by Elinor Glyn
XX
The Duchesse was playing impatiently with her glasses when I wasannounced by the servant of ninety! Her face expressed some strongfeeling. I was not sure if it was tinged with displeasure or no. Shehelped me to sit down, and then she began at once.
"Nicholas, explain yourself. You tell me you are engaged to yoursecretary! So this has been going on all the time, and you have not toldme. I, who was your mother's oldest friend!"
"Dear Duchesse, you are mistaken, it has only just been settled. No onewas more surprised at my offer than Miss Sharp herself."
"You know her real name, Nicholas? And her family history? You haveguessed, of course, from my asking you for the twenty-five thousandfrancs, that they were in some difficulty?"
"Yes, I know Alathea is the daughter of the Honorable Robert and LadyHilda Bulteel."
"She has told you all of the story, perhaps?--but you cannot know whatthe money was for, because the poor child does not know it herself. Itis more just that I should inform you, since you are going to marry intothe family."
"Thank you, Duchesse."
She then began, and gave me a picture of her old friendship with LadyHilda, and of the dreadful calamity which had befallen in her going offwith Bobby Bulteel.
"It was one of those cases of mad love, Nicholas, which fortunately seemto have died out of the modern world, though for the truth I must saythat one more _seduisant_ than _ce joli Bulteel_, I have never met! Onecould not, of course, acknowledge them for a crime like that, but I haveever been fond of poor Hilda and that sweet little child. She was bornhere, in this hotel. Poor Hilda came to me in her great trouble, and Iwas in deep mourning myself then for my husband,--the house is large,and it could all pass quietly."
I reached forward and took the Duchesse's hand and kissed it, and shewent on:
"Alathee is my godchild, one of my names is Alathee. The poor littleone, she adored her father, in all those first years. They wandered muchand only came to Paris at intervals, and each time they came, a littlepoorer, a little more troubled, and then after a lapse I heard those twowere born at Nice--wretched little decadents, when my poor Hilda was amass of nerves and disillusion. Alathee was eleven then. It was, _parhazard_, when she was about fourteen that she heard of her father'scrime. She was the gayest, most sweet child before that, through alltheir poverty, but from that moment her character was changed. Itdestroyed something in her spirit, one must believe. She set firmly toeducation, decided she would be a secretary, cultivated herself, worked,worked, worked! She worshipped her mother, and resented immensely herfather's treatment of her."
"She must always have had a wonderful character."
"For that, yes," and the Duchesse paused a moment, then went on:
"Quite a tremendous character, and as Bobby sank and poor Hilda becamemore ill, and wretched, that child has risen in strength, and supportedthem all. Since the war came they have almost lived upon her earnings.The father is without conscience, and of a selfishness unspeakable! Hismoney all went to him for his use, and Alathee was left to supplementthe mother's wretched two or three thousand francs a year. And now thatbrute has again cheated at cards, and poor Hilda came to me in her greatdistress, and remembering your words, Nicholas, I called upon you. Itwould have been too cruel for the poor woman to have had to sufferagain. Hilda took the money and gave it to this infamous husband, andthe affair was settled that night. Alathee knows nothing about it."
Light was dawning upon me. The admirable Bobby has evidently played uponthe feelings of both wife and daughter!
"Duchesse, why did you not wish me to know the real name, and would nothelp me at all about 'Miss Sharp,'--won't you now tell me your reason?"
The Duchesse shaded her eyes from the fire with a hand-screen, and itcame between us, and I could not see her face, but her voice changed.
"I was greatly surprised to find the girl in your flat one day. I hadnot understood with whom she was working. I was not pleased about it,frankly, Nicholas, because one cannot help knowing of your existence andyour friends, and I feared your interest for a secretary might be as forthem, and I disliked that my godchild should run such a risk. When_jeunes filles_ of the world have to take up menial positions they areof course open to such situations, and have to expect difficulties. Iwished to protect her as well as I could."
Suddenly I saw myself, and the utterly rotten life I had led, that this,my old friend, even, could not be sure of my chivalry. I loathed thelax, cheap honor of the world and its hypocrisy. I could not even beindignant with the Duchesse, judging me from that standpoint. She wasright, but I did tell her that men had a slightly different angle inlooking upon such things in England, where women worked, and wererespected in all classes, and that the idea of making love to anysecretary would never have entered my head. It was the intelligence andthe dignity of Alathea herself which had made me desire her for acompanion.
"It is well that you are English, Nicholas. No Frenchman of family couldhave married the daughter of a man who had cheated at cards."
"Even if the girl was good and splendid like Alathea, Duchesse?"
"For that, no, my son, we have little left but our traditions, and ournames, and those things matter to us. No, frankly, I could not havepermitted the union had you been my son."
So I had been right in my analysis of what would be the bent of my oldfriend's mind.
"You are pleased now, though, dear Duchesse?" I pleaded.
"It seems impossible, from my point, and I would not have encouraged it,but since it is done, I can but wish my dear Alathee and you, my dearboy true happiness."
Again I took and kissed her kind hand.
