The Primadonna

by F. Marion Crawford

  CHAPTER XIII

  The _Elisir d'Amore_ was received with enthusiasm, but the tenorhad it all his own way, as Lushington had foretold, and when PompeoStromboli sang 'Una furtiva lacrima' the incomparable Cordova was foronce eclipsed in the eyes of a hitherto faithful public. Covent Gardensurrendered unconditionally. Metaphorically speaking, it rolled overon its back, with its four paws in the air, like a small dog that hasgot the worst of a fight and throws himself on the bigger dog's mercy.

  Margaret was applauded, but as a matter of course. There was noelectric thrill in the clapping of hands; she got the formal applausewhich is regularly given to the sovereign, but not the enthusiasmwhich is bestowed spontaneously on the conqueror. When she butteredher face and got the paint off, she was a little pale, and hereyes were not kind. It was the first time that she had not carriedeverything before her since she had begun her astonishing career, andin her first disappointment she had not philosophy enough to consoleherself with the consideration that it would have been infinitelyworse to be thrown into the shade by another lyric soprano, insteadof by the most popular lyric tenor on the stage. She was alsouncomfortably aware that Lushington had predicted what had happened,and she was informed that he had not even taken the trouble to cometo the first performance of the opera. Logotheti, who knew everythingabout his old rival, had told her that Lushington was in Paris thatweek, and was going on to see his mother in Provence.

  The Primadonna was put out with herself and with everybody, after themanner of great artists when a performance has not gone exactly asthey had hoped. The critics said the next morning that the Senorita daCordova had been in good voice and had sung with excellent taste andjudgment, but that was all: as if any decent soprano might not do aswell! They wrote as if she might have been expected to show neitherjudgment nor taste, and as if she were threatened with a cold. Thenthey went on to praise Pompeo Stromboli with the very words theyusually applied to her. His voice was full, rich, tender, vibrating,flexible, soft, powerful, stirring, natural, cultivated, superb,phenomenal, and perfectly fresh. The critics had a severe attack of'adjectivitis.'

  Paul Griggs had first applied the name to that inflammation oflanguage to which many young writers are subject when cutting theirliterary milk-teeth, and from which musical critics are never quiteimmune. Margaret could no longer help reading what was written abouther; that was one of the signs of the change that had come over her,and she disliked it, and sometimes despised herself for it, thoughshe was quite unable to resist the impulse. The appetite for flatterywhich comes of living on it may be innocent, but it is never harmless.Dante consigned the flatterers to Inferno, and more particularly to avery nasty place there: it is true that there were no musical criticsin his day; but he does not say much about the flattered, perhapsbecause they suffer enough when they find out the truth, or lose thegift for which they have been over-praised.

  The Primadonna was in a detestably uncomfortable state of mind on theday after the performance of the revived opera. Her dual nature washopelessly mixed; Cordova was in a rage with Stromboli, Schreiermeyer,Baci-Roventi, and the whole company, not to mention Signor Bambinellithe conductor, the whole orchestra, and the dead composer of the_Elisir d'Amore_; but Margaret Donne was ashamed of herself forcaring, and for being spoilt, and for bearing poor Lushington a grudgebecause he had foretold a result that was only to be expected withsuch a tenor as Stromboli; she despised herself for wickedly wishingthat the latter had cracked on the final high note and had madehimself ridiculous. But he had not cracked at all; in imagination shecould hear the note still, tremendous, round, and persistently drawnout, as if it came out of a tenor trombone and had all the world'slungs behind it.

  In her mortification Cordova was ready to give up lyric opera andstudy Wagner, in order to annihilate Pompeo Stromboli, who did noteven venture _Lohengrin_. Schreiermeyer had unkindly told him that ifhe arrayed his figure in polished armour he would look like a silverteapot; and Stromboli was very sensitive to ridicule. Even if he hadpossessed a dramatic voice, he could never have bounded about thestage in pink tights and the exiguous skin of an unknown wild animalas Siegfried, and in the flower scene of _Parsifal_ he would havelooked like Falstaff in _The Merry Wives of Windsor_. But Cordovacould have made herself into a stately Brunhilde, a wild and lovelyKundry, or a fair and fateful Isolde, with the very least amount ofartificial aid that theatrical illusion admits.

  Margaret Donne, disgusted with Cordova, said that her voice was aboutas well adapted for one of those parts as a sick girl's might be forgiving orders at sea in a storm. Cordova could not deny this, and fellback upon the idea of having an opera written for her, expressly toshow off her voice, with a _crescendo_ trill in every scene and a highD at the end; and Margaret Donne, who loved music for its own sake,was more disgusted than ever, and took up a book in order to get ridof her professional self, and tried so hard to read that she almostgave herself a headache.

