by E. F. Benson
She raised her eyes to his.
“But I am tired,” she said. “It would be a disgrace not to be tired every day. It would show you hadn’t made the most of it.”
“I don’t like you to be tired,” he said, “especially since it isn’t lunch-time yet. You haven’t got much more to do, today, I hope.”
“But lots, and all so jolly. Oh, my dear, the world is as full as the sea at high-tide. It would be wretched not to fling oneself into it. But it is only high-tide till after my dance. Then we go down to Meering, and snore, and sleep like pigs and eat like kittens, and sprout like mushrooms.”
“You’ve asked a houseful there,” objected Jack.
“Yes, darling, but it’s only people like you and Esther and Hugh. I shan’t bother about you.”
“Is Hugh coming there?” he asked.
“Yes. He goes abroad directly afterwards, as he has exchanged from the Foreign Office into the Embassy at Rome for six months. He is wise, I think. He doesn’t want to be here when Nadine is married, nor for some time afterwards. But he wants to see her again first.”
“The rest is wise,” said Jack, “but that is abominably foolish.”
“Perhaps it is, but how one hates a young man to be altogether wise. A wise young man is quite intolerable. In fact wisdom generally is intolerable. It would be intolerable of me to lie down after lunch, and not eat and drink what I chose. You would be intolerable if you didn’t make yourself so utterly foolish about me. Oh, Jack, let us die if necessary, but don’t let us be wise before that.”
Jack had nothing to say to this remarkable aspiration, and Dodo went out to join Edith. But he sat still on the edge of the table after she had gone, not altogether at ease. During the last month or so, he had several times experienced impulses not to be accounted for rationally, which had made him ask her if she felt quite well, and now that he collected these occasions in his mind, he could not recollect any very reassuring response on her part. She had told him not to fuss, she had stood before him, radiant, brilliant and said, “Do I look particularly unwell? Why do you want to spoil the loveliest time of all my life?” But she did not seem to have given him any direct answer at all, and the cumulative effect of those possible evasions troubled him a little. But he soon told himself that such a cloud was born of his imagination only, for it was impossible to conceive, when he let himself contemplate the memory of those days since last July, that there could be anything wrong behind them, in so serene a beneficence of happiness were they wrapped. He had never dreamed that the world held such store, and he had not ever so faintly realized how jejune and barren his life had been before. He, for all his fifty years, had not yet lived one-half of them, for less than half himself had passed through the months that made them up. It was as if all his life he had dreamed, dreamed with God knew what shocks and catastrophes that Dodo was his, and last July only he awoke to find that his arms were indeed about her, and that she herself was pressed close to him. And she, too, had told him that she was happy, not pleased merely, or excited or thrilled, but happy. Incredible as it seemed to his modest soul, her happiness was one with his. It seemed there was nothing left to ask God for; the only possible attitude was to stand up and praise and thank Him. Jack did that every day and night that passed.
Dodo, when she left her husband, had not gone straight to the dining-room to join Edith and the cold beef. For half an hour before, she had been conscious of a queer and rather sickening pain, that had made it an effort to continue enthusiastically telephoning and arguing. She had had no real doubt in her own mind that it was the result of a rather strenuous morning without any food except the slice of bread and butter that had accompanied her early bedroom tea, but she thought that she would go upstairs and have her hot bath, which was sure to make her quite comfortable, before she ate. Her bathroom which opened out of her bedroom was prepared for her, the water steaming and smelling of the delicious verbena-salts which her maid had put into it, and convinced that she would feel perfectly fit again after it, she quickly undressed, and went in with bare feet to enjoy herself. But even as she took off her dressing-gown, she had a start of pain that for the moment frightened her, and caused her to stand naked by her bath, holding on to the edge of it. Then the pain gradually drew away, as if pulled out of her by a string, and in a minute more she was quite herself again. But there was the memory of it left, like a black patch, so it seemed, even when it had quite ceased. However, it had gone now, and instinctively obeying the habit of years, she swiftly turned her mind to contemplate the thoroughly delightful things that lay in front of her, rather than the disturbing moment that had passed now, leaving only a black patch in memory. But before she slipped into the hot aromatic water, she wiped the sweat from her forehead. She splashed the steaming water over her back, wriggling a little at the touch of it.
