ +themselves. Yet the latter held that Radwalader was a gentleman of +becomingly regular habits. He kept one servant, a _bonne_ on the +objectively safe side of fifty, who cooked and marketed for him; +maintained, throughout his quarters, a neatness which would have put the +proverbial pin to shame; and, in general, ministered to his material +well-being more competently than the average man-servant. That she was +not likely to wear his clothes, use his razors, or pilfer his tobacco +was half a bachelor's domestic problem solved at the very outset. On the +debit side of the account, she pottered eternally, and was an ardent +advocate of protracted conversation; but these tendencies Radwalader had +managed, in the course of their five years of association, to temper to +a considerable degree; so that now she was as near to perfection in her +particular sphere as a mere mortal is apt to be. Her name was Eugénie +Dufour, and in her opinion the entire system of mundane and material +things revolved about the person of Thomas Radwalader. + +In view of his avowed love of luxury, the latter's quarters were +distinguished by severe, almost military, simplicity. Without exception, +the rooms were carpeted, but there were no draperies either at doors or +windows. The _salon_, of which the solitary window opened on the street, +was Louis Seize in style, with straight-backed chairs, upholstered in +dark-red brocade, a grand piano which had belonged to Radwalader's +mother, and a large print of the period, simply framed, in the exact +centre of each wall-panel. There were no ornaments, save a white Sèvres +bust of Marie Antoinette on the mantel, two reading-lamps, and a few +odds and ends of silver, ivory, and enamel, which had the guilty air of +unavoidable gifts, rather than the easy assurance of chosen _bibelots_. +Some books in old bindings, a stand of music, and a tea-table with its +service--and that was all. + +Separated from this _salon_ by double doors was what had formerly been a +bedroom, but which now, for want of a better name, Radwalader called _La +Boîte_. This was his _sanctum sanctorum_, wherein one might reasonably +have looked to find the confusion dear to the happy estate of +bachelorhood. But here again was evident, though in a lesser degree, the +austerity which characterized the _salon_. One naturally expected a +litter of periodicals, pipes, and papers; but, on the contrary, the +large table was almost clear, and the interior of the writing-desk, +which stood open by the window, revealed only symmetrical piles of +note-paper, envelopes, and blotters, and writing paraphernalia of the +ordinary office variety. In the chimney-place was a brazier on a low +tripod, and from this, each morning, the worthy Eugénie removed a +quantity of ashes--ashes which had entered the room in the form of +Radwalader's correspondence of the previous day. In one corner stood a +small safe, and on top of this were boxes of cigars, and cigarettes of +eight or ten varieties, but all arranged as methodically as the contents +of the desk. The remaining wall-space was occupied by book-shelves, in +which no single volume was an inch out of line. + +The opinion of Radwalader's _concierges_ as to the regularity of his +habits was seemingly based on fact. Eugénie lived with her brother in +the Chaussée d'Antin, and went to and fro every day, regardless of +weather, on top of the Rue Taitbout-La Muette tram. With characteristic +regularity and promptitude, she had never once failed, during the five +years of her service, to awaken her _patron_ at eight o'clock. +Radwalader invariably replied with a cheerful "_Bien!_" and five minutes +later was splashing in his bath. His coffee was served at nine, his +mornings, in general, spent in _La Boîte_. He took _déjeuner_ at one, +and then went out, returning only to dress for dinner, which he rarely +had at home. Midnight found him again in _La Boîte_, bending over a book +or some papers at his desk. Then only it was that the door of his safe +stood open. In all this there was, assuredly, no evidence of aught but +tastes so quiet as to savour of asceticism. But then Radwalader was a +man who believed in a place for everything and everything in its place. + +His visitors were few, save only on Thursday afternoons, when he was +known to be at home. Then a dozen or so of men lounged in his _salon_, +which was reinforced for the occasion by chairs from the other rooms, +and several little tables for whiskey and tobacco. Eugénie did not +appear. They were served, when there was need of service, by a +middle-aged man-servant with a furtive eye and a hand that trembled +nervously when handling glasses and decanters; for which reason those +of Radwalader's guests to whom the situation was most familiar preferred +to help themselves. They reproached him, when more important topics were +exhausted, with the apparent decrepitude of this retainer, whose name +was Jules. But their host made it plain that he had good and sufficient +reasons for employing him. He had grown up in his mother's family in +Philadelphia, said Radwalader, first as page and then as butler. When +the Radwalader millions went by the board, Jules had remained with the +family through sheer loyalty, accepting but half the wages he had +formerly earned. Once he had even saved Radwalader's life in the surf at +Atlantic City. Later he had taken to drink, gone rapidly to pieces, and, +at last, had been discharged as a hopeless case. They had given him a +reference, for charity's sake, on the strength of which he had found a +place as travelling valet; but once in Paris, his old weakness had +returned, and so he had lost his position, and never chanced upon +another. Then Radwalader had found him stranded, begging on the +boulevards, and, for the sake of the old days, had given him clothes and +money, and found him occasional employment, such as this Thursday +service, by means of which he contrived to eke out a living, such as it +was. At other times, when he was not drunk, he drove a cab for the +Compagnie Urbaine. (This last, the most incongruous feature of +Radwalader's explanation, was, curiously enough, the only one which had +the slightest foundation in fact!) + +"My best quality is gratitude," Radwalader concluded. "He saved my life; +so I give him such of my clothes as become unfit for publication, and +pay him five francs every Thursday for not being of the least +assistance. I'm afraid you'll have to put up with him. It's a case of +'love me, love my dog.'" + +And this, under its thin veneer of cynicism, was taken as an indication +of a very admirable instinct on Radwalader's part, for which men admired +him. They continued to make fun of Jules, but, after this defence of +him, they nodded to him on entering, and spoke to him by name. + +Andrew Vane joined the gathering in Radwalader's rooms on the Thursday +following their Sunday at Auteuil. It was observable that, without +exception, the guests were men who had done, or were going to do, +something out of the ordinary. No one of them seemed to be in the +present tense of achievement. They talked slowly, choosing their words +with noticeable care, with an eye to their effect, and switching ever +and anon in a new direction, as irresponsibly as a fly in mid-air. To +Andrew the atmosphere was not only that of another city, but of another +world. From art to literature, from literature to music, from music to +the stage, the talk drifted, punctuated with names of men and things +whereof he did not remember ever to have heard. Save for their air of +having but just stepped out of a barber's chair, they were men of a +general type familiar to him--well dressed, evenly poised. The scene +might have been Boston or New York, save for one thing: in all that was +said, there was never the most remote hint of actual interest. The +opinions were like those of more than usually brilliant schoolboys, +putting into their own phraseology certain fundamental axioms. The +speakers, with the sole exception of Radwalader, gave the impression of +being unutterably tired, and of playing with words with the unique +intent of passing the time. Your American has but little leisure for +grammar, and less for eloquence, but in what he says there is always +present the vivifying spark of vital and intimate concern. His theories +are jewels in the rough, but one is conscious of the ceaseless +clink-clink of the tool which is busily transforming them into fame and +fortune. The men in Radwalader's _salon_ were toying with gems long +since cut and polished, whose sole virtue lay in the new light caught by +their facets, as the result of some unexpected turn. Radwalader himself +went farther. He combined the confidence of the American in his future +with that of the Frenchman in his past. Andrew had thought him cynical, +but he gained by contrast with his companions. The others seemed merely +to be giving thought to what they said, but he to be saying what he +thought. + +"I'm almost remorseful at having asked you to join us this afternoon," +he began, when the introductions were over. "Whenever I see a man in a +strange crowd, it reminds me of society's phrase at parting--'I've +enjoyed _myself_ immensely!' It has the distinction of being the only +polite remark which has any claim upon veracity. Usually, one hasn't +enjoyed anything else! Of course, for the moment, you feel like a +brook-trout in salt water. But it's a crowd that I think you'll like, +when the grossly overestimated element of novelty wears off. Let me tell +you, in a word, who they are, and what they stand for. That's De Boussac +at the piano. He knows four major and two minor chords in every key of +the gamut, and contrives to fashion, out of the six, an accompaniment +for anything you may ask of him. Beside him, leaning over the music, is +Lister. He's a would-be playwright, with a mother who has gained the +nickname of the 'Jail-breaker,' because she never finishes a sentence. +You'll meet her some day and be amused. To the left is Rafferty--who's +popular because, just now, brogue happens to rhyme with vogue. Then, +Clavercil. He thinks he's not understood, without realizing that his +sole ground for dissatisfaction lies in the fact that he is. He's a +fool, pure and simple, who inherited a fortune from his uncle--a bully +old chap who never made a mistake in his life, and only the one I have +mentioned, in his death. Next, Wisby--who paints things as they are not, +and will be famous when the public gets educated down to him. The man +helping himself to whiskey is Berrith. He wrote 'The Foibles of Fate' in +the early '90's, and has been living ever since on the dregs of its +success--a 'one-book author' with a vengeance. That's Ford, by the +window, with the red hair. He's a crank on aerial navigation, and says +his air-ship will be the solution of the problem. I've already +christened it 'Eve,' with an eye to its share in another fall of man." + +Radwalader lowered his voice. + +"On your right is Barclay-Jones. Barclay was his mother's name, and when +he came abroad he hyphenated it with his father's. The combination +always reminds me of a rather stylish tug-boat with its towline attached +to a scow on a mud-flat. The man listening to him is Gerald Kennedy, the +singer. He hasn't advanced beyond the Tommy Tucker stage yet, but he's a +good sort, an Englishman, a friend of Mrs. Carnby and of the Ratchetts. +On my left are Norrich, Peake, and Pfeffer, in the order named. Pfeffer +is the only married man in the crowd. He married in haste, and his +leisure is employed to the full. He gets his pin-money from his wife, +and a prick of the pin goes with every franc. Norrich is on the staff of +the Paris _Herald_. Peake, like Clavercil, is simply the disbursing +agent of an inherited fortune." + +Radwalader paused, lighted a cigarette, and smiled at Andrew frankly. + +"_Finis!_" he said. "Do you think me very uncharitable? I hope not. It +seems so much better to get men's bad qualities out of the way and done +with at the start, and then to find out their good points, one by one, +in a succession of pleasant surprises. It's a crowd you'll like, when +once you get the point of view. You've been used to poise, and at first +you won't like pose. But, after all, the difference lies only in the +eye--a pun's only permissible when it tells the truth. We all pose over +here. You will, yourself, if you stay long enough. It's as contagious as +smallpox. And, by the way, I was talking with Peake about you only +yesterday. He's going to the States next week, and wants to find some +one to occupy his apartment while he's away. If you're not thinking of +remaining at the Ritz, you couldn't do better than to take it. It's a +charming little place, on the Rue Boissière, near the Place d'Iéna, +perfectly furnished, and with a balcony and bath. Of course, the rent's +no object to him. All he wants is some one to keep it aired and clean." + +"It can't do any harm to ask him about it," said Andrew. "To tell you +the truth, I've rather been thinking of doing something of the kind." + +"No sooner said than done," agreed Radwalader, and, leaning forward +across Norrich, he added: "I say, Peake, move up here, will you? + +"I've been telling Vane about your apartment," he continued, as Peake +drew close to them, dragging his chair by the arms, "and he seems to +think he might like to have a look at it. He's over here for quite a +time, you know, and he certainly couldn't be as comfortable anywhere +else." + +"I hope you'll take the place, Mr. Vane," said Peake. "I've always +maintained that a man of my tastes had no business in the States; but it +seems I have, after all. I think I told you, Radwalader--my late, +lamented Aunt Esther, you know. She threatened to leave me nothin' but +her good will, and now she's popped off, saddlin' me with everythin' she +had in the world." + +"That's what she meant by her good will, probably," observed Radwalader. + +"P'r'aps," said Peake, with a little nod. "But the c'lamity's just as +great. She was a good-hearted creature, but she belonged to the +black-walnut and marble-group period. Her sideboard weighed a ton, and +she had wax flowers in her 'parlour.' And I'm to sell _nothin'_, my good +man! It's all to go to my wife! Why, the very thought's enough to keep +any woman from marryin' me. Oh, my dear Radwalader, I mourn my find, I +do indeed." + +"But about the apartment?" suggested Radwalader. + +"Oh! Well, all I can say, Mr. Vane, is that I'm sure you'll be +comfortable. It's a modest box, at best; but it suits me, and will +probably suit you. 'Man wants but little here below'--a bath, sunlight, +a good bed, and cleanliness--that's all. You'll find 'em at my place. +Radwalader'll get you a _valet de chambre_, no doubt. I'd throw mine in, +if I hadn't already thrown him out. The wife of my _concierge_ is doin' +for me till I go. I can't say more. Two hundred francs a month. I'll be +back by the first of August--I can't miss Trouville, you know, +Radwalader--and the chances are I'll have to evict you, Mr. Vane. I know +_I_ wouldn't leave that apartment except at the business end of a +pitch-fork!" + +"It sounds like the very thing I want," said Andrew, with a smile at the +other's eloquence. + +"And there's actually some prospect of your getting it," drawled +Radwalader. "What an exceptional animal you are, Vane!" + +"Come 'round to-morrow mornin' to breakfast, both of you," said Peake. +"Then you can have a look over the place, Mr. Vane, and judge for +yourself. If you like it, we'll clinch a bargain on the spot." + +"Very well," agreed Andrew. "Shall I stop for you, Mr. Radwalader?" + +"By all means. About twelve." + +"Then _that's_ settled!" observed Peake, with an air of profound +satisfaction. "I positively must have a whiskey, Radwalader. I'm quite +exhausted. I haven't talked so much business in a year." + +For an hour the conversation was general, and presently thereafter +Radwalader was alone. For a time he stood by the _salon_ table, idly +fingering a paper-cutter and scowling. Then he stepped noiselessly to +the door, listened briefly but intently, and abruptly flung it open and +looked out into the _antichambre_. + +"Not this time!" observed Jules laconically, from the dining-room +beyond, where he was languidly polishing wine-glasses. + +"I'm glad to see you profit by experience," retorted Radwalader. "Come +here." + +The faithful servitor came slowly across the hallway, glanced about the +empty _salon_, helped himself liberally from the whiskey decanter, +swallowed the raw spirit at a gulp, and flung himself heavily into a +chair. + +"Fire away!" he remarked. "I hope it's something worth while. I don't +mind saying I'm hard up." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +A REVOLT SUPPRESSED. + + +"I've passed the window every day for a week," continued Monsieur Jules +Vicot, "because I hardly thought you were in earnest in your threat to +throw me over, and when I saw the jar there again, this morning, I found +I was quite right. You'd thought better of it--eh? You wanted to see me. +It's just as well, perhaps--for both of us." + +There was a suggestion of defiance in his tone which contrasted +curiously with the tremor of his hand, as he lit a cigarette. + +"I might have taken the liberty of calling on one of your Thursdays, +without any summons," he added, as Radwalader made no reply. As he +spoke, he glanced up, met the other's steady eyes, and immediately +looked away again. + +"It doesn't do to push a partner too far," he concluded, with the hint +of a whine. + +There was a long pause, which was evidently extremely disconcerting to +Monsieur Vicot. He removed his cigarette from his lips several times, +and as often replaced it, his hand trembling violently. Radwalader never +took his eyes from him, but sat, smiling slightly, with his elbow +resting on the arm of his chair, and his hand raised and open. There was +not a quiver in his fingers, a fact which was duly noted, as it was +intended to be, by his companion. + +"Have you lost your tongue?" demanded the latter presently, with +manifest irritation. + +"Oh, by no means, my excellent Jules," answered Radwalader, easily. "I +was simply reflecting how I might submit a few facts for your +consideration in a manner which would render a repetition of the +communication unnecessary. There seems to be some misunderstanding. I +think I'm not slow to appreciate another's meaning. I make bold to +suppose that you desire to intimidate me?" + +Monsieur Vicot fidgeted uneasily, discarded his cigarette, lit another, +shrugged his shoulders, and gripped the arms of his chair. + +"I think it's time we understood each other," resumed Radwalader, still +smiling. "It's long since we spoke of certain things--trivialities, +maybe, such as forgery, theft, and blackmail--" + +"As to blackmail--" put in the other, with an attempt at bravado. + +"Exactly," agreed Radwalader. "You're about to say that we're in the +same boat. So we are, but not--to quote the old epigram--but not with +the same skulls. I'm not a fool, my good Jules. You are. I walk in the +bed of running streams, you in fresh-fallen snow. The inference is +plain. My hold upon you is in black and white, and deposited, as you +know, in my safe-deposit vault at the bank. It's as comforting as an +insurance policy. In case of my sudden disappearance--" + +"Oh, chuck it!" said Vicot. + +"Whereas your hold upon me," swerved off Radwalader pleasantly, "also as +you know, is as substantial as the cigarette-ash you've just flicked +upon my carpet." + +"Chuck that, too," put in Vicot, sullenly. "What's the use of all this +talk? You've the whip-hand, Radwalader, and you know it." + +"_Then remember it, by God!_" exclaimed the other. His assumption of +smiling pleasantly was gone like a wisp of smoke. He had risen suddenly, +and, with his fist clenched on the table-edge, was leaning over his +companion as if he would crush him by the very force of his personality. +His steel-blue eyes had hardened, and at the corners of his lips hovered +a sneering smirk which suggested a panther. + +"Then remember it," he reiterated, "and remember it for all time! What I +say, I say once. After that--I act. You snivelling drunkard! You +wretched, nerve-racked lump of bluff! _You_ threaten _me_? Did you +suppose I'd forgotten that I could have sent you to the galleys five +years ago, just because I haven't mentioned the fact since then? Do you +imagine I can't send you there now? Do you think I'd hesitate for a wink +about throwing you overboard, body and soul, if I didn't find you +useful? Do you fancy I'm _afraid_ of you? God! What a maggot it is! +Look at those hands, you whelp! I've seen you grovel, and I've heard you +whine, and what a man will do once he'll do again under like conditions. +It's too late for you to pit your will against mine, my friend! You gave +yourself away five years ago, when first I put on the thumbscrews, and I +know at just which turn of them you're going to whimper again!" + +To all appearance, the white heat of Radwalader's passion was gone as +suddenly as it had come. With the last words, his face resumed its +normal expression of placidity, and, before he continued, he began to +pace slowly up and down the room, with his thumbs in the pockets of his +trousers. Vicot had made no motion, save, at the other's contemptuous +reference to his hands, to fold his arms. Now he sank a little farther +into his chair, and, under lowered lids, his eyes slid to and fro, +following his companion's march. + +"If you didn't understand the situation before," resumed Radwalader, +"it's probable that you do now. As it happens, I don't fear God, man, or +devil; but even if I were as timid as a rabbit, I wouldn't fear _you_! +You're a convenience, that's all--an instrument to do that part of my +work which is a trifle too dirty for a gentleman's hands. So long as you +do it to my satisfaction, I see fit to pay you, and pay you well; and +you're free to drink like the swine you are, and go to the devil your +own way. But the indispensable man doesn't exist, my good Jules, and the +moment you kick over the traces, out you go! I discarded you last month +because I don't like people who listen at doors, even if I'm not fool +enough to give them an opportunity of hearing anything. If I've chosen +to call for you again, it's simply that I've work for you, and assuredly +not because I'm in any fear of consequences. Pray get that into your +head as speedily, and keep it there as long, as possible. There are +plenty of others to take your place. As for partners, you're as much +mine as the coyote is the wolf's, and no more. So you've said enough on +_that_ point." + +"What's the job?" put in Vicot, as the other paused. + +"If you haven't forgotten certain things in the past few weeks, you know +what it means when I sit close to one man and talk only to him whenever +you're in the room." + +"Never to forget his face," answered Vicot, as if responding to a +question in the catechism. "Is it another game of shadow?" + +"To an extent, yes. But it will be more in the open than usual. You +won't have to skulk. Do you think you can accustom yourself to the +change?" + +"Get on!" said Vicot impatiently. "I suppose it's the young chap?" + +"Yes. He's to take Remson Peake's apartment, in all probability--or some +other. And you, my excellent Jules, are to be his _valet de chambre_." + +"Humph!" commented the other, without any evidence of surprise. "And the +pay?" + +"What's usual from him, I suppose," said Radwalader, "and from me +double." + +"Say three hundred francs a month, all told?" + +"About that." + +Radwalader seated himself again, and, leaning forward, continued more +earnestly, making a little church and steeple of his linked fingers. + +"First, visitors--their names, or, if not that, their appearance, as +accurately as possible. Next, letters--both incoming and +outgoing--particularly the latter. Steam them, and take copies whenever +it seems best. Keep an eye especially on anything relating to--well, to +women in general. If any come to the apartment, make good use of your +remarkable faculty for eavesdropping, which was so lamentably misapplied +here. Keep your hands off his tobacco and wine. Be respectful. Get him +to talk as much as possible, and remember what he says. Stay sober--if +you can. And report to me immediately if anything important turns up." + +"When do I begin?" + +"I can't tell. In a few days, probably. I'll let you know." + +Vicot rose slowly. + +"What a blackguard you are, Radwalader!" he said, almost admiringly. + +"That's not the greatest compliment I've known you to pay me," drawled +Radwalader. "Imitation is the sincerest flattery." + +The other poured himself another half-glass of whiskey, set it on the +table-edge, and stood looking down at it. + +"And I was once a gentleman!" he said. + +"Oh, don't get maudlin," answered Radwalader. "We were all of us +something unprofitable once. The main fact, by your own confession, is +that, as a gentleman, you couldn't make enough to keep body and soul +together; and that, as a scalawag, you can turn over three hundred +francs a month. The world is full of gentlemen. They're a drug on the +market. But accomplished scoundrels are rare, my good Vicot." + +"You'll have a deal to answer for one of these days, Radwalader." + +Radwalader shrugged his shoulders. + +"One never has to answer so long as there are no questions asked," he +said flippantly. "You'd better take your tipple and go home. Preaching +doesn't become you in the least degree." + +"I want to know," said Vicot slowly, taking up his glass, "what you mean +to do. I've pulled many a chestnut out of the fire for you, Radwalader, +and if I haven't burned my fingers in doing it, I've soiled them enough, +God knows. You haven't any scruple about calling me names, and I take +your insults because I'd starve to death if I didn't. But I've a +conscience, and it cuts me, now and again." + +"Bank-notes make good court-plaster," observed Radwalader. + +"Yes, but there are some things which I've done that I won't do again. I +don't want to be mixed up in another affair like that of young Baxter. +Do you ever think of that morning at the Morgue?" + +"I wasn't made to look backward," said Radwalader. "Providence put my +eyes in the front of my head, and I know how to take a hint." + +"Well, _I_ think of it--often," said Vicot, with something like a +shudder. "He repaid me in my own coin, that boy. If I shadowed him in +his life, he shadows me in his death. Even brandy doesn't blot him out +of my mind. When I shut my eyes at night, I can see him, sitting in that +ghastly chair, with his face, all purple, looking through the cloudy +glass--as truly murdered by us who stood looking at him, as if we had +pitched him into the lake at Auteuil with our own hands!" + +"Oh, rot!" exclaimed Radwalader. "You know what that means, don't you? +Other men see centipedes and blue rats: you see Baxter, that's all. Cut +off the liquor, and you won't know there ever was such a thing as a +Morgue. Baxter was a silly ass. He tried to do things with ten thousand +francs that a sane man wouldn't attempt with a hundred. I let him go his +pace, and I was as surprised as the next chap when I found how short his +rope was. I held his notes for double the amount he had in the +beginning. Did I come down on his family for them, after he chose the +easiest way of evading payment? Not a bit of it. I burned them." + +"Policy," commented Vicot briefly. + +"Is the best honesty," supplemented Radwalader. + +"He was daft on baccarat, and if he had to lose, why not to me as well +as another? And a man who drowns himself for ten thousand francs isn't +worth considering." + +He crossed to the piano, and, seating himself, let his fingers stray up +and down the keyboard through a maze of curiously intermingling minor +chords. Then he began to hum softly, looking up, with his eyes +half-closed, as if trying to recall the words. After a moment, he struck +a final note, low in the bass, and, with his foot on the pedal, listened +until the sound died down to silence. + +"I want to know what you mean to do," reiterated Vicot obstinately. + +"Well, you won't, and that's flat. The job is for you to take or leave, +as you see fit. Only I want yes or no, and, after that, no more talk. +I'm a hard man to make angry, but you've done it once to-day, and that's +once too often for your good. Why, what are you thinking of, man? You've +known me for five years. Did you ever see me hesitate or back down? Did +you ever find a screw loose in my work, or so much as a scrap of paper +to incriminate me? Did you ever know me to leave a footprint in the mud +we've been through together--or let you leave one either, for that +matter? A man like you would land in Mazas inside of a week, if he +tinkered with business like mine, without a head like mine to guide him! +Look here. You've been useful to me, Vicot, and, though you've been paid +enough to make us quits, I'm not ungrateful to you in my own way. +Continue to stick by me and I'll stick by you. Throw it all over, if you +will, and you can go your way, with a handsome present to boot. But let +me hear any more of such drivel as you've given me to-day, and, as God +lives, my man, I'll smooch you off the face of the earth, as I'd smooch +a green caterpillar off a page of my book! You'd be a smear of slime, my +friend, and nothing more--and I'd turn the page, and go on reading!" + +Radwalader had not raised his tone, as on the former occasion, or even +risen, but his voice rasped the silence of the _salon_ like a diamond on +thin glass. + +"Is it yes, or no?" he added. + +Vicot swallowed the spirit in his glass, and looked across at him with +his eyes watering and blinking. + +"You know which," he said. + +"Say it!" + +"It's yes," said Vicot sulkily; "but if I wasn't the cur I am, I'd tell +you to go to hell--you and all your works!" + +Radwalader closed the piano gently. + +"If it affords you any satisfaction to hear it," he answered, rising +with a yawn, "I think it likely that the injunction is entirely +superfluous. We sha'n't gain anything by prolonging this interview. It's +four minutes to six, and I must dress for dinner. When I want you, I'll +stick the blue jar in the window. Meanwhile, here's fifty francs on +account. I'll get Mr. Vane to pay you in advance." + +Vicot stood silent for a moment, the bill crackling as he folded it +between his trembling fingers. + +"Is that his name?" he asked. + +"That's his name. _Au revoir._" + +And Radwalader went to the window, flung it open, and drew a deep breath +of the soft, spring-evening air. A girl was selling violets on the +corner, and he beckoned to her, and bought a bunch of Palmas, leaning +down from the sill to take them. Plunging his face into the fragrant +purple mass, he dropped a two-franc piece into her hand with a gesture +which bade her keep the coin. + +"_Comme monsieur est bon!_" said the girl, smiling up at him. + +Only one other figure was in sight, that of Monsieur Jules Vicot, with +his head bent, and his hands in his pockets, turning, at a snail's pace, +into the Avenue Victor Hugo. From him Radwalader's eyes came back to the +face of the flower-girl. + +"You were just in time," he said, with his nose among the violets. "The +air was getting a little close." + +Then he shut the window, leaving her looking up, smiling, and wrinkling +her forehead at the same time, and went back into his bedroom, whistling +"_Au Clair de la Lune_." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +A PLEDGE OF FRIENDSHIP. + + +The following week found Andrew fairly installed _en garçon_, with a +man-servant, recommended by Radwalader, presiding over his boots and +apparel, and a fat apple-cheeked _concierge_ preparing his favourite +dishes in a fashion which suggested that all former cooks of his +experience had been the veriest tyros. It had taken but a week at the +Ritz to disgust him with the elaborate pomposity of life at a +fashionable hotel, and, in its unpretentious way, Remson Peake's +apartment was a gem. A tiled bath, with a porcelain tub; a bedchamber in +white and sage-green, with charmingly odd, splay-footed furniture of the +Glasgow school; a severely simple dining-room, with curtains and +upholstery of heavy crimson damask; a study with furniture of +_marqueterie_ mahoghany, a huge divan, and a club-fender upon which to +cock one's feet; a pantry and a kitchen like a doll's--it was complete, +inviting, and equipped in every detail. For Andrew it had a very special +charm. His whole life had been, to a great extent, subordinate to the +presence and personality of his grandfather. Even college had not +brought him the usual accompaniment of rooms at Claverly or Beck, +for--and it was to his credit--he had never so much as suggested leaving +Mr. Sterling alone in the big house on Beacon Hill. But even an +influence as kindly as this gentle, indulgent old man's may irk. Now, +for the first time, Andrew found himself the practical master of his +movements. And Remson Peake's apartment had the rare, almost unique, +quality of disarming criticism. One had no suggestions to make. One +would--given the opportunity--have done the same in every particular. + +And so, the faint qualms of homesickness having worn off in the course +of his initial fortnight in the capital, Andrew found himself supremely +contented, and discovered a new charm in life at every turn. Radwalader +was the essence of courtesy and consideration, invariable in his good +humour, tireless in his efforts to amuse and entertain the young +_protégé_ of his good friend Mrs. Carnby. Paris, he told Andrew, was +like a box of delicate _pastilles_, each of which should be allowed to +melt slowly on the tongue: it disagreed with those who attempted to +swallow the whole box of its attractions at a gulp. So they went about +Andrew's sight-seeing in a leisurely manner, taking the Louvre and the +Luxembourg by half-hours, and sandwiching in a church, a monument, or a +celebrated street, on the way; for it was another theory of Radwalader's +that a franc found on the pavement, or in the pocket of a discarded +waistcoat, is more gratifying than fifty deliberately earned. + +"It's the things you happen on which you will enjoy," he said, "not +those you go to work to find, by taking a tram or walking a mile. +Unpremeditated discoveries, like unpremeditated dissipations, are always +the most successful. There's nothing so flat as a plan." + +As was to be expected, Mrs. Carnby was not able to monopolize Andrew. +Mrs. Ratchett took him into her good graces, and, as was usual with her +where men were concerned, contrived to make him think of her between his +calls. And there were many others--women characteristic of the American +Colony, whose husbands were never served up except with dinner. It was +as Mrs. Carnby told him: + +"If a bachelor has manners, discretion, and presentable evening dress, +he need never pay for a dinner in Paris, so long as the Colony knows of +his existence. And remember this. Nothing is dearer to a woman's heart +than a man at five o'clock. She will excuse anything, if you'll give her +a chance to remember how many lumps you take and whether it's cream or +lemon. Attend to your teas, my young friend, and you can do just about +as you like about your _p_'s and _q_'s!" + +Madame Palffy, too, seeking whom she might entertain (which, in her +case, was equivalent to devouring), collected young men as geologists +collect specimens of minerals. The analogy was strengthened by her +predilection for chipping off portions--the darker portions--of their +characters, and handing these around for the edification of her +friends. She cultivated Andrew assiduously, though it was not for this +reason that he dropped in so frequently at tea-time. Margery, with her +clean-cut beauty, appealed to him in a very special sense. They had in +common many memories of the free, open-air, sane, and wind-blown life of +the North Shore; and now, when they idled through portions of "The +Persian Garden," which had been the fad at Beverly, it was by way of +getting a whiff of sea air, and an echo of the laughter that had been. + +Often he found himself looking at her admiringly. She had the knack of +satisfying one's sense of what ought to be. Her dress was almost always +of a studied simplicity which depended for its effect entirely upon +colour and fit, and could have been bettered in neither. Not the least +factor in her striking beauty was its purity, its freedom from the +smallest suggestion of artificiality. She was singularly alive, +admirably clear-eyed and strong, and in her fresh propriety there was +always a challenge to the open air and the full light of day. She had, +even in the ballroom, an indefinable hint of out-of-doors. The contrast +between her personality and that of Parisian women--of Mirabelle +Tremonceau, for example--was the contrast between the clean, dull linen +of a New England housekeeper and the dainty shams of an exhibition +bedroom; between a physician's hands and a manicure's; between the keen, +salt air of the North Shore and that of a tropical island. Her +femininity impressed where that of others merely charmed. The majority +of women are pink: Margery Palffy was a soft, clear cream. + +Nevertheless, Andrew seemed to feel, rather than to see, a subtle +alteration in her. A few months had given her a new reserve, almost an +attitude of distrust, which puzzled and eluded him. Their talks at +Beverly had been different from these. There, they had spoken much of +the future, of what they hoped and believed: here they skirted, instead +of boldly boarding, serious topics, and were fallen unconsciously, but +immediately, into the habit of chaffing each other over meaningless +trifles. He was baffled and disconcerted by the change. There was much +which he had come to say. He had rehearsed it all many times, and +remembering the charming lack of constraint which had characterized all +their former intercourse, to say it had seemed comparatively easy. But +now he was like a man who has been recalling his fluent renderings, at +school or college, of the classic texts, but, suddenly confronted with +the same passages, cannot translate a word. + +Again, the presence of her family depressed him with something of her +own visible distress, humiliated him with something of her own evident +shame. There was no such thing as making allowances for either Monsieur +or Madame Palffy. From the moment of one's first glimpse of them, they +were hopelessly and irretrievably impossible. Not that they had the +faintest suspicion of this. They were supremely self-satisfied, and +moved massively through life with a firm conviction that they fulfilled +all requirements. Madame, with her frightful French, was as complacent +in a conversation with a duchess of the Faubourg as was Monsieur, with +his feeble and flatulent observations upon subjects of which he had no +knowledge, in a company of after-dinner smokers. It was impossible to +exaggerate their preternatural idiocy. A bale of cotton, suddenly +introduced into polite society, could have manifested no more stupendous +lack of resource than they. It was only when tempted with the bait of +gossip--most probably untrue--that they rose heavily to the surface of +the conversation instead of floundering in its depths. Half the Colony +detested them, all of the Colony laughed at them, and none of the Colony +believed them. In short--they were Monsieur and Madame Palffy. There was +no more to be said. + +Had Margery been farther from him, curiously enough she would have been +far more readily approached in the manner which Andrew had planned. He +was far from comprehending that it was her vital and intimate interest +in him which showed her that he would note all the defects of the +deplorable frame wherein he thus found her placed. The very fact that +they had known each other under different and happier conditions forced +her to assume the defensive now that other circumstances were patent to +his eyes. She was intensely proud. There must be no chance for him to +pity her. So, she assumed a gaiety which she was far from feeling, and +sought in the by-ways of banter a refuge from the broader and more open +road of surrender. On her side and on his it was a more mature case of +the painful embarrassment incidental to the early stages of a children's +party. They had played unrestrainedly together, as it were, but now, in +the artificial light of a society strange to both of them, were stricken +dumb. + +From the strain of this baffling position Andrew sought relief in the +company of Mirabelle Tremonceau. Here was no constraint, no unuttered +solemnities to come up choking into the throat. She was very beautiful, +very inconsequent, very gay; but the same light _insouciance_ which in +Margery distressed and humiliated him, because of the unsounded deeps +which lay below, attracted and amused him in Mirabelle, by simple reason +of its essential shallowness. She was altogether different from any +woman he had ever known, but her novelty meant no more to him than a +part of that charmingly sparkling and intoxicating wine of Paris of +which he was learning to take deep draughts. Never for an instant did it +alter the strength of the original purpose which had brought him from +America, but it went far toward lessening the keen disappointment which +Margery's apparent disregard of that purpose caused him. In the latter's +presence he was exquisitely sensitive to the possible significance of +every word. He thought too much, and the sombre current of these +reflections too often darkened the surface of conversation, turned her +uneasy and unnatural, and sent him away in a fit of the blues. With +Mirabelle, on the contrary, he never thought at all. Since he had +nothing to ask of her beyond what she had already granted him--the +privilege of her friendship and the fascination of her presence--he +enjoyed these to the full. It was his consuming desire for another and +more tender relation with Margery that caused him to be blind to the +promise of that which existed--almost to despise it. + +Minutes grew into hours with unbelievable celerity in the company of +Mirabelle Tremonceau. With something akin to intuition, all unsuspecting +as he was, he said nothing of her to Mrs. Carnby, to Margery, or even to +Radwalader. At the first, there was but one who could have told him +whither he was tending--but Thomas Radwalader had all-sufficient reasons +for holding his tongue. Yet, back of his slight infatuation, there lay +in Andrew's mind a little sense of guilt. He could not have laid finger +upon the quality of his indiscretion, but he felt indefinitely that all +was not right. He recognized, or seemed to recognize, in Mirabelle a +fruit forbidden, but told himself that it was a passing episode. He was +confident that the way would yet lie open for the attainment of his +heart's desire, and meanwhile he would amuse himself and say nothing. +Your ostrich, with his silly head buried in the sand, is not the only +creature that fatuously underestimates both its own desirability and the +perspicacity of those interested in its movements. Twice, in the +afternoon, Andrew had driven with Mirabelle in the Allée des Acacias. +She gave him the seat at her right, and people turned to look at the +passing victoria, as they had turned and looked on the afternoon when +she took his arm at the gate of Auteuil. + +But better than driving was the time passed, daily, in her apartment on +the Avenue Henri Martin. It was on the fifth floor, running the whole +width of the house, and with a broad balcony looking down upon the rows +of trees below. A corner of this balcony was enclosed by gay awnings, +and made garden-like by azaleas and potted palms. Mademoiselle +Tremonceau had a great lounging chair, and a table for books and +_bon-bons_, and Andrew sprawled at her feet, on red cushions, with his +back against the balcony rail, his hands linked behind his head, and his +long legs stretched out upon a Persian rug. All this was the most +unexpected feature of his new life, and hence the most attractive. It +was as far as possible removed from a suggestion of metropolitan +existence. May was already upon them, and the air above the wide and +shaded avenue was indescribably soft and sweet. The roar of the city +mounted to their high coign only in a subdued murmur, as of the sea at a +distance. Birds came and went, twittering on the cornice above their +heads. The sun soaked through Andrew's serge and linen, and sent +pleasurable little thrills of warmth through the muscles of his broad +back. A faint perfume came to him from the roses on the table. A +delicious, indefinable languor hung upon his surroundings. He was +vaguely reminded of afternoons at Newport and Nahant--afternoons when +everything smelt of new white flannel, warm leaves, and the fox-terrier +blinking and quivering on his knee--when the only sounds were the whine +of insects in the vines, the rasping snore of locusts in the nearest +trees, and the snarl of passing carriage-wheels on a Macadam driveway. +He could close his eyes and remember it all, and know that what had +been, was good. He could open them, and feel that what was, was better! + +As is always the case, when sympathy is pregnant with prophecy, Andrew's +acquaintance with Mirabelle Tremonceau had grown into friendship before +he realized the change. At first he had made excuses for the frequency +of his calls; but at the end of three weeks the daily visit had come, in +his eyes as well as hers, to be a matter of course. + +So it was that three o'clock would find him upon her balcony, or in a +cushioned corner of her divan; and whereas, at the outset, he had been +but one of several men present, he discovered of a sudden not only that +for four days had he found her alone at the accustomed hour, but that +she refused herself to other callers when the _maître d'hôtel_ brought +in their cards. He was not insensible to the compliment, but it was one +he had experienced before. + +That afternoon, the _maître d'hôtel_ had not even taken his name, but +ushered him directly through the _salon_ to the Venetian blind at the +window, and lifted this to let him pass out upon the balcony. +Mademoiselle Tremonceau was in her great chair, with a yellow-covered +novel perched, tent-like, upon her knee. She smiled as he came out, and +gave him her hand. Andrew bent over and kissed it, before taking his +seat. It was a trick of the Frenchmen he had met at Mrs. Carnby's--one +of the things which are courtesies in Paris, and impertinence elsewhere. +The girl's hand lay for an instant against his lips. It was as soft as +satin, and smelt faintly of orris, and her fingers closed on his with a +little friendly pressure. + +"You were expecting me?" he asked, as he dropped upon the cushions +beside her. + +"I'd given you up," she answered. "It's ten minutes past three." + +"Am I as regular as that?" he laughed. "I was lunching at my friend Mrs. +Carnby's, and we didn't get up from table till long after two. I came +directly over." + +Mirabelle looked away across the house-tops with a little frown. + +"What is it?" asked Andrew. "Anything gone wrong?" + +"Oh no! My thoughts wouldn't be a bargain at a penny. Tell me--have you +seen Mr. Radwalader lately?" + +"Last night. We went to the Français." + +"You continue to like him?" + +"I think we should never be intimate friends. Apart from the difference +in our ages and opinions, there's something about him which I don't +seem to get at--like shaking a gloved hand, if you know what I mean." + +"Ye-es," said Mirabelle slowly. "It's odd you should have noticed that." + +"But it's ungrateful of me to mention even that small objection," +continued Andrew. "He's been the soul of kindness, and has shown me all +over Paris, introduced me everywhere, and, in general, explained things. +I've learned more in three weeks with him than I could have learned +myself in a year. So, you see, I couldn't very well help liking him, +even if I wanted to help it--which I don't. Why do you ask?" + +For an instant Mirabelle's slender hand fluttered toward him with an odd +little tentative gesture, and then went back to her cheek. + +"I'm not sure," she answered. "Perhaps only for lack of anything else to +say. People have told me that they disliked Mr. Radwalader--that they +distrusted him." + +"I suppose we're all of us disliked and distrusted--by somebody," said +Andrew. "But, so far as I'm concerned, Radwalader's my friend. Perhaps +you don't know me well enough yet to understand that that means a great +deal." + +"You're very loyal you mean?" suggested the girl. + +"I hope so--yes. I have few friends; but those I have, I care for and +respect and, if necessary, defend. They can't be talked against in my +presence." + +"I wonder," said Mirabelle slowly, "if I'm one of the happy few." + +"Decidedly!" said Andrew heartily. + +"Do you mean," she continued, "that you care for me as you care for +these other friends, that you--that you respect me, and that you'd +defend me--if necessary?" + +"Decidedly, decidedly! I hope I've proved the first two, and I hope +there'll never be any cause to prove the last. But if there is, you may +count on me." + +Mirabelle looked at him for a moment, and then leaned back and closed +her eyes. + +"Thank you," she said. "You don't know what that means to me." + +"Why, how serious you are over it!" laughed Andrew. "Does it seem to you +so very wonderful? To me it appears to be the most natural thing in the +world." + +"Ah, to _you_, perhaps," answered Mirabelle. "But to me--yes, it does +seem _very_ wonderful. You see--I've never had it said to me before!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +A PARLEY AND A PRAYER. + + +May was close upon the heels of June before there came a change, but one +afternoon, as Andrew paused in his playing, an atmosphere of new +intimacy seemed to touch him. He had been alone with Margery for half an +hour, and something in the music--or was it only fancy?--told him that +her thoughts were occupied with him. She had greeted him with a little +air of weariness--but not unfriendly--and, as he took her hand, she +looked at him with some indefinite question in her eyes. The impression +made by this gained on him as they talked, and, more strongly, as he +played. Once or twice he was upon the point of turning abruptly and +seeking the clue, but he had been so long perplexed, so long uncertain, +that he hesitated still. If only she would give him an opening, if she +would but come, as she had often come at Beverly, to lean above him, +humming the words of some song into which he had unconsciously drifted, +then had he had the courage to turn, to grip her hands, to ask her.... + +"I wonder if we would, even if we could," she said. + +"What?" asked Andrew. + +"How should you be expected to know? I've been a thousand miles +away--thinking of Omar. I mean whether we would 'shatter it to bits, and +then remould it nearer to the heart's desire.'" + +Andrew swung round on the piano-stool, slowly chafing his palms +together. He did not dare trust himself to look at her. For the first +time since they had met in Paris, he caught an echo of the old life in +her tone. + +"I wonder if we could, even if we would," he answered. "I think +so--perhaps. Whatever set you thinking about that?" + +"I'm sure I don't know," said Margery, with a short laugh. "Sometimes, +in my own little way, I'm quite a philosopher! I was just thinking that +if any of us were given the chance to change things--everything--shatter +'the sorry scheme of things' into bits, as Omar says--we should perhaps +make an equally sorry bungle of the task of reconstruction. We're always +saying 'If!' but when it actually came to the point, do you suppose we'd +really want anything to be different?" + +Again that singular, appealing query in her eyes. It was the old Margery +at last, simple, serious, and candid. There was a responsive light in +Andrew's face as he replied: + +"Some things, no doubt. I don't think I could suggest a desirable change +in you--except one. Will you let me tell you?" + +Margery nodded. + +"It's more of a restoration than a change," continued Andrew. "I'd like +to see you, in every respect, precisely as you were at Beverly." + +"And am I not? A little older, of course, and bound to be more +dignified, as becomes a young woman in society; but for the rest, I'd be +sorry to think you find a change in me." + +Andrew wheeled back to the piano, and refingered a few chords. + +"Now that you've seen the world," he said presently, "tell me what +pleases you most in life." + +And he faced her again, smiling. + +"Motion!" replied Margery promptly. "I can't explain that, but I know +it's so. Motion! I don't care what kind, just so long as it shows that +the world is alive and happy. I love to see things run and leap--a man, +or a horse, or a dog. I love the surf, the trees in a wind; all +evidences of strength, of activity, of--well, of _life_ in every and any +form. Not so much dancing. That always seems to me to be a forced, an +artificial kind of movement, unless it's _very_ smoothly done--and you +know, almost every one hops! But I could watch swimming and driving and +rowing for hours, and, for that matter, any outdoor sport--racing, +football, lacrosse--anything which gives one the idea that men are glad +to be alive!" + +"How curious!" said Andrew. + +"Curious? Why?" + +"Because that's a man's point of view, not a girl's. I ask you what +pleases you most in life, and I expect that you're going to say music, +or flowers, or the play. Instead, you cut out remorselessly everything +which one naturally associates with a woman's way of amusing herself, +and give me an answer which sounds as if it came from one of the lads at +St. Paul's. That's the way they used to talk, exactly. It was all rush, +vim, get-up-and-get-out, with them. If you know what I mean, they +breathed so hard and talked so fast that it always seemed to me as if +they'd just come in from running in a high wind." + +"Yes," agreed Margery, with a nod. "I know. That's what I like. That's +what I call the glad-to-be-alive atmosphere." + +There fell a little silence. Andrew's fine eyes were tiptoeing from +point to point of the big, over-furnished _salon_ with a kind of amazed +disgust. He had not known that there were so many hideous things in the +world. Madame Palffy worshipped at the twin altars of velvet and gilt +paint. Much of what now encumbered the room and smote the eye had been +picked up in Venice, at the time of her ponderous honeymoon with the +apoplectic Palffy. That was twenty years before, when the _calle_ back +of the Piazza were filled with those incalculable treasures of tapestry, +carved wood, and ivory now in the _palazzi_ of rich Venetians--if, +indeed, they are not in Cluny. But the Palffys were as stupid as they +were pompous. They moved heavily round and round the Piazza, and +furnished their prospective _salon_ out of the front windows of smirking +charlatans. The irreparable and damning results of their selection, as +Andrew now surveyed them, had been modified--or, more exactly, +exaggerated--by the subsequent purchases of two decades in the +flamboyant bazars of the Friedrichs Strasse, in the "art departments" of +the big shops on Regent and Oxford streets, and in the degenerate +galleries of the Palais Royal. Madame Palffy's idea of statuary was a +white marble greyhound asleep upon a cushion of red _sarrancolin_: and +her taste ran to Bohemian glass, to onyx vases, and to plaques with +broad borders of patterned gilt, enclosing heads of simpering Neapolitan +girls--these last to hang upon the wall. There were spindle-legged +chairs, with backs like golden harps, and seats of brocade wherein +salmon-pink and turquoise-blue wrestled for supremacy; and in front of +the huge mantel (logically decked with a red lambrequin) there was a +velvet ottoman in the form of a mushroom, whereon when Monsieur Palffy +sat, his resemblance to a suffocating frog became absolutely startling. +The rest of the furniture was so massive as to suggest that it could +have been moved to its present position by no agency less puissant than +a glacier, and, for the most part, the upholstery was tufted, and so +tightly stuffed that one slid about on the chairs and sofas as if they +had been varnished. The room contained four times as much of everything +as was appropriate or even decent, and this gave all the furnishings the +air of being on exhibition and for sale. One's imagination, however, was +not apt to embrace the possibility, under any conceivable +circumstances, of voluntary purchase. + +Presently Andrew's eyes came back to Margery. It was evident that she +had been watching him: for she smiled whimsically. + +"Well?" she suggested. + +"Can you guess what I was thinking?" he asked, with a slightly +embarrassed laugh. + +"In part, I imagine," said Margery. "Wasn't it something like this: +that, as a matter of fact, I _have_ pretty well shattered my scheme of +things to bits and remoulded it--and that the new arrangement is not +altogether a success?" + +"I don't seem to see you in these surroundings," returned Andrew +evasively. "At Beverly you seemed to 'belong': you were all of a piece +with the life. Here--well, it's different. That was why I asked you that +question, and that was why I thought there was something about you which +I wanted to see changed--or restored. You know we used to be very open +with each other, very good friends in every sense of the word; but now +something's come between us. I've felt it all along, and I thought +perhaps it was that you'd stopped caring for the things that used to +mean most to you, that new interests, and perhaps your success and the +compliments that people pay you, had cut the old ties, and that you had +new ideas and ideals. I've felt--I've felt, Miss Palffy, that I'd +forfeited even the small place I had in your life. You've been holding +me at a distance, haven't you? I've thought so. I asked you that +question to see if I was right or wrong, and to my surprise I find that +you are apparently the same as ever. You still love all that made the +sympathy between us. Well, then, the fault must be in me. Tell me: what +have I done, that you treat me almost as a stranger?" + +"I'm sorry, very sorry," said Margery earnestly. "If I've given you any +such impression, believe me, it was quite without reason or even +intention. I've always looked upon you as one of my best friends. +Surely, I've not been holding you at a distance: that must have been a +fancy of yours. You must know that you're always welcome here, that I'm +always glad to see you. Please believe that." + +But the little restraint was there! + +"I can't quite explain what I mean," said Andrew. "You see, Paris is a +queer sort of place. It upsets all one's notions. There's so much that's +strange and interesting and new all about us that we're apt to find the +old things growing dim. I know, in my own case, that I'm wiser for these +few weeks, and perhaps"--he laughed unevenly--"sadder! Forgive me for +thinking that it might have been the same with you. This big city is so +full of fascinations of one sort or another, that one can hardly be +blamed if one is distracted at the first. Until I saw you that Sunday at +Mrs. Carnby's, I'd never realized what a difference a few months might +make. Your voice brought back--a lot! I forgot that it was all in the +past, that we couldn't pick up things as they were in Beverly--the +sailing, the bathing, the horseback rides, the golf, and all the rest. +Those months had made you a woman and me a man. Much that we used to do +and say was done and said and finished with forever. But I _did_ hope +that the spirit of the thing would remain, that we'd 'grown parallel to +each other,' as Mrs. Carnby says, and that we'd be nearer together, +instead of farther apart, for the separation. But no! It isn't a fancy +on my part. There's something changed. Do you remember Wordsworth? +'There hath passed away a glory from the earth'--and, Miss Palffy, there +has, there _has_! I know I'm not wrong--something's come between us, and +that something is just what I've said--Paris! Isn't it?" + +"Yes!" she answered, with her eyes on his. + +But Andrew Vane, the blind, did not understand. + +Margery rose, almost with a shudder, crossed the room, and stood at the +window opening upon the balcony. Below, a whirling stream of cabs, bound +in from Longchamp, split around the island in the centre of the _place_, +merged again upon the opposite side, and went rocking and rattling on, +up the Avenue Victor Hugo, toward the Arc. In curious contrast to this +continuous and flippant clatter, the harsh bell of St. Honoré d'Eylau +was striking six. + +"I hate it!" said the girl. "I couldn't attempt to make you understand +how I loathe Paris, and how home-sick for America I am. Here--I can't +express it, but the shallowness and the insincerity and the--the +immorality of these people gets into one's blood. It's all pretence, +sham, and heartless, cynical impurity. At first I didn't see it--I +didn't understand. I was dazzled with the lights, and the fountains, and +the gaiety. I was lonely--yes: but when I remembered all there was to +see and do, remembered that here is the best in art and music and what +not, I thought I should be happy. But it's the beauty of a tropical +swamp, Mr. Vane--there's poison in the air! You wouldn't think I'd feel +that, would you?--but I do. It's all around me. I can't shut it out. I +meet it here, there--everywhere. It sickens me. It chokes me. It's just +as if something that I couldn't fight against, that was bound to conquer +me in the end, struggle as I might, were trying to rob me of all my +beliefs, and ideals, and trust in the honour of men and the goodness of +women. I hate it! I'd give--oh, what _wouldn't_ I give!--to be back in +America, on the good, clean North Shore, where things--where things are +_straight_!" + +She turned upon him suddenly, her eyes full of a strange trouble that +was almost fear. + +"Do you see?" she added. + +"Yes," said Andrew slowly. "I think I see. That's what I meant; that's +how I thought you would feel. I'm sorry. You're right, of course: Paris +is no place for a girl--like you." + +"It's no place for any one who loves what's clean and decent," said +Margery hotly. "It's no place for a _man_! I'm not supposed to know, am +I, about such things? And perhaps I don't. I couldn't tell you exactly +what I mean, even if I wanted to. But I feel it here." She laid her hand +upon her throat. "I feel the danger that I can't describe. It strangles +me. I'm afraid. I'm afraid for its influence upon any one for whom--for +whom I might care. I'm afraid for myself. It's nothing definite, you +see, and that's just where it seems to me to be so dangerous. Do you +remember when we were reading Tennyson at Beverly--'The Lotus Eaters'?" + +She paused for an instant, and then, looking away from him again, +recited the lines: + + "'For surely now our household hearths are cold: + Our sons inherit us: our looks are strange: + And we should come like ghosts to trouble joy. + Or else the island princes over-bold + Have eat our substance, and the minstrel sings, + Before them of the ten years' war in Troy, + And our great deeds, as half-forgotten things, + Is there confusion in the little isle? + Let what is broken so remain.'" + +There was something in her voice more eloquent than the music of the +words. Andrew came forward a step, as if he would have touched her, but +she looked up and met his eyes. + +"And you're afraid--?" he began. + +"I'm afraid," she answered, "that we've come to a land where it seems +always afternoon; and that if we don't take heed, my friend, we may not +fight a good fight, we may not keep the faith." + +She made an odd little weary gesture. + +"Will you play some of the 'Garden' now?" she asked. "I think I should +like it. I'm just the least bit blue." + +Andrew hesitated, but the words he wanted would not come. He turned back +to the piano, fingered the music doubtfully for a moment, and then began +to play. There was no need to voice the words. They both knew them well, +and they fitted, as, somehow, the verse of Omar has a knack of doing. + + "Strange, is it not, that of the myriads who + Before us passed the Door of Darkness through, + Not one returns to tell us of the Road + Which to discover we must travel too." + +"I'm glad I know you," he broke in impulsively, with his fingers on the +keys. "You're a good friend." + +Margery made no reply. + +"My grandfather, who's the best old chap in all the world," continued +Andrew, playing the following crescendo softly, "is the only other +person of whom I can feel that as you make me feel it. He always calls +me 'Andy.' I rather like that silly little name. I wonder--" + +He swung round, facing her. + +"I think we're both of us a trifle homesick, Miss Palffy. I wonder if +you'd mind--calling me--that?" + +He looked down for a second, and in that second Margery Palffy moistened +her lips. When she spoke, it seemed to her that her voice sounded harsh +and dry. + +"I shall be very glad, if you wish it--Andy." + +"Thank you. And I--?" + +"If you like--yes. After all, as you say, we're friends--and a little +homesick." + +"Thank you, Margery." + +Andrew resumed his playing, turning a few pages. + + "Ah, Love, could you and I with Fate conspire + To grasp the sorry scheme of things entire, + Would we not shatter it to bits--and then + Remould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!" + +Behind him, the girl, unseen, unheard, was whispering a word for every +chord. Once, her hand went out toward the smooth, close-cropped head, +bent in eager attention above the score. + +"Ah, Love!" said the music. + +"Ah, love!" whispered Margery Palffy. + +"What a _lot_ there is in this!" exclaimed Andrew, crashing into two +sharps. + +"Yes." + +Once more, to Margery, her voice seemed cold and hard. + +"The good old days at Beverly--what?" said Andrew. + +"Yes." + +Andrew dawdled with the _andante_. + + "Ah, Moon of my Delight, that knows no wane--" + +"I must be going," he said, and rose to take her hand. + +"I wonder," he added, retaining it, "if you know that I would give the +world to ask you just one question--and be certain of the answer?" + +"Not now," said Margery steadily, "not now, please. I have many things +to think of. Listen. I'm going down to Poissy--to the Carnbys', +to-morrow. I know they mean to ask you over Sunday; and then, my friend, +you can ask me--whatever you will. No, please. Good-by." + +From the window she watched him stroll across to the little island in +the centre of the _place_, there pause to await the coming of the tram, +and then, mounting to the _impériale_, light a cigarette. Presently, +with hee-hawing of its donkey-horn, the tram swerved into the avenue +again. + +The girl leaned her cheek against the heavy curtain. The tram dwindled +into the distance--toward the Arc--toward the brilliant centre of +Paris--toward danger! Then, in a still small voice, she prayed: + +"Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who--who trespass +against us. And lead us--lead us not into temptation: but deliver us +from evil...." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE WOMAN IN THE CASE. + + +In the sun-spangled stretch of shade under the acacias of the Villa +Rossignol four drank coffee and talked of Andrew Vane. Mrs. Carnby had +remained in Paris three weeks beyond her usual time; first, because the +weather had been no more than bearably warm; and second, because the +decorator who was renovating the _salon_ of the villa had been somewhat +more than bearably slow. The first of June, however, found her at +Poissy, and the Villa Rossignol once more prepared to receive and +discharge a continually varying stream of guests with the regularity of +a self-feeding press. + +There was something very admirable about the hospitality of the Villa +Rossignol. In the first place, there were fourteen bedrooms; and in the +second, a hostess who never made plans for her guests; and in the third, +no fixed hour for first breakfast. People came by unexpected trains, +and, finding every one out, ordered, as the sex might be, whiskey and +cigarettes, or tea and a powder-box, and were served, and, in general, +made themselves at home, till Mrs. Carnby returned from driving or +canoeing. And seemingly there was always a saddle-horse at liberty in +the stable, no matter how many might be riding; and a vacant corner to +be found, inside or out, without regard to the number of _tête-à-têtes_ +already in progress. In a word, Mrs. Carnby knew to perfection how +_laisser aller_ and whom _laisser venir_--the which, all said and done, +appear to be the qualities most admirable in an out-of-town hostess, by +very reason, perhaps, of their being the least common. + +So, at all events, thought Mrs. Carnby's three guests as they took their +coffee-cups from her and, sipping the first over-hot spoonfuls +cautiously, shuffled a few topics of conversation, in an attempt to find +one which invited elaboration. They were consumedly comfortable: for +breakfast had been served on the stroke of one, with five members of the +house-party absent. The remaining three were grateful for a punctuality +which was not concerned with the greatest good of the greatest number. + +"It was so wise of you not to wait breakfast, Louisa," observed Mrs. +Ratchett, and her voice resembled as much as anything the purr of a +particularly well-bred kitten. "I was as hollow as a shell an hour ago. +By this time I'd infallibly have caved in." + +"It's nothing short of imbecile to wait for people who're out in an +automobile," replied Mrs. Carnby. "Whenever any one brings a machine +down here, and takes some of my guests to ride, I have all the clocks in +the house regulated, and order Armand to announce breakfast and dinner +on the stroke of the hour. It's only just to the sane people who may +happen to be visiting me." + +"In the present instance," put in Radwalader, "it's to be supposed that +the others will have sense enough to get breakfast at the spot nearest +available to that of the breakdown." + +"The breakdown? You take a deal for granted, Radwalader," said Gerald +Kennedy, gazing up into the shifting foliage of the acacias. + +"I, too, have been _en auto_," answered Radwalader, "and am familiar +with the inevitable feature of a run. At this moment Andrew Vane is in +his shirt-sleeves and a pitiful perspiration, violently turning a crank +and talking under his breath. Or else he's flat on his back, under the +car, with only his feet sticking out. Can you believe otherwise, after +the evidence of those five vacant chairs?" + +"How sensible we are, we four!" smiled Mrs. Ratchett. + +"Ours is the conservatism of the lilies of the field," supplemented +Radwalader. "We spin not, therefore neither do we toil." + +"I fancy Vane is regretting having left his chauffeur to breakfast in +the servant's hall," said Kennedy. + +"And I, that, if anything, Vane is the better mechanician of the two," +said Radwalader. "The boy's aptitude is really quite astounding. He +learned that machine in an hour, Pivert tells me, and now knows it +better than Pivert himself. He's only renting it by the week, you know, +but old Mr. Sterling will be called upon for the purchase-price, if I'm +not mistaken, before he's a month older." + +"One might be justified in remarking," said Mrs. Ratchett, "that Andrew +Vane is--er--going it--don't you think?--in a fashion little short of +precipitous." + +"_Wein--Weib--Gesang_," murmured Kennedy, with his eyes in the trees. + +"I know he sings," commented Mrs. Carnby, "but I hadn't heard of his +drinking." + +"Or of his--oh yes I had, too!" Mrs. Ratchett caught herself up +abruptly, with a suspicion of a blush. "Some one told me he was fast +going to the--er--" + +"Cats?" suggested Kennedy amiably. + +"Gerald, you're indecent!" exclaimed Mrs. Carnby. "And remember, I won't +listen to gossip about my guests--except Madame Palffy. For the moment, +Mr. Vane's reputation is under the protection of mine." + +Radwalader leaned back in his chair, and yawned without shame. + +"Vane is developing, that's all," he said. "It's a thing rather to be +desired than otherwise. Paris does such a deal for the raw American, in +the way of opening his eyes. Vane is just beginning to 'learn how.' I've +no doubt that in Boston he ate his lettuce with sugar and vinegar, and +thought it effeminate to have his nails manicured. Now that he's +acquiring the art of living, pray make some allowance for the crude +colouring of his _exquisses_. The finished picture will be a creation +of marked merit, I warrant you. I've seen a good bit of Vane, and he can +be trusted to take care of himself." + +"The question is whether he can be trusted to have other people take +care of him," said Mrs. Ratchett viciously, looking at Radwalader over +the edge of her coffee-cup. + +"I don't think you dangerous, dear lady." + +"Radwalader is always so unselfish," said Mrs. Carnby. "He escapes +embarrassing situations by walking out on other people's heads." + +"I deserved it," laughed Mrs. Ratchett. "But I really wasn't thinking of +you, Radwalader. I heard there was a lady in the case of Mr. Vane." + +"I credit him with more originality," said Radwalader. "No, believe me, +the facts are no more than must be expected in a young man who has been +tied to apron-strings for an appreciable number of years." + +"Not that old Mr. Sterling wears aprons," observed Mrs. Carnby. + +"And not that I was referring to old Mr. Sterling. I had in mind the +very estimable United States of America, which wash so much dirty linen +in public that it would be something more than surprising if there were +not a supply of particularly starchy apron-strings continually on +hand--in Boston in particular. Vane has been taught her creed, which is +to make a necessity of virtue. His daily fare has been a _rechauffé_ of +worn-out fallacies. I haven't a doubt but what he's been instructed +that an honest man is the noblest work of God, and I've no idea that +he's ever understood till now that vice is its own reward, or how +immaterial it is whether a thing is gold or not, so long as it really +glitters." + +He turned a tiny glass of _fine_ into his coffee, and continued, +stirring it thoughtfully: + +"What happens when you turn your stable-bred colt out to pasture for the +first time? Doesn't he kick up his heels and snort? Assuredly. And we +don't take that as an evidence, do we, that, all in good time, he won't +run neck and neck with the best of them, and perhaps carry off the Grand +Prix? I always believe in cultivating charity, if only for one +comfortable quality attributed to it. Let's be charitable in the case of +Vane. He's only kicking up his heels and snorting." + +"If you're going to assume the mantle of charity with the view of +covering the multitude of your sins--!" suggested Mrs. Carnby. + +"We'll have to send it to the tailor's to have the tucks let out," said +Radwalader, with infinite good humour. "Exactly, dear friend. Forgive me +my little sermon. You see, the physician doesn't preach, as a rule, and +I'm afraid the priest is equally unapt to practise. You must pardon me +my shortcomings. I can't very well be all things to all men--much less +to one woman. And, while we are on this subject, it may interest you to +know that Vane has chosen his profession: he's going to be a novelist." + +"Do you mean that he's going to write novels?" asked Mrs. Carnby. + +Radwalader appeared to reflect. + +"No," he said presently. "I think I mean that he's going to be a +novelist. I stand open to correction," he added, with an affected air of +humility. + +"By no means," answered Mrs. Carnby. "Probably I don't understand. It +sounds to me a good deal like saying he's going to be a German Emperor +or a Pope--that's all." + +"Nevertheless, I'm quite sure that's what I mean. He has read me several +chapters of a novel upon which he's at work, and I must say that they +display a knowledge of women which, in a man of his years, is nothing +less than remarkable." + +"That's not impossible," put in Mrs. Carnby. "I had a letter, only +yesterday, from a woman who knows him, and it appears that he's as good +as engaged to a very charming young American." + +"However," said Radwalader mildly, "I think the knowledge of women +displayed by Vane in the chapters he was so good as to read to me is +hardly such as one would expect to deduce from the fact that he is as +good as engaged to a very charming young American." + +"His choice of a profession must be a very recent resolution," said Mrs. +Carnby. "To be sure, until to-day, I haven't seen him in a week." + +"An eternity in Paris," said Kennedy. "Extra-ordinary people, the +Americans! Not content with securing monopolies of tramways and +industrial trusts over here, they appear to control a monopoly of +feminine consideration as well. I confess--though only to the +acacias--that I'm in the least degree weary of the subject of Mr. Andrew +Vane. Radwalader, I'll give you twenty at cannons." + +"Done!" said Radwalader, rising. + +"The cigars are on the corner-table in the billiard-room," observed Mrs. +Carnby, "and the Scotch is on the dining-room _buffet_, with ice and +soda. Don't call the servants for a half-hour, at least: it irritates +them immeasurably to have their eating confused with other people's +drinking." + +"I really don't mean it as gossip," said Mrs. Ratchett, as the men +vanished into the house. "I'm interested in Mr. Vane. He seems more +rational and cleaner-cut than the American cubs one sees over here as a +rule; and if he's only going to go the way of the rest of them--if +there's a woman in the case--" + +Mrs. Carnby shrugged her shoulders. "Andrew Vane has been in Paris for +ten weeks," she said. "I think it not improbable that Paris will be in +Andrew Vane for the rest of his natural life." + +"Then there _is_ a woman in the case!" exclaimed Mrs. Ratchett. + +"So you say, my dear." + +Mrs. Ratchett's pointed slipper began to beat an impatient tattoo on the +grass. + +"Could anything be more ludicrous than for us two to beat about the +bush in this fashion?" she broke out, after a moment. "You know +perfectly what I mean, Louisa--what one _always_ means, in short, by 'a +woman in the case'!" + +"Yes, of course I know," agreed Mrs. Carnby frankly. "The women one +speaks of as being in cases are always more or less disreputable. Well, +there _is_ a woman in the case of our young friend--and a very engaging +woman at that." + +"Engaging appears to be a habit with Mr. Vane's flames," said Mrs. +Ratchett. "It's a little hard on the one in America. And pray where did +_you_ see her?