  Pompeo Stromboli was really the most sweet-tempered creature in theworld, and called during the afternoon with the idea of apologisingfor having eclipsed her, but was told that she was resting and wouldsee no one. Fraeulein Ottilie Braun also came, and Margaret wouldprobably have seen her, but had not given any special orders, so thekindly little person trotted off, and Margaret knew nothing of hercoming; and the day wore on quickly; and when she wanted to go out, itat once began to rain furiously; and, at last, in sheer impatience ateverything, she telephoned to Logotheti, asking him to come and dinealone with her if he felt that he could put up with her temper, which,she explained, was atrocious. She heard the Greek laugh gaily at theother end of the wire.

  'Will you come?' she asked, impatient that anybody should be in a goodhumour when she was not.

  'I'll come now, if you'll let me,' he answered readily.

  'No. Come to dinner at half-past eight.' She waited a moment and thenwent on. 'I've sent down word that I'm not at home for any one, and Idon't like to make you the only exception.'

  'Oh, I see,' answered Logotheti's voice. 'But I've always wanted to bethe only exception. I say, does half-past eight mean a quarter pastnine?'

  'No. It means a quarter past eight, if you like. Good-bye!'

  She cut off the communication abruptly, being a little afraid that ifshe let him go on chattering any longer she might yield and allow himto come at once. In her solitude she was intensely bored by her ownbad temper, and was nearer to making him the 'only exception' than shehad often been of late. She said to herself that he always amused her,but in her heart she was conscious that he was the only man in theworld who knew how to flatter her back into a good temper, and wouldtake the trouble to do so. It was better than nothing to look forwardto a pleasant evening, and she went back to her novel and her cup oftea already half reconciled with life.

  It rained almost without stopping. At times it poured, which reallydoes not happen often in much-abused London; but even heavy rainis not so depressing in spring as it is in winter, and when thePrimadonna raised her eyes from her book and looked out of the bigwindow, she was not thinking of the dreariness outside but of whatshe should wear in the evening. To tell the truth, she did not oftentrouble herself much about that matter when she was not going to sing,and all singers and actresses who habitually play 'costume parts' areconscious of looking upon stage-dressing and ordinary dressing fromtotally different points of view. By far the larger number of themhave their stage clothes made by a theatrical tailor, and only anoccasional eccentric celebrity goes to Worth or Doucet to be dressedfor a 'Juliet,' a 'Tosca,' or a 'Dona Sol.'

  Margaret looked at the rain and decided that Logotheti should not findher in a tea-gown, not because it would look too intimate, but becausetea-gowns suggest weariness, the state of being misunderstood, and acraving for sympathy. A woman who is going to surrender to fate putson a tea-gown, but a well-fitting body indicates strength of characterand virtuous firmness.

  I remember a smart elderly Frenchwoman who always bestowed unusualcare on every detail of her dress
, visible and invisible, before goingto church. Her niece was in the room one Sunday while she was dressingfor church, and asked why she took so much trouble.

  'My dear,' was the answer, 'Satan is everywhere, and one can neverknow what may happen.'

  Margaret was very fond of warm greys, and fawn tints, and dove colour,and she had lately got a very pretty dress that was exactly to hertaste, and was made of a newly invented thin material of pure silk,which had no sheen and cast no reflections of light, and was slightlyelastic, so that it fitted as no ordinary silk or velvet ever could.Alphonsine called the gown a 'legend,' but a celebrated painter whohad lately seen it said it was an 'Indian twilight,' which might meananything, as Paul Griggs explained, because there is no twilight tospeak of in India. The dress-maker who had made it called the colour'fawn's stomach,' which was less poetical, and the fabric, 'veil ofnun in love,' which showed little respect for monastic institutions.As for the way in which the dress was made, it is folly to rush intocompetition with tailors and dress-makers, who know what they aretalking about, and are able to say things which nobody can understand.

  The plain fact is that the Primadonna began to dress early, out ofsheer boredom, had her thick brown hair done in the most becoming wayin spite of its natural waves, which happened to be unfashionable justthen, and she put on the new gown with all the care and considerationwhich so noble a creation deserved.

  'Madame is adorable,' observed Alphonsine. 'Madame is a dream. Madamehas only to lift her little finger, and kings will fall into ecstasybefore her.'