"In England, especially in this war time, questions are not asked,_n'est ce pas_? She can be 'Sharp' simply and not Bulteel, then it maypass. For the girl, herself, you have a rare jewel, Nicholas--unselfish,devoted, true, but the will of the devil! You shall not be able to turnher as you wish, if her ideas go the other way!"
"Duchesse, the situation is peculiar, there is no question of love init. Alathea is marrying me merely that she may give money to her family.I am marrying that I may have a secretary without scandal. We are notgoing to be really husband and wife."
The Duchesse dropped her fire-screen, her clever-eyes were whimsical andsparkling.
"_Tiens_!" she said, and never has the delicious word conveyed so muchmeaning! "You believe that truly Nicholas? Alathee is a very pretty girlwhen properly dressed--"
"And without glasses!"
"As you say, without glasses, which I hear cover her fine eyes when inyour society!"
"I asked her to marry me under those terms, and it was only upon thoseterms she accepted me."
The Duchesse laughed.
"A nice romance! Well, my son, I wish you joy!"
"Duchesse," and I leaned forward, "do you really think I can make herlove me? Am I too awful? Is there a chance?"
The Duchesse patted my arm and her face shone with kindliness.
"Of course, foolish boy!" And she broke into French, using the "thee"and "thou" again affectionately. 'I was very handsome!--that whichremained,--and all would look the same as ever when the repairing shouldbe complete!'
"So very tall and fine, Nicholas, and hair of a thickness, and what isbest of all, that air of a great gentleman. Yes, yes, women will alwayslove thee, _sans_ eye, _sans_ leg, do not disturb thyself!"
"Don't tell her I love her, Duchesse," I pleaded. "We have much to learnof each other. If she did not believe it was a bargain equal on bothsides, she would not marry me at all!"
The Duchesse agreed about this.
"Whatever she has promised she will perform, but why she does not lovethee already I cannot tell."
"She dislikes me, she thinks I am a rotter, and I expect she was right,but I shall not be in the future, and then perhaps she will change."
When I left the Hotel de Courville it had been arranged that theDuchesse would receive my wife with honour, her world only knowing thatI had married an En
glish "Miss Sharp."
I heard no more of my _fiancee_ until next morning, when she telephoned.Did I wish her to come that day?
Burton answered that I hoped she would, about eleven o'clock.
I intended to tell her that I thought that it might be wiser now if shedid not come again until the wedding, as once we were engaged I wouldnot allow her to run the risk of meeting anyone and giving a falseimpression. I think the strain would be too great in any case.
I did not come in to the salon until she was there, and she rose as Ientered. She was whiter than ever, and very stern.
"I have been thinking," she said, before I could speak, "that if Ipromise to fulfill the bargain, and live here in the flat with you,going through the ceremony at the Consulate is quite unnecessary. Yourcaprice of having me for your wife merely in name in England, may pass,and it seems ridiculous to be tied. I am quite indifferent to whatanyone thinks of me. I would prefer it like that."
"Why?" I asked, and wondered for a moment what had occurred.
"There are so many stupid law things, if there is a marriage, and if youhave the same from me without, surely you see that it is better."
I first thought that it was this fear of my knowing her family historywhich was at the root of this suggestion, but then I remembered that shewould know that I would hear it in any case from the Duchesse. What thencould it be?
I felt cruel, I was not going to make things too easy for her. If shehas the will of the devil, she has also the pride!
"If you are indifferent to such an invidious position as your new ideawould place us in, I am not, I do not wish my friends to think that I amsuch a cad as presumably to have taken advantage of your being mysecretary."
"You wish to go on with the marriage then?"
"Of course."
She clasped her hands together suddenly, as if she could control herselfno longer, and I thought of what she had said to Burton about feelingthat she could not fight any more. I would not allow myself tosympathize with her. I was longing in every nerve of my being to takeher into my arms, and tell her that I loved her, and knew everything,but I would not do this. I cannot let her master me, or we shall neverhave any peace. I will not tell her that I love her until her pride isbroken, and I have made her love me and come to me voluntarily.
She was silent.
"I have informed the Duchesse de Courville that we are engaged. I sawher yesterday."
She started perceptibly.
"She has told you my real name?"
"I have known that for some time. I thought I had made it plain to youthat I am not interested about the subject, we need not mention itagain, you have only to talk to old Robert Nelson, my lawyer, when hecomes on Monday. He will tell you the settlements I propose to make, andyou can discuss with him as to whether or not you think themsatisfactory. Perhaps you on your side will tell me what reason you havestrong enough to make a girl of your natural self-respect, willing totake the position of my apparent mistress?"
She burst out for a second, throwing out her hands, then controllingherself.
"No, I won't tell you.--I will tell you nothing, I will just stick tothe bargain if I must. You have no right to my thoughts, only myactions!"
I bowed; disagreeable as she was, there was a distinctly pleasant zestin fighting!
"Perhaps of your courtesy, you will take off those glasses now, since Iam aware that you only wear them to conceal your eyes, and not that theyare necessary for your sight."
She flushed with annoyance.
"And if I refuse?"
I shrugged my shoulders.
"I shall think it very childish of you."
With a petulance which I had never seen in her she tossed her head.