--the other, I mean." + +"Oh, here, there, and everywhere. Vane made the mistake, at first, of +trying to carry on his little affair _sub rosa_. People are always seen +when they try not to be, you know. Lately, I believe, they've been going +about quite openly, so it has been almost impossible to keep track of +them." + +"But how do you arrive at the conclusion that the lady--" + +"Isn't respectable? I've walked up the Opéra Comique stairway behind +her, my dear, and there was no mistaking the social grade of her +petticoats. They were entirely beyond a reputable woman's means. And +you're quite right. It's downright hard on the other one. She's like my +own daughter--Margery Palffy is." + +"Margery Palffy! Why, how very surprising! I thought you said the girl +was in America." + +"No--I said 'a charming young American.' And it's really not surprising +at all. My letter was from Mrs. Johnny Barrister--Madame Palffy's +sister-in-law, you know. She always took charge of Margery during the +summer vacations. They've a big house at Beverly, which I've never seen, +and heaps of money. That's how Mr. Vane met Margery, I suppose: he seems +to have had the run of the house. Molly Barrister mentioned him +casually, but quite as if the engagement were a matter of course--quite +as if he had come over here on purpose to see Margery." + +"The lady with--er--the petticoats," suggested Mrs. Ratchett, "strikes +me in the light of evidence to the contrary." + +"One can never tell," said Mrs. Carnby. "He wouldn't be the first man to +drive tandem. There's apt to be a leader, you see--a high-stepping, +showy thoroughbred, that attracts all the attention, and does none of +the work: and then, an earnest, faithful little cob, as wheeler. After a +time, a man gets tired of the frills and furbelows, sells the leader to +break some other fellow's neck, and settles down. Then you'll see the +earnest little wheeler as much appreciated as may be, and dragging the +domestic tilbury along at a rational, _bourgeois_ rate of speed. One can +never tell, my dear." + +"All that," observed Mrs. Ratchett dryly, "doesn't ring true, Louisa, +and--what's worse--it isn't even clever. You're fond of Margery Palffy." + +"It's froth!" exclaimed Mrs. Carnby, "the kind of froth one sticks on +the top of a horrid little pudding to conceal its disgusting lack of +merit. Don't ask me what I think of men, Ethel. I couldn't tell you, +without employing certain violent expletives, and nowadays no really +original woman swears!" + +A distant, whirring snore, very faint at first, had grown louder as they +were speaking, and now swelled into a muffled roar, as Andrew's +automobile lunged up the driveway, and stopped, sobbing, before the +villa. Mrs. Carnby raised her voice, to carry across the lawn: + +"Have you had breakfast?" + +Andrew, turning from the automobile, waved his hand in reply. + +"We broke down near the Pavilion Henri Quatre," he called. "The others +had breakfast while I was making repairs. I coffeed so late that I +wasn't hungry. I knew that I could hold over till tea-time." + +The party, five in number, came chattering toward them across the lawn. +Old Mrs. Lister led the way, followed by her son and Madame Palffy, whom +Mrs. Carnby always invited to Poissy for the first Sunday of the +season--"to get it over with," as she had been heard to say. Behind were +Andrew and Margery. Jeremy was to bring Palffy, De Boussac, and Ratchett +down by the late train, and these, with Kennedy, Radwalader, and Mrs. +Ratchett, completed the house-party. + +Mrs. Lister, whom Radwalader had described to Andrew as "the +jail-breaker, because she never finishes a sentence," plunged abruptly +into one of her disconnected prolations, addressing herself to Mrs. +Carnby: + +"Of course, we are _most_ reprehensibly late--but you see--I don't +understand about these things--Mr. Vane said--it's so difficult to +comprehend--but it was something that the gravel--or was it the +dust?--at all events--and I always say that meals above _all_ +things--but then accidents are simply _bound_ to occur--I do hope you +didn't wait--and it was delightful--my first experience--but of course +we _had_ to--there was no telling how long--though fortunately--and I'm +quite fagged out, dear Mrs. Carnby--as I say to Jack--when one is young, +you know--but when one gets to fifty-four--though I don't complain--I +think one should never regret--and I enjoyed the drive--or does one say +ride?--it's so difficult--" + +She paused for breath, and Madame Palffy took up the tale. + +"It was _fas_--cinating, _fas_--cinating," she said, "and most exciting. +I reached St. Germain quite _en déshabille_. Mr. Vane kindly took +Margery on the front seat. Mrs. Lister and I sat behind, and Mr. Lister +on the floor, with his feet on the step. It was flying." + +And she waved her fat hands, and sank ponderously into a chair. + +"My most humble apologies, Mrs. Carnby," said Andrew. "It couldn't +really be helped, and I provided my crew with sufficient nourishment to +keep them alive till dinner." + +"You're forgiven," replied his hostess, "only don't do it again. After +all," she added, looking Andrew wickedly in the eye, "your crime, like +dear old Sir Peter Teazle's, carried its punishment along with it." + +"Now I come to think of it," observed young Lister vacuously, "she's his +second wife, Madame Palffy--or _is_ she? Do you know the +Flament-Gontouts, Mrs. Carnby? No? They live up in the Monceau quarter. +She was an American, a Bostonian. Her maiden name was Fayne--sister of +Clarence Fayne, the painter, who married Mary Clemin, the daughter of +Anthony Clemin, who used to own the Parker House--" + +He did not appear to be addressing any one in particular, which was +fortunate, as no one had ever been known to vouchsafe him the compliment +of attention. He spoke with as much variety of expression as an +accountant making comparisons, and invariably, as now, upon the subject +of birth, marriage, and death--a hopelessly dull young man. + +"_He_ write plays?" said Mrs. Carnby, when the purpose of his presence +in Paris had been explained to her. "Never! But he may have written the +thirty-sixth chapter of Genesis." + +"I'm afraid that's quite cold," said Mrs. Carnby, as, in compliance with +a request, she handed Andrew a cup of coffee, "but it's your own fault." + +"Never mind," he laughed. "Coffee is one of the few things which are +more or less good all the way up and down the thermometer from +thirty-two to two hundred and twelve." + +Mrs. Carnby looked at him critically, as he stirred, and told herself +that he came up strikingly well to many standards. His hair was neither +too short nor too long, he was perfectly shaved, his stock was tied to a +nicety, his clothes were on friendly terms with him, his hands were +excellently well-kept--and an hour before he had been tinkering with a +motor!--and his teeth were even and studiously cared for. He was an +aristocrat, a patrician, from his head to his heels--and it _would_ be a +pity, thought Mrs. Carnby, to have him go the way of what Mrs. Ratchett +had called "the rest of them"--the way of Tommy Clavercil, for example, +whose late _affaire_ had been so crudely mismanaged that he was no +longer invited to the best tables in the Colony, or the way of +Radwalader's young acquaintance, Ernest Baxter, who ended up in the +Morgue. And then there was Margery-- + +Mrs. Carnby's eyes came round to her, instantly narrowed, and dropped. +There are moments when the souls of us come to their twin windows, and +look out, and shout our secrets to the veriest passer-by. Margery was +looking at Andrew Vane--and Mrs. Carnby _saw_! + +"_Good_ Lord!" she thought. "Then at least half of the story's true--and +I'm afraid that's about fifty per cent. too much!" + +"The list of my offences isn't complete, as yet, Mrs. Carnby," said +Andrew. "I very stupidly left my camera at the Pavilion. I'm afraid I +shall have to go back for it." + +Once more Mrs. Carnby looked at him. + +"I'll go with you," she said suddenly. "I haven't had a chance to see +how your machine runs, as yet, and, besides, every one of these lazy +people will be wanting to take a nap presently. I know them of old. I +never nap myself. It's a fattening habit." + +"Delighted to have you, I'm sure, Mrs. Carnby." + +There was the slightest trace of hesitation in Andrew's voice, but Mrs. +Carnby rose to her feet. + +"I may be back to tea, and I may be back to-morrow," she said to the +others. "One never knows, _en automobile_." + +She was still frowning perplexedly, as Andrew steered the automobile +deftly out of the gate. + +"It's turned a bit windy," he said. "We didn't use the dust-cloths +coming over, but there's one under the seat. What do you say--shall we +have it?" + +He bent forward, as she nodded, and dragged the cloth from its place +beneath them. Something heavy rapped smartly on Mrs. Carnby's foot, and +she looked down with a little exclamation. + +"What's that?" + +"That?" answered Andrew. "Why--er, that's my camera." + +Mrs. Carnby leaned back in her seat, drawing the dust-cloth smoothly +over her knees. + +"Don't you think," she said deliberately, "that you had better tell me +your _real_ reason for wanting to go back to St. Germain--and wanting to +go back alone?" + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE FAIRY GODMOTHER. + + +They were mounting the steep incline of the Route de Poissy before +Andrew replied. He had been staring fixedly ahead, absorbed apparently +in the business of guiding the automobile around the sharp turns of the +side streets, before they struck the wide main road. It was almost as if +he had not heard the remark at all; but Mrs. Carnby knew better. And she +was one of the discerning persons who never build els on telling +observations. Despite the tension with which the following pause was +instinct, it was Andrew, not she, who first spoke. + +"That was a very singular speech, Mrs. Carnby." + +"_On fait ce qu'on peut_," said Mrs. Carnby. "You're a very singular +young man, Mr. Vane." + +"I have my failings, of course," said Andrew, a trifle coolly. "I'm only +human, you know. We're all of us that." + +"Unfortunately, you're _not_ 'only human' my dear young friend; you're +masculine as well. And we're not all of us _that_, thank Heaven!" + +"Aren't we talking a little blindly?" suggested Andrew. + +"Yes, possibly," agreed his companion, "but some things aren't easy to +say. Do you remember that when one of the old prophets undertook to haul +a monarch over the coals for his misdeeds, he would always begin with a +parable? I think, in this instance, I shall follow the established +precedent." + +"I was afraid you were going to begin by saying you were old enough to +be my mother," retorted Andrew, with a faint smile. + +"I always skip unimportant details," said Mrs. Carnby. She observed with +satisfaction that, without increasing the speed at the top of the +incline, Andrew had turned from the direct route to St. Germain into one +of the forest by-roads. Evidently he was in no haste to curtail the +conversation. + +"I'm waiting," he observed presently. + +"Where I used to spend my summers, on the South Shore," said Mrs. +Carnby, with her eyes on the interlacing foliage overhead, "it was the +custom of the natives to make collections of marine trophies from the +beach and the rock-pools, and work upon them sundry transformations, +with an aim to alleged artistic effectiveness. They glued the smaller +shells and coloured pebbles on boxes and mirror-frames; and painted +landscapes on the pearl finish of the larger mussels; and tied +baby-ribbon around the sea-urchin shells; and gilded the dried starfish. +You know what I mean--the kind of thing that comes under the head of 'A +Present from North Scituate' or 'Souvenir of Nantasket Beach.' But you +may, perhaps, have remarked the appearance of one and all of these +objects while they were as yet where nature was pleased to put them--on +the sand, that is, or in the tidal pools. Do you remember the sheen of +the pebbles, the soft pinks and grays of the starfish? Is there anything +comparable to these, in the artistic combination of all the gilt paint +and baby-ribbon in the world? It seems to suggest, as a possibility, +that nature knows best; and that in lacking the simple touch of +sea-water they lack the one thing which ever made them beautiful at all. +It opens up a whole tragedy in the phrase 'out of one's element.' That's +my parable." + +"You'll remember," said Andrew, falling in with her whim, "that the +transgressing monarch rarely understood what the prophet was driving at +in his parable. I, too, must follow precedent." + +"Shall I speak plainly?" asked Mrs. Carnby, laying her hand for an +instant on his arm. + +"Very, please. There seems to be something rather serious back of all +this." + +"_Eh bien!_ You're a young man, Andrew Vane, to whom fate has been +uncommonly civil. Your family is rather exceptionally good, on--er--on +both sides. Your means are, or will be, some day, almost uncomfortably +ample. You're more than passably good-looking, and you're surprisingly +clever. Your health is magnificent, and, finally, nature chose America +as your environment." + +"A mixed blessing, that last!" + +"Five words, with Thomas Radwalader in every letter!" said Mrs. Carnby. +"I should think you'd find the _rôle_ of phonograph rather +unsatisfying." + +"I thought you liked him," said Andrew, flushing. + +"And I like the obelisk!" nodded Mrs. Carnby, "but that doesn't +necessarily imply that I should like half a hundred tin facsimiles set +up in its immediate vicinity, and making the Place de la Concorde look +like a colossal asparagus-bed! There are only three ways in which a man +can be distinguished, nowadays. He must be unimaginably rich, +unspeakably immoral, or unquestionably original. You're not the first, +as yet, and you've just proved that you're not the last." + +"I'm not the second, I hope?" + +Mrs. Carnby pursed her lips, and wrinkled her forehead. + +"Perhaps not _unspeakably_ immoral," she said, "but immoral--yes, I +think you're that. Of course, there are many different conceptions of +immorality, and mine may be unique. Let us come back to my parable. What +I mean is this. You were born with every natural good fortune, and your +breeding and education secure to you every social advantage which one +could possibly desire. You've been placed, like the sea-urchins or the +starfish, in a situation preëminently befitting you. You're American in +every detail of your sane, clean make-up, my friend, and you've been +given America, the sanest, cleanest country on God's globe, in which to +develop and achieve. Might one ask what you're doing over here? Getting +a finish?--that's what it's called, isn't it? Allowing yourself, that is +to say, to be tied up with the baby-ribbon and decorated with the gilt +paint of Parisian frivolity! And when you go back--if you ever do--to +live in America, what will you be? 'A Souvenir of Paris,' my good sir, +'A Present from the Invalides,' as undeniably as if somebody had +lettered the words on your forehead in ornamental script, and pasted a +photograph of Napoleon's tomb on your shirt-bosom. That's what _I_ call +immoral. I like you better as an American; I like you better with the +sheen of the salt water on you; I like you better in your element, Mr. +Andrew Vane!" + +"I never heard anything better in the way of a sermon," said Andrew, +groping for an answer. + +"It's too true to be good," retorted Mrs. Carnby. "Do you believe any of +it?" + +"Some, perhaps--not all. And the whole attack is a litle abrupt. What +_have_ I been doing?" + +"Nothing! You've hit upon precisely the objection. '_Tekel!_--thou art +weighed in the balances and art found wanting!' Margery Palffy is like +my own daughter to me, Mr. Vane. She calls me her fairy godmother, you +know. Are you looking forward to introducing her to Mirabelle +Tremonceau?" + +Mrs. Carnby was once more contemplating the forest foliage overhead. For +the second time in fifteen minutes, her instinct for distinguishing the +line which separates the boldly effective from the futilely impertinent +was standing her in good stead. As a matter of fact, Andrew had _not_ +been weighed in the balances--but he was just about to be! + +The forest was all alive with the lisp of leaves, and the shifting +dapple of sunlight and shadow, and, even as she waited, Mrs. Carnby +smiled quietly to herself, in pure enjoyment of the great Gothic arches +of green, that seemed to thrill and shiver with delight under the warm +sunlight and the fresh west wind. The forest, like the sea, has in its +every mood a magnificent dignity of its own--a superb indifference to +the transitory doings of man, which dwarfs human affairs to an aspect of +utter triviality. The world which Mrs. Carnby knew, and toward which her +attitude was alternately one of keen appreciation and of good-natured +contempt--the world of fashion and frivolity and easy cynicism, seemed, +as she contrasted it with this vast serenity, to become incomparably +little. The suggestion of endurance and repose with which these shadowy +reaches, opening to right and left, were eloquent, lent a curious +contemptible tawdriness to the little comedy, so conceivably potential +tragedy, in which she and the man beside her were playing each a part. +How little difference it made, after all, if men were fools or +blackguards, and women wantons or martyrs! For a moment she was sorry +she had spoken. She felt that here and now she could not quarrel, or +even dispute, with Andrew over what he chose to do. The intrusion of +intrigue and dissipation into these forest fastnesses was hideously +incongruous. + +"There's cruelty in what you have said, but I can see that it's not +wanton cruelty, and that there's kindness as well." + +Andrew was speaking slowly, thoughtfully; almost, thought Mrs. Carnby to +herself, as if he, too, had been touched by the softening sympathy of +the forest. But she shook off the mood which had been stealing over her, +as being wholly inadequate to the demand upon her fund of resource. What +was needed, far from being the influence of elemental nature, was the +keenest, if most worldly, diplomacy of which she was mistress. She +straightened herself, and began to put on her gloves, working the +fingers with the patient care of one who understood that, with a glove +above all things, it is _le premier pas qui coute_. Inwardly she was +keying taut the strings of her self-possession. She realized that +emotion would be as fatal to her purpose as would sheer frivolity. + +"Under your words," continued Andrew, "I can see that there must lie a +more or less intimate knowledge of many things which we have never +mentioned--many things which I did not suppose you would ever--" + +"Find out? You really _are_ young, aren't you? Why, my dear Mr. Vane, +any given woman of average intelligence can find out whatever she +chooses about any given man, provided always she hasn't the fatal +handicap of being in love with him. Not that I've been spying upon you, +understand. It's hardly a matter of vital concern to me if you go +completely to the dogs, but Margery would probably give her heart's +blood to hold you back. Therefore, people tell _me_ all the facts, and +keep _her_ in total ignorance. That's the way of the world. Why, my good +sir, I could probably tell you at this moment how you've spent fifty per +cent. of your time for the past week, and, between them, the other women +back there at the villa could account for another quarter. With gossip +all things are possible." + +"I didn't think I was of sufficient importance to call for such strict +surveillance," said Andrew. + +"You're not! That's precisely what you must learn about the American +Colony. It's what things are done, not who does them, that makes +four-fifths of the gabble. A man's a man, and a woman's a woman, and an +intrigue's an intrigue. You could tag them exhibits A, B, and C, and the +Colony would find almost as much to talk about as if you gave the full +names. What's not known is made up. It's necessary to find tea-table +topics, and necessity is the mother of invention. You can have no idea, +unless you're in the thick of the gossip, how absorbing any one person's +affairs can be, when there's nothing better to talk about." + +She admitted frankly to herself that she was talking to gain time, +giving Andrew a chance to find his line of reply. It was going to be +important, that reply, at least for Margery Palffy. Mrs. Carnby would +undoubtedly have been at a loss to give a word-for-word rendition of the +duties of a sponsor in baptism, either fairy or otherwise, according to +the Book of Common Prayer. She recollected vaguely certain references to +the pomps and vanities of the world, and realized, with a little inward +smile, that she was warring more earnestly against these--and the +rest--in her adopted goddaughter's behalf than ever she had considered +it necessary to do in her own. + +"As it happens," she continued, "there's been no one else to claim the +centre of the stage for the past few weeks, and therefore the lime-light +has been turned upon you, as being the latest novelty--and a highly +enterprising one at that! I think it manifestly impossible that you +could have performed all the exploits credited to you, even had you +given all your time to the task, with no allowance for eating and +sleeping. But I think, too, that you would be surprised to find how +extremely realistic gossip can be at times, and how much that you think +is known only to yourself or to a few is, in fact, the talk of half the +Colony. You remember dear old Sir Peter Teazle? I seem always to be +quoting him. He knew such an infinite deal, and guessed so much more. 'I +leave my character behind me,' he said, in parting from the +scandal-mongers. Now, that's _so_ true of Paris--only more. My dear +Andrew Vane, not only do you leave your character at the tea-table you +are quitting, but you'll meet it, more or less torn to shreds, at that +to which you are going: and, if you were at the pains, you might find +it, in a like state of demoralization, at a dozen others in the same +_arrondissement_! I wish I could make you understand that. It seems to +me to be so important to the conduct of life to know not only how we +stand, but in what manner we fall." + +"As yet the charge against me seems to be a trifle indefinite," +suggested Andrew. + +"On the contrary," retorted Mrs. Carnby, "I mentioned the young person's +name quite distinctly--the one, you know, whom you saw by chance at the +Pavillon Henri Quatre, and whom you were going back to meet." + +"I can't pretend to misunderstand you," began Andrew, "but of course any +reflection upon Mademoiselle Tremonceau--" + +"Now, my dear man, _pray_ don't be comic!" burst in Mrs. Carnby. "That +sort of thing is as grotesque in these days as the doctrine of original +sin. And of all places in the world--Paris! Oh no! A spade's a spade +here, believe me, and when one is _demi-mondaine_, like Mirabelle +Tremonceau, one is perfectly understood. _She_ knows, and _you_ know, +and _I_ know. Don't let us argue over the indisputable." + +"I _didn't_ know, at first," said Andrew gravely, "and, if I have +guessed recently, you must not take that to mean that our relations have +changed in the least degree. There's nothing between Mademoiselle +Tremonceau and myself that I could not mention, Mrs. Carnby--absolutely +nothing. But her friend I've been, and her friend I am. I'm not prepared +to hear her branded as a 'moral leper' or something of the sort. How +hard you are, you good women!" + +"I suppose," said Mrs. Carnby resignedly, "that when one adds two and +two, the result is bound to be four. It isn't ever five or thirty-seven, +by any chance, is it, just by way of variety? It's provokingly +inevitable; but not more so than what a man will say under certain +circumstances. Do I really seem to you that kind of person? Do you +really imagine that I'm objecting to your _penchant_ for the little +Tremonceau, on the ground that her ideas of moral deportment are not all +that might be desired? I hadn't thought that I gave the impression of +being so desperately archaic." + +"But you were about to warn me--" + +"Merely to keep that self-same eccentricity of deportment well in mind, +my friend. _Chacun dans sa niche_, Mr. Vane--the little Tremonceau and +you, as well as the rest of us. And hers is not the Palais de Glace +before four o'clock, nor yet a _matinée classique_ at the Français; and +yours is not her victoria in the Bois. Don't be crude. A certain amount +of privacy in the conduct of such affairs is as troublesome as a +pocket-handkerchief or a bathing-suit--but quite as essential. _Ne vous +affichez pas._ It only shows you to be an amateur--in the American +sense--and to be amateurish, nowadays, is to be grotesque. And, of +course, it doesn't make any difference how innocent your relations may +be. So long as Mirabelle Tremonceau is a figure in the calculation, +there's no reason why people should not believe anything they choose." + +"You mentioned Miss Palffy," ventured Andrew. "Have you heard that +she--that I--" + +"Indirectly. That, frankly, is why I have taken the liberty of meddling +in your affairs. It really isn't quite fair on the girl to bungle +things. So long as you're going to work to gallicize yourself, pray make +a thorough job of it. Don't copy the Frenchman's license, and neglect to +imitate his discretion. I abhor half-made methods." + +"But Miss Palffy--" + +"Is heels over head in love with you, Mr. Vane. That much I know. I +don't ask about _your_ feelings. As a matter of fact, they haven't much +bearing on the main issue, which is that I don't mean to have her +disappointed in her estimate of you, for want of a friendly warning from +an old woman who has seen many a young man spoil his life just because +he took serious things too lightly and trivial ones too seriously." + +"I wonder how much of this is serious advice, Mrs. Carnby," said Andrew +suddenly, and with a perceptible ring of irritation in his voice, "and +how much of it banter, with more than a suggestion of contempt. +Apparently you're urging me to a change of course; actually, only to a +change of method. I know you can't approve of my friendship for +Mademoiselle Tremonceau, and yet you're not asking me to give it up, but +only to put it out of sight and hearing. Isn't that--excuse me--but +isn't it rather like trafficking with one's ideas of right and wrong? If +one's doing no harm, why not go on? If one's to blame, why not pull up +short?" + +"Oh, nobody pulls up short, in these days," said Mrs. Carnby, "except +habitual drunkards who have been pronounced incurable. One mustn't ask +too much of people. It's like the servants: the old-fashioned kind used +to brush the dust into a dust-pan, wrap it up in newspapers, and see +that the ash-man carried it off; now they sweep it under the beds and +sofas, where it can't be seen. One mustn't complain of knowing it's +there, so long as it isn't actually in evidence. _Autre temps autres +moeurs._ It's a long cry from Hester Prynne to Mirabelle Tremonceau. +Besides, pulling up short all by oneself is one thing, and pulling a +woman up short into the bargain is quite another. She might object, the +little Tremonceau." + +"She hasn't the shadow of a claim on me." + +"Of course not," said Mrs. Carnby, wrinkling her eyes amusedly at the +corners, "of course not." Inwardly she added, "Two and two make four!" + +"Whereas Margery--" + +"Whereas Margery," echoed Mrs. Carnby, "will play a part which +convention has made absolutely iron-clad. She will continue to love, as +she loves now, an ideal man, endowed with an almost embarrassing +multiplicity of imaginary virtues; and, incidentally, will pray daily +that she may become worthy of him. Then, when he has sown his wild oats, +perhaps he'll come to her, at his own good pleasure, and lay at her feet +what he has achieved--a pleasant smattering of things generally talked +about, a comprehensive intimacy with things generally _not_ talked +about, a tobacco heart, and a set of nerves which make him unfit for +publication three days in the week. With these somewhat insufficient +materials she will proceed to build up something indefinitely resembling +her original ideal. And they will be married. And they will live--hem! +_haply_--ever afterwards!" + +Andrew swung the automobile round a sharp corner with a vicious jerk, +and they emerged from the shelter of the wood-road, and found themselves +again upon the glaring white of the Route de Poissy. St. Germain was not +far distant. They could see the _octroi_ and the first houses through +the trees. But it was toward Poissy that Andrew turned. + +"Shall we go back?" he asked. + +"If you think the little Tremonceau won't be angry at the delay," +answered Mrs. Carnby pleasantly. + +"I'm fond of her," said Andrew abruptly, "very." + +"I'm glad of that," said Mrs. Carnby, almost with enthusiasm. "It +excuses a great deal. I confess I was afraid that you were trying to be +big--to 'show off,' as the children say. After all, she's the most +beautiful _cocotte_ in Paris, and the most sought after. One couldn't +have blamed you for being flattered. But if you're really fond of her, +one can't very well do anything except be glad that it's impossible you +should always be so." + +"Why impossible?" demanded Andrew. "I'm bound to confess that it seems +to me to be quite within the range of likelihood that I should always be +fond of her. Why impossible?" + +"It's hard to explain--that," said Mrs. Carnby, "but those women don't +wear. They seem to be only plated with fascination, and in time the +plating wears off, and you come back to the kind with the Hall-mark. I'm +perfectly at ease about that. I've known too many cases of its +happening. Oh, I know how it all is now! The polish is absolutely +dazzling, and you can't imagine that it will ever be different. That's a +symptom of the earliest stages, but the disease will run its regular +course." + +"You rather touch one on the quick, Mrs. Carnby. I think perhaps neither +of us realizes what an extremely unusual conversation this has been." + +"I shouldn't call it commonplace," said Mrs. Carnby, "and I think you've +stood it beautifully. But I want to ask you one more question. _Do_ you +love Margery?" + +"With all my heart and soul and strength, Mrs. Carnby!" + +"Then, my dear young friend, it's time to think what you're about. +There's only one thing for you to do. The path lies open before you--and +I think you'll have the courage and the good sense, to say nothing of +the common decency, to follow it!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +SOME AFTER-DINNER CONVERSATION. + + +Night in the garden of the Villa Rossignol was as night is nowhere else. +The cool dusk softened the somewhat stilted formality of the flower-beds +and winding walks, and mercifully blurred the uncompromising stiffness +of the paved terrace, flanked by marble urns, and giving, in three broad +steps, upon the lawn. At this season the air was neither warm nor chill, +but so deliciously adjusted that, as it moved, its touch on the cheeks +and forehead was like that of a woman's fingers. The stillness was +emphasized rather than disturbed by a tiny tinkle of water, falling from +ledge to ledge of a rockery hidden in the trees, and the sound, hardly +less liquid, of a nightingale, rehearsing, pianissimo, snatches of the +melody that midnight would hear in full. The darkness seemed to drip +perfume: for the little seats and summer-houses, cunningly hidden here +and there among the _bosquets_, were veritable bowers of roses, and the +new grass and foliage had that fresh June smell which July, with its +dust and scorching suns, so soon turns stale. + +The women were on the terrace now; the men inside. Through the windows +of the west wing, open from floor to ceiling to the soft night air, the +big dining-table gleamed with linen, silver, and crystal, in not +ungraceful disarray, and above it hung a thin haze of blue-gray smoke, +through which the shirt-bosoms and white waistcoats of the men stood +oddly out, seeming to have no relation to their owners, whose faces were +cut off by the deep-red candle-shades from the light, and so from the +view of those outside. Now and again their laughter came out through the +windows in rollicking little gusts, and immediately thereafter the haze +of smoke was reinforced. + +"What an amusing time they always seem to have, once they're rid of us!" +said Mrs. Ratchett, almost resentfully. "If one could be a fly, now, and +perch in comfort, upside down, upon the ceiling--" + +"One would get a vast deal of tobacco-smoke into one's lungs," put in +Mrs. Carnby, "and a vast store of unrepeatable anecdotes into one's +memory. I really can't approve of your project, Ethel, and I'm convinced +that, to your particular style of beauty, it would be most unbecoming to +perch--particularly upside down!" + +"Oh, the men!" exclaimed old Mrs. Lister, with a kind of ecstatic +wriggle. "What _do_ you suppose?--but of course we shall never know--I +dare say we'd be quite shocked--but it sounds entertaining--and they +say, you know, that the cleverest stories--and Mr. Radwalader must be +an adept--if only we _could_--!" + +"For my part," observed Madame Palffy majestically, "I have no desire to +overhear anything in the nature of _double entendre_." + +"Oh, shade of Larousse!" murmured Mrs. Carnby into her coffee-cup. +"Where _did_ the creature learn her French? Shall we take a little +walk?" she added aloud, turning to Margery. + +"Why, yes--with pleasure, Mrs. Carnby," answered the girl, with a quick +start. Her eyes had been fixed upon an indistinct form beyond the window +of the dining-room, which was the person of Mr. Andrew Vane. + +For a few moments they trod the winding gravel path in silence. Then, as +a clump of shrubbery hid the house from view, she stopped impulsively, +and laid her hand on the arm of her hostess. + +"Fairy godmother--" she began. + +"Now, my dear girl," interrupted Mrs. Carnby, "don't say anything you'll +be sorry for afterwards. I'm a very vain, weak, silly, gossipy old +woman--but I _am_ a woman, Margery, and that means that I often see +things I'm not meant to see, and which I wish I hadn't. Don't give me +your confidence just because you feel that I may have guessed--" + +"I _know_ you've guessed, Mrs. Carnby!" broke in Margery, "and, after +all, it's just as well, because I must speak to some one. I feel, +somehow, as if I'd lost my way, and I think I'm a little frightened. +I've always been very sure of myself till now, very confident of my +ability to judge what was the right thing to do, and to get on without +advice. But now--it's different. I'm unhappy." + +Mrs. Carnby slid her arm across the girl's shoulders. + +"Go on, my dear," she said. "I didn't mean that I wasn't willing to +listen--only that I wouldn't like to feel that I was surprising your +confidence." + +"First of all," said Margery, "and in spite of everybody's kindness to +me, I'm afraid I hate this new life, which is so different from +everything I've learned to know and love. I hate all this pretence and +posing which we're carrying on, day after day, among people who smirk +before our faces and ridicule us behind our backs; and I'm coming to +hate myself worst of all. I want my life to be better than that of a +butterfly among a lot of wasps! In America I hadn't time to stop and +think whether I was happy or not, and I've read somewhere that that is +just what true happiness means. Everything was very natural and simple +over there. I used to wake up wanting to sing, and life seemed to begin +all over again every morning. And then, without the least warning, came +to me--what you've guessed, you know. I was sure of it at once. There +was nothing said, but one feels such things, don't you think?