  'That would be very amusing,' said Margaret, looking at herself in theglass, and less angry with the world than she had been. 'I have neverseen a king in ecstasy.'

  'The fault is Madame's,' returned Alphonsine, possibly with truth.

  When Margaret went into the drawing-room Logotheti was already there,and she felt a thrill of pleasure when his expression changed at sightof her. It is not easy to affect the pleased surprise which the suddenappearance of something beautiful brings into the face of a man who isnot expecting anything unusual.

  'Oh, I say!' exclaimed the Greek. 'Let me look at you!'

  And instead of coming forward to take her hand, he stepped back inorder not to lose anything of the wonderful effect by being too near.Margaret stood still and smiled in the peculiar way which is a woman'sequivalent for a cat's purring. Then, to Logotheti's still greaterdelight, she slowly turned herself round, to be admired, like a statueon a pivoted pedestal, quite regardless of a secret consciousness thatMargaret Donne would not have done such a thing for him, and probablynot for any other man.

  'You're really too utterly stunning!' he cried.

  In moments of enthusiasm he sometimes out-Englished Englishmen.

  'I'm glad you like it,' Margaret said. 'This is the first time I'veworn it.'

  'If you put it on for me, thank you! If not, thank you for putting iton! I'm not asking, either. I should think you would wear it if youwere alone for the mere pleasure of feeling like a goddess.'

  'You're very nice!'

  She was satisfied, and for a moment she forgot Pompeo Stromboli, the_Elisir d'Amore_, the public, and the critics. It was particularly'nice' of him, too, not to insist upon being told that she had put onthe new creation solely for his benefit. Next to not assuming rashlythat a woman means anything of the sort expressly for him, it is wiseof a man to know when she really does, without being told. At least,so Margaret thought just then; but it is true that she wanted him toamuse her and was willing to be pleased.

  She executed the graceful swaying movement which only a well-madewoman can make just before sitting down for the first time in aperfectly new gown. It is a slightly serpentine motion; and as thereis nothing to show that Eve did not meet the Serpent again after shehad taken to clothes, she may have learnt the trick from him. There iscertainly something diabolical about it when it is well done.

  Logotheti's almond-shaped eyes watched her quietly, and he stoodmotionless till she was established on her chair. Then he seatedhimself at a little distance.

  'I hope I was not rude,' he said, in artful apology, 'but it's notoften that one's breath is taken away by what one sees. Horrid weatherall day, wasn't it? Have you been out at all?'

  'No. I've been moping. I told you that I was in a bad humour, but Idon't want to talk about it now that I feel better. What have you beendoing? Tell me all sorts of amusing things, where you have been, whomyou have seen, and what people said to you.'

  'That might be rather dull,' observed the Greek.

  'I don't believe it. You are always in the thick of everything that'shappening.'

  'We have agreed to-day to lend Russia some more money. But thatdoesn't interest you, does it? There's to be a European conferenceabout the Malay pirates, but there's nothing very funny in that. Itwould be more amusing to hear the pirates' view of Europeans. Let mesee. Some one has discovered a conspiracy in Italy against Austria,and there is another in Austria against the Italians. They are thesame old plots that were discovered six months ago, but people hadforgotten about them, so they are as good as new. Then there is thesad case of that Greek.'

  'What Greek? I've not heard about that. What has happened to him?'

  'Oh, nothing much. It's only a love-story--the same old thing.'

  'Tell me.'

  'Not now, for we shall have to go to dinner just when I get tothe most thrilling part of it, I'm sure.' Logotheti laughed. 'Andbesides,' he added, 'the man isn't dead yet, though he's not expectedto live. I'll tell you about your friend Mr. Feist instead. He hasbeen very ill too.'

  'I would much rather know about the Greek love-story,' Margaretobjected. 'I never heard of Mr. Feist.'

  She had quite forgotten the man's existence, but Logotheti recalledto her memory the circumstances under which they had met, and Feist'sunhealthy face with its absurdly youthful look, and what he hadsaid about having been at the Opera in New York on the night of theexplosion.

  'Why do you tell me all this?' Margaret asked. 'He was adisgusting-looking man, and I never wish to see him again. Tell meabout the Greek. When we go to dinner you can finish the story inFrench. We spoke French the first time we met, at Madame Bonanni's. Doyou remember?'

  'Yes, of course I do. But I was telling you about Mr. Feist--'

  'Dinner is ready,' Margaret said, rising as the servant opened thedoor.

