CHAPTER III.
Two mornings later M. Dumaresque stood in the Caron reception roomstaring with some dissatisfaction across the breadth of green lawnwhere the dryad and faun statues held vases of vining and bloomingthings.
He had just been told the dowager was not yet to be seen. That wasonly what he had expected; but he had also been told that theMarquise, accompanied, as usual, by Madame Blanc, had been out for twohours--and that he had not expected.
"Did she divine I would be in evidence this morning?" Then he glancedin a pier glass and grimaced. "Gone out with that plain Madame Blanc,when she might have had a treat--an hour with me!"
While he stood there both the Marquise and her companion appeared,walking briskly. Madame Blanc, a stout woman of thirty-five, wasrather breathless.
"My dear Marquise, you do not walk, you fly," she gasped, halting onthe steps.
"You poor dear!" said the Marquise, patting her kindly on theshoulder. "I know you are faint for want of your coffee," and at thesame time her strong young arms helped the panting attendant mount thesteps more quickly.
Once within the hall Madame Blanc dropped into the chair nearest thedoor, while the Marquise swept into the reception room and hastily toa window fronting on the street.
"How foolish of me," she breathed aloud. "How my heart beats!"
"Allow me to prescribe," said Dumaresque, stepping from behind thescreen of the curtain, and smiling at her.
She retreated, her hands clasped over her breast, her eyes startled;then meeting his eyes she began to laugh a little nervously.
"How you frightened me!"
"And it was evidently not the first, this morning."
She sank into a seat, indicated another to him, away from the window,removed her hat and leaned back looking at him.
"No, you are not," she said at last. "But account for yourself,Monsieur Loris! The sun is not yet half way on its course, yet you areactually awake, and visible to humanity--it looks serious."
"It is," he agreed, smiling at her, yet a trifle nervous in hisregard. "I have taken advantage of the only hour out of the twentywhen there would be a chance of seeing you alone. So I made anerrand--and I am here."
"And--?"
"And I have determined that, after the fashion of the Americans or theEnglish, I shall no longer ask the intervention of a third person. Idecided on it last night before I left here. I have no title to offeryou--you coldest and most charming of women, but I shall have fame;you will have no reason to be ashamed of the name of Dumaresque. Putme on probation, if you like, a year, two years!--only--"
"No; no!" she said pleadingly, putting out her hands with a slightrepellant gesture. "It is not to be thought of, Monsieur Loris, Mamanhas told you! Twice has the same reply been given. I really cannotallow you to continue this suppliance. I like you too well to beangry with you, but--"
"I shall be content with the liking--"
"But I should not!" she declared, smilingly. "I have my ideals, if youplease, Monsieur. Marriage should mean love. It is only matrimony forwhich liking is the foundation. I do not approve of matrimony."
"Pardon; that is the expression of the romance lover--the school girl.But that I know you have lived the life of a nun I should fear someone had been before me, some one who realized those ideals of yours,and that instead of studying the philosophies of life, you have been astudent of the philosophy of love."
He spoke lightly--half laughingly, but the flush of pink suffusing herthroat and brow checked his smile. He could only stare.
She arose hastily and walked the length of the room. When she turnedthe color was all gone, but her eyes were softly shining.
"All philosophy falls dead when the heart speaks," she said, as sheresumed her chair; "and now, Monsieur Loris, I mean to make you myfather confessor, for I know no better way of ending these periodicalproposals of yours, and at the same time confession might--well--itmight not be without a certain benefit to myself." He perceived thatwhile she had assumed an air of raillery, there was some substanceback of the mocking shadow.
"I shall feel honored by your confidence, Marquise," he was earnestenough in that.
"And when you realize that there is--some one else--will you thenresume your former role of friend?"
"I shall try. Who is the man?"
She met his earnest gaze with a demure smile, "I do not know,Monsieur."
"What, then?--you are only jesting with me?"
"Truly, I do not know his name."
"Yet you are in love with him?"
"I am not quite certain even of that," and she smiled mockingly;"sometimes I have a fancy it may be witchcraft. I only know I amhaunted--have been haunted four long weeks by a face, a voice, and twoblue eyes."
"Blue?" Dumaresque glanced in the mirror--his own eyes were blue.
"Yes, Monsieur Loris--blue with a dash of grey--the grey of the seawhen clouds are heavy, and the blue of the farthest waves before thestorm breaks--don't you see the color?"
"Only the color of your fancy. He is the owner of blue eyes, ahaunting voice, and--what else is my rival?"
"A foreigner, and--Monsieur Incognito."
"You have met?"
"Three times;" and she held up as many white fingers. The replyevidently astounded Dumaresque.
"You have met three times a man whose name you do not know?"
"We are even on that score," she said, "for he has spoken to me threetimes and does not know what I am called."
"But to address you--"
"He called me Mademoiselle Unknown."
"Bravo! This grows piquant; an adventure with all the flavor of theeighteenth instead of the nineteenth century. A real adventure, andyou its heroine! Oh, Marquise, Marquise!"
