CHAPTER IV
THE IDOL OF PARIS
It was dark when they returned to the hotel, but Paris shone with amillion lights. The hotel itself had a festive air. There were flowers inall directions, and a red carpet had been laid upon the steps.
"Rozelle Daubeni is expected," said Saltash.
"Who?" Toby stopped short in the act of descending. Her face shone whitein the glare. A moment before she had been laughing but the laugh wentinto her question with a little choked sound. "Who did you say?" shequestioned more coherently.
"Mademoiselle Daubeni--the idol of Paris. Never heard of her?" Saltashhanded her lightly down. "She is coming to a dance in the great _salon_tonight. You shall see her. She is--a thing to remember."
Toby gave a quick shiver. "Yes, I have heard of her too much--too much--Idon't want to see her. Shall we dine upstairs?"
"Oh, I think not," said Saltash with decision. "You are too retiring, _machere_. It doesn't become--a lady of your position."
He followed her towards the lift. The vestibule was full of people,laughing and talking, awaiting the coming of the favourite. But as thegirl in her blue cloak went through, a sudden hush fell. Women liftedglasses to look at her, and men turned to watch.
Saltash sauntered behind her in his regal way, looking neither to rightnor left, yet fully aware of all he passed. No one accosted him. Therewere times when even those who knew him well would have hesitated to doso. He could surround himself with an atmosphere so suavely impersonal asto be quite impenetrable to all.
It surrounded him now. He walked like a king through a crowd ofcourtiers, and the buzz of talk did not spring up again till he was outof sight.
"So you do not want to see _le premiere danseuse du siecle!_" hecommented, as he entered the sitting-room of their suite behind Toby.
She turned, blue eyes wide with protest in her white face. "Do you wishme to see her, my lord? That--woman!"
He frowned upon her suddenly. "Call me Charles! Do you hear? We will playthis game according to rule--or not at all."
"You are angry," Toby said, and turned still whiter.
He came to her, thrust a quick arm about her. "I am not angry,_mignonne_, at least not with you. But you must take your proper place. Ican't keep you in hiding here. Those gaping fools downstairs--they havegot to understand. You are not my latest whim, but a permanentinstitution. You are--my wife."
She shivered in his hold, but she clung to him. "I don't feel like--apermanent institution," she told him rather piteously. "And when you areangry--"
"I am not angry," said Saltash, and tweaked her ear as though she hadbeen a boy. "But--whether you feel like it or not--you are my wife, andyou have got to play the part. _C'est entendu, n'est-ce-pas?_"
"Whatever you wish," said Toby faintly.
He set her free. "You must look your best tonight. Wear blue! It is yourcolour. I shall present Spentoli to you. And tomorrow he will want topaint you."
Toby stiffened. "That--_canaille_!" she said.
He looked at her in surprise. "What is the matter with you tonight,Nonette? You are hating all the world."
Her blue eyes blazed. "I don't want to meet Spentoli," she said. "He hasan evil eye. You--you--I look to you to--to--to protect me."
"My good child!" said Saltash.
He turned aside to light a cigarette, and there was a pause. But Tobystill stood rigid, as it were on guard. He spoke again after a moment,and his voice was kind though it had a certain dominant quality also.
"Nonette, you need not be afraid when you are with me. I shall protectyou. Now go and dress! When you are ready, come to me for inspection! Andremember! You are to look your best tonight."
He turned with the last words and looked at her. His brows went up as herealized her attitude--the tense resistance of the slight figurewithstanding him.
But it was only for a moment or two that the girl maintained her stand.At sight of the look that leaped to his eyes, her own were swiftlylowered. She drew back from him.
"I will do--whatever you wish," she said again nervously. "You knowthat."
"Yes, I know that," said Saltash with his quick grimace. "You have mysympathy, Nonette. Now go, _ma chere_, go!"
She went from his presence like a small hunted animal.
Saltash shrugged his shoulders and sauntered down again to the vestibule.The crowd had grown. They were watching the great entrance-doorexpectantly for the coming of the celebrated dancer. Saltash called for adrink, and mingled with the throng.
The Italian, Spentoli, came up presently and joined him. "I am hoping,"he said, "that you will presently give me the great honour of presentingme to your bride."
Saltash looked at him. Spentoli was one of the very few men for whom heentertained respect. The Italian's work had always held an immenseattraction for his artistic soul, and he had never troubled to disguisethe fact.
"My wife is young and shy," he said, after a moment. "I will presentyou--some day, Spentoli, but it may not be yet."
"This is her first visit to Paris?" questioned Spentoli.
"Not her first. But she does not know Paris well." Saltash spokecarelessly. "I am not showing her everything at once. I think that is amistake."
"That is true," agreed Spentoli. "The freshness of youth is gone all toosoon. But she will be superbly beautiful in a few years' time. Will youpermit me to congratulate you on the excellence of your choice?"
Saltash grimaced. "Do we ever choose?" he said. "Do we not rather receivesuch gifts as the gods send us in more or less of a grudging spirit?"