“O Lord, how nice!” she said to herself. “And it’s hardly possible to bear it. And that reminds me that I utterly forgot to say my prayers this morning, because I was in such a hurry. Any one would have been on such a lovely morning, with such a lovely horse waiting at the door. But I am having the nicest time that anybody ever had, and I’ll try not to be quite such a disgrace as I used to be.”
Dodo gave a loud sigh of reverent content and splashed again. It must be understood that she was saying her forgotten prayers.
“And Jack’s a perfect darling,” she went on, “and I am so pleased to love somebody. I never loved anybody before really, if you know what I mean by love, except perhaps Nadine. It makes the most tremendous difference, and one doesn’t think about oneself absolutely all the time, though I daresay very nearly. Of course I was always fond of people, but I think that was chiefly because they were mostly so nice to me. I must go to church next Sunday, which is tomorrow, and do all this properly, but it would have been much more convenient if it had been the day after tomorrow, as I think I promised Jack to play golf with him tomorrow. But I’ll see what can be done. Now I’ve dropped the soap, and isn’t everything extraordinarily mixed up! Oh, please don’t let me have any more pain like what I had just now, if it’s all the same; but of course if I must have it, well, there it is. But I hope it doesn’t mean anything nasty—”
Dodo dropped the soap which she had just rescued from the bottom of the cloudy water, and looked up with bright eyes.
“Oh, my dear, can it be that?” she said aloud. “Is it possible?”
She recollected that she had said “my dear” when she was by way of saying her forgotten prayers, and so added “Amen” very loudly and piously. Then, quite revivified, she got out, dried herself with great speed and went downstairs half-dressed, with an immense fur-coat to cover deficiencies, since it was impossible to wait any longer for food. She felt no fatigue any more, but a sudden intense eagerness at the thought of what possibly that pain might mean. It seemed almost incredible, but she found herself almost longing for a return of that which had frightened her before.
It was impossible for her to cram any more engagements into that day, since they already fitted into each other like the petals of a rose not yet fully blown, but she made an appointment with her doctor for next morning. The interview was not a long one, but Dodo came out from it, wreathed in smiles, immensely excited, and hurried home, where she went straight up to Jack’s room. She seized him with both hands, and kissed him indiscriminately.
“Oh, my dear, you can’t possibly guess,” she said, “because it is quite too ridiculous, and only a person like me could possibly have done anything of the kind, and you’re Zacharias, but you needn’t be dumb. Oh, Jack, don’t you see? Yes: it’s that. I’m going to have a baby, instead of cancer. I was prepared—at least not quite—for its being cancer, which I shouldn’t have enjoyed at all, but Dr. Ingram says it’s the other thing. Did you ever hear anything so nice, and I am a very wonderful woman, aren’t I, and pray God it will be a boy! Oh, Jack, think how bored I was with the bearing of my first child. I didn’t deserve it, and you used to come and ch
eer me up. And then, poor little innocent, it was taken from me. Poor little chap: he would have been Lord Chesterford now instead of you if he had lived. Won’t it seem funny giving birth to the same baby, so to speak, twice? Ah, my dear, but it’s not the same! It’s your child this time, Jack, and I shan’t be bored this time. You see I didn’t really become a woman at all till lately. I was merely a sprightly little devil, and so I suppose God is giving me another chance. Jack, it simply must be a boy: I shall love to hear Lord Harchester cry this time.”
Jack, though informed that he needn’t be like Zacharias, had been dumb because there was no vacant moment to speak in. The news had amazed and astounded him.
“Oh, Dodo!” he said. “Next to yourself, that is the best gift of all. But I’m not sure I forgive you, for suspecting you were ill, and not telling me.”
“Then I shall get along quite nicely without your forgiveness,” said she. “Forgiveness, indeed! Or will it be twins? Wouldn’t that be exciting? But a boy anyhow: I’ve ordered him, and he shall have one blue eye because he’s yours and one brown eye because he’s mine, and so he’ll be like a Welsh collie, and every one will say: ‘What a pretty little dog; does he bite?’ Jack, I hope he’ll be rather a rip when he grows up and make his love to other people’s wives. I suppose I oughtn’t to wish that, but I can’t help it. I like a boy with a little dash in him. He shall be about as tall as you, but much better looking, and oh, to think that I once had a boy before, and didn’t care! My conscience! I care now, and only yesterday I said I should probably soon be a grandmother, and now I’ve got to leave out the grand, and be just a humble mother first. I’m not humble: I’m just as proud as I can stick together.”