  To her surprise the man came forward. He said that just as he wasgoing to announce dinner Countess Leven had telephoned that she wasdining out, and would afterwards stop on her way to the play in thehope of seeing Margaret for a moment. She had seemed to be in a hurry,and had closed the communication before the butler could answer. Anddinner was served, he added.

  Margaret nodded carelessly, and the two went into the dining-room.Lady Maud could not possibly come before half-past nine, and there wasplenty of time to decide whether she should be admitted or not.

  'Mr. Feist has been very ill,' Logotheti said as they sat down totable under the pleasant light, 'and I have been taking care of him,after a fashion.'

  Margaret raised her eyebrows a little, for she was beginning to beannoyed at his persistency, and was not much pleased at the prospectof Lady Maud's visit.

  'How very odd!' she said, rather coldly. 'I cannot imagine anythingmore disagreeable.'

  'It has been very unpleasant,' Logotheti answered, 'but he seemed tohave no particular friends here, and he was all alone at an hotel, andreally very ill. So I volunteered.'

  'I've no objection to being moderately sorry for a young man who fallsill at an hotel and has no friends,' Margaret said, 'but are you goingin for nursing? Is that your latest hobby? It's a long way from art,and even from finance!'

  'Isn't it?'

  'Yes. I'm beginning to be curious!'

  'I thought you would be before long,' Logotheti answered coolly, butsuddenly speaking French. 'One of the most delightful things in lifeis to have one's curiosity roused and then satisfied by very slowdegrees!'

  'Not too sl
ow, please. The interest might not last to the end.'

  'Oh yes, it will, for Mr. Feist plays a part in your life.'

  'About as distant as Voltaire's Chinese Mandarin, I fancy,' Margaretsuggested.

  'Nearer than that, though I did not guess it when I went to see him.In the first place, it was owing to you that I went to see him thefirst time.'

  'Nonsense!'

  'Not at all. Everything that happens to me is connected with you insome way. I came to see you late in the afternoon, on one of youroff-days not long ago, hoping that you would ask me to dine, but youwere across the river at Lord Creedmore's. I met old Griggs at yourdoor, and as we walked away he told me that Mr. Feist had fallen downin a fit at a club, the night before, and had been sent home in a cabto the Carlton. As I had nothing to do, worth doing, I went to seehim. If you had been at home, I should never have gone. That is what Imean when I say that you were the cause of my going to see him.'

  'In the same way, if you had been killed by a motor-car as you wentaway from my door, I should have been the cause of your death!'

  'You will be in any case,' laughed Logotheti, 'but that's a detail! Ifound Mr. Feist in a very bad way.'

  'What was the matter with him?' asked Margaret.

  'He was committing suicide,' answered the Greek with the utmost calm.'If I were in Constantinople I should tell you that this turbot isextremely good, but as we are in London I suppose it would be very badmanners to say so, wouldn't it? So I am thinking it.'

  'Take the fish for granted, and tell me more about Mr. Feist!'

  'I found him standing before the glass with a razor in his hand andquite near his throat. When he saw me he tried to laugh and said hewas just going to shave; I asked him if he generally shaved withoutsoap and water, and he burst into tears.'

  'That's rather dreadful,' observed Margaret. 'What did you do?'

  'I saved his life, but I don't think he's very grateful yet. Perhapshe may be by and by. When he stopped sobbing he tried to kill me forhindering his destruction, but I had got the razor in my pocket, andhis revolver missed fire. That was lucky, for he managed to stick themuzzle against my chest and pull the trigger just as I got him down.I wished I had brought old Griggs with me, for they say he can bend agood horse-shoe double, even now, and the fellow had the strength ofa lunatic in him. It was rather lively for a few seconds, and then hebroke down again, and was as limp as a rag, and trembled with fright,as if he saw queer things in the room.'

  'You sent for a doctor then?'

  'My own, and we took care of him together that night. You may laugh atthe idea of my having a doctor, as I never was ill in my life. I havehim to dine with me now and then, because he is such good company, andis the best judge of a statue or a picture I know. The habit of takingthe human body to pieces teaches you a great deal about the shape ofit, you see. In the morning we moved Mr. Feist from the hotel to asmall private hospital where cases of that sort are treated. Of coursehe was perfectly helpless, so we packed his belongings and papers.'

  'It was really very kind of you to act the Good Samaritan toa stranger,' Margaret said, but her tone showed that she wasdisappointed at the tame ending of the story.