Spentoli smiled. "I did not think you would marry one so young," he said."She has the athletic look of a boy. She reminds me--"
"Of a picture called 'The Victim' by one--Spentoli!" Saltash's voice wassuave. "A cruel picture, _mon ami_, but of an amazing merit. I have seenthe likeness also. Where did you get it?"
The Italian was still smiling, but his eyes were wary.
"From a little circus-rider in California," he said. "A child--an imp ofa child--astonishingly clever--a wisp of inspiration. Yes, a girl ofcourse; but she had all the lines of a boy--the perfect limbs of anathlete. I took her from her circus. I should have paid her well had sheremained with me. But before the picture was finished, she was tired. Shewas a little serpent--wily and wicked. One day we had a small discussionin my studio--oh, quite a small discussion. And she stuck her poison-fanginto me--and fled." Spentoli's teeth gleamed through his black moustache."I do not like these serpent-women," he said. "When I meet her again--itwill be my turn to strike."
"Our turn so seldom comes," said Saltash lazily, his eyes wandering tothe door. "Mademoiselle Rozelle for instance would hold her own againstany of us."
"Ah! Rozelle!" Spentoli's face changed magically. "But she isbeautiful--and without venom--a rose without a thorn!"
Saltash's mouth twitched mockingly. "And without a heart also?" hesuggested.
"She is all heart!" cried Spentoli, with flashing eyes.
Saltash laughed aloud. "That also is sometimes a drawback, _mon ami_. Igather she is the attraction who has drawn you here."
"She draws all the world," said Spentoli.
And with that he sprang to his feet, for there was a general stir in thevestibule, such as might herald the coming of a queen. In a moment thebuzz of voices died down, and a great silence fell. Saltash remainedseated, a certain arrogance in his pose, though his eyes also watched thedoor.
There came the sound of a laugh--a clear, ringing laugh, childishly,irresistibly gay--and a figure in blue came in through the marblepillars. As a queen they had prepared for her, and as a queen sheentered--a being so exquisite, so goddess-like, that every breath wasdrawn in wonder.
She looked around her with eyes that shone like sapphires. Her red lipswere parted. She had the expectant look of girlhood, yet her beauty had aquality unknown to youth. And it was to that quality, almost unknown tohimself, that Saltash did homage as he rose.
Her look flashed across to him, comp
rehended his action, and laughed opentriumph. Then with a suddenness almost too swift to follow, she turned toa man who had entered behind her and softly spoke.
Saltash's eyes went to the man, and he drew a low whistle between histeeth. It was well known that Rozelle Daubeni never travelled without anescort; but this man--this man--He was tall and broad, and he carriedhimself with a supreme contempt for his fellow-men. He did not look atSaltash, did not apparently even see the hushed crowd that hung uponevery movement of that wonderful woman-creature who took the world bystorm wherever she went.
He was superbly indifferent to his surroundings, gazing straight beforehim with the eyes of a Viking who searches the far horizon. He walkedwith the free swing of a pirate. And as the woman turned her dazzlingface towards him, it was plain to all that she saw none but him in thatvast and crowded place.
He was by her side as they moved forward, and they saw her lightly touchhis arm, with an intimate gesture, as though they were alone. Then thewhole throng broke into acclamations, and the spell was broken. She sawthem all again, and laughed her gracious thanks. The great hall rang withtheir greeting as she passed through, but no one sought to detain her andshe did not pause.
Later, she would give them all they desired, but her moment had notarrived. So she went on to the great curving staircase, side by side withher fair-bearded Viking, still laughing like a happy child who looks forthe morrow.
As she rounded the curve of the stair, she snatched a red rose from herbreast and threw it down to her worshippers below. It was aimed atSaltash, but it fell before Spentoli, and he caught and held it with wildadoration leaping in his eyes. As he pressed it to his lips, he wassobbing.
"_Mon ami_," said Saltash's voice behind him, maliciously humorous, "youhave stolen my property. But--since I have no use for it--you may keepit."
Spentoli looked at him with burning eyes. "Ah! You may laugh!" he said,in a fierce undertone. "You are--without a soul."
"Isn't it better to laugh?" queried Saltash. "Did you expect a blow inthe face?"
Spentoli glared for a moment, and recovered himself. "Do you know whatthey are saying of her?" he said. "They say that she is dying. But it isnot true--not true! Such beauty as that--such loveliness--could neverdie!"
The cynical lines in Saltash's face deepened very perceptibly. Heshrugged his shoulders and said nothing.
"Who is the man with her?" demanded Spentoli. "I have never seen himbefore--the man with the face of a Dane. Do you know him?"
"Yes, I know him," said Saltash.
"Then who is he? Some new lover?" There was suppressed eagerness in thequestion. Spentoli's eyes were smouldering again.
Saltash was looking supremely ironical. "Perhaps new," he said. "Morelikely--very old. His name is Larpent, and he is the captain of myyacht."
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