Suddenly this amazing flood of speech stopped, and Dodo grew dim-eyed, and laid her head on her husband’s shoulder.
“My soul doth magnify the Lord!” she whispered.
The night of Dodo’s ball had arrived, and she was going to lead the cotillion, but not dance more than she felt to be absolutely necessary. She had told everybody what was going to happen to her, in strict privacy, which was clearly the best way of keeping it secret for the present. Since she was not going to dance more than a step or two she had put on all the jewels she could manage to attach to herself, including the girdle of great emeralds that Waldenech had given her. This was a magnificent adornment, far too nice to give back to him when she divorced him, and she meant to let Nadine have it, as soon as she could bear to part with it herself, which did not seem likely to happen in the immediate future. It consisted of large square stones set in brilliants, and long pear-shaped emeralds depended from it. Jack had once asked her how she could bear to wear it, and she had said: “Darling, when emeralds are as big as that, they help you to bear a good deal. They make a perfect Spartan of me.” In other respects she wore what she called the “nursery fender,” which was a diamond crown so high that children would have been safe from falling over it into the fire, the famous Chesterford pearls, and a sort of breast-plate of rubies, like the High-priest.
“I suppose it’s dreadfully vulgar to wear so many jewels,” she said to Jack, as they took their stand at the top of the stairs, where Dodo intended to remain and receive her guests, as long as she could bear not being in the ball-room, “but most people who have got very nice stones like me I notice are vulgar. The truly refined people are those who have got three garnets and one zircon. They also say that big pearls, great eggs like these, are vulgar and seed-pearls tasteful. What a word, ‘tasteful’! And they talk of people’s being very simply and exquisitely dressed. Thank God, no one can say I’m simply dressed tonight. I’m not: I’m the most elaborate object for miles round. Jack, when my baby— Dear Lady Ayr, how nice to see you, and Esther and John. Seymour dined here, and he has been taking notes of our clothes for the new paper called Gowns!”
As in the old days, when Dodo piped, the world danced, and she was as vital, as charged with that magnetism that spreads enjoyment round itself more infectiously than influenza, tonight as ever. Her beauty, too, was like a rose, full-blown, but without one petal yet fallen: and she stood there, in the glory of her incomparable form, jeweled and superb, a Juno decked for a feast among the high gods. All the world of her friends streamed up the stairs to be welcomed by that wonderful smiling face, and many instead of going in to the ball-room waited round the balustrade at the stair-head watching her. By degrees the tide of arriving guests slackened, and she turned to Jack.
“Jack dear, the band is turning all my blood into champagne,” she said. “Come and have one turn with me round the ball-room. Why are they all standing about, instead of going to dance? Do they want to be shown how? Just once round, or perhaps twice, and then I will stop quiet until the cotillion.”
Dodo suddenly knit her eyebrows, and looked sharply down into the hall below.
“I was right, and you were wrong,” she said. “There’s Waldenech just come in. He is not going to come upstairs. Wait here for me.”
Jack stepped forward.
“No, that’s for me to do,” he said
Dodo laid her hand on his arm.
“Do as I tell you, my dear,” she said. “Wait here: it won’t take me a minute.”
She went straight down into the hall: all smiles and gaiety had left her face, but its vitality was quite unimpaired. The color that was in her cheeks had left them, but it was not fear that had driven it away, but anger. He was just receiving a ticket for his hat and coat, and she went straight up to him.
“Waldenech, take your hat and coat, and go away,” she said. “You must have come to the wrong house, you were not asked here.”
He turned at the sound of her voice, and looked up at her.
“You incomparable creature,” he said rather thickly. “You pearl!”
“Give the Prince his hat and coat,” said Dodo. “Now go, Waldenech, before I disgrace you. I mean it: if you do not go quietly and at once, you shall be turned out.”
His eyes wandered unsteadily from her face to her bosom, and down to her waist where the great girdle gleamed and shone.
