by Elinor Glyn
CHAPTER XII
His lady was so intensely _soignee_--that is what pleased Paul. He hadnever thought about such things, or noticed them much in other women, butshe was a revelation.
No Roman Empress with her bath of asses' milk could have had a morewonderful toilet than she. And ever she was illusive, and he never quitegot to the end of her mystery. Always there was a veil, when he leastexpected it, and so these hours for the most part were passed at theboiling-point of excitement and bliss. The experiences of another man'swhole lifetime Paul was going through in the space of days.
It was the Monday following the wet Sunday when an incident happened whichsoon came back to him, and gave him food for reflection.
They would spend the day in the launch, she decided, going whither theywished, stopping here to pick gentians, going there under the shadow oftrees--landing where and when they desired--even sleeping at Flueclen ifthe fancy took them to. Anna was sent on with their things in case thiscontingency occurred. And earth, water and sky seemed smiling them awelcome.
Just before they started, Dmitry, after the gentlest tap, noiselesslyentered Paul's room. Paul was selecting some cigars from a box, and lookedup in surprise as the stately servant cautiously closed the door.
"Yes, Dmitry, what is it?" he said half impatiently.
Dmitry advanced, and now Paul saw that he carried something in his hand.He bowed low with his usual courtly respect. Then he stammered a little ashe began to speak.
The substance of his sentence, Paul gathered, was that the Excellencywould not be inconveniencing himself too much, he hoped, if he wouldconsent to carry this pistol. A very good pistol, he assured him, whichwould take but little room.
Paul's surprise deepened. Carry a pistol in peaceful Switzerland! Itseemed too absurd.
"What on earth for, my friend?" he said.
But Dmitry would give no decided answer, only that it was wiser, when awayfrom one's home and out with a lady, never to go unarmed. Real anxietypeeped from his cautious grey eyes.
Did Paul know how to shoot? And would he be pardoned for asking theExcellency such a question?--but in England, he heard, they dealt littlewith revolvers--and this was a point to be assured of.
Yes, Paul knew how to shoot! The idea made him laugh. But now he came tothink of it, he had not had great practice with a revolver, and might notdo so well as with a gun or rifle. But the whole thing seemed so absurd,he did not think it of much consequence.
"Of course I'll take it to please you, Dmitry," he said, "though I wishyou would tell me why."
However, Dmitry escaped from the room without further words, his fingerupon his lips.
The lady was looking more exquisitely white than usual; she wore soft palemauve, and appeared in Paul's eyes a thing of joy.
When they were seated on the launch in their chairs, she let him hold herhand, but she did not talk much at first; only now he understood hersilences, and did not worry over them--so great a teacher is love toquicken the perception of man.
He sat there, and gazed at her, and tried to realise that it was really hewho was experiencing all this happiness. This wonderful, wonderfulwoman--and he was her lover.
At last something in her expression of sadness caught his watchful eye,and an ache came into his mind to know where hers had gone.
"Darling," he said tenderly, "mayn't I come there, too?"
She turned towards him--a shadow was in her eyes.
"No, Paul," she said. "Not there. It is a land of rocks andprecipices--not for lovers."
"But if you can go--where is the danger for me, my Queen? Or, if there isdanger, then it is my place to stand by your side."
"Paul, my sweet Paul," she whispered, while her eyes filled with mist, "Iwas thinking how fair the world could be, perhaps, if fate allowed one tomeet one's mate while there was yet time. Surely two souls together, likeyou and I, might climb to Paradise doing deeds of greatness by the way.But so much of life is like a rushing torrent tearing along making acourse for itself, without power to choose through what country it willpass, until it meets the ocean and is swallowed up and lost. If one couldonly see--only know in time--could he change the course? Alas! who cantell?"
Her voice was sad, and as ever it wrung Paul's heart.
"My darling one," he said, "don't think of those odd things. Only rememberthat I am here beside you, and that I love you, love you so--"
"My Paul!" she murmured, and she smiled a strange, sweet smile, "do youknow, I find you like a rare violin which hitherto has been used byordinary musicians to play their popular airs upon, but which is nowhighly strung and being touched by the bow of an artist who loves it. Andoh! the exquisite sounds which are coming, and will yet come forth toenchant the ear, and satisfy the sense. All the capacity is there, Paul,in you, beautiful one--only I must bring it out with my bow of love! Andwhat a progress you have made already--a great, great progress. Think,only a few days ago you had never noticed the colours of this lake, oreven these great mountains, they said nothing to you at all except asplaces to take your exercise upon. Life, for you, was just eating andsleeping and strengthening your muscles." And she laughed softly.