"Ah! since you appreciate the humor of the affair you will no longerbe oppressed by sentimental fancies concerning me;" and she nodded herhead as though well pleased with the experiment of her confession."You perceive how wildly improper I have been; still, I deny theeighteenth century flavor, Monsieur. Then, with three meetings thecavalier would have developed into a lover, and having gained entranceto a lady's heart, he would have claimed also the key to her castle."
"Astute pupil of the nuns!--and Monsieur Incognito?"
"He certainly does not fancy me possessed of either castle or keys. Iwas to him only an unpretentious English companion in attendance onMadame Blanc in the woods of Fontainbleau."
"English! Since when are you fond enough of them to claim kindred?"
"He was English; he supposed me so when I replied to him in thattongue. He had taken the wrong path and--"
"And you walked together on another, also the wrong path."
"No, Monsieur; that first day we only bowed and parted, but the ghostof his voice remained," and she sighed in comical self-pity.
"I see! You have first given me the overture and now the curtain is torise. Who opens the next scene?"
"Madame Blanc."
"My faith! This grows tragical. Blanc, the circumspect, the dowager'smost trusted companion. Has your stranger bewitched her also?"
"She was too near sighted to tell him from the others. I was making asketch of beeches and to pass the time she fed the carp. A fan bywhich she set store, fell into the water. She lamented until MonsieurIncognito secured it. Of course I had to be the one to thank him, asshe speaks no English."
"Certainly!--and then?"
"Then I found a seat in the shade for Madame Blanc and her crochet,and selected a sunny spot myself, where I could dry the fan."
"Alone?"
"At first, I was alone."
"Delicious! You were never more charming, Marquise; go on."
"When he saw Madame Blanc placidly knitting under the trees, while Ispread her fan to dry, he fancied I was in her service; the fancy wasgiven color by the fact that my companion, as usual, was dressed withextreme elegance, whilst I was insignificant in an old school habit."
"Insignificant--um! There was conversation I presume?"
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p; "Not much," she confessed, and again the delicious wave of color sweptover her face, "but he had suggested spreading the fan on hishandkerchief, and of course then he had to remain until it was dry."
"Clever Englishman; and as he supposed you to be a paid companion, washe, also, some gentleman's gentleman?"
She flashed one mutinous glance at him.
"The jest seemed to me amusing; his presence was an exhilaration; andI did not correct his little mistake as to mistress and maid. When heattempted to tell me who or what he was I stopped him; that would havespoiled the adventure. I know he had just come from England; that hewas fascinating without being strictly handsome; that he could saythrough silence the most eloquent things to one! It was an hour inArcady--just one hour without past or future. They are the onlyabsolutely joyous ones, are they not?"
"Item: it was the happiest hour in the life of Madame La Marquise,"commented Dumaresque, with an attempt at drollery, and an accompanimentof a sigh. "Well--the finale?"
"The hour ended! I said 'good day, Monsieur Incognito.' He said, 'goodnight, Mademoiselle Unknown.'"
"Good night! Heavens--it was not then an hour, but a day!"
"It was an hour, Monsieur! That was only one way of conveying hisbelief that all the day was in that hour."
"Blessed be the teachings of the convent! And you would have mebelieve that an Englishman could make such speeches? However, I ameager for the finale--the next day?"
"The next day I surprised Monsieur and Madame Blanc by declaring thesketch I was doing of the woods there, was hopelessly bad--I wouldnever complete it."
"Ah!" and Dumaresque's exclamation had a note of hope; "he had been abore after all?"
"The farthest thing possible from it! When I woke in the morning itwas an hour earlier than usual. I found myself with my eyes scarcelyopen, standing before the clock to reckon every instant of time untilI should see him again. Well, from that moment my adventure ceased tobe merely amusing. I told myself how many kinds of an idiot I was, andI thrust my head among the pillows again. I realized then, Monsieur,what a girl's first romance means to her. I laughed at myself, ofcourse, as I had laughed at others often. But I could not laugh downthe certainty that the skies were bluer, the birds' songs sweeter, andall life more lovely than it had ever been before."
"And by what professions, or what mystic rhymes or runes, did he bringabout this enchantment?"
"Not by a single sentence of protestation? An avowal would have sentme from him without a regret. If we had not met at all after thatfirst look, that first day, I am convinced I should have been hauntedby him just the same! There were long minutes when we did not speak orlook at each other; but those minutes were swept with harmonies. Now,Monsieur Loris, would you call that love, or is it a sort ofsummer-time madness?"
"Probably both, Marquise; but there was a third meeting?"
"After three days, Monsieur; days when I forced myself to remainindoors; and the struggle it was, when I could close my eyes and seehim waiting there under the trees!"
"Ah! There had been an appointment?"
"Pardon, Monsieur; you are perhaps confounding this with someremembered adventure of your own. There was no appointment. But I feltconfident that blue-eyed ogre was walking every morning along the pathwhere I met him first, and that he would compel me to open the doorand walk straight to our own clump of bushes so long as I did not sendhim away."