“You still wear the jewels I gave you,” he said.
Dodo instantly undid the clasp, and the girdle fell on to the carpet.
“I do not wear them any more,” she said. “Take them, and go.”
He stood there for a moment without moving. Then he bent down and picked them up.
“I ask your pardon most humbly,” he said. “I am a gentleman, really. Please let me see you put the girdle on again, before I go; and say you forgive me. If your husband knows I am here, ask his pardon for me also.”
Some great wave of pity came over Dodo, utterly quenching her anger.
“Oh, Waldenech, you have all my forgiveness, my dear,” she said. “But take the jewels.”
“I ask you to give me that sign of your forgiveness,” he said.
Dodo smiled at him.
“Fasten it yourself, then,” she said.
His fingers halted over this, but in a moment he had found and secured the clasp.
“Good-night,” he said.
* * * *
The whole scene had lasted not more than a minute, and scarcely half-a-dozen people had seen her speaking to him, or knew who it was. Berts, who had just arrived, was one of these. Dodo turned to him.
“Ah, there you are, Berts,” she said. “We are going to begin the cotillion exactly at twelve. Yes, poor dear Waldenech looked in, but he couldn’t stop. You might remember not to tell Nadine. And why wasn’t Edith here for dinner? Or isn’t she staying here now? Now I come to think of it I haven’t seen her all day.”
“She left you yesterday,” said Berts, “and I’ve just left her at home eating a chop and correcting proofs of a part-song. She was also singing. She’s coming though, and says she will lead the cotillion with me, and she’s sure you oughtn’t to. She didn’t say why.”
Dodo went up to Jack.
“He went like a lamb, poor dear,” she said, “though I thought for a mo
ment he was going to stop like a lion. It gave me a little heart-ache, Jack, for, after all, you know— Now we are going twice round the ball-room. It isn’t much of a heart-ache, it’s only a little one, and I expect it will soon stop.”
This, it may be expected, was the case, for certainly Dodo did not behave as if she had any kind of ache, however little, anywhere, and, whether she danced or sat still, was the sun and center of the brilliant scene. Wall-flowers raised their heads on her approach, and were galvanized into vitality. She ordained that there should be a waltz in which nobody should take part who was not over forty, led off herself with Lord Ayr, who had not had a wink of sleep all evening, and was far too much surprised to be capable of resistance, and convinced him that his dancing days were not nearly over yet. All manner of women who had hoped that nobody dreamed that they were more than thirty-five at the most followed her, reckless of the antiquity which they had publicly and irrevocably acknowledged, while Edith Arbuthnot, arriving in the middle of this and being quite unable to find a disengaged gentleman of suitable years, pirouetted up and down the room all by herself, until she clawed hold of Jack, who was taking the breathless Lady Ayr to get some strictly unalcoholic refreshment.
“I don’t know how I came to do it,” said this lady to Esther, as she drank her lemonade. “I haven’t danced for years. Somehow I feel as if it was Lady Chesterford’s fault. She has got into everybody’s head, it seems to me. We’re all behaving like boys and girls. Fancy Ayr dancing, too! Ayr, I saw you dancing.”
Lord Ayr had come in with Dodo, at the end of this, unutterably briskened up.
“And I saw you dancing, my dear,” he said. “And I hope you feel all the better for it, because I do.”
“We all do,” said Dodo, “and we’ll all do it again. I want everything at once, a cigarette and an ice and a glass of champagne and Berts. Esther, be angelic and fetch me Berts. Don’t tell him only I want him, but fetch him. Oh, Jack, isn’t it fun: yes, darling, we’re going to begin the cotillion immediately, and I’m going to be ever so quiet. Edith, it was dear of you to offer to take my place, but I wouldn’t give it up to Terpsichore herself or even Salome. Jack dear, go and make every one go and sit down in two rows round the ball-room, and if anybody finds a rather large diamond about, it’s probably mine, though I never wrote my name on it.… Wasn’t it careless? It resembles the Koh-i-noor. Oh, Berts, there you are. Now don’t lose your head, but give all the plainest women the most favors. Then the pretty ones will easily see the plan, and the plain ones won’t. It’s the greatest happiness for the plainest number.”