--feels +them coming, just as one feels the dawn sometimes, even while it's still +quite dark? I had a little hint or two--just enough to make me confident +and happier than ever. I knew there were reasons for his not speaking: +I guessed at his grandfather, and a very little thought showed me that +it could do no harm to wait. I wanted him to be sure, just as sure as I +was. I was even content to come away and leave him. I _knew_, you see, +and I saw it was only a question of time. I never doubted for a moment +how it would end, and so I wasn't the least bit surprised when he came +through the _salon_ door, that Sunday in Paris. I thought--I was _sure_ +he'd come for me. I could have shouted, I was so happy, Mrs. Carnby! I +had to turn away and pretend to be admiring some roses, I remember, +because I felt that I was smiling--no, _grinning_--and just at nothing! +Well--" + +She paused, with a catch in her throat, and then went on determinedly. + +"I've--I've been waiting ever since. We're good friends, almost _too_ +good friends, but there's something missing, something gone. I'm afraid +you'll hardly understand me if I say that ever since last summer in +Beverly I've felt that he belonged to me--all of him--every bit. +Now--well, I can't feel that way any longer. It is just as if I were +sharing him with somebody or something, and not getting the better or +even the larger part. I've heard--well, you know how gossip goes! I've +heard that there was another girl. He's been seen with her, often and +often. People might have spared me, if they'd known: but of course they +didn't; and so I've picked up fragments and fragments of talk, and +every one has cut me like a knife. In the midst of all this, he came to +me and asked me--no! he asked me nothing, but I knew what he meant. I +put him off. I felt that I must have time to think. But the moment for +decision has come. He may ask me again at any time. What shall I say? +Fairy godmother, what _shall_ I say? I _want_ to trust him! I want to +stake my confidence in him against all the gossip in the world. And yet +if he's only asking me because he thinks I expect it, if he really +doesn't _want_ me--" + +"He _does_ want you!" said Mrs. Carnby. "I could shake you, Margery. +You're _so_ far off the track, and at the same time you make it so hard +to show you why. Let me see." + +She hesitated, biting her lips. + +"Look here," she continued suddenly. "Suppose you had a baby brother, +for example, and you loved him better than all the world, and you knew +that, in his baby way, he felt the same love for you, and you should +carry him, all of a jump, into the next room, and plant him down in +front of a ten-foot Christmas-tree, all blazing with candles and glass +balls and whatchercallems--cornucopias--would you be surprised if he +hadn't any use for you for at least an hour? No, you wouldn't--not a bit +of it! You'd think it quite natural. Well, there you are! You are +yourself, and baby brother's Andrew Vane, and the Christmas tree's +Paris: and you'll just have to wait, that's all, till he's through +blinking and sucking his thumb!" + +"Oh, Mrs. Carnby!" said Margery, laughing in spite of herself. "Can't +you see that, much as I am afraid of Paris for my own sake, I'm more +afraid of it for his?" + +"My dear," said Mrs. Carnby, with a change of tone, "nowadays one's +forced to take rather a liberal view of things. There are only a few +delusions left, and love's not one of them--more's the pity! The best +flowers, Margery--and I grant you love is one of the _very_ best--are +brought to perfection by methods which it's not always pleasant to +follow in detail. There's a deal of hacking and pruning and fertilizing +and cross-breeding with ignobler growths to be gone through with before +one obtains a satisfactory result. It's like the most inviting dishes +served up by one's _chef_: if we had the dangerous curiosity to pry into +all the stages of their preparation, I doubt if very many of them would +stand the test and prove so tempting, after all. That's the way with a +man. When he brings us his love, we have to accept it, without inquiring +too closely how it has come to be. You won't think me vain if I say all +men can't be Jeremy Carnbys? When they know _how_ to love, more often +than not it's because they've learned; and as to how they _learned_, +it's for our own good not to be too inquisitive. Usually, my dear, it +means another woman, and not a woman one would be apt to call upon, at +that." + +"Mrs. Carnby!" + +"Yes. Don't be provincial, Margery. I've no patience with the whitewash +business. It's better at all times to look things squarely in the face, +even if doing so makes--er--your eyes water! There's hardly a woman +happily married to-day who hasn't been preceded, and rather profitably +preceded, I venture to say, by another woman--and not a very good woman +either. She's there in the background, but we have to ignore her, and by +the time we notice her at all it's more than likely she has ceased to be +important. She's been the method of preparing the dish, that's all, the +fertilizer which has made the rose of love possible. She has taught the +man what neither you nor any girl in the least like you could teach +him--the things which are not worth while! We get the better part. She +has burned up the chaff. We get the wheat." + +Margery had tightly locked her hands. + +"Fairy godmother," she said, "you don't want me to believe that, do you? +You don't want me to be only the whim of a man's changed fancy, the +thing on which he practises all he has learned from--from--" + +"I would to Heaven I could _make_ a man fit for you!" answered Mrs. +Carnby, drawing the girl close to her, "but, since I can't do that, I +want you to see things in their true light, and to learn that charity +begins in the same place which is called a woman's sphere, and that +love, from her standpoint, is little more than forgiveness on the +endless instalment plan!" + +"But Andrew--" said Margery eagerly. + +"Andrew Vane is only a man," said Mrs. Carnby sententiously. "He can't +be made out a seraph even by the fact that you--er--" + +"Love him," supplemented the girl brokenly. "I see what you mean. I +would have given anything in the world to have saved him from this, +and--it's too late, already." + +"Nothing of the sort!" exclaimed Mrs. Carnby. "Now's the time when he +needs you most. If you couldn't win him away from any woman that ever +lived, good or bad, you wouldn't be Margery Palffy! Bless me! I must be +getting back to the others, my dear. Now don't take this too much to +heart. It's all coming out right in the end. These things are only +temporary, at worst. Be brave, Margery." + +"Oh--brave!" answered Margery, flinging up her chin. "Yes, I shall be +that. Don't fear but that I shall know how to handle the situation now. +And--thank you, fairy godmother. I'll wait here a few minutes, if you +don't mind, and just--_think_!" + +As she walked toward the villa again, Mrs. Carnby compressed her lips. + +"Now there's a deal of common sense in that girl," she said to herself. +"She must have inherited it from her grandparents!" + +But, with all her shrewdness, she had never more hopelessly complicated +a situation. + +For a time Margery lingered, compelled by the need of reflection and the +beauty of the night. All about her the blue-black darkness, eloquent +with the breath of the roses and the fluting of the now-emboldened +nightingale, sighed and turned in its sleep, as if it dreamed of +pleasant things. Paris, with its frivolities, its sins, its sorrows, and +its snares, was like some uneasy, half-forgotten dream. The brand had +touched the girl, but as yet it had no more than stung, it had not +seared. The sword quivered, but the thread yet held. The merciful +garment of the calm, sweet night yet smothered, like sleep before +awakening, the bitterness of full reality. The moment was one of those +oases in the desert of disillusion which, with the crystal clamour of +falling water, the cool shade of widespread foliage, and the odour of +fresh, moist earth, alone make tolerable the journey of the caravan. + +So it was that Margery was able to speak naturally, with the knowledge +of having herself well in hand, as a step crunched on the gravel near +by, and Andrew flung his cigarette upon the path, where it spawned in a +quantity of tiny points of light, which gloomed immediately into +nothingness. + +"How extravagant you are! Surely you must know by this time that I don't +mind smoke in the least. I was just about to go in." + +"Not yet for a moment, please," said Andrew. "Let's come into this +little arbour. There's something I want to say." + +He pointed, as he spoke, to a small marble-columned seat in the +shrubbery, buried under a great hood of climbing rose-vines in full +bloom. For an instant only the girl hesitated. Then she led the way +resolutely, gathering her light shawl more closely about her shoulders, +with something like a shiver, despite the warmth of the still June +evening. For a little they sat in silence. When Andrew spoke, it was +with an abruptness which told of embarrassment. + +"You remember, perhaps, what you said to me the other day in +Paris--about fighting a good fight, and keeping the faith? Will you tell +me just what you meant by that? It's been haunting me, lately. When you +said that the influence of Paris made you afraid for those--for those +for whom you might care, did you mean--_me_?" + +He laid his hand on hers, as he asked the question, but she drew away +slightly, and he straightened himself again, with a little puzzled +frown. + +"Please don't ask me to answer that," she said, after a moment. +"Whatever I meant, it can make no difference now." + +"No difference, Margery? Do you want me to understand that you were not +in earnest--that you really didn't care?" + +"I haven't said that," answered the girl wearily. "I said it could make +no difference now, now that the mischief's done." + +"I'm afraid I don't understand you," said Andrew slowly. + +"Oh, pray don't let's discuss it. I've no right to question you." + +"No right?" + +"No right at all, and, as a matter of fact, when I said that I didn't +mean to. Perhaps I _was_ thinking of you, in part. I'm sorry I presumed. +Only one doesn't like to see one's friends make fools of themselves--and +that's what most men do in Paris, isn't it? Never mind. It's like our +golf at Beverly. I prefer to have you play the game, and keep your own +tally." + +"The game?" demanded Andrew. "What game? What do you mean?" + +"Oh, the game that all men play--the game in which we have no part, of +which we must not even speak or hear, we women who respect ourselves. +Don't let's talk of it. We're supposed to be friends, and for that +reason I'll overlook what you don't absolutely force me to see. That's +my part, isn't it?--to pretend I don't understand, even when I do? And I +do--I _do_! I'm not cynical, but neither am I a fool. I've lived in +Paris only a little while, but long enough to know that when one says +'boys will be boys' it sometimes means--oh, more than putty-blowers, and +coming indoors with wet feet, and pulling out the parrot's +tail-feathers!" + +She stopped abruptly, with a perception that she was overdoing her +assumption of unconcern, that she was talking wildly, that her voice had +taken on an unnatural strain. + +"I don't understand you in the least," said Andrew deliberately, "or at +least I'm sure that what you seem to be saying isn't what you really +mean. I can't believe that after all that has been--after all I have +hoped was going to be--why, Margery, I came out here--no, I came all the +way from America, to ask you--" + +"_Don't!_" + +Margery had risen with the word, and now, leaning against one of the +marble columns of the little arbour, was looking away into the gloom. + +"I want to believe in you," she added. "Leave me that, at least. Play +the game, Andy--play the game!" + +"The game--the game--the game!" exclaimed Andrew. "What is all this +you're saying, Margery? What are you accusing me of? Is it possible you +don't know I love you--that I've always loved you, ever since first I +saw you? I'd have asked you long ago, at Beverly, but my grandfather +begged me, almost commanded me, to wait. We were both so young. He +wanted me to make sure. And, although I knew that I should never change, +I felt he was right. I wanted you to have your chance, to come out, to +see a little bit of life, before I tried to bind you to any promise. And +when I heard that you were not coming back to America this year, that +you _had_ come out, and were the beauty and the belle of the Colony +here, I knew that it was time to make a try for you, unless I was to +lose you forever. So I came over here to tell you this--to ask you to +marry me. And now--in Heaven's name, what _is_ it, Margery? What has +changed you? What do you mean by all this? If there is anything I can +explain--" + +The girl turned to him, with a little, piteous gesture. + +"Have I asked you for an explanation?" she said. "Do I need one--since I +_know_? You say you'd have asked me long ago. Well, then, I ask you--why +didn't you? Why didn't you ask me before it was too late? Why didn't you +ask me while yet you had something to offer me which I could have +accepted gratefully--your innocence, your purity, the best of all that +was in you, and to which I had a right, do you hear?--a right! Why +didn't you speak then, before you'd thrown all these away, sold your +birthright, and become like all the rest? Do you come to me _now_--now, +with another woman's kisses on your lips, and God only knows what of the +impurity she has taught you in your heart? Do you come to me like that, +and expect me to welcome you, to accept the fact that I am your second +choice after a woman whose name you would not mention to me--" + +"Margery--Margery!" + +"Do you deny it? Do you deny that you were with her--when?--yesterday? +Oh, be true at least to _one_ thing, whatever it be--if not to the faith +you owed me, if all you've been telling me is true, then to the woman +you've preferred before me--to your mistress, to your mistress, Andrew +Vane!" + +Andrew fell back a step, putting up his hands as if to ward off a blow. + +"It was for this," he faltered, "that you told me to come here--to ask +you anything I chose?" + +"You know better than that!" said Margery firmly. + +"Then Mrs. Carnby has been telling you--" + +"Mrs. Carnby has told me nothing except what I knew--or, rather, tried +not to know--before. It isn't from her I learned. The truth has come to +me bit by bit, and I've fought against it as it came, trying to believe +in you to the very last." + +"And you think--" + +"Yes--yes! I think--I _know_! How quick you were to refer to Mrs. +Carnby! She knows, of course--everybody knows--even I! Well, I don't +want to criticise you or blame you. You've forced me into it by making +me part of all this. Now, all I ask of you is to respect me, to leave me +out of what you choose to do in future, and not to mock the name of love +with this pitiful fancy for me--a fancy so trivial and so idle that it +couldn't even hold you back from transgression. I ask you to go back to +her, or, if you're tired of her already, at least not to come to me. I'm +different from these other women, who can laugh at such things, and +gloss them over, and forget them. I demand of the man who asks me to +marry him the selfsame thing that he demands of me. I demand that he +shall be pure!" + +The girl's voice broke suddenly, and she pressed her cheek against one +of the marble columns of the little arbour, battling against the +insistence of her tears. + +"You must forgive me," she said presently. "I have no right to speak as +I have done, but--if you've guessed the reason, that is part of my +humiliation and my shame. Will you go now? I want to be alone." + +"How can I?" said Andrew slowly. "How can I leave you, even for an hour, +while you think as you do? It would mean that all was over between us +forever." + +"All _is_ over," answered Margery, "as much over as if you or I had been +dead for twenty years!" + +"Listen to me!" exclaimed Andrew hotly. "And you shall have the truth, +if that's what you want. There _is_ such a woman--yes! But she is no +more a part of my life than that bird out there. She has been an +incident, nothing more. You had only to ask me, and I would never have +seen her again. You have only to ask me now--" + +"Ah, stop!" broke in Margery. "Don't make me despise you!" + +"_Margery!_" He had stumbled forward blindly into this abortive +explanation, remembering for the moment nothing but his own knowledge of +the truth. Now, as she checked him, a sickening sense of what his words +must signify to her swept down upon him, and he covered his face with +his hands. + +"I don't know how to put it," he murmured. "I don't know what to say." + +"You have said quite enough," replied Margery. Her voice was quite cool, +quite steady now. "I have asked you once to leave me. Will you please go +now--at once?" + +Andrew dropped his hands, and searched her face with his eyes. There was +no trace in it of any emotion beyond a slight contempt. + +"Do you mean," he asked, "that this is the end?" + +"The end?" she repeated. "The end--er--of _what_?" + +With that he left her. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +REACTION. + + +Noon of the following day found Andrew once more in the Rue Boissière. +He had not seen Margery from the moment when he had left her in the +arbour. She had come in while the men were playing billiards, and gone +directly to her room, pleading a headache, an excuse which was also made +to cover her non-appearance in the morning. The two hours immediately +following breakfast passed laboriously, the whole party hanging together +with that kind of helpless attraction which characterizes the bubbles in +a cup of tea. There was a general sense of relief when the big Panhard +purred up the driveway, and Andrew, Radwalader, and Kennedy whirled off +in it to Paris. Monsieur and Madame Palffy and the Listers were to +follow almost immediately by train, and Mrs. Carnby was talking a +continuous stream of the most unmitigated gossip. + +"If I had stopped to think that in an hour they would all be gone," she +told Jeremy, that night, "I would first have screamed the General +Thanksgiving at the top of my lungs, and then had the vapours--whatever +they may be!" + +It was something the same feeling which had prompted Radwalader to +remark, as they rolled away from the villa: + +"I wonder if General Sherman had ever been to a house-party with the +Listers when he made that remark about war." + +Then, as Andrew made no reply, he relapsed into silence. He possessed +that most precious gift of the Gods--the knowledge of when not to talk. + +But it was when Andrew was once more alone in his familiar quarters, and +had flung himself moodily into a chair, that the full force of his +situation returned upon him. In twelve hours the whole world had +changed. He realized for the first time that, as a matter of fact, there +had never been in his mind the shadow of a doubt that the way lay clear +before him, that the attainment of his wishes had been, in his +calculations, no more than a matter of time. He had relied upon +Margery's constancy like a mariner upon that of the North Star, and it +was as if that luminary had suddenly flung away from him into some new +and wholly unfamiliar constellation. The man who offers his hand in +friendship and is stabbed in reply is not more aghast than was he. He +was bitterly hurt, bitterly resentful. He had taken Mrs. Carnby's +reprimand as something to which, if it was not wholly deserved, he had +at least laid himself open: but that was a very different matter from +the scornful and passionate rebuff which he had received from Margery +herself. The first had almost afforded him a sense of relief. Like a +child who is conscious of some slight transgression, the rebuke had +seemed to set things square, to wipe out his fault, and give him +absolution and a chance for a fresh start. But what followed, so wholly +out of proportion to his knowledge of the truth, left him only conscious +of a monstrous and unpardonable injustice. Complete innocence is never +so jealous or so resentful as is the half-innocence in which lurks a +hint of self-accusation, a suspicion of actual guilt. He had stood +ready, with a kind of fierce and proud submission, to accept such blame +as could be rightly laid at his door, but this very attitude of partial +contrition flamed into anger the moment the scale was tipped too far in +his disfavour. He did not see that the main factor in his revolt was the +same as that in his acceptance of Mrs. Carnby's words--a sense of +disloyalty, that is, to what he knew in his heart to be the true and +manly course. He was very young, and moreover he had fallen, to at least +an appreciable extent, from the high estate of his best ideals. +Conscience impelled him to accept with humility as much of censure as he +conceived that he deserved, but the savage pride of youth commanded him +not to yield a single foot of ground beyond that which, by his folly, he +had forfeited. He had been wrong; that he was willing to acknowledge: +but his punishment had fallen too suddenly and too hard. Other men had +done worse--infinitely worse--and had prospered. As for him, it was +already too late to turn back. He was learning, albeit rebelliously, +that standards of conduct are the boomerangs of the moral armament. The +expert may juggle with them with comparative security; but the novice +who recklessly flings them into space and then seeks to resume his hold +upon them is apt to suffer a rude blow in the attempt. _Facilis +descensus_--but the way of retreat is choked with briers and strewn with +boulders, and never wholly retraceable. + +Essentially, Andrew Vane was very clean, with an instinctive revulsion +from whatever savoured of animalism or sensuality. Among a certain class +of men at Harvard he had been called, for a time, "Galahad" Vane; with +that impulse to sneer which is irrepressible in those who resent what +they find themselves forced to respect. There was something peculiarly +appropriate, however, about the name thus bestowed in ridicule: for that +fine sense of nicety which is a safeguard more sure than abstract +principle had held him instinctively aloof from whatever was simply +sordid or unclean. Temptation of the baser sort, which left its furrows +on the sand of natures less refined, washed harmlessly over the sturdy +rock of his self-respect. The illicit was inseparably associated in his +mind with vulgarity. To seek a pleasure which necessitated keeping one +eye on the police and the other on one's purse smote him, even in +suggestion, with a sickening sense of degradation. He passed by, with +the sniff of a thoroughbred terrier, the carrion in which his fellows +rolled. + +But it was to this very fastidiousness that Mirabelle had appealed: and +because she so fully satisfied it he at first misunderstood the +situation utterly. It came to him clothed in a refinement, a daintiness, +an atmosphere of soft lights and flowers and _savoir faire et vivre_ +which spoke eloquently to all that was sensuous in his nature, and +stirred nothing of what was merely sensual. That was the French of it. +The national deftness which is able to make plain women beautiful, and +ordinary viands delicacies, finds its parallel in the national ability +to smother the first approach of impropriety in disguises infinitely +varied. And Mirabelle herself was more than content not to urge the +issue. For the first time in her experience, she was unable to scent an +ulterior motive in a man's admiration. She appreciated the simplicity of +Andrew's attitude, without fully comprehending its significance. Back of +it, no doubt, lay the as yet undeveloped progressions in a routine all +too familiar: but she was grateful for the respite. + +But a chance word, now and again, had stirred of late the serenity of +their curious relation. He put away the thought which forced itself upon +him, but it returned invariably, and each time with a suggestion of more +eloquent appeal. The subtle influence of Paris, which undermines the +bulwarks of principle and prejudice by insensible degrees, was at work. +Daily he heard the things which he had instinctively avoided treated as +inevitable and by no means unjustified accessories of life; daily the +insinuating tooth of epigrammatic banter gnawed at the stability of his +former convictions; while the very offences which had always repelled +him by their sordid vulgarity were now accomplished all about him, +light-heartedly, to the clink of crystal glasses, the soft pulse of +waltz music, the ripple of laughter, and the ring of gold. All that is +most lavish and most ingenious in the imaginative power and the +executive ability of man had been laid under contribution to produce the +effect which now enthralled his senses. None of the ordinary +restrictions and limitations of life raised a finger to check this pagan +prodigality of license. Economy, responsibility, and every more serious +consideration stood aside from the path of sovereign pleasure. The world +had given of its best with a lavish hand, for here was not only the gold +to pay for, but the wit to appreciate, perfection. The labels on these +cobweb-covered vintages, the dishes they enhanced, the flowers they +rivalled in perfume, the music, the lights, the laughter, all spoke one +language--a language forgetful of the past, heedless of the future, but +eloquent as the tongue of Circe of the present joy of living. These men +and women were civilization's latest work--the best, in the sense of +ultra-elaboration, that the experience of the ages had enabled her to +accomplish. They had been prodigally dowered with the extremes of +sensuous refinement; they were clothed, fed, housed, and diverted by +the ultimate attainments of human invention and skill; they demanded +that life should be a festival, and every detail of existence the child +of a most cunning imagination and a consummate faculty of execution: and +this was the spot where was given them what they asked. The goddess of +luxury, in whose ears their prayers were poured, and at whose feet their +gold was piled, could do no more. They had climbed the capstone of her +pyramid, her sun had touched its zenith, and her last word was said! + +So, as Andrew considered his present state, he was aware of the force of +Radwalader's remark that in Paris a man had something for which, instead +of merely something on which, to live. Life took on a new aspect. In +Boston it had been wholesome, monotonous, gray, silver, and brown: in +Paris it was heady, infinitely varied, gold, purple, and rose-pink. In +another of his fanciful moods, Radwalader had described it as a +sapiently ordered dinner: and this, too, now that his eyes were opened, +Andrew understood. There were the soups and solid courses--the +architecture, history, and artistic associations of the great city: +there were, by way of whetting the appetite, the clean little _hors +d'oeuvres_, radishes, anchovies, and olives--the tea-tables of the +Colony, the theatres, the talks with Mrs. Carnby and the women of her +set: but there were, as well, the wines and _sauces piquantes_--the +races, the restaurants at midnight, the Allée at noon, and Mirabelle +Tremonceau! The beauty and luxury of it all continually charmed his +senses; the fever of it stirred hotly in his blood. + +Lately, he had been conscious of noticing things about Mirabelle which +had never been part of his analysis of another woman. To him, with one +exception, a girl had been a face or a form, to be associated with, or +brought back to memory by, a snatch of waltz-music, a perfume, or a +particular effect of moonlight on water, or sunlight upon foliage. +Margery Palffy was the exception, but it was not she who had taught him +the faculty of observation which, of late, he had applied to her. Not +from her had he learned to remark details--how the skin crinkled along +her nose before a laugh came and after it had gone, how her chin cut in +under sharply, and then swelled softly again before it met her throat. +Now, for the first time, he was conscious that a woman is never wholly +silent--that a whisper of lace or a lisp of silk speaks the movement +that is unapparent to the eye. Already he had found that her frown can +be mirth-provoking, and her smile of a sadness beyond description. +Already he was become weatherwise in his understanding of the ripples of +expression blown by the shifting winds of inner thought across her eyes. +He knew when she was bored, by the barely perceptible compression of her +lower lip, which told of a skilfully smothered yawn; when she was +secretly amused, by the little curving line which showed for an instant +on either cheek; when she was troubled or puzzled, by the tiniest +contraction of her eyebrows. In his recollection dwelt such trifles as +the nicking of a full instep by the edge of a slipper, the falling away +of lace from a lifted wrist, the sudden swell of rounded muscles beneath +the ear when the head is turned aside, and the imprint of pointed nails +and the jewels of rings on the fingers of a discarded glove. If he had +remembered the noses, eyes, and mouths of other women, his memory now +caressed the veins in her wrists, the little wisps of hair low in her +neck, the interlinking of her long lashes, the shadow from chin to ear, +and the silvering touch of sunlight on the down of her averted cheek. +Such things had his study of her taught him. Trifles, all! Yet does a +man ever forget that woman, through his intimacy with whom these +perceptions were first born, like golden threads newly discovered in the +warp and woof of some familiar fabric? And that woman was Mirabelle +Tremonceau. + +So it was this--all this--Paris, and her luxury, charm, and infinite, +bewildering appeal--with which he had merely toyed, because, at the back +of his appreciation, lay ever the thought of what Margery Palffy meant +to him, and what he had come to ask of her! What had been his reward? +Because he had been neither one thing nor the other he was treated as +the outcast he had not dared to be. He had no more than fingered the +nettle, instead of grasping it boldly, like a man, and so--it had stung! +He had relied, throughout, upon something which did not exist--the +loyalty of those for whose sake he had striven to keep himself, in all +essentials, clean. When he came to them, prepared to admit his little +follies, they had slammed the gate of injustice in his face! + +Of a sudden, the scene in the garden at Poissy leaped back at him, and +he rose and began to pace the room. They trusted hearsay, did they? They +gossiped about him, each to each, among themselves? They cast him off, +as he had been a pariah, without a chance to justify himself, to give +them the explanation which he had been ready to offer, but they +unprepared to believe? Well, then, they should have their fill! He had +tried to enter what he supposed was a friendly port, and had been +torpedoed, raked fore and aft at the very haven's mouth, and sent about +his business like the veriest privateer. But there _were_ friendly +harbours! There was still Radwalader--his friend! There was still +Mirabelle! How ready they were to believe her guilty, between whom and +himself there existed nothing but a friendship wholly pure! + +Now, the curious chivalry of youth had him firmly in its grasp--the +curious, unreasoning, treacherous chivalry which has not learned to +discriminate as yet, but which cloaks its own essential selfishness in a +fierce allegiance to the thing of the moment, blind to all larger +issues, lance in rest to tilt at windmills, hotly insistent upon the +immaterial present, scornful of the future, contemptuous of the past. +This girl at whom they were all so eager to cast a stone, this girl who +was his friend, and whose only friend he seemed to be--was it not to her +that he owed his utmost loyalty, rather than to her who had so readily +rejected him upon no better pretence than that of hearsay? Because +others refused to grant him the confidence in his integrity which they +fully owed him, was that any reason for his proving uncharitable, +too?--for siding against Mirabelle and with them? + +Andrew clenched his fingers savagely. + +"She is my friend!" he said aloud, "my friend! As for the rest, if they +want proof of my depravity, by the Lord they shall have it to the full!" + +The Tempter was very near now, glorying in the preliminary moves of +Vanity, his stanch ally. + +The bell whirred sharply, as Andrew paced the _salon_ to and fro, and, a +moment later, his servant tapped and entered. + +"Well, Jules?" + +"_Une dame, monsieur_," announced Vicot suavely, and then--Andrew found +her hand in his. There was a suggestion of challenge in her eyes as she +lifted them to his, and, before she spoke, her eyebrows went up +questioningly and her even white teeth nicked her lower lip. + +"You're not angry?" + +"Angry?" said Andrew. "Why should I be? I'm surprised, perhaps: I wasn't +expecting you. But angry?--no, certainly not. I'm very pleased." + +But, for the moment, there was no conviction in his tone. Her coming +smote him with a vague uneasiness. It was something new, this--something +for which he found himself wholly unprepared. He seemed to divine that a +significant development was imminent, and that, in some sense not fully +clear, his threshold was a Rubicon--which she had crossed! + +In the _antichambre_ Monsieur Vicot was scribbling his master's name and +his own initials in the receipt-book of a little, domino-shaped +messenger-boy. Then, as young Mercury went whistling down the stairs, he +turned the blue missive over and over in his fingers. + +"I'll be damned if Radwalader sees it!" he ejaculated, and thrust it in +his pocket, where, for a vitally important period, it +remained--forgotten! + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +RHAPSODIE HONGROISE, NO. 2. + + +"It was a whim, if you like," said Mirabelle, a little unevenly, as she +stripped off her gloves. "I hadn't seen you for four whole days, except +for that little glimpse at St. Germain, and I was tired, cross, and a +little lonely. So I took the chance of your being back and of finding +you alone and disengaged. Perhaps, if you've nothing to do, you will let +me stay to breakfast. I told Pierre that I would send down word if he +was not to wait. Will you ask your man to say so?" + +"Certainly." + +Andrew touched the bell, gave the message, and, when Jules had gone, +stood for a moment by the table fingering his letters. Mirabelle had +removed her veil and hat, but was still at the mirror, touching the +trifling disarrangement of her hair. Their eyes met in reflection, and +suddenly both laughed. Then he went over to her side. + +"It's very good to see you again," he said, but with a slight trace of +embarrassment in his voice. + +Mirabelle gave his shoulder a tiny pat. + +"_L'ami!_" she said simply. + +Abruptly her mood changed, and she wheeled upon him, all eager +animation. + +"So this is your little house, great baby! You must show me everything. +It's a picnic, this: we shall be two children. Paris? _Ça n'existe pas! +Il n'y a que nous deux au monde!_" + +She perched upon the tall fender, swinging her feet, and humming a +little tune. + +"_Oh, la vie bourgeoisé!_" + +Subtly her gaiety infected him, and he laughed again, this time without +a hint of embarrassment. This was another Mirabelle, a Mirabelle he had +not known. In some unaccountable fashion, her mood stripped her of a +decade. She was, in very truth, a child, with a child's light-hearted +mirth, a child's shiningly excited eyes, a child's imperious demand to +be amused. + +They went over the apartment together, pausing for all manner of +comment. She took an almost infantile delight in bringing into prim +order the chaos of neckties thrown carelessly into an upper drawer; +smoothed her golden-bronze hair with his silver-backed brushes; washed +her hands at his basin, and flicked the shining drops of water at him +from the tips of her slender fingers. She mocked the vanity indicated by +a dozen pairs of patent-leathers; tested, with a feigned shudder, the +keenness of his razors; simulated a furious jealousy at the discovery of +a photograph of Réjane upon his dressing-table; rummaged through the +cups and plates and glasses in the _vitrine_; called him, whimsically, +_gran'père_, _mon oncle_, and _vieux garçon_; laughed, frowned, scolded, +teased, and petted; and was, in short, the incarnation of a gay, +reckless, _toi-et-moi-et-vogue-la-galère_ femininity. + +Little by little, the charm of her humour gained upon him. To the man in +whose life woman has never played a thoroughly intimate part there is +something indescribably alluring in her near association with the little +details of commonplace existence. Andrew was conscious that, in this +independence which he had so lately learned to value, there had been +lacking a something which was now, for the first time, supplied. A +phrase occurred to him--"the better half." Yes, that was it--the curious +inspiration with which an interested, intimately concerned woman infects +such sordid items as neckties, cups and saucers. Until then, the main +charm of his new manner of life had lain in its sheer independence of +all save his personal inclination. Now he was suddenly aware that man's +completest happiness relies upon a partial subordination; upon a certain +dependence upon another, if still a kindred, point of view. As he +watched Mirabelle come and go, as he heard her comments, as he felt the +magnetism of her presence, he was smitten with a vast sense of +loneliness--with a perception that, in reality, no man is sufficient +unto himself. In this first flush of life, in this new enjoyment of +Paris the alluring, he felt the need of something more. Was it Margery? +Was it Mirabelle? At the moment he could not have told which, if indeed +it was either. Once he risked a compliment. + +"How pretty you are! It makes one want to kiss you!" + +"Don't!" she said shortly. "Please don't talk like that. It spoils +everything." + +He drew back to look at her, puzzled, but it seemed that she avoided his +eyes. + +"Not--not just now," she added. "You don't understand." + +Almost immediately, she was laughing and chattering again. + +Then came breakfast, and--what is rare even in Paris--a breakfast +perfect in its very simplicity. A bisque as smooth as velvet, _sole +cardinale_ worthy of Frédéric himself, a _casserole_ of chicken, with a +salad of celery and peppers, Burgundy tempered to an eighth of a degree, +no sweets--but a compensating cup of coffee, _eau de vie de Dantzic_, +with its flecks of shattered sunlight gleaming oddly in the clear +liquid, and cigarettes, which Mirabelle refused with a _moue_ which +hinted at temptation. Andrew toasted her, across the table, with mock +ceremony, in the gold-shot _liqueur_. + +"It's like your life, _l'amie_," he said, squinting at the last few +drops, "smooth and sweet and all spangled with sunshine and gold." + +"And soon done with!" added Mirabelle lightly, turning her glass upside +down upon the cloth. + +She would have him take the largest and most comfortable chair by the +window, while she chose the broad, flat sill at his feet. The glare of +the sunlight was cut off from them by an awning, but its warmth came +pleasurably through. A window-box of narcissus in full bloom breathed a +perfume, as deadening as the juice of poppies, on the air. Now and again +a cab rattled sharply down the incline of cobbles to the Place d'Iéna, +and was blotted abruptly out of hearing on the muffling driveway of the +square. For the rest, the world was very still, all distinct noises of +the great and restless city being merged into one indeterminate blur of +sound. + +The curious instinct of silence, which so often gave the hours they +spent together their especial character, fell upon them now. Once, as if +some disturbing thought had startled her, Mirabelle turned suddenly and +touched Andrew's hand, but her own fell back before the gesture was +actually complete. The light wind stirred the hair at her temples, and +the long scarf of delicate Liberty gauze which she had thrown across her +shoulders, and he took up a corner of this and pleated it between his +fingers for a time in silence. He was the first to speak. + +"Would you care to go out--to the Exposition or the Bois? You'll be +saying presently that you've had a stupid afternoon." + +Mirabelle shook her head, with a faint smile, and then altered her +position, drawing up her feet and linking her fingers across her knees. +The change brought her close to the arm of his chair, and she looked up +at him long and steadily, and then shook her head again. + +"No," she answered, "I shall not say that. The Exposition? The Bois? I +suppose there _are_ such things, but I'd forgotten them. I like it here. +I am happy." + +With that strange new understanding of his, it was not alone her smile +which he noticed, but the slow, irregular fall of her eyelids, and the +deepening of a tiny shadow when the lashes rested on her cheek. An +atmosphere for which he was at a loss to account seemed always to +envelop him when he came into this girl's presence. He was conscious of +the same not unpleasant languor which had come upon him on that first +afternoon in her _salon_, after the return from Auteuil, but now it was +not due, as then, to drowsiness. Rather, it was a blotting out of every +consideration save that he was with her. America, Poissy, even Paris, +humming there below them, seemed to belong to another world, and that in +which he was living for the moment, to be made up of sunlight, and +silence, and perfume. + +"I'm almost sorry," he said presently, "that you came." + +The girl made no reply. A singular change, which was not movement, +seemed to stiffen and straighten her. Without actually altering, her +position lost its grace, its ease, its assurance. Staring straight away +before her, her eyes forgot to wink. Her whole bearing was that of an +animal warned by the crackle of a trodden twig of some peril imminent +and vital. + +"I'm sorry you felt that you _could_ come," continued Andrew. "I've not +had much experience of life, and it's not for me to question you. But +we've been good friends. I wish it could have remained that way. Young +as I am, I've had disappointments--bitter ones. The people I thought I +could trust--" + +"_Andrew!