"I know I was a Goth," said Paul. "I can hardly realise it myself, thechange that has happened to me. Everything now seems full of joy."
"Your very phrases are altered, Paul, and will alter more yet, while ourmoon waxes and our love grows."
"Can it grow? Can I possibly love you more intensely than I do now--surelyno!" he exclaimed passionately. "And yet--"
"And yet?"
"Ah! yes, I know it. Yes, it can grow until it is my life--my very life."
"Yes, Paul," she said, "your life"--and her strange eyes narrowed again,the Sphinx's inscrutable look of mystery in their chameleon depths.
Then her mood altered, she became gay and laughing, and her wit sparkledlike dry champagne, while the white launch glided through the blue waterswith never a swirl of foam.
"Paul," she said presently, "to-morrow we will go up the Rigi to theKaltbad, and look from the little kiosk over the world, and over theBernese Oberland. It gives me an emotion to stand so high and see so vasta view--but to-day we will play on the water and among the trees."
He had no desires except to do what she would do, so they landed for lunchat one of the many little inviting hotels which border the lake insheltered bays. All through the meal she entertained him with subtleflattery, drawing him out, and making him shine until he made flint forher steel. And when they came to the end she said with sudden, tendersweetness:
"Paul--it is my caprice--you may pay the bill to-day--just forto-day--because--Ah! you must guess, my Paul! the reason why!"
And she ran out into the sunlight, her cheeks bright pink.
But Paul knew it was because now she _belonged_ to him. His heart swelledwith joy--and who so proud as he?
She had gone alone up a mountain path when he came out to join her, andstood there laughing at him provokingly from above. He bounded up andcaught her, and would walk hand in hand, and made her feel that he wasmaster and lord through the strength of his splendid, vigorous youth. Hepretended to scold her if she stirred from him, and made her stand or walkand obey him, and gave himself the airs of a husband and prince.
And the lady laughed in pure ecstatic joy. "Oh! I love you, my Paul--likethis, like this! Beautiful one! Just a splendid primitive savage beneaththe grace, as a man should be. When I feel how strong you are my heartmelts with bliss!"
And Paul, to show her it was true, seized her in his arms, and ran withher, placing her on a high rock, where he made her pay him with kisses andtell him she loved him before he would lift her down.
And it was his lady's caprice, as she said, that this state of thingsshould last all day. But by night time, when they got to Flueelen, theinfinite mastery of her mind, and the uncertainty of his hold over her,made her his Queen again, and Paul once more her worshipping slave.
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p; Now, although his master was quite oblivious of posts, Tompson was not,and that Monday he took occasion to go into Lucerne, whence he returnedwith a pile of letters, which Paul found on again reaching theBuergenstock, after staying the night at Flueelen in a little hotel.
That had been an experience! His lady quite childish in her glee at thesmallness and simplicity of everything.
"Our picnic," she called it to Paul--only it was a wonderfully _recherche_picnic, as Anna of course had brought everything which was required byheart of sybarite for the passing of a night.
Ah! they had been happy. The Queen had been exquisitely gracious to herslave, and entranced him more deeply than ever. And here at theBuergenstock, when he got into his room, his letters stared him in theface.
"Damned officiousness!" he said to himself, thinking of Tompson.
He did not want to be reminded of any existence other than the dream ofheaven he was now enjoying.
Oh! they were all very real and material, these epistles--quite of earth!One was from his mother. He was enjoying Lucerne, she hoped, and she waslonging for his return. She expected he also was craving for his home andhorses and dogs. All were well. They--she and his father--were moving upto the town house in Berkeley Square the following week until the end ofJune, and great preparations were already in contemplation for histwenty-third birthday in July at Verdayne Place. There was no mention ofIsabella except a paragraph at the end. Miss Waring was visiting friendsat Blackheath, he was informed. Ah, so far away it all seemed! But itbrought him back from heaven. The next was his father's writing. Laconic,but to the point. This parent hoped he was not wasting his time--d--dshort in life! and that he was cured of his folly for the parson's girl,and found other eyes shone bright. If he wanted more money he wasto say so.