"And you finally went?"
She nodded. "He was there. His smile was like sunshine. He approachedme, but I--I did not wait. I went straight to him. He said, 'At last,Mademoiselle Unknown!'"
"Pardon; but it is your words I have most interest in," reminded herconfessor.
"But I said so few. I remember I had some violets, and he asked mewhat they were called in French. I told him I was going away; I hadfed the carp for the last time. He was also leaving. He had gatheredsome wild forget-me-nots. He was coming into Paris."
"And you parted unknown to each other?"
"How could I do else? When he said, 'I bid you good-bye, MademoiselleUnknown, but we shall meet again.' Then--then I did correct him alittle; I said _Madame_ Unknown, Monsieur."
"Ah! And to that--?"
"He said not a word, only looked at me; _how_ he looked at me! I feltguilty as a criminal. When I looked up he turned away--turned verypolitely, with lifted hat and a bow even you could not improve upon,Monsieur Loris, I watched him out of sight in the forest. He neverhalted; and he never turned his head."
"You might at least have let him go without the thought that you werea flirtatious matron with a husband somewhere in the back-ground."
"Yes; I almost regret that. Still, since I had to send him away, whatmatter how? It would have been so common-place had I said: 'We receiveon Thursdays; find Loris Dumaresque when you reach Paris; he willpresent you.' No!"--and she shook her head laughingly, "the three dayswere quite enough. He is an unknown world; a romance only suggested,and the suggestion is delicious. I would not for the world have himnearer prosaic reality."
"You will forget him in another three weeks," prophesied Dumaresque;"he has been only a shadow of a man; a romantic dream. I shall refuseto accept any but realities as rivals."
"I assure you, no reality has been so appealing as that dream," shepersisted. "I am telling you all this with the hope that once I havelaughed with you over this witchcraft it will be robbed of itspotency. I have destroyed the sacred wall of sentiment surroundingthis ghost of mine because I rebel at being mastered by it."
"Mastered?--you?"
"Oh, you laugh! You think me, then, too cold or too philosophic, inspite of what I have just told you?"
"Not cold, my dear Marquise. But if you will pardon the liberty ofanalysis I will venture the opinion that when you are mastered it willbe by yourself. Your very well-shaped head will forever defend youfrom the mastery of others."
"Mastered by myself? I do not think I quite understand you," she said,slowly. "But I must tell you the extreme limit of my folly, the follyof the imagination. Each morning I go for a walk, as I did thismorning. Each time I leave the door I have with me the fancy thatsomewhere I shall meet him. Of course my reason tells me howimprobable it is, but I put the reason aside and enjoy my walk all themore because of that fancied tryst. Now, Monsieur Loris, you have beenthe victim of my romance long enough. Come; we will join Madame Blancand have some coffee."
"And this is all you have to tell me, Marquise?"
"All but one little thing, Monsieur," and she laughed, though thelaugh was a trifle nervous; "this morning for an instant I thoughtthe impossible had happened. Only one street from here my ogrematerialized again, or some one wondrously like him. How startledI was! How I hurried poor Madame Blanc! But we were evidently notdiscovered. I realized, however, at that moment, how imprudent I hadbeen. How shocked Maman would be if she knew. Yet it was really themost innocent jest, to begin with."
"They often begin that way," remarked Dumaresque, consolingly.
"Well, I have arrived at one conclusion. It is only because I have metso few men, that _one_ dare make such an overwhelming impression onme. I rebel; and shall amaze Maman by becoming a social butterfly fora season. So, in future bring all your most charming friends to seeme; but no tall, athletic, blue-eyed Englishmen."
"So," said Dumaresque, as he followed her to the breakfast room, "Ilay awake all night that I may make love to you early in the morning,and you check-mate me by thrusting forward a brawny Englishman."
"Pardon; he is not brawny;" she laughed; "I never said so;nevertheless, Monsieur Loris, I can teach you one thing: When love hasto be _made_ it is best not to waste time with it. The real love makesitself and will neither be helped or hindered; and the love that canbe conquered is not worth having."
He shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.
"In a year and a day I shall return to the discussion. I give you solong to change your mind and banish your phantasy; and in the meantimeI remain your most devoted visitor.
"
Madame Blanc was already in evidence with the coffee, and Dumaresquewatched the glowing face of the Marquise, surprised and puzzled atthis new influence she confessed to and asked analysis for. Thisbook-worm; this reader of law and philosophy; how charming had beenher blushes even while she spoke in half mockery of the face hauntingher. If only such color would sweep over her cheek at the thought ofhim--Dumaresque!
But he had his lesson for the present. He would not play thesighing Strephon, realizing that this particular Amaryllis was notto be won so. As he received the coffee from her hand he remarked,mischievously, "Marquise, you did not quite complete the story. Whatbecame of the forget-me-nots he gathered?"
But the Marquise only laughed.
"We are no longer in the confessional, Monsieur," she said.
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