_" + +She had never called him by his name before. At the word, a curious +little thrill stirred in him, and he closed his eyes, his mouth +tightening at the corners. + +"Forgive me," he added, in a whisper. + +"Is it possible," said Mirabelle slowly, "that all this time +you--_haven't known_?" + +"I've tried not to know," he answered. "I've tried not to listen to what +people said. It has all been so different from anything like that. +You've been like the girls I know in my own country, like a comrade, +like a chum. I've tried to keep myself from thinking of you in any other +light. I've always been glad to be with you: yes, and I'm glad to have +you with me now. And yet--I know that we shall both be sorry for this. +To-morrow--" + +"_To-morrow!_" + +Misunderstanding, she turned to him, and slipped her hand into his. A +moment she hesitated, and then bowed her face against his arm. + +"Then you _do_ know!" she continued. "Ah, my friend, I have hoped that +it would not come to this." + +Her voice had suddenly gone wistful. She was the child again, but the +child hurt, penitent, and near to tears. + +"Believe me, _l'ami_, I hoped it would not come to this. I'm so +careless, Andrew. I don't think--I forget. You see, we are different, +_nous autres_. What are little things to other women are great things to +us, and what are great things to them--" + +Then she looked into his eyes. Almost unconsciously, her fingers touched +his arm. + +"I wish I could make you understand," she added. "Even with me, there is +only one thing that can justify--" + +She paused for a breath, with a gesture toward the open window. + +"It was to get away from all that that I came--to forget--to be alone +with you--just we together--two children--to have something different. +I'm so tired of it all, Andrew--and--there has never been any one like +you. I didn't think what it would mean. Ah, my friend--" + +She sank back upon the cushion, with a little sigh. + +Suddenly Andrew's heart contracted, seemed to mount into his throat, +and, repulsed, beat wildly against the bars of its prison. He felt the +tremor of its pulsing in his wrists, in his temples, in his ears. He +knew that he was colouring deeply. He strove to tighten his lips, but +they parted in spite of him, and the breath shot through with a little +hiss. Then he came to himself, and saw that the girl's eyes had closed, +and that her hand on the arm of the chair had gripped the silken scarf. +Folds of it, sharpened to the thinness of paper, came out between her +fingers, and her knuckles showed like little bosses of tinted ivory +through the pink flesh. + +What was it? The hand of a passing spirit, wholly unfamiliar, had +touched him; a voice never heard before had whispered something in his +ear. What was it--what was this thing which he understood and did not +understand? Bending slightly forward, he looked down through the +ironwork railing at the street below. A solitary cab leaned maudlinly +over the kerb, the driver slewed around in his seat, with his elbow on +the roof, and his varnished hat on the back of his head, reading a +newspaper; and the horse nodding, with his nose in a feed-bag. Two +children were marching resolutely, hand in hand and out of step, their +nurses following, with the gay plaid ribbons of their caps flapping +about their hips. The pipe of an itinerant plumber whined and squeaked +unmelodiously, and the horn of a passing automobile hiccoughed in the +distance. Inconsequently there came to Andrew the memory of a sudden +awakening from a nap on the beach at Newport. For a moment, everything +in sight--people, houses, boats, the sand, the sunlight, and the +sea--had been garbed in startling unreality, in a new, strange light. + +The restlessness of a curious dissatisfaction suddenly laid hold upon +him, and he rose and began to pace the _salon_ once more. He would have +given something to fling himself out of the chaos of conflicting +thoughts which beset him, to ride, for example, five miles at a gallop, +as he had been wont to do at Beverly, with the wind tearing at his hair +and a thoroughbred lunging between his knees. + +Presently he became aware that Mirabelle was watching him curiously, and +was puzzled to find that for the first time he was not ready to meet her +eyes. He seated himself at the piano, and for a moment fingered the +music on the rack, without actually taking in the title--"Rhapsodie +Hongroise, No. 2." Then he smiled, with a little nod as if he had been +greeting an acquaintance on the street, and his hands fell upon the +keys. + +Majestically, with ponderous bass notes and a deeper comment of short, +staccato chords, the Rhapsodie began. It was as solemn as a dirge in its +adagio movement, till the high treble began to flutter into the _motif_, +and dragged it upward, with a brilliant run, into a suggestion of +running water. Plunging again into the bass, the music marched firmly +on, varied with higher chords, until, through the monotonous throb, a +bird chirped, twittered, and trilled, and cadenza followed cadenza, +plashing in and over the main theme. This variation was presently gone +again in a swiftly descending arpeggio, and the adagio reasserted +itself, beating out across the _salon_ with the lingering quality of +tolled bells, freeing itself at last by another run into the crystal +sparkle of the treble, where the _motif_ was repeated, ringing with +fresh vigour. The bass replied with a brief word now and again, +correcting the new rendering of the air that it had taught, or patiently +repeating a whole phrase. But, petulantly, the treble threw off the +sombre spirit of what had gone before. Again it thrilled with +bird-music, and ran into the gay babble of brooks, punctuated rarely by +a deeper chord, as if the water swerved round a stone, and slid, +murmuring, across a level, before swinging again down a shelving reach. +But, almost immediately, a new element stole in--a tremulous flutter of +one note, potently suggestive of mad music to follow. Faster--faster! +The flutter was interrupted by a dripping of stray notes, an octave +lower, dotted, presently, with a tiny tinkling above. Then, without +warning, the whole plunged into a mad _vivace_ movement, that galloped +like a living thing, was interrupted by whimsically coupled notes, +gabbling up and down, and then seemed to lengthen and bound forward as +if it had been spurred. There was a thunder of chromatics--hoofs +pounding on a long bridge--then the tinkle of water broke in +again--right at his elbow--lingered briefly, and was gone, and the hoofs +were thudding on a muffling stretch of soft road. The suggestion, at +first merely a fancy, grew upon him as he played. This was the gallop of +which he had felt a need! He could almost see the wiry mare snapping in +the wind, smell the horse and the saddle, and hear the stirrup-leathers +squeaking against his boots. In spirit, at least, he put into the music +the exultation, which is near to delirium, of a ride at nightfall or at +dawn. The earth, which never sighs save when falling asleep or waking, +sighs then, and her breath is sweet. Scents and sounds step to the +roadside, and are gone again in a moment. The wind whips and whistles. +And the triplicate hoof-beats pound, pound, pound out of life all that +is stale, morbid, and unclean, so that it becomes a crystal dome +inverted on a perfume-breathing garden, and one man whirling through +space like a god, with a laugh on his lips! + +Hurdles rushed at Andrew out of the music, and he rose to them, and, +clearing them, would have shouted, but that the music shouted for him. +He felt the familiar shock of landing, the infinitesimal pause before +the recover, and then--away, away! It was life, youth, the surge and +hammer of red blood through every vein, the certainty of strength and +the sovereignty of success, the ineffable wine of life, filling the cup +to the brim, and splashing over into the sunlight, in drops like rubies +sheathed in silver. + +As suddenly as it had begun, the mad, blood-stirring gallop was over. +The stream tinkled and was still. The _motif_ was repeated softly, +incompletely, as if regretfully, in adagio, then paraphrased in a +brilliant staccato movement, which mounted, plunged madly down from +treble to bass, hesitated, and whipped out of existence in a group of +crashing chords. + +"I never knew you could play like that!" + +Mirabelle had risen, and come across to the piano, and the words were +spoken in a voice barely above a whisper. The room seemed to Andrew to +be closing in around him, and out of its dwindling distance floated her +face, more beautiful than he had ever seen it, but very pale and with +eyes wide and startled. He did not answer directly. Thoughts as confused +as the wisps of a dream but half recalled went racing through his brain. +For an instant he strove to control himself, strove to remember, strove +to forget. Then, as it were, a great tide of oblivion to all but the +intoxication of the moment swept down upon him. + +"You said," he began, "that only one thing could justify--What is it? +What did you mean?" + +He stood up as he spoke, came quite close to her, and took her hands. + +"What did you mean?" he repeated. "Tell me--Mirabelle." + +As she did not speak, he took her hand and drew her toward him, with a +kind of dull wonder in his eyes. What he saw in hers he had never seen +in a woman's before--a mist not wholly moisture, and tenderer than +tears. + +"Mirabelle!" + +"_Je t'aime!_" she murmured. "_Je t'adore!_" + +She would have drawn back, but he took her in his arms. From the +gold-bronze hair which touched his cheek came a faint perfume, and +through the thin silk he could feel the hammer of her heart. So for a +long moment he held her, with his lips on hers. It was like kissing a +rose--a rose that smelt of orris. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +FATE IS HARD--CASH! + + +As Andrew took his mail from the hand of Jules one afternoon, some three +weeks later, his eye was caught by a packet directed in the precise +script of old Mr. Sterling, and this, together with a letter in the same +hand, he separated from the mass of other material, and gave his +immediate attention. There had grown in him a singular craving for all +that could remind him of his life at home. As he slit the envelope, a +draft upon his bankers came first to his hand, and he glanced at it, +with a short whistle, before laying it on the desk. It was for fifteen +thousand francs. + +Mr. Sterling's letter, a model of prim penmanship, ran as follows: + + "MY DEAR ANDY: I have yours of the 12th inst., and am gratified to + learn that Paris is surpassing your expectations. Although it is a + city not ordinarily recommended as a sojourning-place for young men, + I have seen enough of the world to know that it is not the + surroundings which are significant, so much as the temperament of + the individual placed among them. If you were inclined to + dissipation, you would manufacture, if not find, it in a one-horse + prohibition town in one of the back counties of Maine: and if you + were otherwise disposed, not Paris itself would be competent to + prove your undoing. So I am not averse to your project of remaining + until Christmas. I have great confidence in you. If you will look + back, you will realize that I have not burdened you with advice + since the days when it was necessary to warn you against + over-indulgence in ice-cream, or send you away from the + breakfast-table for a more effective application of the nail-brush. + That has been because I have seen in you something which I believe + to be a guarantee against your ever falling into any misdoing which + would be a discredit to the name you bear. I mean the fine + healthiness of mind which eschews by instinct whatever is 'common or + unclean'. You will have your fling, as I had mine, and as it is + right you should. You will learn for yourself the lessons which no + one else can teach you; but I think your attitude will always be + that of a gentleman. There are ways and ways of doing things--even + of sowing wild oats--and among these are the way of the gentleman + and the way of the fool. You have never been the latter, and I have + no reason to believe you will begin now. + + "Among the commonest formulas of parental advice is that which + exhorts a young man never to do or say anything which a mother or + sister could not hear: and this deserves, to my way of thinking, + just about the amount of attention which it ordinarily receives. I + know the type of man whom you have always chosen, and, in all + likelihood, always will choose, as a friend: and if you will avoid + doing anything which you would be ashamed to tell that kind of man, + I shall be satisfied. + + "As you wish to remain in Paris for some time longer, and as Paris + is preëminently a city where money is a _sine qua non_, I am + disposed not only to approve your plan, but to make it possible of + execution, with a certain degree of liberality. You should know, if + you do not know already, that I have made you my heir. When I am + obliged to shuffle off this mortal coil, you will come into + something over eighty thousand a year. There are responsibilities + attached to such an income, and not the least of them is the + knowledge of the social obligation which it imposes. There is + nothing more deplorable than the spectacle of a young man + squandering what he can't afford to spend, unless it be that of an + old one grudging what he can. While far from counselling wanton + extravagance, I wish you to form those habits of generosity and + open-heartedness which your position makes incumbent upon you. Repay + with liberality the courtesies extended to you; and keep on the + credit, rather than the debit, side of the social account. Take your + share of the legitimate pleasures of life as well, paying as you go. + + "To the letter of credit given you on your departure, which provided + for a possible expenditure of a thousand dollars a month for the + six months of your contemplated stay, I now add a draft for fifteen + thousand francs (F. 15,000), to cover the additional three months + during which you propose to remain. In view of this, you will not + think me unreasonable in foregoing the customary remittance for a + much smaller sum upon your birthday. + + "That birthday is still somewhat more than three months distant, but + a present which I had contemplated making you on the occasion, being + already completed, I am forwarding it by this mail, with my best + wishes and affection. It is a miniature of your mother--whom it is + your greatest misfortune never to have known--painted, from a + photograph, by Cavigny-Maupré during his recent visit to Boston: and + it is appropriate that you should have it at a time when you are + absent--with sincere regret, as you please me by saying--from the + grim old house where you have been an unspeakable comfort to, and + where awaits you an affectionate welcome from, + + "Your grandfather, + + "ANDREW STERLING. + + "_Andrew Sterling Vane, Esq., Paris, France._" + +"Dear old man!" said Andrew to himself, with a little smile of +affection, before laying the letter aside. "Dear, generous old man!" +Then he turned to the package which contained the portrait of his +mother. + +Cavigny-Maupré had excelled himself in this the most recent in his long +series of masterly miniatures. The tranquil and beautiful face of Helen +Vane, as it had been before the blight of disillusion dimmed its +ethereal sweetness, looked out at Andrew with serene and steadfast eyes. +There was no attempt at striking colouring, no trick of effect. The +artist, with the instinct which never played him false, had aimed to +preserve the touch of simplicity, of girlishness, which the old +photograph had given him as his cue. The result was a singularly +appealing beauty, which his more ambitious productions, with all their +emphatic brilliancy, utterly lacked. Before he could have analyzed the +impulse which prompted him, Andrew had touched his lips to the picture, +and in the act of performing this simple homage his fine eyes grew +moist. For this was his mother--the pale, gentle-eyed dream-mother he +had never seen, but who had given her life for his, and who, perhaps, +with the searching vision of the immortals, was watching him wistfully +from beyond the immeasurably distant stars! + +So, at the dinner-hour, Radwalader found him--sunk deep in his chair, +with his eyes half-closed, and the miniature in his hand. + +"Hello!" he said. "Come in." + +"You look like a drawing by Gibson," observed Radwalader lightly, "over +the title 'Day Dreams' or 'A Face from the Past,' or something of the +sort. The old, old story, eh, Vane? Mooning over the loved one's +portrait?" + +"Not a bad guess," replied Andrew, somewhat gravely, as he rose, and +tendered Radwalader the picture. + +"That was my mother," he added. + +"Oh, I _beg_ your pardon!" exclaimed Radwalader, with that ready +assumption of contrition wherewith he contrived so skilfully to repair +his infrequent _faux pas_. + +"No harm done," answered Andrew. "Are you engaged for dinner? I've +ordered a table at Armenonville, and meant to send Jules over to your +place to ask you, but the time has gone faster than I thought. Gad! it's +almost seven. I _have_ been mooning, in good earnest. Will you go?" + +"With pleasure. I dropped in on the chance that you might have nothing +to do." + +Radwalader laid the miniature on the table. + +"It's a very beautiful face," he added. "I wonder if I ever saw her. +It's not impossible. I remember meeting your grandfather in Boston." + +"You'd hardly have met my mother, though. She died when I was +born--twenty years ago. You'd have been quite a boy." + +"A boy well out of knickerbockers, then! You flatter me, Vane. Is it +possible that you don't know I'm tottering on the ragged edge of fifty?" + +"One wouldn't believe it, then. Come in while I brush up a bit." + +He led the way into the bedroom, and Radwalader, following, applied +himself to the consumption of a cigarette. For three weeks he had been +observing Andrew with a new attention. He was always quick to note +symptoms, but in the present instance he found himself, to his surprise, +unable to analyze them with his accustomed readiness. The change which +he saw was singularly subtle, albeit as pronounced as that which a +separation of years might have enabled him to perceive. It was with +difficulty that he could bring himself to believe that barely a day had +gone by without their meeting. It seemed impossible that Andrew had not +gone and come again, passing, in the interim, through some vastly +significant experience. Radwalader found him less open, while habited +with a new assurance; less enthusiastic, while subject at times to an +almost feverish gaiety; more alive to the minutest details of the new +life which surrounded him, but with a tendency to scoff replacing his +former merely boyish interest. There were times when Radwalader would +have called him unqualifiedly happy; others when there was no such thing +as believing him otherwise than wretched. He was thinner, smiled less +than formerly, and took for granted much which had thitherto excited his +eager comment, his amusement, or his dislike. Over all he wore a new +reserve, a worldliness beyond his years. In all this, while there was +much which Radwalader did not fully understand, there was much which he +had expected, much which he had deliberately planned His cards had long +since been dealt and sorted. Now he chanced a lead. + +"I was at Poissy yesterday." + +"Ah?" + +Andrew appeared in the doorway of the bathroom, diligently towelling his +head. As he looked up, his eyes, so curiously like Radwalader's own, +were not less coolly non-committal than they. + +"How is Mrs. Carnby?" he added. + +"A good bit out of patience with you, I gather," said Radwalader. +"You've pretty well deserted her of late, haven't you?" + +Andrew was drying his fingers, one by one, with somewhat exaggerated +attention. + +"One can't serve God and Mammon," he observed, with that new flippancy +of his. "I won't stoop to the pettiness of fencing with you, Radwalader. +You're not blind, I take it. You must know as well as I why I don't want +to go to Poissy, and why, if I did, they wouldn't care to have me." + +"Yes," said the other, "I suppose I do. If I didn't, it wouldn't be for +lack of hearing you talked about. Gossip is tolerably busy with your +name, these days." + +"Gossip is rarely busy with _one_ name," retorted Andrew dryly. + +"Obviously. I didn't mean to ignore Mademoiselle Tremonceau: as you say, +a lack of candour between us would be merely petty: but I wasn't quite +sure how far you were prepared to concede me the license of a friend. +These are ticklish subjects, even between intimates. I'm not inclined to +meddle, but I've thought more than once of asking you if you thought the +game worth while." + +"I make a point of not thinking about it, one way or another," said +Andrew. "Why should I? I've youth, health, money, the sunshine, +Paris--and her. Why should I think? It's nobody's business but my own. +Don't be a prig, Radwalader." + +"God forbid!" ejaculated Radwalader. "I see I've been mistaken. I had an +idea that it _was_ somebody's business, other than yours--very much so, +in fact. Of course, if it isn't--" + +He stopped abruptly, and made a little signal of warning. An instant +later Monsieur Vicot entered the room, and began to lay out Andrew's +evening dress. His presence was an effective check upon further +conversation along the direct line they had been pursuing, and, as +Andrew hurried through his dressing, Radwalader plunged into +generalities. + +In another fifteen minutes Vicot opened the apartment door for them, +and, as they passed out, closed it and stepped into the _salon_. The +first object which met his eye was the miniature of Helen Vane, lying, +face downward, on the table where Radwalader had left it. He picked it +up and set it, upright, on the mantel, under the brilliant light of an +electric bulb. Then, idly curious, he leaned forward and stared at it. + +In the soft gloom of the July evening Armenonville glittered and +twinkled among the trees, and flung handfuls of shivered light on the +wind-ruffled waters of the little lake. As they approached, they had a +glimpse of tables brilliant with spotless napery and sheen of crystal +and silver, and of heavy-headed roses leaning from tall and slender +vases. Solicitous waiters, grotesquely swaddled in their aprons, were +turning every wine-glass to a ruby or a topaz with the liquid light of +Bourgogne or Champagne. Electric lights glowed pink in roses of crinkled +silk. The Pavilion was a veritable fairy palace, as unstable, to all +appearance, and as gossamer-light as the fabric of a dream swung +miraculously within a luminous haze. + +The table reserved for them was in an elbow of the piazza and so, a +little apart from the others; and the _maître d'hôtel_ led them toward +it with an air which was hardly less impressive than a _fanfare_. It was +his business to remember the faces of young foreigners who thundered up +at midday in twenty-horse-power Panhards expressly to command a table, +and incidentally to tip him a louis. Moreover, there was +Radwalader--Radwalader, who knew by his first name every _maître +d'hôtel_ from Lavenue's to the Rat Mort, and from Marguery's to the +Pavillon Bleu, called Frédéric himself "_mon vieux_," and sent messages +to the _chef_ at Voisin's or the Café Riche, informing him for whom the +order was to be prepared. + +Among the things which Andrew had unconsciously assimilated from +Radwalader, was something very nearly equalling the latter's instinct +for ordering a dinner. It was that, even more than the louis or the +Panhard, which inspired respect in the supercilious mind of the _maître +d'hôtel_. So they had caviar, sharpening the twang of their halves of +lemon with a dash of tabasco; and _langouste à l'Américaine_, with a +hint of tarragon in the mayonnaise; venison, with a confection of +ginger, marmalade, and currant jelly, which not every one gets, even for +the asking, at the Pavilion d'Armenonville; a salad of split Malaga +grapes and hearts of lettuce; and a Camembert cheese, taken at the +flood--the which, in Camembert, is of as good omen as that in the +affairs of men. + +Around them the brilliantly-illuminated tables were filled with diners. +The true Parisian _monde_, long since departed for Aix or Hombourg, had +given place to the annual influx of foreigners and the lighter spirits +of the half-world, men and women both. Here were minds which skidded +from subject to subject with the eccentricity of water-spiders on a +roadside pool. The latest comedies, the latest fashions, the latest +scandals--they came and went, verbal drops sliding over the acute edge +of conversation, each touched with prismatic hues of humour, irony, or +cynicism. The hum of chat was a patchwork of English, French, German, +Spanish, Russian, and Italian. Europe was talking--talking the gossip of +the day--pouring it like liquid silver into the moulds of many +languages, wherefrom it took the oddest forms of epigram. + +Here and there, members of the American Colony were entertaining friends +from the States, arrived that afternoon from Calais, Cherbourg, or Le +Hâvre, with the odour of bilge-water yet in their nostrils, and the +_terra_, misnamed _firma_, rocking unpleasantly under their senses. At +an adjoining table, a huge American collegian, labouring heavily against +the head-wind of many cocktails, addressed his waiter: + +"Ziss my las' night 'n Paruss, gassun. Jer know w'a' I've done t' +Paruss? Ziss w'a' I've done t' Paruss." + +He made the gesture of one wringing a half of lemon, and casting it +contemptuously aside, and looked up, proudly, for approval. Later he +would be tenderly removed--"a river ark on the ocean brine." + +But these--the transient Americans--were the least significant factors +in the scene. They had come to prey, and would go away to scoff. They +were a grade above the herded tourists to whose understanding the +Colonne Vendôme is an edifice closed for fear of suicides; but among +them were women who would write books on Paris, upon the strength of +three months' residence and six letters of introduction, and men whose +diligence in exhuming the most sordid evidences of metropolitan +degradation would enable them to speak, thenceforward, with authority +upon French depravity--the Hams, Tartuffes, and Parkhursts of their +hour. Paris finds time to smile at many such. Over and around them +flowed the smooth current of Parisian _savoir vivre_ which they could +not hope to understand, still less to emulate. + +"I feel," said Andrew slowly, "as if I had lived here all my life. Do +you remember telling me, that day at Auteuil, that things one ordinarily +disregards in America are part of one's education in Paris? I've learned +the truth of that. I don't think I should be apt to mistake _cerise_ for +red, as things are now." + +"Did you ever think of the irony of these _toilettes de demi-mondaine_?" +asked Radwalader, looking from one to another of the superb gowns at the +neighbouring tables. "You know, they're society's fashions of the day +after to-morrow. I wonder what our dear lady of the Parc Monceau, or +Mayfair, or Fifth Avenue, or Back Bay, or Nob Hill, would say if she +knew the source of that trick of sleeve, or that contrast of +_entre-deux_, which she fondly imagines was born in the mind of a Doucet +for her and her alone. It came into being, my dear Vane, in a stuffy, +overfurnished little apartment in one of the suburbs, as a _patron_ of +questionable merit by a charming creature with more ideas than +reputation, and was first worn at the little Mathurins--or here--by +Ninon Gyrianne: at a theatre where my lady would not be seen, by a woman +whom she would not receive! Or, if not that, La Girofla stood sponsor +for it at Deauville or Monte Carlo, and was duly complimented in the +_potins of Gil Blas_. _Quelle farce, mon Dieu!_" + +The two men were eating at the leisurely rate which is the most +invaluable lesson Paris teaches the American. Andrew's lips curled in a +little sneer. + +"It's all a farce," he said, "and, God knows, I'm the biggest mountebank +of them all. When I look back six weeks, it's another Andrew Vane I +see--a better one." + +"But not a happier one, I fancy," suggested Radwalader. + +"Why not? Do you think, after all your experience, that Paris brings +happiness? Distraction, perhaps--amusement--knowledge--but happiness? Oh +no!" + +He looked down, appearing to reflect, and then went on in another tone: + +"I've been meaning to have a little talk with you, Radwalader, and what +we were saying, back there at the apartment, seemed to open the way. I'm +going to be pretty frank, and, on the score of friendship, I hope you'll +be the same." + +Radwalader nodded, narrowing his eyes. + +"It's about Mirabelle Tremonceau. Believe me or not as you will, it was +all innocent enough at first. She was something new in my life, +something entirely new. I can't say I fell in love with her. There were +reasons why that wasn't possible at the time; but I found her +beautiful, amusing, and the soul of kindness. I liked her, and--well, I +drifted along from day to day, without any particular plan, one way or +another. It may seem incredible that I thought her like any other girl I +knew, but I did. I suppose it's not an especially novel story--Paris and +the young American." + +"Goliath and David," commented Radwalader. + +"Exactly--except that David won out, and I haven't. I began to hear +things, but, even so, I continued to like her, and to go there. I didn't +half believe what I heard, in the first place: it was all so +different--the surroundings and all that--from anything I'd ever known. +There wasn't a sign of anything of the sort, as far as I could see; and +I was more sorry for her than anything else, when I finally caught on. I +had the kind of feeling one has for a chap that's being overhazed at +college. Everybody was damning her, and all the time she was treating me +as her friend--and nothing more. I felt that it was up to me to stick up +for her, and I did--even when Mrs. Carnby chimed in, and told me I was +acting like a fool. You see--" + +He hesitated, fingering his fork, and appearing to reflect. + +"I said I'd talk straight with you," he added, "and I will. There was +only one person whose opinion made any difference to me, and I felt I +could trust her all through. I dodged the question when you spoke of it, +back there, but of course you were right. It _was_ somebody's +business--Margery Palffy's. I'd been as good as engaged to her for a +year--that is, _she_ knew and _I_ knew--and it never dawned upon me that +she was going to think anything except--well, _that_! You see, I knew I +hadn't done anything wrong, and I went to her, as bold as brass, that +last night when we were all at Poissy, and asked her definitely. You can +imagine how I felt when she came back at me with--I don't need to tell +you what she said. It was the same old business that other people had +been hinting at, but it was straight from the shoulder, and showed me +that she thought I was as unworthy of her as a man could well be--as +unworthy of her as I am now! It was the worst kind of a facer. It drove +me mad, Radwalader--I want you to remember, all the time, that I didn't +deserve it--and I flung away from her, with every drop of my damnable +pride at the boiling-point, and came back to Paris, and--to the +inevitable. For three weeks I've been living in heaven--and in hell!" + +"In heaven," said Radwalader quietly, "because of Mirabelle; and in hell +because of--" + +"That's it--because of Margery Palffy! Try to understand me. If I +thought I loved her before, I _know_ it now. If it were possible to go +back--but it isn't--it's never possible to do that. It's too late, +that's all there is about it." + +Radwalader smiled easily. The cards were running his way now. + +"Surely, you're not tied up as tight as that," he said. "You've been a +trifle hot-headed, yes; but in all you've told me, there's nothing more +than what a vast majority of the men you know have done, and nothing +more than what a vast majority of women have forgiven and forgotten. +It's never too late to mend. Cut loose, my dear Vane--cut loose from +Mirabelle, and go back to the girl you really care for. You'll have to +deny a few things, of course, and swallow some humiliation; but don't +get tragic over it. In affairs like this, the first course is +humble-pie, but the _pièce de résistance_ is invariably fatted calf!" + +"Cut loose from Mirabelle," repeated Andrew. "Cut loose from Mirabelle?" + +"Obviously. There's one infallible way, my friend." + +Radwalader raised his right hand lightly, and chafed with his thumb the +tips of his first and second fingers. + +"Money?" demanded Andrew. + +"Of course! And you may thank your stars that you're in a position to +command it. Many a chap has gone under because he couldn't pay the piper +when the bill came in. You can; and there's no reason under heaven why +you should let this matter trouble you. Wait a moment!"--as Andrew was +about to speak--"let me explain. I'm not the sort that cuts into other +people's affairs as a rule. I detest meddling, and ordinarily I don't +want to be bothered with what doesn't concern me. But I like you, +Vane--I do, heartily. I'd be more sorry than a little to see you in +trouble. What's more, I feel to a certain extent responsible, as I was +the one to introduce you. Well, then--suppose you leave the whole affair +to me. I know the world, and especially Paris, and more especially +Mirabelle Tremonceau. Leave it in my hands. Even if she's ugly about it, +I can probably get you out, all clear, for fifteen or twenty thousand +francs, where it might cost you fifty if you undertook to engineer the +thing yourself. What do you say?" + +"Say?" repeated Andrew, with a little, mirthless laugh, "why, simply +that you don't understand. Mirabelle wouldn't accept money from me." + +"Oh, not money, like that," said Radwalader, "not money out of a +purse--'one, two, three, _and_ two make five. I think that's correct, +madam, and thank _you_!' No, I grant you--probably she wouldn't. But a +Panhard, or a deposit at her bankers', or diamonds--that would be +different." + +"No--no," said Andrew, shaking a single finger from side to side. +"You're all wrong. You don't get the situation at all. When a woman +loves a man--" + +"Love?" broke in Radwalader. "Piffle! Leave it to me, my dear sir, and +in twenty-four hours I'll prove to you that Mirabelle Tremonceau's +spelling of the word 'love' begins with the symbol for pounds +sterling!" + +"And Margery?" faltered Andrew. + +"I saw Miss Palffy at Poissy," said Radwalader. "She's still staying +there, you know. Now, if you'd told me that _she_ loved you, I'd have +believed you. She was looking wretchedly, I thought." + +He paused for a moment, to give the words their proper effect, and then +played his highest card. + +"Did you receive a telegram from her after you left Poissy?" + +Andrew stared blankly at him, moistening his lips. + +"A telegram?" he said. "A telegram?" + +"I thought you didn't," replied Radwalader, "and told her so. It seems +she sent one, and was surprised you hadn't answered." + +"A telegram!" said Andrew again. "Do you realize what that means, +Radwalader? Why, it would have made all the difference in the world! A +telegram? No, of course I never received it! And I've been--I've been--" + +His voice broke suddenly. + +"My God! Radwalader, but fate is hard!" + +"Fate, in this instance," remarked Radwalader, "_is_ hard--hard cash. +Don't let any false quixotism blind you to that, Vane. I've shown you +the way out. Think it over, and when you're ready, come to me." + +He crumpled his napkin, and rose. He had played. Now it was for +Mirabelle to trump the trick. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +"AS IT WAS IN THE BEGINNING, IS NOW, AND EVER SHALL BE." + + +The two men separated at the Porte Maillot, Radwalader strolling away in +the direction of the Métropolitain entrance with a readily fabricated +excuse about a card engagement. He understood to perfection the action +of moral leaven--that, once introduced as an ingredient, it must not be +unduly stirred, but left, with the fair white cloth of unconcern drawn +smoothly over it, to work its will at ease. To a greater extent even +than Mrs. Carnby, he possessed the instinct for not saying too much. He +left Andrew to reflect upon what had passed between them, confident of +its effect. + +Andrew paused at the junction of the Avenues de Malakoff and de la +Grande Armée, the confusion and glare of the great thoroughfares smiting +fretfully upon his instant need of reflection, and then returned upon +his tracks, seeking the cool quiet of the Bois. After a short walk past +the brightly lighted Chalet du Touring Club, a by-path tempted him, and +he turned aside. At once the forest closed in upon him, and the scene of +a half-hour before became more than ever like a phase in some fantastic +and uneasy dream. At Armenonville there had been a blaze of light and a +ripple of laughter, which barred out the stars of heaven as if they had +never been: here was a world of stillness and of shadow, broken only by +the distant music of the tziganes, and, through the interstices of +tree-trunks and foliage, the intermittent gleam of bicycle and +automobile lanterns on the Route de la Porte des Sablons. The faintly +pungent odour of moss rose to his nostrils, as in some deep, +undiscovered retreat in a provincial preserve. The small, sweet twitter +of a restless bird pricked the delicious silence like the sound of a rip +in thin linen. The tziganes at Armenonville were playing the "Valse +Bleue." The air, pulsing softly through the gloom, seemed almost to +speak the words: + +"_Pourquoi ne pas m'aimer, p'isqu' tu sais que je t'ai--ai--me?