Several were from his friends, banal and everyday. And one was fromTremlett, his own groom, and this was full of Moonlighter and--Pike! Thatgave him just a moment's feeling--Pike! Tremlett had "made so bold" as tohave some snapshots done by a friend, and he ventured to send one to hismaster. The "very pictur'" of the dog, he said, and it was true. Ah! thistouched him, this little photograph of Pike.
"Dear little chap," he said to himself as he looked. "My dear littlechap."
And then an instantaneous desire to show it to his lady came over him, andhe went back to the sitting-room in haste.
There she was--the post had come for her too, it seemed, and she looked upwith an expression of concentrated fierceness from a missive she wasreading as he entered the room. Her marvellous self-control banished allbut love from her eyes after they had rested on him for an instant, buthis senses--so fine now--had remarked the first glance, just as his eyehad seen the heavy royal crown on the paper as she hastily folded it andthrew it carelessly aside.
"Darling!" he said "Oh! look! here is a picture of Pike!"
And if it had been the most important document concerning the fate ofnations the lady could not have examined it with more enthralled interestand attention than she did this snapshot photograph of a rough terrierdog.
"What a sweet fellow!" she said. "Look at his eye! so intelligent; look atthat _patte_! See, even he is asking one to love him--and I do--I do--"
"Darling!" said Paul in ecstasy, "oh, if we only had him here, wouldn'tthat be good!"
And he never knew why his lady suddenly threw her arms round his neck, andkissed him with passionate tenderness and love, her eyes soft as a dove's.
"Oh, my Paul," she said, a break in her wonderful voice, whose tones saidmany things, "my young, darling, English Paul!"
Presently they would drive to see that quaint farm she wanted to show him.The day was very warm, and to rest in the comfortable carriage would benice. Paul thought so, too. So after a late lunch they started. And onceor twice on the drive through the most peaceful and beautiful scenery, aflash of the same fierceness came into the lady's eyes, gazing away overdistance as when she had read her letter, and it made Paul wonder and longto ask her why. He never allowed himself to speculate in coherent thoughtwords even as to who she was, or her abode in life. He had given his word,and was an Englishman and would keep it, that was all. But in hissubconsciousness there dwelt the conviction that she must be some Queen orPrincess of a country south in Europe--half barbaric, half advanced. Thatshe was unhappy and hated it all, he more than divined. It was a proof ofthe strength of his character that he did not let the terrible thought ofinevitable parting mar the bliss of the tangible now. He had promised herto live while the sun of their union shone, and he had the force to keephis word.
But oh! he wished he could drive all care from her path, and that thisglorious life should go on for ever.
When they got to the farm in the soft late afternoon light, the mostgracious mood came over his lady. It was just a Swiss farmhouse of manystoreys, the lower one for the cows and other animals, and the rest forthe family and industries. All was clean and in order, with that wonderfuloutside neatness which makes Swiss chalets look like painted toy housespopped down on the greensward without yard or byre. And these people werewell-to-do, and it was the best of its kind.
The _Baeuerin_, a buxom mother of many little ones, was nursing another notfour weeks old, a fat, prosperous infant in its quaint Swiss clothes. Herbroad face beamed with pride as she welcomed the gracious lady. Oldacquaintances they appeared, and they exchanged greetings. Foreignlanguages were not Paul's strong point, and he caught not a word ofmeaning in the German _patois_ the good woman talked. But his lady wasvoluble, and seemed to know each flaxen-haired child by name, though itwas the infant which longest arrested her attention. She held it in herarms. And Paul had never seen her look so young or so beautiful.
The good woman left them alone while she prepared some coffee for them inthe adjoining kitchen, followed by her troop of _kinder_. Only the littleone still lay in the lady's arms. She spoke not a word--she sang to it acradle-song, and the thought came to Paul that she seemed as an angel, andthis must be an echo of his own early heaven before his life had descendedto earth.
A strange peace came over him as he sat there watching her, his thoughtsvague and dreamy of some beautiful sweet tenderness--he knew not what.
Ere the woman returned with the coffee the lady looked up from hercrooning and met his eyes--all her soul was aglow in hers--while shewhispered as he bent over to meet her lips:
"Yes, some day, my sweetheart--yes."
And that magic current of sympathy which was between them made Paul knowwhat she meant. And the gladness of the gods fell upon him and exaltedhim, and his blue eyes swam with tears.
Ah! that was a thought, if that could ever be!
All the way back in the carriage he could only kiss her. Their emotionseemed too deep for words.
And this night was the most divine of any they had spent on theBuergenstock. But there was in it an essence about which only the angelscould write.