"I don't care, at present I will not."
I frowned but did not speak. This will be discussed between us later.My fighting spirit is up, she _shall_ obey me!
"Did you order the clothes yesterday?"
"Yes."
"Enough, I hope."
"Yes."
"Well, now, I have a suggestion to make which I am sure will please you,and that is that you will appoint some meeting place with Mr. Nelson forTuesday morning, since you do not trust my good taste far enough even tolet me know your home address. Perhaps at the Hotel de Courville, if theDuchesse will permit, and that then we do not meet until the seventh ofNovember at the ceremony. Mr. Nelson will arrange with you all the lawof the thing and what witnesses you must have, and everything, and thiswill save these useless discussions, and give you a little breathingspace."
This seemed to subdue her, and she agreed less defiantly.
"And now I will not detain you longer," I said stiffly. "_Au revoir_until the seventh of November at whatever hour is arranged, or if wemust meet before at the signing of the contract," and I bowed.
She bowed also, and walked haughtily to the door, and left.
And greatly exhilarated, I decided to go and lunch with Maurice at theRitz.
As I came from the lift, Madame Bizot's daughter came out of theconcierge's lodge with her baby, and it was making its same littlecooing, gurgling noises that caused me so to feel that time when Alatheafirst began to interest me. I stopped and spoke to the mother, a comelyyoung woman, and the little creature put out its tiny hand and claspedone of my fingers, and over me there came a weird thrill. Shall I everhear noises like that, and have a son of Alathea's and mine to take myhand. Well the game of her subjection is interesting enough anyway, andrather ashamed of my emotion, I went on into the Victoria and wascrawled to the Ritz.
Here I ran into a fellow in the Flying Corps, who told me that Nina'sboy, Johnnie, had been killed the night before, in his first fight witha Boche plane. I do not know that any of the tragedies of the war haveaffected me more. My poor Nina! She really loved her son. I telegraphedto her at once my fondest sympathies, and the thought of her grief wouldnot leave me all the way, war-hardened as I am.
I did not tell Maurice of my approaching wedding. I have a plan that heshall only know when I ask him to come to the Hotel de Courville to bepresented to my wife.
The Fluffies have returned from Deauville, and Coralie and Alice joinedus at luncheon. They have the most exquisite new garments, and were fullof sparkle and gaiety. Alice's wedding, to the rich neutral, seemsreally to be coming off. Her air was one of subdued modesty andgentleness, and when I congratulated her she made the tenderestacceptance of it, which would have done justice to a young virgin ofthe _ancien regime_! Coralie met my eye with her shrewd small ones, andwe looked away! After lunch we sat in the hall for a little, Mauricetaking Alice to try on her clothes, so Coralie and I were left alone.
"You are looking quite well now Nicholas," she whispered, "Why don't youask me to come and dine with you, at your adorable flat,--alone?"
"You would be bored with me before the evening was over."
"Arrange it, and try! Always there are the others, except that night atVersailles. There is an air with you Nicholas,--one has forgotten allabout your eye. I have thought and thought of you.--You have interferedwith all my pleasures in life!"
"I am going back to England quite soon, Coralie, won't you come now tothe _rue de la Paix_ and let me buy you a little souvenir of all thelovely times we have had together in the last year?"
So she came, and selected a gem of an opera glass. An opera glass isdiscreet, it can be accepted by anyone; even a woman determined toimpress my mind with her dignity and charm, as Coralie was attempting todo, upon our expedition. She had made up her mind that I should nolonger be just a benefit to the three of them, but her own especialproperty, and she is clever enough to see that I am in a mood to admiredignity and discretion! I spent a most amusing hour with her, enjoyingmyself in the spirit of watching a good play at the _Comedie Francais_.At about four o'clock, when we returned to the Ritz, Coralie wasbaffled. I could see that she was keener than ever, and beginning to bea little worried and unsure of herself!
As I drove back to my flat, taking a roundabout
way through the Bois, Imused and analysed things. And what is the psychological reason for somepresents being quite correct to give and some not? It all goes back tothe re-creative instinct and through what this manifests itself. Giftswhich have any relation to the body, to give it pleasure, or to decorateit, are the expressions of the sex relationship, and so presumably thesubconscious mind, which only sees the truth in everything, only feelsharmonious when these gifts are given by either parents or relations, asa dower, so to speak, or the husband or prospective husband. Hencethrough the ages, the unconscious relegation of certain presents asacceptable only from certain people. Any present which gives pleasure tothe mind alone is the tribute of friendship, but those to touch the bodyare presumably not. I could give Coralie an opera glass as a mark of myesteem, but a bracelet which she would wear on her arm would haveanother meaning!
Alathea resents every present, those for the body because they suggestmy possession of her, those for the mind because she feels no friendshipfor me at all!
Well, well!
What will she do I wonder during the fortnight of our engagement? I feelthat I can afford to wait with patience and certainty. But the thoughtthat I do not even know my _fiancee's_ address, and that she isresentful and defiant, and rebellious at everything, and yet intends tomarry me, on the seventh of November, is really almost humorous!
And now it behooves me to put my house in order, and map out exactlywhat I mean to do!