_" + +"Margery!" said Andrew slowly, to himself. "Margery--Margery!" + +In the three weeks just past, he had been building a new world, a world +from which his former ideals had been deliberately banished, and wherein +new standards of conduct had been set. Pride, recklessness, and +resentment had been the triumvirate by which this moral state was +governed, and he had obeyed their dictates blindly, without caring, as +he had told Radwalader, to think. Left to itself, this might have +endured indefinitely, even as the larger world, with all its codes and +creeds, established by the limited experience of the men inhabiting it. +But what would be effected by the abrupt entrance into society of a +messenger from another planet, infinitely wiser, infinitely more +advanced, was brought to pass by Radwalader's words. The _status quod_ +reeled on its foundations. The alternative which Andrew had accepted, +and which had dulled, if not actually done away with, the acuteness of +his disappointment, now appeared in its true light as the veriest sham, +a sedative worse than useless--enervating--stupefying--poisonous. The +bare suggestion was enough. Not for a moment did he doubt the +significance of this message which had never reached him. It could mean +but one thing--forgiveness and recall. All there had been to say upon +the other count, had been said in that half-hour in the arbour. Her hand +had been stretched out to stay him from the precipice down which he had +plunged--stretched out too late! The knowledge tore in an instant the +mask from his vanity, and he stood confessed--a coward. What was it she +had said? "A fancy so trivial and so idle that it could not even hold +you back from transgression." And he had resented that, resented it only +to furnish proof, when the actual temptation came, that it was true! + +He knew himself now for what he was. How scornful he had been of these +accusations, how certain of himself, how small in that great loyalty of +his which stood for nothing, how ready to believe himself infallible! +The merest profligate of those whose follies he had despised in other +days, was no weaker, in the end, than he. He looked up blindly to where +the stars winked faintly through the lace-like foliage, and cursed the +distant roar of Paris which came dully to his ears. Paris--Circe! and he +no better than the transformed comrades of Ulysses! He was a coward--a +fraud--a sham; he found himself, in this moment of bitter self-reproach, +untrue even to the flimsy conception of duty which, when it put him to +the test, he had debauched. He thought of Mirabelle, and in thinking +hated her! With all her beauty, all her perfect mimicry of breeding, all +the little significant hints of colour and perfume with which she so +skilfully clothed with charm whatever pertained to her, she had never +struck below his ready appreciation of whatever was suggestive of +refinement and eloquent of femininity. It was her novelty which had +principally charmed him, but novelty is the butterfly of the +sensations--the most brilliant, the shortest-lived of these emotional +ephemera. Mrs. Carnby had struck the key-note in her cool analysis of +the _demi-monde_: "These women don't wear. They seem to be only plated +with fascination, and in time the plating wears off, and you come back +to the kind with the hall-mark." + +Now the scales fell from Andrew's eyes, and he knew that what she had +said was true. Compared to Margery--the Margery he had loved and lost, +what was this Mirabelle to whom he had yielded her place? Beautiful, +yes! But the perception of beauty, like beauty's self, lies only +skin-deep. Now, with Radwalader's suggestion that the way of retreat lay +open, came the reaction, inevitable in such a nature as Andrew Vane's, +from an emotion purely extrinsic. He was tired of her. The plating had +worn off. + +Suddenly he remembered that he had promised to see her that night, and, +with an abrupt perception of the opportunity thus offered, he pulled +himself together, and swung off rapidly toward the Porte Dauphine. As he +walked, inhaling the fragrance of the evening air, a new sanity seemed +to descend on him. He promised himself that this should be the end. +However the effect was to be accomplished, he was determined to break +the relation, kindly but firmly, and at whatever risk to regain, if not +his self-esteem, at least his freedom. As to what should follow, he did +not care--or dare--to ask. The unknown significance of the lost message +soothed him like an irrational caress. Was it too late? Is it _ever_ +"too late to mend"? He neither knew nor cared. Given his freedom, he +would chance the rest. Fate was hard. A thought checked him. "Fate is +hard--cash!" + +"Whatever I believe," he told himself, "I don't believe that." And then, +in the illogical manner of man, added: "I don't care what it costs +me--this is the end!" + +He found Mirabelle in a corner of her great divan, and the room softly +illumined. She wore a bewitchingly dainty lounging-gown of iridescent +silk, in the folds of which peacock-blues and greens played and rippled +into each other in constant com-minglings. + +"_Embrasse-moi_," she said, looking up at him. + +She glanced at him curiously as he straightened himself again and +dropped upon the cushions at her feet. In a woman, the manner of a kiss +performs the midwife's office to the beginnings of clairvoyance. + +"I wonder," said Andrew presently, "if you know that people are talking +about us, _ma chère_?" + +Mirabelle commented upon this intelligence with a tilt of her eyebrows. + +"Yes," continued Andrew, "it seems that our doings are become public +property, and our reputations are in jeopardy." + +"Yours, perhaps," remarked the girl. "As for mine, _mon ami, ça n'existe +pas_." + +"_Don't!_" said Andrew suddenly. "Please don't!" + +"After all," said Mirabelle, "what difference? They talk, these good +people, whether things are so or not. It's the women, of course. If my +clothes were not _d'un chic_, they would pass me over as unworthy of +consideration." + +"This time," said Andrew, "it seems the ground of complaint is not +clothes alone. I'm told that I'm _affiché_." + +"So you are, I suppose. You were that from the moment I took your arm at +Auteuil, that first afternoon. Do you object? There are many who would +be glad to say as much." + +Andrew bit his lip. It was going to be harder than he had thought. He +had come to say--he could not have told exactly what. His whole relation +with Mirabelle had come so stealthily into being, and had been +distinguished by a novelty, a _goût piquant_ so subtle and alluring, +that he had hardly been conscious of its development into something +definite and established, until the thing was done. His thoughts went +back to that afternoon, in his own apartment, three weeks before, when +first he had kissed her. That had been the turning-point--the crisis +when the whole wide world tipped upside down. His entire point of view +had undergone an instantaneous readjustment as his lips met hers, and +before him had opened the gate of a new world--a garden lavish of +unfamiliar fruits and strange flowers, breathing a heavy, languid, +deadening sweetness. He had entered, as one turns aside from the beaten +road to explore some little vista of unprecedented beauty, with a vague +convincement at the back of his brain, that the divergence was for a +moment only, and that, so soon as his curiosity should be satisfied, he +would turn back to the highway and go forward again, richer by an +experience which it was not necessary to mention, and which would be as +immaterial in its bearing upon the main issues of life, as a flower +plucked and tossed aside in passing, or a tune whistled in a moment of +lightheartedness. + +Now--it was singularly hard to cut to the pith of the sensation--the +gate which had opened so invitingly seemed to have closed behind him. +What was still more curious, he found, of a sudden, that these fruits +and flowers which had tempted him by reason of their novelty, were now +as familiar, as seemingly essential, as if they had always been features +of his environment. The garden itself was no longer a place wherein he +walked as a transient visitor, idly inspecting, but one in which he +stood as proprietor. The tendrils had climbed and clung about his feet. +The moment for retreat had come, and lo! he could not move! + +As they talked, he grew still more conscious of the fact that this task +of disentanglement which he had planned, was one beset with unexpected +difficulties. Mirabelle had practically disregarded the inclined plane +of suggestion by which he had sought to lead up to the main issue, and, +with a little air of proprietorship, had begun to map out her plans for +the coming week--plans in which Andrew figured as naturally, as much as +a matter of course, as did her carriage or her meals or her gowns. For +the first time, he realized to what an extent she had a claim upon him. +For the first time, the curb replaced the snaffle. For the first time, +the bit made its presence fully felt. Andrew stirred uneasily. + +"_M'amie_," he said, "we've been much in each other's company of +late--more, perhaps, than is best for either of us." + +"How can that be?" asked Mirabelle, with a little laugh. "We love each +other--_ça suffit_. It's impossible to be too much together." + +Her voice was quite even, but that was not to say that she did not scent +the approaching issue. + +"But people say--" began Andrew. + +"Oh, lalà! _People say!_ What _don't_ they say, my poor friend? What +won't they continue to say, however you choose to live, and whatever you +choose to do? That's Paris, and that's the smallest village in Brittany, +and everything in between, into the bargain. Nowadays, one must do as +one sees fit, and have the courage of one's convictions. We've chosen +our way. It's too late to think of what people say. After all, it's +gossip, all this, and gossip is a snake. One kills it if one can; but, +in the long run, it's better to step over it and forget. What does +gossip amount to? If you're seen always with your wife, it's because you +can't trust her alone; if you're never seen with her, it's because +you've interests elsewhere. If you spend your nights in public, you're a +profligate; and if you spend them at home, you're a secret drinker. +'People say'! Let them say, Andrew. It can't make any difference." + +"Our--our friendship is the talk of the American Colony," said Andrew, +almost savagely. + +Mirabelle looked at him suddenly, with a curious crinkling of her +forehead. The issue now lay clear before her. + +"And you are ashamed of _that_?" she asked. + +She leaned back wearily, closing her eyes. + +"Yes, of course you are," she added. "I wonder why it is that we--_nous +autres_--never seem to realize what it means, all this. A little +laughter, a kiss or two, and the rest, a '_je t'aime_' which means +something less than nothing, and then--They speak of the women whom men +abuse! What is that to being _used_--and flung aside?" + +"Mirabelle!" + +"Ah, don't speak to me! I know all that you're going to say--I've heard +it all before! I knew it, back there a minute, when you kissed me, +thinking of another woman! It's the old story--a little harder to bear +this time, perhaps, because I've cared very much for you. Somehow, you +seemed different from other men. You were young, you were gentle, you +were respectful, _mon Dieu!_--respectful! I thought that it was for _me_ +you cared--_me_, as you saw me here, loving and needing to be loved--not +the Mirabelle Tremonceau who is dressed like a doll by Paquin and +Louise--the Mirabelle Tremonceau of the Acacias, and the Palais de +Glace, and the Café de Paris. I said to myself that it had not all been +in vain--the training, the care, the painstaking which have made me what +I am. Long since, I'd come to loathe all these, my surroundings, but, +for the first time, it seemed to me that perhaps they were not a sham +and an imitation and a mockery. You were a gentleman--not a _rasta_, +like the others. I thought your instincts couldn't play you false, and +that I saw that they prompted you to regard me, here in my own home, as +a woman and a friend, not merely as a mistress and a toy. From the +first, you never presumed, you never let the thought of what, at worst, +I might have been to you, come forward to shame the thought of what I +was, at best! I said to myself that you cared for _me_--for my mind--my +heart--and that what was most to others was nothing to you. When you +kissed me first--that afternoon--ah, _mon Dieu_! I thought it was not +the kiss of passion, but the kiss of love! At that moment you knew fully +what I was--if you'd not guessed it before, but you asked for--nothing! +Instead you played, and your soul was in the music. I've never heard +such playing. It was pure--pure--_pure!_ Ah!--" + +She opened her eyes slowly, without looking at him. + +"And I was happy--happier than I've ever been: because, I said, there +must still be a little something in me of all I thought I'd lost. I'd +not loved you before that day. It was while we were there together that +it came. I would to God you'd let me go then--let me go with the memory +of a look which I'd never seen in a man's eyes before--the look which +said 'Respect.'" + +For a moment there was silence, and then Mirabelle laughed shortly. + +"That was what I was fool enough to think--all that! _Quelle idiote! +Nous voilà, cher ami_, at the end of the chapter. Your glove is worn: +you must replace it. Your flower is wilted: you must have another for +your lapel!" + +Now she looked full at him, her lip curling. + +"It is like the Moulin," she added. "_Combien est-ce que tu me donnes, +beau brun?_" + +Andrew swung himself to a kneeling posture. + +"What are you saying?" he demanded hotly. "My God! Does what has been +between us mean nothing to you? Have I ever suggested--have I ever said +a word to justify such a monstrous thing? I--" + +"Just now you kissed me, thinking of another woman!" exclaimed +Mirabelle. "Did you suppose I didn't know? Why, I've _loved_ you--that's +how I knew! Do you realize what all this meant? You could have made me +good again. I would have left all this--forgotten it--blotted it out! I +could have gone away quietly into the country, and lived my life out, +without a regret. I could almost have been content never to see you +again--never to hear from you, if I could have remembered--what once was +true--that you respected me! Forgive what I said just now. It was +coarse--unworthy of all that has been. But you don't understand. I wish +I'd not said what I did; and yet, at times, I feel that way--I mean, as +if it were all the same--at the Moulin Rouge or here--they for an hour, +I for a month, but each flung away presently, like the dregs of wine. +I've laughed at the knowledge that that is how it is; always +laughed--until the shadow of the thought fell on you!" + +She slid her cool fingers into the hand he started to raise in protest, +and held it close against her cheek. + +"Then it maddened me. You see, everything has been different with you +from what it was with the others. I'd never have believed that I could +care for any man as I have for you--and perhaps I shouldn't have cared +for you as I have, if you'd come into my life in any other way. But you +asked to be presented to me, and waited for Radwalader to get my +permission; you talked to me as to a young girl of your own _monde_; and +if at first I didn't understand what that meant, I soon saw that it was +because _you didn't know_! Is it any wonder that I came to love +you?--you who alone of all men yielded me the exquisite homage of +respect? I dreaded the moment when the change must come--when that +deference which intoxicated me like a new wine should be touched with a +growing spirit of license, which from you would have been intolerable! +From day to day I watched you, but even when I knew that you suspected +what I was, my eyes--_mon Dieu_, how keen they were!--could see no +change in you--and that was the greatest surprise of all. And when, in +that moment of madness, I as much as told you, and you were gentle with +me, what had been love for your treatment of me became, all at once, +love for just--_you_!" + +With an almost imperceptible pressure she drew him closer to her. As she +went on speaking, her fingers touched his temples and his hair in a +succession of tiny, soft caresses which were like the embryos of spoken +endearments. + +"_Mon bien aimé!_ Never will you be able to comprehend what you thus +came to mean to me. I have always been vain, lazy, passionately desirous +of all that is softest, sweetest, most palatable in life; and these +things I have had--but at what a price! Then _you_ came, and with you a +flash of hope! I made myself believe, I don't know what! Marriage? Yes, +there was even that in my mind; and there was, as well, the idea of +going away, as I've said, into the country, and letting the four winds +and the sunlight of heaven wash and wash and wash me, through all the +years of my life, until I should go out of this world as white as I came +in! Ah! I don't know what it was, that little flash of hope, except that +it seemed to say that escape was possible, and it was to _your_ hand I +clung, seeking the outlet. But that was only for one night--for just +that one night! With the next day, with all the sights and sounds to +which I am accustomed--the Allée at noon, Armenonville at tea-time, +Paillard's at midnight--I saw what the end must be; and, since then, +I've watched, as only a woman watches, for that first little hint of its +coming which only a woman sees! Ah, _mon cheri_, it has come, it has +come indeed! For a moment I cried out in my agony against the fate which +is separating us. You must forgive me that. Six weeks--a little slice of +spring--and already you are tired of me. _Mon amour--mon amour!_" + +Andrew turned, and, with his forehead on her knees and his lips against +her fingers, battled silently against the swelling in his throat and the +hot moisture stinging his inner lids. In the warm, perfume-laden +silence, both the man and the girl went back in thought to their +individual as well as their associated past. For the end of each +successive stage of life has this in common with the concluding moments +of the whole: as with a drowning person, all preceding incidents and +emotions start up in orderly array, intensified and in their proper +light. + +So Andrew, reviewing the past three weeks, was prey to a passionate +regret. In this there was censure, not so much of his own weakness, as +of the test which had laid it bare. In youth, reaction carries with a +merciless arraignment of all which has made possible disloyalty to +standard; with age, men learn to blame themselves, their own folly and +frailty. In his heart of hearts, Andrew impugned the girl; and when, +under the impetus of her resentment, she had voiced that scathing sneer, +he had almost welcomed it, as an excuse for the course he was determined +to pursue. For an instant, pity and regret were swallowed up in a +profound sense of indignity. In its essentials, her speech seemed no +better than a touch of the brutal vulgarity which, with deliberation, he +had avoided all his life. It had that very element of the sordid which +had held him aloof from the student excursions from Cambridge into +Boston--excursions so apt to end in brawls, drunken clamour, tears, and +maudlin reconciliations. It was of a piece with a dispute over the +finish of a game of cards, with the recriminations of an aggrieved +supper companion, with the abuse of an exasperated bartender. It cut him +to the quick, and, for the moment, seemed to place Mirabelle on a level +with the women with whom she desperately classed herself. "It is like +the Moulin!" As she said the words, it was as if the wand of a harlequin +had touched the scene. The faint perfume of the Gloire de Dijon roses +which he himself had sent her turned suddenly to the stale smell of the +tobacco smoke which hung densely over the dancers in the Red Mill of +Montmartre; and Mirabelle herself, with her angry eyes, was at one with +the painted, powdered, and bedizened monstrosity whom Radwalader had +snubbed one evening as she paused at the table where he and Andrew were +sampling an atrocious _liqueur_ and watching an unlovely quadrille. But +the impression passed as it had come. She was herself again, supremely +beautiful, and supremely appealing in her avowal of devotion; and the +element of romance which, in his mind, had always characterized their +relation was intensified rather than diminished by this touch of +tragedy. + +Mirabelle rose suddenly, looking down upon him. + +"I understand," she said; "but there is one thing I would like to ask +you. This other woman--do you love her? Will all this procure you what +you want?" + +"I don't know," faltered Andrew. "Perhaps not." + +"Then why--" + +"Oh, how can I explain to you?" he exclaimed, rising in his turn. "It's +just this--I _must_ make another try, and to do that I _must_ be free! +You have the right to ask--what _haven't_ you the right to ask! I'll +tell you the truth--that's all I can do now. The girl I asked to marry +me flung me off because--because--" + +"Because of _me_?" + +She bent forward, staring at him, as if she would wring the truth from +his hesitation. + +"Yes--because of you." + +"And when was this? When _was_ it, I ask you? Was it--_before_?" + +"Yes." + +"Then she had no grounds for what she said? She was wrong--she misjudged +you--and then you came back to me!" + +"Yes." + +"Why--_why_?" + +"I don't know," said Andrew miserably. "I owed you something. I couldn't +hear you accused like that when there was no reason. You were my +friend." + +"And so--you gave up the woman you--loved? Ah, _mon Dieu_!" + +She paused, and then her eyes blazed suddenly with such a light as he +had never seen in them, and her hands went to her temples with a +bewildered flutter. + +"It was for me," she said, "for me! And to-morrow it is to be _adieu_?" + +"To-morrow?" + +Briefly they searched each other's eyes. + +"I mean to-night, of course," said Mirabelle evenly. "Andrew--there is +one thing I would like to ask of you, before you go. Will you--will you +kiss me once--not as you have ever kissed me?" Her fingers touched her +forehead. "Will you kiss me--here?" + +He advanced a step and did as she had asked, then fell back. + +"Mirabelle--Mirabelle!" + +"Ah, don't think of me, my friend. I don't mean to be cruel--but I +have--other interests. Let us say good-by, and part--friends. I trust +you may be happy." + +"Mirabelle!" + +Andrew's voice broke suddenly. + +"Then it's good-by?" + +"Yes," said Mirabelle; and, with a little sob, he bent and kissed her +hand. + +When he had gone, she stood irresolutely, her lips parted and her eyes +very bright. Then she wheeled and walked slowly toward the mantel. A +photograph of Thomas Radwalader leaned there against a slender vase. As +it met her eyes, she snatched abruptly at it, tore it into twenty +pieces, and scattered the fragments in the air. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +A DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. + + +"He's gone for a couple of days," observed Vicot bluntly, as he opened +the door of Andrew's apartment to Radwalader, about noon of the +following day. "He left a note for you. It's on his desk." + +"I'll come in and read it," answered Radwalader, with his customary lack +of manifest surprise. "It may require an answer." + +He pulled off his gloves in a leisurely manner, as he entered the little +_salon_, and stood looking down at the note addressed to him. + +"Perhaps," he added, "you'll save me the trouble of opening this by +giving me a brief epitome of its contents." + +"He didn't honour me with his confidence," said Vicot. "And he left the +note sealed." + +Radwalader turned the envelope, flap up. + +"I see you've been careful to restore it to its original condition," he +remarked. "You're skilful at this kind of thing, my friend--uncommonly +skilful. I fail to perceive the slightest evidence of your tampering." + +"Then why not give me the benefit of the doubt?" demanded the other +sullenly. + +"Because, with the best will in the world, it's quite impossible to give +you the benefit of something which doesn't exist. A sealed letter and a +corked bottle, you see, are two things which habit has long since made +it impossible to resist." + +"Not a drop of liquor has touched my lips to-day!" exclaimed Vicot. + +"And it's past noon!" retorted Radwalader lightly. "Is this a miracle of +which you are informing me, or have you been taking it through a tube?" + +He took up the note, and seated himself deliberately in Andrew's chair. +Vicot watched him alertly, gnawing his lip. + +"Am I to know what it's about?" he demanded presently. + +"There's no conceivable reason why you should," was the answer; "but, on +the other hand, there seems to be no conceivable reason why you +shouldn't. Only pray don't stand upon ceremony, my good Jules. If you +know the contents, do be kind enough to say so, and spare me the effort +of useless recapitulation." + +"I've practically told you already. I haven't touched it." + +"Curiously enough," said Radwalader, "I believe you." + +He threw the note upon the table, and Vicot, picking it up, scanned it +eagerly. + +"'I've gone back,'" he read slowly, "'for another try.'" + +"Well?" inquired Radwalader pleasantly. "Are you any the wiser?" + +"What does it mean?" asked Vicot, looking down at him. + +"It means," said Radwalader, "that the game is up." + +"Damnation!" + +"My _good_ Jules!" protested Radwalader, "pardon the license of an old +friend, who begs to suggest that your interruption is in most execrable +taste!" + +"What are you driving at?" exclaimed Vicot impatiently. "What does it +mean, all this palaver? There's something back of it. You can't hoodwink +me, Radwalader." + +"Far be it from me to attempt the impossible, my astute Jules. Quite +justly, you demand what I'm driving at, and, quite frankly, I've told +you. The game is up. Mr. Vane has outplayed us. He's managed to get out +of this pretty little tangle in a fashion at once ingenious and +unexpected. I confess myself beaten. He's gone back to the girl he +intends to marry." + +Radwalader paused for an instant, as a thought struck him. + +"And he would have gone back long ago," he added, "if he had received a +certain telegram which was sent to him three weeks ago. If that +particular telegram was not intercepted _en route_, it should have +reached him; if that particular telegram _was_ intercepted _en route_, +it should have reached _me_. Well?" + +Vicot stared at him blankly, his hand groping in his pocket. + +"A telegram?" he repeated, and then drew out the blue missive which had +arrived, almost simultaneously with Mirabelle, three weeks before. + +"I forgot," he stammered. + +"You ass!" exclaimed Radwalader. "It's lucky enough for you that your +carelessness didn't interfere with my plans. As it is, I don't see that +it makes much difference. Vane has been too sharp for us, all around. +For once in my life, I've made a miscalculation. He's out of the net, +right enough, and the best we can do is to abandon the chase and apply +ourselves to something more profitable. I'm glad to think that, however +unsatisfactory, from a financial point of view, the venture may have +proved to me, at least you have not suffered--" + +"Enough of that!" broke in Vicot. "Get to the point!" + +"Why, the point is simply this. On the return of Mr. Vane, you will +present, in due form, your resignation from his employ, and resume your +careful surveillance of my window in the Rue de Villejust. When you +shall observe it to be ornamented with a certain unpretentious blue jar, +you will know that I am once more at home to you. I think I can promise +you that the next case deserving of our joint attention will not be so +barren of result as this one, which we are now with reluctance forced to +relinquish. You might go back to driving a cab, meanwhile." + +"I'm to leave Mr. Vane's employ," said Vicot, less in the tone of +inquiry than in that of reflection. "I'm to leave Mr. Vane's employ." + +"Quite so, my perspicacious Jules." + +"Well, then--I won't!" said Jules Vicot. + +He seated himself upon the edge of Andrew's desk and folded his arms. + +"Radwalader," he added, "many's the time I've listened to you. Now it's +your turn to listen to me." + +Radwalader, following the impulse of a momentary whim, folded his arms +in turn. + +"_Mon cher confrère_," he said amusedly, "I shall listen with reverent +attention to whatever you may have to say." + +"I know too well," continued the other, "that I can't appeal with any +hope of success to your sense of pity--because you haven't any. Wilfully +or otherwise, you have contrived to stifle the promptings of feeling +which weaken--or is it strengthen?--other men. You're trained to +perfection. But there must be one thing which even you are unable to +forget--I mean the time when we were young and clean, when we smiled by +day as we dreamed of what lay before us, instead of shuddering by night, +as now, as we dream of what lies behind." + +Radwalader nodded. "I'm not addicted, myself, to the unpleasant habit of +shuddering," he said, "but I think I know what you mean by the other +part of your preamble. 'When all the world was young, lad, and all the +trees were green: and every goose a swan, lad, and every lass a queen!' +Isn't that it? Yes, I seem to remember something of the sort, and with a +not unpleasurable emotion. Continue, my good Jules." + +"Sometimes," said Vicot, moistening his lips, "the thought of that time +must come back even to you. Sometimes even you, with all your +callousness, must contrast what you might have been with what you are. +Sometimes a face, among all those we meet, must recall to you the days +when better things were possible. But if you have never been thrust back +thus upon your own youth, and grown sick at thought of it, I have! +There's nothing more awful." + +"We've been over all this before," put in Radwalader, with a suggestion +of weariness. + +"You said you'd hear me out! I'm not talking religion, or even morality. +I'm trying to spare you the cant to which you once objected. I don't +care about the future. I'm like you in having no more dread of hell than +love of heaven. No, it's not the future which hits me. But the past--! +The world--the world which, long since, I ran to meet so eagerly--has +made me rotten, rotten, _rotten_ to the core!" + +"Severe," commented Radwalader, "but strictly accurate. Continue, my +Jules." + +"You can't make me angry, Radwalader. I'm changed a good bit in these +past few weeks. I've been going easy on the drink for one thing, which +may account for the fact that my head has cleared, and that I see a +number of things in a very different light." + +For an instant his eyes gleamed with a kind of eagerness. + +"I wish you were easier to talk to, Radwalader," he added, his voice +suddenly grown timorous with a hint of the old whimper. "With all your +cold-bloodedness, you're the only--" + +"When you've anything worth saying, I'm as easy to talk to as the next +man," said Radwalader. "It's only when you begin to lament through your +nose about the past, and remorse; and 'I remember, I remember the house +where I was born,' that I'm not the pink of polite attention. I confess +I can't stand that kind of thing; but, for this once, let it go. I'll +hear you out." + +"Well," continued the other, "one thing I've found out is that there is +less tragedy than comedy about an old man looking back shamefacedly upon +the past." + +"That's the first sensible thing you've said," observed Radwalader. + +"The tragic spectacle," added Vicot, "is that of the young man looking +forward hopefully upon the future. Now the old man and the young man I +describe have been in close proximity for several weeks, and the old man +has learned that his own security isn't worth much, one way or another, +when compared with the young man's security." + +"The old man gets ten in modesty." Radwalader carefully entered the mark +in an imaginary report-book. + +"The old man sees," pursued Vicot, "that a certain person whom he has +been fearing is really of infinitely minor importance, after all." + +"_Grand merci!_" + +"This person has been jumping out of dark corners and shouting +'Boo!'--that's all. Even if he should tell all he knows about the old +man--but he won't, no matter what happens: that's another thing the old +man has learned--it wouldn't make any difference. Do you see? It +wouldn't make any difference at all!" + +He peered at Radwalader triumphantly, but the latter noted that under +his folded left arm Vicot's right thumb twitched ceaselessly against his +sleeve. He hugged himself upon perceiving this, and nodded. + +"Shrewd old man!" he said. "Pity he didn't find all this out sooner." + +"Well, soon or late," went on Vicot, "the knowledge is his now, and it's +bound to be useful--not to himself, mind you, but to the _young_ man! Do +you begin to see? If this person is going to hound this young man, and +ruin his life as he has ruined others, it will have to be by new +tricks. The old man knows all the old ones--he would recognize them in +their earliest stages--he would be able to checkmate this--this person, +before he had fairly made the first move!" + +"Is that all?" inquired Radwalader. + +"All? Yes--it's all until I hear what you have to say." + +"Oh, I'm expected to take part in the conversation, am I? I thought I +was only to listen. Well, then, my good Jules, if you will allow me to +dispense with the thin disguise of the old man and the young man and the +certain person--as the phrases are becoming wearisome--suppose I were to +say to you that all this is entirely without interest, so far as I'm +concerned? We've fought over all this ground of my hold upon you; and +you know as well as I that you're at liberty to test its efficacy +whenever your courage is equal to the ordeal. We've also wasted some +time upon your maunderings over your past probity, youthful innocence, +and present degeneration. I'm sorry, but I can't get up the faintest +gleam of enthusiasm on this subject. Indeed, it bores me intolerably, +and I beg you'll spare me from it in the future. As regards Mr. Andrew +Vane, whom you see fit to think in danger of being 'ruined,' I've +already stated that I've no further designs upon him. Altogether, my +good Jules, I consider that I've done no more than shamefully waste my +time by giving you my undivided attention for the past ten minutes." + +Vicot revolved these remarks in silence for a few moments, glancing up +covertly once or twice from under his heavy lids, as if in hope of +surprising the other in an expression indicative of some idea at +variance with his words. But in each instance Radwalader met his eyes +with his quiet, non-committal smile. + +"It seems you were right," continued the latter presently, "in saying +you have changed. If it pleases you to imagine that the alteration is in +the nature of a great moral awakening, by all means consider it so. To +my way of thinking, it's more like one of the transient panics of a +Louis XI., praying to the little images in his cap, and ready, the next +moment, to resume his misdoing at the point where he left off. Only one +thing is made clear by what you've said, and that is that you're no +longer fit for the kind of work I've thus far found for you. From to-day +we part company." + +He rose slowly to his feet, and was about to move towards the door, when +he was checked by a movement on the other's part. Following his old +habit, Vicot had thrust his hands into his pockets. + +"That suits me," he answered. "But please to remember this. I've been +cleaning and loading your weapons for you so long that I know their uses +as well as yourself. I'm able to turn them effectively against you, and +I'll do it if need be. I would be resigning the little hold I have upon +security, perhaps; but I'd not be doing it uselessly. Some men fling +themselves into the sea, simply to be rid of life: others save the life +of another by quietly slipping off a log that won't keep two afloat. +Both acts are suicide, but, somehow, there's a difference." + +"Ah, I begin to see," said Radwalader. "Sidney Carton all over +again--eh? I, in the leading rôle of guillotine, come down upon you and +chop off your head, while Mr. Vane goes free. 'It is a far, far better +thing that I do than I have ever done,' and all that. It's a pity that +Mr. Vane, by his own shrewdness, has already obviated the danger which +threatened him, and that you no longer have the opportunity of +exercising your lofty purpose." + +"If I could believe that!" observed Vicot. + +"Believe what?" + +"Why, believe that the smallest part of what you've told me is +true--that the game's up--that you're beaten--that Mr. Vane is free. But +I can't. What have you often said to me?--that you never turn back, +never give up. And yet, knowing you're defeated, I find you smiling, +careless, ready to chuck the game and begin on something else. Does that +ring true? You know whether it does or not. You know whether I've any +reason to trust you? No! And so I refuse to leave Mr. Vane's employ." + +"Might one inquire," asked Radwalader, "what you expect to gain?" + +"Nothing," replied Vicot, "which you would appreciate or even +understand. I expect to gain self-respect." + +"_Indeed!_ May I ask whose?" + +"If I cannot be anything myself," continued Vicot, disregarding the +sneer, "I can at least be of use to this boy. I can show him my life, +teach him how insignificant slips are the beginnings of moral +avalanches, and how bitter are the dregs when one has had the wine." + +"You're an authority on _that_ point, at all events," commented +Radwalader dryly. "But what insensate delusion is this, my eloquent, +disreputable Jules? What can you possibly be to him, or he to you? How +can you even begin to speak to him upon this personal plane? At the +first symptom of such insolent effrontery, he'd give you a week's wages +in lieu of notice, and show you the door. Faugh! Why, man, he's your +master, your employer, your--" + +"He's my son!" said Jules Vicot. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +A DOG AND HIS MASTER. + + +For a long moment after this announcement, Radwalader stared at the +speaker curiously. Vicot had straightened himself, and met his eyes with +a kind of boldness which he had never shown before. + +"He is my son!" he repeated presently. "Sit down, Radwalader. You may as +well hear the whole story. My name's no more Vicot than yours is. It's +John Vane, and twenty-five years ago it was as respected as any in +Boston. I'd everything to live for, as the saying is, and I might have +realized it all; but, except for about a year, just after I left +college, I never seemed to get a grip on things. I had money--perhaps +that was the trouble. Everything came my way for a time, but I mixed +myself up in speculation, and it wasn't long before I found myself +ruined. I--I was married. My wife stuck to me, even after I began to +drink, but after the liquor'd had a chance to make me about what I've +been ever since you've known me, and I saw that she was beginning to +despise me, I grew--or thought I grew--to hate her. We were living in a +wretched little house in Kingsbridge, the drink was gaining on me every +day, and things got worse and worse. I expect I was brutal to her, +though half the time I didn't know what I was saying. Anyhow, she drew +farther and farther away from me, till after a few months the fact that +we were man and wife was nothing more than a hideous burlesque. She +wouldn't let me touch her, she'd hardly answer when I spoke to her, and +that made me furious. The conditions were intolerable, maddening: and +when another woman came into my life, who flattered me and seemed fond +of me and had enough money for us both, I saw a way of escape. I +deserted my wife, soothing what little conscience I had left, with the +thought that she'd go back to her father, be cared for, and think +herself well rid of me. I sailed for Liverpool with the other. That was +twenty-one years ago--on Thanksgiving Day, 1879. For a little, I +reformed, but the old habits came back, of course, and, the first I +knew, I was done by as I'd done. My--my companion left me, with a small +monthly allowance and the information that this would be continued so +long as I made no attempt to see her. She knew me pretty well by then, +you see! And she was right. I accepted, and for fifteen years I managed +to live on this pittance, drifting all over Europe and turning my hand +to whatever job came my way. Then she died, and the allowance came to an +end. I was here in Paris, strapped; and it was then you caught me in +what was, for me, too bold an attempt at swindling--the case of Mr. +Rutherford, of course. You knew me for a thief and a forger, and I was +fully prepared to have you turn me over to the police, when I discovered +that you were no better than myself, and that your knowledge was to be +used not to betray, but merely to intimidate me. You know the rest--up +to the moment when you told me that I was to become the servant of Mr. +Vane. + +"All this time I had never so much as heard of his existence. +Indirectly, I'd learned of my wife's death, but that it was because of +the birth of a child--that I never knew. Even when I heard the name I +wasn't more than momentarily startled. It's not an uncommon one, and +nothing was farther from my mind than the thought that I might have a +son. But it was only a few days before I guessed. The name 'Andrew' gave +me the first clue. It's his grandfather's. Then, when I began to probe +into his letters, as you'd told me to, I soon learned the truth. And, +from the moment I was sure, my mind was made up. I'd made a botch of my +own life, and here I was engaged in an attempt to make a botch of his. +Well, then, I wouldn't. The time didn't seem right for saying anything +to you. I thought I could do more good by keeping mum, and watching. If +you'll look back--" and Vicot's voice took on a new note of +pride--"you'll find that I haven't given you a scrap of information +which would tend to damage him in any way, or put him in your power." + +"That," observed Radwalader, "appears, from my knowledge of the case, +to have been simply because you didn't know anything worth telling. I +thought I was going to need your services, but, as it happened, I +didn't. Things went very well by themselves." + +"But it was only last night," continued Vicot, after a moment, "that I +realized what this boy meant to me. After you'd gone out to dinner, I +picked up what was lying on that table. I'd never seen it before. Either +it had just come, or else he's kept it locked up. Do you remember what +it was? It was that picture--there!" + +He flung out one hand passionately, pointing at the miniature on the +mantel behind Radwalader. + +"Look! I found _that_--the picture of my wife and the mother of my son!" + +Radwalader rose slowly, turned, walked across to the mantel, and bent +forward to examine the picture. As Vicot continued, the vague expression +of interest on the other's face deepened to one of eager scrutiny. His +eyebrows came together, as of one who strives to recollect, and then a +small, sneering smile began to curl the corners of his lips. + +"That settled the question. As I say, I've made a rotten failure of +everything, but there's one chance left! When I saw her picture, I saw +my duty, and I was glad--my God! how glad I was! So now I'm resolved. +You can do as you please. You can say what you will. You can flay me +alive, if you like, or send me to the galleys, or ruin me in any +fashion in your power. I've seen the picture of the woman I wronged, +and I've seen my way to make good. From somewhere, perhaps, she'll see +and understand. He's my son! Do as you think best--you'll never harm +him. He shall marry this girl he loves, and that without a word out of +your mouth--curse you! I'm not afraid for myself. My life's over. But +the sins of the fathers shall _not_ be visited upon the children! God +Almighty Himself won't deny me this chance. And _there_ is my highest +trump, Master Radwalader. Can you take the trick?" + +"_Yes_, by God!" exclaimed Radwalader, wheeling full upon him, "and with +the ace! I knew that face last night, though at the time I couldn't +place it. So _that_ is the woman you deserted at Kingsbridge twenty-one +years ago--your wife--the mother of Andrew Vane! Oh, don't assure me! +_I_ know you're telling the truth, right enough, but I know more than +that. Shall I tell you? Well, then, what _you_ rejected _I_ picked up; +what _you_ were fool enough to desert _I_ was wise enough to appreciate. +_Your wife_--ho! You tell me that she wouldn't answer you when you spoke +to her, that for months she wouldn't let you touch her, that your +marriage was a farce. Here is what _I_ tell _you_. I found no such +difficulty. She answered me readily enough she took my hand before I'd +known her five minutes, and everything she denied you, she gave to me! +Do you understand what _that_ means? It means that if the father of +Andrew Vane is alive to-day, he's not alive in the person of Jules +Vicot or of John Vane, but in that of Thomas Radwalader!" + +He threw himself violently into the chair again, and his nervous tension +snapped in a shrill laugh. As the last words left his lips, it was as if +an unseen hand had snuffed out the light in the eyes of the man who had +been John Vane. His exaltation left him, and he braced himself rigidly +against the desk, leaning far back, and staring, staring through the +singular, dull film which had come across his pupils. He gave no audible +evidence, until Radwalader had spoken again, that he had understood or +even heard. + +"What a witch Fate is! What hands she deals! A moment since, you were +nearer to having me in a tight place, Jules--er--Mr. Vane, than you ever +have been, or than you're ever likely to be again. There's just one +thing against which I've never been able to secure myself, and that is +the possibility of some sudden, overmastering emotion in those whom I'm +forced to trust. I've never been so unfortunate as to run foul of it +before, but when you were trumpeting remorse, and self-sacrifice, and +atonement, and so forth, a moment ago, I confess I thought you had the +odd trick. With hysteria, all things are possible, and a majority +probable. If Andrew Vane had been in reality your son, and you'd not +chosen to believe that I'd no further plans in regard to him, you might +have done me an infinite deal of harm. You disturbed me--you disturbed +me considerably, Mr. Vane. But, lo and behold! a turn of the wheel, a +throw of the dice, a deal of the cards, and I am able, with extreme +relish, to snap my fingers in your face--because, since he is _not_ your +son, but mine, you're going to keep your mouth shut even more tightly in +the future than you have in the past! If you'd not been an idiot, as +well as a coward, you'd have known long ago that my hold over you hasn't +been worth the paper on which it was written. My very silence about what +I knew of the Rutherford swindle made me an accessory after the fact. +Strange you didn't think of that! But now--things are very different. +You'll keep your mouth shut, my dear Mr. Vane, because, while nothing +but shame could have come to the boy by the revelation that he was your +son, the shame would be multiplied a thousand-fold by the public +admission that he is mine!" + +As he paused, the other blinked, and strove in vain for an instant +before he could find his voice. + +"A lie!" he murmured hoarsely. "All a damned lie!" + +"Let's see if it is," answered Radwalader. "I don't deal in that +dangerous commodity if I can avoid it. There never was a lie yet which +it wasn't possible, sooner or later, to nail: and that in itself is +enough to make me fight shy. I never take unnecessary risks. Besides, in +the present instance, the truth fits my needs to a nicety. So I think +you'll believe what I'm going to tell you." + +Vicot gave a short, bewildered nod, seeming to ask him to continue. + +"The facts, then, are these: After having disgraced, and, presumably, +maltreated, the woman who had the misfortune to be your wife, you +deserted her, by your own confession, and thereby, as no doubt you will +concede, relinquished whatever claim you had upon her, and all right of +supervision or control over what she chose to do. You left her in +poverty and wretchedness--and I found her. You sought escape and +consolation: she did the same. You found them in the company of another +woman: she found them in the company of another man. I was so happy as +to be that man. _Voilà!_ It's quite simple." + +"Lies--all lies!" broke in Vicot passionately. "She was not that kind. +She was a saint on earth!" + +"Ah, you've learned to appreciate her!" + +"Never in God's world would she have stooped to you--unless you brought +deceit to bear." + +Vicot was picking feverishly at the edge of the desk, his filmed eyes +shifting and shifting in their sockets. + +"Well, then--yes!" said Radwalader. "If I'm nothing else, at least I'm +loyal to the women who--er--have, as you courteously put it, stooped to +me. I _did_ bring deceit to bear. I was interested in mesmerism in those +days, and highly adept. When I came upon her, by merest chance, she was +desperate, unstrung, and, I think, on the point of collapse. In a very +natural attempt to calm her, I put forth an influence which had already +been proved considerable. To my surprise she yielded completely to it, +and passed, almost before I realized what I'd done, into a state of +profound trance, in which I found her wholly subject to my will. Up to +that moment--believe me or not, as you choose--I had no ulterior motive. +But when I found her walking, talking as I desired, interest led me on. +I directed her back to the town--we met on a hill-road back of +it--willing her to lead me to her home. I'd some thought of explaining +matters to her family, but when I found that she apparently had none, +when I saw the squalor and dreariness in which she lived, curiosity +impelled me to question her, and from her unconscious answers I gained +enough to confirm my present knowledge of who she was. Then--I was but +human--she was very beautiful--the circumstances--" + +"Stop!" broke in Vicot. "I understand what you're going to say." + +"So much the better: we're saved the necessity of going into unpleasant +details. Suffice it to say that what happened, happened. Already, as we +walked together, I'd said enough to impress my mentality upon hers, to +make her mind my property, and her will subject to mine. When I left her +I meant to go back, to help and uplift her, to marry her, perhaps. Who +knows? I was very young then and a good deal of a pedant." + +"So you never went back," said Vicot. "You left her--_like that_!" + +"Just as you'd left her, the same day," retorted Radwalader, his +complacency quite restored. "Don't let's get to recriminations. I fancy +it's a case of pot and kettle." + +"All this doesn't prove that the boy's not mine," exclaimed the other, +with sudden energy. + +Radwalader rose, came quite close to him, and said with a little sneer: + +"Do you think it's likely? It's a question of the simplest arithmetic. +Vane's not yet twenty-one--and what have you told me? Look +back--calculate." + +Vicot made no reply. He was peering at Radwalader's face, and presently +he whispered: + +"My God! _He's even got your eyes!_" + +"From the sublime to the ridiculous," said Radwalader. "A moment since, +you were spouting heroic sentiments, and had me so obviously at a +disadvantage that I--yes, I was almost afraid of you. Now we're parties +to a _dénouement_ which would seem to have come from the pen of Alfred +Capus." + +"What do you mean to do?" asked Vicot lifelessly. + +"Do? Why, nothing. What is there to do, except to be thankful that a +discerning Providence has put it out of your power to injure me. The +boy's mine--there can't be a doubt of it--and if you so much as open +your lips on the subject, you not only disgrace yourself and me, but +Andrew as well, and, most of all, the memory of your wife. That's +enough: I'm satisfied. Sheer common-sense will show you, as it shows +me, that silence is the only course. Andrew believes, as does every one +else, that his father is dead. We alone, of all men, know the truth--and +we agree to hold our tongues." + +"If I could trust you!" exclaimed Vicot, "but I can't--I _can't_! You've +laid a trap for him--you know you have!--just as you did for the others, +because he's young, and reckless, and rich! You called me in to help +you, and probably the Tremonceau girl as well. Oh, I know how it's +worked! Well, that's why I must stick by him, and guard him, and see to +it that he can marry the girl he wants to--" + +Suddenly Radwalader laughed. + +"Why, what an ass it is!" he said. "Look here, you mountebank! The only +person who has brought Andrew Vane into trouble, from the very beginning +of all this, is _you_! I couldn't _make_ him compromise himself: I could +only set the bait. He nibbled at it, to be sure, but he was never in my +power or Mirabelle Tremonceau's for a moment. He loved another girl. He +went to her and asked her to marry him, and she refused him, but he'd no +sooner left her than she thought better of it and sent for him. If that +message had reached him, he would never have seen Mirabelle again; but +it didn't reach him, and, quite naturally, he took the next best thing. +Now she's his mistress, and he's just where I've wanted to have him all +along. For all this, Mr. Vane, I have only you to thank!" + +"I?" repeated Vicot. "What have I to do with it?" + +"This much: that, while you've been planning to keep him out of my +power, the very thing that would have done so once and for all has been +lying in your pocket. A moment ago you laid a telegram upon the table. +It's still there. Open it!" + +Slowly, wonderingly, Vicot tore the blue paper open and read aloud the +five words which it contained: + +"Come back to me. MARGERY." + +Radwalader slipped his hands into his pockets. + +"Exactly," he said. "Do you see?" + +"But you said, only a little while ago," stammered Vicot, "that the game +was up--that you wouldn't do anything more." + +"Only by way of shutting your mouth," said Radwalader coolly. "Since +then there've been developments. When I said that, I was, as I've +already told you, anxious to get rid of you. Now--well, you won't blab +in any event, because the small sum of money which it will cost Vane to +get rid of Mirabelle is nothing compared with what it would mean to him +if you forced me into pitting my knowledge of his origin against your +accusations of me." + +"And so," cried Vicot furiously, "you're determined to hold this over +him. You'll hound him and hound him--damn you!--till perhaps you'll +drive him desperate--till you drive him to kill himself--and end up in +the Morgue, like young Baxter--and then you'll go and look at him, +staring out through the glass--and you'll smile and light a cigarette +and whistle 'Au Clair de la Lune'! You hell-hound!" + +He flung himself forward, as if he would have seized the other by the +throat, halted suddenly as Radwalader's right hand came from his pocket, +and stooped, staring cross-eyed into the shining mouth of a revolver, +held without a tremor six inches from his contorted face. + +"Get back, you dog!" said Radwalader; and at the words, as if he had +been a dog indeed, Vicot shuddered, went limp, and sank whimpering at +his master's feet. + +"Now listen to me as well as you're able," continued Radwalader. "If you +stir hand or foot in this matter, you're a lost man. It's no longer the +old story: you know what's at stake _now_! I don't know what this +madness of yours may lead you to, but I've myself to protect, and you +may rest assured I'll do that, no matter at what cost. If, through some +distorted and drunken idea of protecting him, you betray me, I'll hound +you--since you talk of hounding--as never was a man hounded before. I'd +sacrifice not only you, not only Vane, not only the memory of his +mother, but myself into the bargain. If I pull down all Paris about my +ears, I'll beat you, do you hear?--I'll beat you, my man--I'll beat +you!" + +As he finished, Vicot dragged himself to his elbows and looked up. His +face was ghastly, and wet with ridiculous insensate tears. + +"All right, Radwalader," he whined. "Do as you please, only for God's +sake don't let this get out. If you must have the money, get it from +him, but don't ruin his life--don't let him know. I won't breathe a +word--I swear I won't--and I'll do whatever else you ask of +me--anything--God knows I will!" + +He was on his knees now, clutching at Radwalader's coat. + +"Now it's all right, isn't it?" he asked. "It's all right between us? +You won't tell, and I won't tell. We understand each other, Radwalader, +don't we?--ha, yes, we understand each other, you and I!" + +"_God!_" said Radwalader, flinging him off. "Is it a man or a worm?" + +Briefly he stood, looking down at the thing which writhed and whimpered +before him, and then touched it curiously with his foot. A moment later, +the outer door closed behind him with a sullen slam. + +For a long time--for five hours and more--Vicot lay where he had fallen. +At first he choked and sobbed, repeating fragments of his miserable +appeal, but gradually even this incoherent murmur died down to silence. +The long summer afternoon stole by; and from the street outside came the +commingled sounds of a busy thoroughfare--the rattle of wheels, the +cries of venders, the clamour of children playing: and still he lay, as +motionless as one dead. It was only when the sunlight swung in +horizontally through the window on the Rue Boissière, and the bell of a +neighbouring church was striking six, that he stirred, rose, and went +slowly across to stare down into the street. A cab was standing at the +corner--a cab of the Compagnie Urbaine. + +Suddenly Vicot smiled. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +FAIR EXCHANGE IS NO ROBBERY. + + +At eleven o'clock that night, the electric door-bell of Radwalader's +apartment gave two short staccato chirps and then a prolonged whir. At +the sound he looked up sharply from his evening mail, and drew his +eyebrows together in a puzzled frown. + +"At this hour?" he said to himself, and then, closing the doors of _La +Boîte_ behind him, went out to answer the summons. + +Mirabelle entered deliberately, passing before him into the _salon_, and +shredding a little note in her slender fingers. + +"There's no need of this now," she explained, scattering the pieces in +the empty fireplace. "It was merely to ask you to call to-morrow. I'd +have mailed it if I'd not found you at home." + +She flung back her light wrap as she spoke, disclosing a superb evening +gown, and a profusion of diamonds slightly on the safe side of undue +ostentation. Withal, she had a nice sense of fitness in the matter of +dress. It was a safety-valve not possessed by many of her _monde_, and +which, at all times, guaranteed her against exploding into vulgarity. + +"I confess," said Radwalader, "that I was surprised when I recognized +your ring. Of late, your visits have been so infrequent that when I'm +favoured with one at this--to say the least--unconventional hour, I'm +sure that its object is of some importance." + +Mirabelle looked at him coolly, with a slightly contemptuous droop of +her eyelids. + +"I believe that it's a characteristic of both the visits I make and +those I receive," she said lazily, "that they're seldom without an +object. As for the hour, I'm not to be judged by the conventionality for +which you manifest so commendable--and so abrupt--a concern. We +Parisians are like our allies, the Russians: we go by standards of time +which differ from those of the rest of the world. May I sit down?" + +"I beg your pardon!" said Radwalader. "Do--by all means." + +Mirabelle installed herself in an armchair, and her eyes were travelling +to and fro about the room. Something in the curious confidence of her +manner, a confidence that was almost insolence, turned Radwalader +vaguely uneasy. He was standing with his back to her, lighting his +inevitable cigarette. There was nothing in his expression to indicate +enjoyment of that usually enjoyable operation. + +"Any news?" he inquired, as the tobacco caught. + +"Would you mind turning around?" asked Mirabelle sweetly. "I dislike +talking to shoulders." + +Radwalader wheeled upon her with a bow. + +"You are irresistible, _ma chère_," said he. "After all, what use? I +know you're clever, and you know I am. It's quite an imbecile proceeding +for us to waste poses and by-plays upon each other. What _is_ the news? +Has the Great Inevitable happened?" + +A tiny shadow crossed her eyes at the phrase, but she answered steadily. + +"If by 'the Great Inevitable' you mean that the pleasure vehicle of Mr. +Vane has no further accommodations for me as a passenger, then assuredly +yes--the Great Inevitable has happened." + +"Ah!" said Radwalader reflectively. + +"He came last night to bid me good-by. It's the old story. There's +another girl--a girl he wants to marry--and one must clear the decks +before going into action." + +Radwalader looked at her, in silence now, but with a question in his +face. + +"You want to hear about the financial side, I suppose," she continued. +"How pleasant they are, these little business conferences, how friendly, +and yet--how dignified! It's a pity that there must be losses as well as +gains in such a business as yours, _mon cher associé_. It would be so +much more agreeable if one could always declare a dividend, instead of +making an occasional assignment. In the present instance, I've no +further report to make. He's tired of me, and he's given me my _congé_, +and that's all there is to it." + +She looked down, fingering the lace on her gown, as if to dismiss the +subject. + +"You asked him?" began Radwalader. + +"I asked him--nothing! And I _shall_ ask him--nothing! That was what I +came to tell you. I gather from your expression that it's not pleasant +news. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but the truth is: I'm tired of this +kind of thing. I'm going away for a little rest, and I don't care to be +troubled by money matters." + +Mirabelle was letting her contempt for the man before her grow +dangerously apparent in her voice, and he winced under it, and then +flushed darkly. + +"What rubbish is this?" he demanded, almost roughly. "Is it a joke?" + +"Oh, as far as possible from anything of the kind," retorted Mirabelle. +"I was never more in earnest. You wished me to engage with you in +blackmailing Mr. Vane, and you'll probably be kind enough to remind me +that I've done this kind of thing before. I don't deny it, but--" + +For the first time her voice broke slightly. + +"There are reasons," she added, "why I cannot do it now." + +Radwalader bit his lip. For a moment his temper well-nigh claimed the +upper hand, but he was shrewd enough to match this curious unconcern +with something quite as non-committal. + +"You mean that you love him, I suppose," he observed. + +"Love?" repeated Mirabelle. "_Mon Dieu, monsieur!_ what right have I to +love, or you to speak of it? Haven't we grovelled enough in the mud +outside of the cathedral? Must we further degrade it, as well as +ourselves, by entering and laying hands upon the very shrine?" + +"You love him," said Radwalader, "and he's tired of you. That's +regrettable. I can stand my share of the pecuniary loss, but I grieve to +see you humiliated." + +He glanced at her, and was pleased to notice that her colour had +deepened, and that her foot tapped the floor. He was at a disadvantage, +he knew, until this curious, apathetic self-control should be broken +down. + +"I can spare your sympathy," she answered. "No doubt I shall recover +from my humiliation, all in good time. I'm going away, as I've said. +There's the little place my father left me, and that I've told you +about, back of Boissy-St. Leger, at the edge of the forest, and it's +enough. I didn't come here to reproach you, Radwalader, or to quarrel. I +simply came to say what I've said, and go. I can't pretend to be sorry +that I've made it impossible for you to carry out your plans, but--" + +"Oh, _chère amie_!" broke in Radwalader, with a little wave of his hand. +"Give yourself no uneasiness on that head, I beg of you. I had a strong +hand before you compelled me to discard, but who knows whether it won't +be improved by the draw? The game's never lost till it's played, you +know." + +"_Radwalader!_" + +Mirabelle leaned forward in her chair, knitting her fingers. + +"Do you mean that you are--going on?" + +"Why, assuredly, my friend! You can't be so ingenuous as to suppose that +my plans are necessarily changed by this change in yours. I'm sorry to +lose your coöperation, of course. The thing had reached a point where it +would have been easy to bring it to a prompt and successful conclusion; +but, unfortunately, you've seen fit to back out at the critical moment. +But, as you say, there can be no need of quarrels and reproaches on +either side. You are perfectly free to do as seems best to you, but +really you mustn't expect that your action binds _me_. I've spent a deal +of time and thought over this business, and now I shall have to spend +more--but relinquish it? Why, never in the world, my friend! Beautiful, +attractive, and accomplished as you are, you must realize that you are +not the only woman in the world." + +"Do you mean," demanded Mirabelle, "that you're going on--with another +woman--to play this whole miserable business over again, until you've +had your will of him? Do you mean that what I've done doesn't stand for +anything?" + +"I see no necessity for giving you an outline of my exact plans," said +Radwalader, "now that you've resigned from any share in them; but, if it +will afford you any satisfaction, you have a tolerably accurate idea of +my intentions." + +"Listen to me!" answered Mirabelle, with a last effort at calm. "I have +done your bidding in the past, furthered your schemes, and taken my +share of the gain. Bah! Why should I regret it? Regret mends no +breakages. It's to the future, not to the past, that I look. I've told +you what I want. I want my freedom. I want to go away into the country, +and to forget--everything! I don't know how long it will last, and I +don't care. All I want now is peace of mind. I don't say I'll never come +back to--to all this: for no doubt I shall; but for the moment, for a +time, I want to be alone, and at ease. Will you make it possible, +Radwalader?" + +"I? But why is it necessary to ask me that? I've said I'm sorry to lose +you. You're the only woman I can absolutely trust, the only one who can +hold her tongue and do as she's told. I freely forgive you this single +desertion. No doubt there are particular circumstances in the case which +have forced you to the course you've taken. You don't see fit to explain +them, and I don't care to ask. And then it's not as if you were going +away for ever. You'll come back--and shortly. Paris, the Bois, your +diamonds, your amusements, your little _affaires_--they're as necessary +to you as light or air. So, go by all means, and enjoy your vacation to +your heart's content. I'll not disturb you. _Au revoir, ma chère!_" + +"Ah!" said Mirabelle brokenly. "How little, with all your cleverness, +you understand a woman! Where she can be happy in her lover's happiness, +no matter at what cost to her, she must be unhappy in his distress, no +matter how free from personal suffering she herself may be! You asked me +if I loved him. Well, then--yes! I don't mind saying that, because +you'll never understand how or why. How should you? How should you know +that, to a woman, a man is not so much a personality, as the author of +all the new impulses and emotions which he brings into her life? You say +he's tired of me, and I answer you that I'm more than repaid by what +he's taught me of truth and manliness and gentleness and respect. That's +why I could give him up--because I knew that his best happiness lay +apart from mine. That's why I had to desert you--because I could not be +party to any plot to shame or to degrade him. What I gave, I gave freely +and fully. Ah, try--_try_ to understand! I've been a faithful partner to +you, haven't I? You yourself say I've never broken my word or made a +false move in the games we've played together. I've been loyal to you, +no matter what degradation it cost me, because I knew you trusted me. At +first, as you know, I didn't see what I was helping you to do. I +encouraged the boys you brought to me, and cast them off when you gave +the word. And afterwards, when now and again you gave me something from +Tiffany's, did I think?--did I know? When I found out, it was too late. +I was bound to you in a way, and--well, I'll leave all that. My only +point is this: I've served you faithfully, haven't I--faithfully, +unflinchingly, and loyally--from first to last?" + +"From first to last," echoed Radwalader, slowly nodding. + +"Then," said Mirabelle, with sudden passion, flinging back her head, "I +ask for my reward--for my payment--for my wages. I ask of you the honour +and integrity of Andrew Vane!" + +"The--" + +"Yes!--that--that--_that_! in payment for mine, which I've sold to you. +Fair exchange is no robbery. I love him, do you hear? I've accepted my +dismissal at his hands, but I do not choose that you should continue to +plot against him, with another woman as bait, and with a spy in his +rooms watching for every little slip and folly, and ready, when you say +so, to post them all before the world--unless he _pays_! _Dieu!_ I can +imagine you, as you were with Chauvigny, with little De Vitzoff, with +young Baxter, with Sir Henry Gore, and the rest of them! 'Unfortunate, +of course, but really, you see, you've been most imprudent, and every +precaution must be taken to prevent the details of this affair leaking +out.' _Et cetera!_ 'The only safe way with these people is to buy them +off.' _Et cetera!_ 'If you will put yourself in my hands, I think I can +manage it for ten--twenty--thirty thousand francs.' _Et cetera, et +cetera, et cetera! Eh bien--non!_ I do not choose to have it so with the +man I love. There are other fish for you to catch. Let me have this +one's life. That much you owe me. As you call yourself a man, pay me and +let me go!" + +She had risen with the intensity of her appeal, and now, white with +passion, Radwalader flashed to his feet at her side. + +"By Heaven, Mirabelle--!" + +"And by Heaven, Monsieur Radwalader! What then? Are you going to +threaten me? Do you take me for a Jules Vicot, at least? Do my hands +tremble? Do I shrink before you? Ah, that might have been possible at +first: for I don't deny that I've feared you at times; but now--_zut_! +It's not the first time, my Radwalader, that the pupil has out-stripped +the master. You've taught me too much for your own good. _Voyons!_ A +secret is safe just so long as one person knows it, and only one. But no +man is secure, from the moment when he confides to others that he's not +what he pretends to be. But you?--you are different. For two years past, +to my knowledge, and probably for many more, you've been building up a +house of cards. It's growing very tall, Monsieur Radwalader, very +dangerously tall. You think the foundations strong, but they weaken with +every card you add. _Allons!_ Enough of this brawling. You know what I +demand." + +"And if I refuse?" suggested Radwalader. + +"If you refuse? Ah, then your game is indeed ended and your house of +cards blown down! For I'll make your name notorious, not only in Paris, +but in every capital of Europe. They shall have all the details--all +that Vicot, as well as I, can give them. By the blood of Christ, +_monsieur_, if you don't promise what I ask, in three days the name of +Thomas Radwalader, swindler, card-sharp, blackmailer, and blood-sucker, +shall be the common property of the civilized world! What have I to +lose, or fear, or even consider? Nothing! You know that, as well as I. +And I'll save the man I love from the trap you're preparing for him, +even if I send myself to St. Lazare!" + +Radwalader sank back easily into his chair. + +"My good Mirabelle," he said, "all this is very admirable as sentiment +and, I must say, extraordinarily well done. It's a pity that it should +be wasted upon an impossible situation. Be patient with me for a moment, +and I'll show you precisely why you'll neither edify the capitals of +Europe with an account of my private affairs nor compel me to do +anything but what I choose to do in the case of Mr. Andrew Vane. We are +three in number: I, a gentleman who chooses, for reasons of his own, to +keep one side of his life from the view of the general public; you, a +very charming girl, most cruelly, but nevertheless conspicuously, +avoided by the members of your sex who pride themselves upon +respectability; and Andrew Vane, a young person wounded perhaps, but as +yet not mortally, by the shafts of scandal. Now, let us see. You desire +to snatch him from the--what is it?--pit?--pitfall?--ah! trap--which I +am preparing for him. How do you go about it? You first associate my +name with several most unpleasant terms of reproach, and then proceed to +drag the combination before the public, and say, 'Here is the intimate +companion of the man I love!' What does that mean? The man you +love--_you_! What a happy revelation for the friends and family of +Andrew Vane, who has been dawdling in your arms, while another woman as +much as held his plighted word! I won't dwell on it. It's a subject by +reference to which I've never sought to humiliate you--but you've driven +me to touch upon it. Believe me, my friend, if it's indeed your wish to +save Andrew Vane from disgrace, you should devise some project more +promising than a public proclamation of the fact that you've been his +mistress these few weeks past. You tell me you've nothing to fear and +nothing to lose. You'll add, perhaps, that the fact's already public +property, but it isn't. It's public gossip, which is a very different +thing. The plain fact is this: from the instant when you associate your +name with his, he's ruined absolutely and irretrievably." + +Mirabelle bent forward to look at him, almost curiously. + +"Are you a man or a devil?" she said. + +"A man, _ma chère_, and, in my own way, not an unreasonable or +ungrateful man. To prove that, you shall have what you ask. You can see +what trumpery rant you've been talking, and you probably regret it +already. Once for all--and as you should have known--if threats of +exposure could have effected anything, I'd have been the talk of Europe +long ago. Please don't try it again. It's a waste of time and a trial of +temper, and, to me at least, such scenes are always disagreeable. Now to +the main issue. I will do what you wish--on one condition." + +"I accept it," said Mirabelle promptly. + +"That's rash, and I release you from the pledge. Wait till you know what +the condition is. As you say, there are other fish to catch, and, quite +frankly, I need your aid in catching them. So you will give up your +dream of rustic retirement, and remain exactly as you are, and what you +are, and where you are. Also, the business relations between us--" + +"Ah, no--_no_!" + +"The business relations between us are to continue in force, except that +on the books of the firm we shall close the account with Mr. Andrew +Vane." + +For an instant the little house back of Boissy-St. Leger hung on +Mirabelle's vision--the rose-garden, the wide outlook on the valley of +the Marne, the poplars stirred by a west wind, sweet with the breath of +Fontainebleau. Side by side with these rose the contrasted mirage of +crowded _cafés_, race-courses, and theatres, the half-contemptuous court +of women-weary men, the unspeakable slavery, heartache, and humiliation +of the life she had lived and which she loathed. Then she looked +straight into Radwalader's eyes. She had no need to ask if this was +final. They knew each other, these two. + +"There shall be no other woman to come between him and the one he wants +to marry?" she asked. + +"No other woman." + +"Vicot shall have no share in his life at all?" + +"No share." + +"And you will never mention what he has done--in Paris--with me?" + +"Never." + +There was silence between them for a moment, a silence pricked only by +the strokes of midnight. + +"As you said, fair exchange is no robbery," suggested Radwalader. + +"If I agree?--" + +"You have my word. Honour among thieves!" + +"_Soit!_" said Mirabelle. "God help me--have your way!" + +For an instant she stood motionless, and then, with an imperious +gesture, commanded his service as if she had been the empress she +appeared, and he the lackey. + +"My cloak, _monsieur_!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +REDEMPTION. + + +At Poissy the three weeks had worn listlessly away. Margery yet +remained, though the time originally set as a limit for her visit had +passed. Monsieur and Madame Palffy were staying with some friends in +Dresden, whom Mrs. Carnby had never seen, but whom, under the present +circumstances, she whimsically described to Jeremy as being "in danger, +necessity, and tribulation." + +Truth to tell, she had been forced to fall back upon her own invention +for means of amusement. She was chafing under a sense of helplessness in +a situation which she seemed totally unable to grasp, and a fierce +impatience against the social conditions which make it possible for a +man to shut off the women most deeply interested in him from the most +significant features of his life and conduct. She had spent a half-hour +in Margery's room on the morning of Andrew's departure, and there had +heard as much as she cared to about the conversation in the arbour. Upon +this problem she had brought to bear all her trained powers of +persuasion, and at the end had the satisfaction of bringing Margery to +a less intolerant attitude. The matter of inducing her to telegraph +Andrew a recall she had found more difficult. + +"I wouldn't deceive you, my dear," she said. "I'm absolutely convinced +of the truth of what I say when I tell you that you've misjudged him. Oh +yes--I know the appearances are all against him. I thought just as you +do, until I had the courage to ask him out and out about the matter; +but, when I did, I soon saw that the circumstances were +unusual--extraordinarily so. He's been reckless, and, if he cares for +you as he pretends to, highly inconsiderate. But I believe, as firmly as +I do in my own existence, that in the main essentials he's innocent. Of +course, he's been going around with this woman--even _he_ doesn't deny +that; but the very fact that he admits it seems to me to prove that it +hasn't been as bad as you suppose. One may go a long way with a woman +without going too far. Why, Margery, I could bite my tongue off when I +think what I said to you last night. Just think!--I imagined I was +straightening things out, and giving you your cue! Instead, it appears +that I was only giving you a wrong idea, and putting everything into a +hideous mess. Why, you didn't give him a fighting chance! You piled on +him every accusation that came into your head, and then sent him off +before he had a chance to explain. Why didn't you ask him one straight +question, if that was what you wanted to know? He'd have answered +you--yes, and told you the truth! If there's one thing Andrew Vane is +not, it's a liar. I was sure of that before I'd known him two minutes." + +"But there wasn't any need to ask him," broke in Margery. "He said of +his own accord that--that there is such a woman." + +"And what else?" demanded Mrs. Carnby. + +"That she wasn't any more to him than a bird that was singing near us; +that he'd never see her again if I asked him." + +"And you sent him away after _that_! Good heavens, my dear, that was the +moment of all others when you should have said 'I believe you!' For he +was telling you the truth--I'll stake my intelligence on it. It was the +supreme evidence of his reliance upon you, the supreme test of your +love. And you failed. Appearances? Yes, of course! And what are +appearances? Nothing in the world but a perpetual reminder that we're +not omniscient. Margery--you've got to call him back." + +Margery made no reply. + +"You owe that much to him, and you owe it to me. We've both of us been +in the wrong, and you must give us a chance to set things right. If you +can't take him as he is, then ask him to tell you exactly what his +relations have been with this woman, and act on his answer as you see +fit. I can't criticise you for doing as you think right, if only you're +acting on the truth; but the truth you must have! At present you're +depending upon a lot of hearsay, upon the criminally thoughtless +cynicism of a gossipy old woman, and on your own rash conclusions. My +dear girl, you know I love you--love you better than anything in the +world, except Jeremy? Well, then, do this for me." + +"Very well," answered Margery wearily, "but it's no use, Mrs. Carnby." + +That morning she telegraphed Andrew to come back to her--and there was +no reply. + +Thereafter the subject had not been mentioned either by the girl or her +hostess. For the first time there lay a little barrier of restraint +between them, which Mrs. Carnby, with all her tact, found it impossible +to pass, or even clearly to define. Her customary confidence in herself +stood back aghast. Any further interference, she knew, might well be set +down as idle meddling. She had done her best--and failed. + +Day by day she saw Margery grow paler and thinner. The old gaiety was +slipping from her, flashing forth at more and more infrequent intervals, +like the flame of an untended lamp, brightening more feebly, ever and +anon, before it dies away. But there was nothing to be said or done. The +little touches of endearment and sympathy with which women often fill +the place of words, passed between them, but too often these negative +interpreters of their hidden thoughts caused the girl's eyes to fill. At +Mrs. Carnby's earnest entreaty, she prolonged her visit, and was glad of +the seclusion of the villa, the long idle days, the evenings at +billiards or backgammon with Jeremy, and the still warm nights when, +through sleepless hours, reverie had free rein. Curiously enough, and +despite Andrew's neglect of her, her former tenderness for him returned +and grew. The first passion of her resentment having passed, she was +learning to make the ample and even obstinate allowances of the woman +who has seen love in her grasp, and had it snatched away. At the moment +of her rejection of him, there had been nothing within her range of +vision but the spectre of cruel and humiliating wrong. But now a +thousand little appealing reminiscences came back to woo and to persuade +her. The old days at Beverly; the boy-and-girl companionship wherefrom +had sprung the first flower of her love; the high hopefulness of their +young attitude; the bashful acknowledgment of unspoken understanding +with which they parted; the long months of separation, when her +unhappiness in her new surroundings was silver-shot with prescience of +his coming; that coming itself, and the joyous significance of it--all +these worked upon her night and day. She was learning to forget the +little hints of gossip whereby she first began to doubt him, and even +the terrible frankness of Mrs. Carnby's words, which had seemed to +confirm all her worst suspicions. She felt that if only she had been +given the time which now was hers, she would have been able to adjust +these matters, reduce the gossip to its proper place of insignificance, +and see, as now she saw, the vast and supreme importance of their love. +Now it was herself, not him, she blamed for his silence. She had indeed +not "given him a fighting chance." She had insulted him, and, at the +end, sent him about his business with a heartless sneer. Mrs. Carnby's +words came back to her--"love is little more than forgiveness on the +endless instalment plan!"--and she had not been willing to forgive him, +even when perhaps there had been nothing to forgive. She would turn +restlessly, watching the dawn brightening against her window. Ah, kind +God, what would she not forgive him now! What difference could anything +that had been make, if only she could hear his voice again, and see him +bending over the music of "The Persian Garden," and know that for all +time he was hers! + + "Each morn a thousand roses brings, you say: + Yes--but where leaves the rose of yesterday?" + +Mrs. Carnby was not alone in her perception of the change in Margery. +Jeremy mentioned it, one night, as they were dressing for dinner. + +"I hope there's nothing gone wrong with Margery, Louisa." + +"I hope not," retorted his wife, dragging savagely on the comb. + +"Then you've noticed?" + +"I've noticed--yes. It's the Tremonceau woman." + +"The--" + +"The most beautiful _cocotte_ in Paris, my poor Jeremy. Thank God, _you_ +have to be _told_ these things! It's the old story, no more admirable +because, this time, it's a friend of ours who's making a fool of +himself. If I had my way, I'd have sign-boards stuck up at every gate of +Paris, with a finger pointing inward, and the inscription 'Mud Garden. +For Children Only.' Faugh!" + +"But you don't suppose--" + +Mrs. Carnby faced her husband, her hands upon her hips, assuming a kind +of brazen effrontery. + +"I don't suppose, Jeremy Carnby, that a Paris _cocotte_ affects the +company of a rich young American for the sake of his _beaux yeux_. I +don't suppose that a good-looking boy in his twenties affects the +company of Mirabelle Tremonceau for the pleasures of her conversation. I +don't suppose that the loveliest and purest girl on earth is going to +survey with emotion the unspeakable folly of the man she cares for. And +I don't suppose the man she cares for is likely to be any different from +the majority of men, who decide upon marriage principally because +they're tired of the other thing. I don't suppose _anything_ except +what's logical, and natural--and perfectly disgusting!" + +"Do you mean--Vane?" asked Jeremy. + +"Yes--_bat_!" said Mrs. Carnby. + +Jeremy wisely made no reply. + +So it was that when, at the end of the three weeks, Mr. Thomas +Radwalader came down to spend the day, he found his hostess in a fine +glow of suppressed impatience. She seized the first moment when they +were alone to question him. They were old friends. He never laid claim +to much in the way of morality in the presence of Mrs. Carnby, and it is +a characteristic of this attitude that the person adopting it is +frequently his own worst critic, and has more credit allowed to him than +he deserves. Even the devil is not so black as he is painted, and if he +will have the audacity to do most of the painting in question himself, +he is more than likely to find that, in the opinion of others, his +complexion will be comfortably free from blemishes. Radwalader's smooth +assumption of an indefinite kind of laxity, set at ease rather than +aroused Mrs. Carnby's suspicions of him. + +"He can't be so _very_ bad," she told herself, "or he wouldn't talk so +much about it." + +For unnecessary admissions are a sedative to gossip, just as unnecessary +concealments are a stimulant. + +"How's Mr. Vane?" demanded Mrs. Carnby abruptly. + +"Why, I was about to ask you," answered Radwalader. "I thought he was +quite a _protégé_ of yours. I've not seen much of him, myself, of late. +He's made new friends, and of course I was never much more than a +preliminary guide to Paris. I fancy he can find his own way about, +nowadays." + +"I'll warrant he can!" exclaimed Mrs. Carnby, "and into society none too +good, at that!" + +"How so?" + +"Oh, don't tell me you don't know what I mean! Of course, you're bound +to shield him. You men always do that, don't you? You put your +intoxicated friends to bed, and send discreet telegrams to their wives, +to say they've been called out of town on business. That's not +forgery--it's friendship. And when one of you's going to the bad, the +rest of you stand around and say: 'Poor old chap! Don't let his family +suspect what _we_ know.' Oh, I wasn't born yesterday, Radwalader! You +may as well tell me what I want to know: it isn't much. Is he still +trotting about with that Tremonceau woman?" + +"Now, Mrs. Carnby!" protested Radwalader. "Is that a fair question?" + +"Perhaps not," said Mrs. Carnby dryly, "but you've answered it already, +so never mind! Let me tell you that I'm quite through with Andrew Vane. +He didn't even have the grace to answer a telegram that Margery Palffy +sent him, three weeks ago, asking him to come down." + +"Three weeks ago?" repeated Radwalader reflectively. "But, Mrs. Carnby, +he was here three weeks ago. We all were--don't you remember?" + +"Naturally I remember," said Mrs. Carnby impatiently, "but there were +urgent reasons for his return. Now, don't tell me you don't know +_that_!" + +"Know it? How _should_ I know it? Vane doesn't confide his private +affairs to me. Do you mean that--" + +"I mean that Margery had made a great mistake, in the course of a +conversation they had on the last evening he was here--a mistake which +imperilled the happiness of them both, and which it was of the utmost +importance to set right. At the time, perhaps, he showed himself to be +the victim of an unjust accusation; but since, he has shown himself to +be a cad. If you've never known--but I'd not have believed it of +you--that Margery was in love with him, and that he's pretended to be in +love with her, then it's time you did!" + +"What a pity!" observed Radwalader. "I wish I'd known all this before: I +might have done something. But, after all, it's just as well. It +wouldn't have done for Miss Palffy to humiliate herself; and the little +Tremonceau--" + +"Is his mistress?" put in Mrs. Carnby. + +"Of course," said Radwalader, with a skilful sigh. "There's no doubt +whatever about that." + +"I'd have wagered a good bit on his innocence!" + +"When you wager anything on the innocence of a young man who's been the +close companion of Mirabelle Tremonceau for six weeks or so," answered +Radwalader, "it's nothing less than a criminal waste of money." + +"Then he's not only a cad," said Mrs. Carnby angrily, "but a liar as +well; and, as I've said already, I'm through with him!" + +She was more than astounded when, two mornings later, a telegram was +handed her at the breakfast-table. It was from Andrew, and requested +permission to come down at once and spend one night. + +"I think I'll leave you to answer that," she observed to Margery, who +was alone with her at table, Jeremy having gone up to town by the early +train. "The boy's waiting." + +She tossed the despatch across the table as she spoke. + +She was more astounded still when Margery looked up at her with the +first spontaneous smile which Mrs. Carnby had seen upon her lips for +many days. + +"Please ask him to come," she said. + +"Oh, my dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Carnby, "_do_ be careful! Remember how +much has happened. If only you'd let me advise you!" + +"You've advised me once already, fairy godmother," said Margery, +laughing. + +"Heaven help me, so I have!" replied her hostess. "Do you mean it, +Margery?" + +"I was never more in earnest," answered the girl, turning suddenly grave +again. + +So Mrs. Carnby sent the required answer. + +All that morning she was more puzzled than ever she had been in the +whole course of her life. It was certain that the girl's mood had +changed. The doubtful shadow in her eyes had given place to a clear glow +of confidence, and her laugh was free from any suggestion of restraint. +That in itself was curious. Depression, melancholy, even resentment, +were to be expected as a result of the news that Andrew Vane was on the +point of entering her life once more. Of late he had shown himself in a +more unfavourable light than ever, and yet in her eyes, her smile, her +light-hearted animation there was something akin to a suggestion that he +had been fully exonerated from suspicion, rather than freshly and more +significantly subjected to it. She was emphatically happy--and Mrs. +Carnby could not comprehend. The thought, indeed, came to her that the +explanation which Andrew had denied her, these three weeks past, had +been given to Margery, in some fashion as yet unexplained. But this +theory was wholly incompatible with his bearing when he arrived at noon. +He looked wretchedly ill, and was prey to a visible embarrassment. He +took her hand, but did not meet her eyes, and the credit she was +beginning to accord him gave way, once more, to anger. As a result, her +greeting was conspicuously cool. After dinner he and Margery played +billiards, while Jeremy dozed, with the _Temps_ over his placid face, +and Mrs. Carnby did more to ruin a piece of embroidery than she had done +to further it in the past six months. Suddenly the good lady retired to +her room, with a violent and fortuitous headache. She had relinquished +any attempt to fathom the situation: she had frankly thrown up the +sponge! + +"Shall we take a walk in the garden?" asked Andrew. + +When they were alone with the silence and the stars, his hand sought +hers. + +"Margery!" + +"Andy!" + +"I've simply come to say good-by, my dear. You were quite right: I'm not +worthy of you. I'm going back to the States as soon as I can get away. +All I want you to remember is this: I've been careless--reckless--wholly +at fault from the beginning to the end--but I've loved you always, my +dearest--always--always! I won't go into all the miserable details. +Paris has made a fool of me, that's all. I'm not the first idiot to +throw away his chance of happiness because of the big city over there, +and I'm not the first to pay the penalty I deserve. Once, perhaps, I had +the right to demand something at your hands; but now I've no right to +ask for anything. I ask for nothing! I've come to beg for your +forgiveness, and to say good-by. Will you forgive me, Margery?" + +"I want to ask you just one question," said Margery steadily. "When I +accused you of--of _that_--the other night, was I right or wrong?" + +"Wrong," said Andrew Vane; "but now--" + +Suddenly she leaned toward him, stopping his speech with her soft and +open palm. + +"I've thought of another question," she said. "Do you love me--now?" + +"Love you?" answered Andrew. "Ah, Margery!" + +"Then I wish to hear no more. The past is the past, do you hear? I love +you! I've learned much in these few weeks. I love you, and I need you. +You can't leave me now. I've been so weary for you, my love! Ah, +whatever there has been between us in the past, don't let anything stand +between us now!" + +"But you don't understand," faltered Andrew. "Things have changed. There +is much that you have to forgive me--much that I have to explain--" + +"As to what I have to forgive you," answered Margery, "I think there is +also much for you to forgive me; and as to what you have to explain--oh, +explain it later, Andy--explain it, if you like, when we--" + +"Are married!" exclaimed Andrew. "No! Things must be made clear now. +I've transgressed, my love--transgressed beyond hope of forgiveness. +What would you say if you knew--?" + +"I know already!" answered the girl. "I know more than you think--and I +forgive it all. Oh, Andy, _don't_ make it too hard for me! Help +me--won't you?" + +Suddenly, with a realization of what all this meant, he opened his arms, +as to a child, and, like a confiding child, she went into them. + +"I love you," she whispered. "That's all--I love you!" + +"My love--my love--_my love!_" said Andrew. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +THE SHADOW. + + +Your most astute strategist is the general ready, at any stage of the +campaign, to authorize a complete change of plan, if the circumstances +call for it, and to make for the end in view along wholly altered lines. +The Braddocks of warfare are those who at all hazards persist in the +course at first laid out. + +Radwalader, contrary to his custom, did not leave his apartment until +mid-afternoon of the following day. He carried a valise, and stopped for +a moment on the step to snuff the fresh air with appreciation. Then he +said "Psst!" and the yellow cab which was standing at the corner of the +avenue squeaked into motion and drew up at the kerb. + +"Gare St. Lazare," said Radwalader briefly. He flung his valise upon the +seat, climbed in after it, put one foot on the _strapontin_ to steady +himself, and plunged, with a grin of amusement, into the latest number +of _Le Rire_. He could afford a few moments of sheer frivolity: for he +had just finished eight hours of careful reflection, and his plans were +quite complete. + +The driver of the yellow cab had only grunted in reply, but he drove +briskly enough, once they were under way. Though the day was warm, he +wore his fawn-coloured coat, with the triple cape, and had turned up the +collar about his ears. His white cockaded hat, a size too large, was +tipped forward over his nose, and between it and his coat-collar, in the +back, showed a strip of bright red hair. For features, he had a nobbly +nose, with a purple tinge, and a mustache like a red nail-brush. + +From time to time Radwalader looked up from his reading to remark their +progress, and invariably he smiled. The Place de l'Etoile, freshly +sprinkled, and smelling refreshingly of cool wet wood; the omnibus and +tramway stations, with their continual ebb and flow of passengers +seeking numbers; the stupendous dignity of the Arc, and the preposterous +insignificance of three Englishwomen staring up at it, with their mouths +open, and Baedekers in their hands; the fresh green of the chestnuts on +the Avenue de Friedland; the crack of a teamster's whip, and his "_Ahi! +Houp!_" of encouragement to the giant gray stallions, toiling up the +steep incline of the Faubourg St. Honoré; the crowds of women at Félix +Potin's, pinching the fat fowls, and stowing parcels away in netted +bags; the "shish-shish-shish" of an infantry company shuffling at +half-step toward the gateway of La Pépinière; the people _terrassé_ +before the restaurants on the Place du Hâvre--it was all very amusing, +very characteristic, very _Parigot_. More than ever, Radwalader felt +that he needed it all, that he must have it at any price, that life +would not be worth living else or elsewhere. Fortunately, there was no +reason for a change, so long as he kept his wits. Indeed his prospects +were brighter now than they had ever been. + +Once a bridal carriage whirled past him, all windows, and with a lamp at +each corner, and a red-faced quartette inside; and other carriages +followed, full of exultant guests, whose full-dress costumes, in this +broad daylight, were, to his Saxon sense, as incongruous as a Welsh +rabbit on a breakfast-table--all bowling across to the Champs, and so +away to the Restaurant Gillet. Again, it was a glimpse of a funeral +moving up to a side door of St. Augustin, with an abject little band of +mourners trailing along on foot, behind the black and purple car; again, +nothing more than a sally between an _agent_ and a ragamuffin at a +crossing--"_Ouste, galopin!_" "_Eh, 'spèce de balai! As-tu vu la +ferme?_"--or a driver's injunction to his horse--"_Tu prends donc +racine, saucisse_"--or a girl's laugh, or the squawk of a tram-horn, or +the cries of the _camelots_--"_Voyez l'Parispor! Voici la Pa-resse! +Voyez l'D-rrr-oi 'd'l'homme!_" The importance of the phenomenon was not +significant. It was all Paris, and Thomas Radwalader was very glad to be +alive. When he left the yellow cab in the Cour du Hâvre, the driver had +fifty centimes _pourboire_, though it was not like his passengers to go +beyond three sous. + +Trivial as this circumstance was, it apparently had a strangely +demoralizing effect upon the driver of the yellow cab. He drew on for +perhaps twenty feet, and then deliberately clambered down from his box, +and followed his late _client_ to the ticket office, at the foot of the +eastern stairway. Here, with some ingenuity, he remarked, "_Même +chose_." + +"Poissy _première_?" + +"_Oui._" + +In the first-class carriage of the Poissy train, a little, oblong pane +of glass, above Radwalader's head, enabled him, had he been so minded, +to glance into the next compartment--enabled the single occupant of the +next compartment, who _was_ so minded, to glance, as they started, into +his. + +In the Cour du Hâvre an infuriated _agent_ apostrophized the deserted +vehicle: + +"_Sale sous-les-pieds!_ He amuses himself elsewhere, then, _ton drôle!_" + +The which was strictly true. + +As the train rumbled through the illuminated tunnel, the driver of the +yellow cab did a number of things with the most surprising rapidity and +decision. He threw his varnished white hat out of the window, and +followed it immediately with his triple-caped overcoat. He stripped off +his fawn-coloured trousers, thereby revealing the unusual circumstance +that he wore two pairs--one of corduroy. The latter hurtled out into the +smoky tunnel, in the wake of the hat and coat, and the climax was capped +by a like disappearance of the red hair, the nail-brush mustache, and +the nobbly nose. Then Monsieur Jules Vicot smoothed his workman's +blouse, dragged a Tam-o'-shanter from his pocket, pulled it down over +his eyes, settled the scarlet handkerchief at his throat, threw himself +back on the cushions, and lit a cigarette with hands that trembled +excessively. + +At Poissy Radwalader alighted, and swung rapidly away, across the +_place_, in the direction of the Villa Rossignol. At Poissy the other +also alighted, strolled over to the Hôtel de Rouen, and, in the company +of a slowly consumed _matelote_ and four successive absinthes, dozed, +pondered, smoked--and waited for the dark. + + +That morning Margery and Andrew had told Mrs. Carnby. For an instant the +good lady faced Andrew, her eyes blazing with inquiry. He met their +challenge serenely. + +"Won't you congratulate me," he asked, smiling--"and the only girl in +the world?" + +"The _only_ girl in the world?" demanded Mrs. Carnby audaciously. + +"Yes--just that." + +Mrs. Carnby pounced upon Margery. + +"Of _course_ I congratulate you! You dear! And, as for _you_," she +added, whirling upon Andrew once more, "you're the luckiest man I +know--except Jeremy! And you've worried me almost into a decline. I +thought you'd never get her--I mean, I thought she'd never get you--I +don't know _what_ I mean, Andrew Vane! Go along in, both of you, and +sing about your roses and jugs of wine and nightingales and moons of +delight. I can see that's all you'll be good for, from now on!" + +And so, shamelessly, they did--all over again, from "Wake! for the Sun" +to "flown again, who knows!" + +"It's tied up in double bow-knots with our hearts, all this 'Persian +Garden' music," said Andrew. "Do you remember how we used to rave over +it at Beverly? And I loved you even then--from the first night." + +Standing behind him, Margery touched his hair. + +And so evening came again, drenched in starlight and rose-perfume, and +stirring rapturously to the voice of the nightingale. + +"I want to speak to you." + +Radwalader touched Andrew's arm as they rose from the table, and led the +way directly through the open window into the garden, and, through the +garden gate, into the Avenue Meissonier beyond. Once there, he fell back +a step, so that they were side by side. + +"Let's walk toward the river," he suggested, taking Andrew's arm. + +A single lamp swung at the archway of the railroad bridge, but along the +villa walls and under the trees of the Boulevard de la Seine beyond, the +shadows were very dark. Once, as they passed a poplar, one shadow +disengaged itself from the trunk, and at a distance followed them. A +little ahead was the gaily illuminated terrace of L'Esturgeon, +overhanging the river, and crowded with people dining and talking all at +once. + +"I saw Mirabelle yesterday," observed Radwalader. "It seems you're off +scot-free." + +"Did _she_ tell you that?" asked Andrew in surprise. + +"No--only that you'd parted company for good and all. I guessed the +rest. I thought you'd hardly be so foolish as not to consult me, if the +question of money came up." + +"Thank the Lord, the episode was free from _that_ element of vulgarity, +at all events!" exclaimed Andrew. "Yes, it's over. It wasn't easy, +Radwalader. I was surprised to find how much she thought of me. But, of +course, there was nothing else to do. In any event, the thing couldn't +have gone on for ever, and when I heard about that telegram, I couldn't +ring down the curtain too soon. But it hurt. Poor little girl! I'll +always think kindly of her, Radwalader, although she came near to losing +me the only thing in the world that's worth while. Well, we said +good-by, and I came down here just on the chance that it mightn't be too +late. It was a thin-enough chance, to my way of thinking, in view of the +past three weeks. By Gad, here was I deserving the worst kind of a +wigging that ever a man got, and lo and behold, it was the prodigal son +after all! Mrs. Carnby was the first to congratulate me. Will you be the +next?" + +"Do you mean that Miss Palffy is going to marry you?" asked Radwalader, +coming to a full stop. + +"Just that," said Andrew; "though why she should, after all this--" + +"Oh, rot!" laughed the other. "You've been no worse than other men, and +so long as you've owned up--" + +"We'll never agree on the question of whether I deserve her or not," put +in Andrew. "Never in the whole course of my life shall I forgive myself +this folly. But we won't talk of that. The fact remains that I'm +forgiven, and that she's going to marry me. Oh, _Gawd_!" + +He looked up at the sky and bit his lip. He was desperately shy of +slopping over, and, for a moment, desperately near to it. + +Presently he continued. They had rounded L'Esturgeon now, and were +walking along the southern side of the Pont de Poissy, close to the +rail. Radwalader's pieces were all in place for the opening of the new +game. + +"When a chap's only been pulled out of a horrible mess by the merest +chance, and when, into the bargain, he's been engaged to the +one-and-only for something under twenty-four hours, he is apt to do +considerable slobbering. I hope you'll give me credit for sparing you +all I _might_ say, Radwalader, when I confine myself to saying that I'm +in luck." + +"And that, you most certainly are," said Radwalader cheerfully. "I'm +glad you're so well out of your scrape, Vane, and I congratulate you +heartily." A pressure of his fingers on Andrew's arm lent the phrase the +emphasis of a hand-shake. "Miss Palffy is charming--so clean and +straight, and, to say nothing of her beauty, with such high standards. +To be quite frank with you, I'm a bit surprised that you got off so +easily. But, since you have, there's nothing to be said, except that +she's a stunner, and I can understand now how much all this has meant to +you. What a thing to have standing between you, eh? If Mirabelle _had_ +been ugly, I fancy you'd have paid her about anything she chose to ask." + +"If I'd been _sure_ of getting Margery!" said Andrew. + +"Of course--yes. That's what I mean. With Miss Palffy as an object, +there could scarcely be a limit to the hush-money one would put up to +clear away any obstacles that might exist." + +"I expect not," said Andrew nervously. "I couldn't lose her now--I +simply couldn't. It would kill me." + +"I once knew of such a case," said Radwalader musingly. "Chap just about +to marry the girl, and he found out that there was something very +crooked about his birth--that he was illegitimate, in fact. The father +hung on to him like an octopus and bled him like a leech. But +the--er--girl never knew." + +"It was worth it to him," commented Andrew, "if he'd have lost the girl +else." + +"I've forgotten what he paid," said Radwalader, "but I know it was +pretty stiff--in the form of a regular allowance by the year." + +"Was the chap rich?" asked Andrew. He was looking down the river, and +taking great breaths of the delicious night air, thrilling with the +memory of Margery waiting back there for him; and his part in the +conversation was little more than automatic. + +"Reasonably," said Radwalader. "Enough to stand the strain. Curious old +house, this--isn't it?" + +He paused, and leaned upon the railing of the bridge. + +"The plaster's rotten as possible," answered Andrew after a moment, +during which he had been hacking boyishly at it with his knife. + +"You know both sides of the bridge were lined with houses once," said +Radwalader. "Picturesque it must have been! This is the only one left, +and it doesn't look as if it could keep from toppling over into the +river very much longer. Lord! how fast the water runs down there! It's a +veritable mill-race. I shouldn't care to have to swim against it." + +He hesitated deliberately, and then continued, with a slight change of +tone: + +"There's something I want to tell you, Vane. I didn't care to bother +you with it as long as you were worrying on your own account, but +now--confidence for confidence. The fact of the matter is that I need +money, and need it badly." + +Andrew pursued his hacking. + +"If that's all that's troubling you," he said, "I can probably make you +a loan that will tide you over. I'll be very glad to, if I can. How much +do you need?" + +A workman slouched past them, his hands in the pockets of his corduroy +trousers, his tam o' shanter pulled down over his eyes. + +"No," said Radwalader, "I don't want to borrow; I might never be able to +repay. But suppose I were to give you a piece of information--a +tip--that was of the very greatest importance to you, mightn't it be +worth a small sum?" + +Andrew stared at him curiously. + +"I don't understand," he said. "Do you mean that you know something that +is very important to me?" + +"Vastly important." + +"And that is known to no one else?" + +"To one other person only." + +"And that you want to _sell_ to me?" + +"That I want to _tell_ you. You can do as you see fit about paying me +for it. I think you will, but if not--" + +He smiled evilly, secure of the darkness. + +"There are other ways of utilizing it," he added. + +Andrew chopped thoughtfully at the plaster. + +"I don't seem to understand what you're driving at," he said presently, +"but, somehow--well, I don't like the sound of it, Radwalader. Of +course, I know you don't mean it that way, but it sounds rather--rather +unfriendly, if you'll allow me to say so. Oh, _damn_ it all!" + +"What?" asked Radwalader, surprised at the sudden exclamation. + +"There goes my knife. I ought to have known better than to hew at this +stuff with it. I suppose that's the last I shall ever see of it--and a +new one, too. Why--that's queer! Did you notice? There wasn't any +splash." + +He peered over the rail. + +"Hello!" he added, "here's a ladder--leading down." + +"There's a little garden down there," explained Radwalader, peering over +in his turn. "I remember now. It's on part of the foundations of another +old house, and the chap who lives in this one grows flowers there, oddly +enough, and goes up and down on the ladder. Your knife's down there, +somewhere. Jove! but it's dark!" + +But Andrew already had one leg across the railing, one foot on the top +round of the ladder. + +"This is easy," he said, "and I have my match-box, too. You see--well, +Margery bought the knife only this morning in the bazar, and I wouldn't +lose it for the world. And, by the way, Radwalader, forget what I said +just now, will you? It wasn't very decent." + +Then, with a short laugh of embarrassment, he descended into the +shadows. + +The shadows! They were very deep below there, until broken by the +flicker of Andrew's match. Then the shadows under the doorway of the old +house, up by the top of the bridge, were deeper, and--what was +this?--one shadow moved--moved--drew near to the man who leaned upon the +rail, whistling "Au Clair de la Lune." + +"All right!" called Andrew. "I have it. Now we come up again." + +"Go slow," advised Radwalader. "You'll find it darker than ever, after +the match. Why--what--" + +A hand on his shoulder had spun him round, but he had no more than +recognized the white face grinning into his, no more than time to +comprehend the words, "You've whistled for the last time, by God!" +before the steel-shod butt of a revolver crashed three times in +succession on--and through--his forehead. + +"_Once for me!_" said Jules Vicot, between his teeth, "_and once for my +wife, and once for your son!_" + +He hurled Radwalader from him, ran a few feet, turned at the rail to see +the smitten man writhing and groping blindly on the cobbles of the +driveway, and then, emptying the entire contents of the revolver in his +direction, vaulted with a laugh into the swirling Seine below. + +The guilty river caught him, hid him, hurried him away. Only once he +moved of his own volition, and then she laid her brown hand on his mouth +and stilled him, once for all. Around the wide curves of her course, he +was to go, through the thrashing locks of Les Mureaux and Notre Dame de +la Garenne, past Les Andelys and Pont de l'Arche, and the high quays of +Elbeuf, and the twinkling lights of Rouen, and the vineyards and the +poplars and the red-roofed villages--on, on, on, to where the lights of +Le Hâvre and Honfleur wink, each to each, across the widened channel. +For such was the course appointed whereby the most pitiful shadow that +ever fell from Poissy Bridge should make its way to sea. + +Back there was the sound of many voices and of running feet. Radwalader +lay with his head on Andrew's arm, his eyes closed, and his breath +coming in short hard gasps. The first arrivals from the town were three +young Englishmen, who had been dining at L'Esturgeon, were on their way +to the station, and outran all others at the sound of the five shots. +One of them proved to be a medical student, and fell at once to making +an examination, while the others held back the crowd. + +"How did it happen?" he asked. "What was it all about?" + +"God knows!" said Andrew. "I'd been down the ladder there to look for a +knife I'd dropped, and I was just coming up again when I heard him call +out, and then a scuffle and the sound of blows, and then the firing. I +think whoever shot him jumped into the river. There was a big splash +just as I came up to the level of the bridge." + +"Yes," said the other. "We heard that from the street, just as we +started to run. God! how that blackguard piled it on! Look here--his +head's all pushed in, and he's shot in at least two places. I'm afraid +the poor chap's done for. Hello! he's coming to." + +Radwalader slowly opened his eyes, and after a moment seemed striving to +speak. Andrew bent down, wiping away the blood. + +"What is it?" he asked. "Is there something you want to say, dear old +man?" + +Without replying, Radwalader glanced eloquently at the Englishman, and, +at this mute signal, the latter stepped back. + +"What is it?" whispered Andrew. "Do you want to tell us who it was?" + +Radwalader shook his head. + +"Is it what you were going to tell me a few minutes ago?" asked Andrew, +with a kind of intuition. + +For a full half-minute, the dying man's eyes were fixed upon the eager, +solicitous face that bent so close to his--upon the earnest eyes so +curiously like and yet unlike his own, upon the white teeth showing +between the parted lips, upon the straight patrician nose and the smooth +clear complexion. Then, with a singular smile, a smile almost +affectionate in its sweetness: + +"It's of no consequence now," he murmured. + +He raised one hand, and gently touched Andrew on the cheek. + +"Good-by, my boy," he added, more feebly. + +His head fell limply, and he shuddered once, and then was very still. + +A moment later, Andrew laid him back upon the driveway, and covered his +face. + + +THE END. + + + [Transcriber's notes: + Italics changed to _Italics_. + Some inconsistent spellings and hyphenations have been retained.] + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Transgression of Andrew Vane, by +Guy Wetmore Carryl + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRANSGRESSION OF ANDREW VANE *** + +***** This file should be named 38020-8.txt or 38020-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/0/2/38020/ + +Produced by Rory OConor, Suzanne Shell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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