  'No,' Logotheti answered. 'I was never consciously kind, as you callit. It's not a Greek characteristic to love one's neighbour as one'sself. Teutons, Anglo-Saxons, Latins, and, most of all, Asiatics, arecharitable, but the old Greeks were not. I don't believe you'll findan instance of a charitable act in all Greek history, drama, andbiography! If you did find one I should only say that the exceptionproves the rule. Charity was left out of us at the beginning, and wenever could understand it, except as a foreign sentiment imported withChristianity from Asia. We have had every other virtue, includinghospitality. In the _Iliad_ a man declines to kill his enemy on theground that their people had dined together, which is going ratherfar, but it is not recorded that any ancient Greek, even Socrateshimself, ever felt pity or did an act of spontaneous kindness! I don'tbelieve any one has said that, but it's perfectly true.'

  'Then why did you take all that trouble for Mr. Feist?'

  'I don't know. People who always know why they do things are greatbores. It was probably a caprice that took me to see him, and thenit did not occur to me to let him cut his throat, so I took away hisrazor; and, finally, I telephoned for my doctor, because my misspentlife has brought me into contact with Western civilisation. But whenwe began to pack Mr. Feist's papers I became interested in him.'

  'Do you mean to say that you read his letters?' Margaret inquired.

  'Why not? If I had let him kill himself, somebody would have readthem, as he had not taken the trouble to destroy them!'

  'That's a singular point of view.'

  'So was Mr. Feist's, as it turned out. I found enough to convince methat he is the writer of all those articles about Van Torp, includingthe ones in which you are mentioned. The odd thing about it is that Ifound a very friendly invitation from Van Torp himself, begging Mr.Feist to go down to Derbyshire and stop a week with him.'

  Margaret leaned back in her chair and looked at her guest in quietsurprise.

  'What does that mean?' she asked. 'Is it possible that Mr. Van Torphas got up this campaign against himself in order to play some trickon the Stock Exchange?'

  Logotheti smiled and shook his head.

  'That's not the way such things are usually managed,' he answered. 'Ahundred years ago a publisher paid a critic to attack a book in orderto make it succeed, but in finance abuse doesn't contribute to oursuccess, which is always a question of credit. All these scurrilousarticles have set the public very much against Van Torp, from Paristo San Francisco, and this man Feist is responsible for them. He iseither insane, or he has some grudge against Van Torp, or else he hasbeen somebody's instrument, which looks the most probable.'

  'What did you find amongst his papers?' Margaret asked, quiteforgetting her vicarious scruples about reading a sick man's letters.

  'A complete set of the articles that have appeared, all neatly filed,and a great many notes for more, besides a lot of stuff written incypher. It must be a diary, for the days are written out in full andgive the days of the week.'

  'I wonder whether there was anything about the explosion,' saidMargaret thoughtfully. 'He said he was there, did he not?'

  'Yes. Do you remember the day?'

  'It was a Wednesday, I'm sure, and it was after the middle of March.My maid can tell us, for she writes down the date and the opera in alittle book each time I sing. It's sometimes very convenient. But it'stoo late now, of course, and, besides, you could not have read thecypher.'

  'That's an easy matter,' Logotheti answered. 'All cyphers can be readby experts, if there is no hurry, except the mechanical ones that arewritten through holes in a square plate which you turn round till thesheet is full. Hardly any one uses those now, because when the squareis raised the letters don't form words, and the cable companies willonly transmit real words in some known language, or groups of figures.The diary is written hastily, too, not at all as if it were copiedfrom the sheet on which the perforated plate would have had to beused, and besides, the plate itself would be amongst his things, forhe could not read his own notes without it.'

  'All that doesn't help us, as you have not the diary, but I shouldreally be curious to know what he had to say about the accident, sincesome of the articles hint that Mr. Van Torp made it happen.'

  'My doctor and I took the liberty of confiscating the papers, and weset a very good man to work on the cypher at once. So your curiosityshall be satisfied. I said it should, didn't I? And you are not sodreadfully bored after all, are you? Do say that I'm very nice!'

  'I won't!' Margaret answered with a little laugh. 'I'll only admitthat I'm not bored! But wasn't it rather a high-handed proceeding tocarry off Mr. Feist like that, and to seize his papers?'

  'Do you call it high-handed to keep a man from cutting his throat?'

  'But the letters--?'

  'I really don't know. I had not time to
ask a lawyer's opinion, and soI had to be satisfied with my doctor's.'

  'Are you going to tell Mr. Van Torp what you've done?'

  'I don't know. Why should I? You may if you like.'

  Logotheti was eating a very large and excellent truffle, and aftereach short sentence he cut off a tiny slice and put it into hismouth. The Primadonna had already finished hers, and watched himthoughtfully.

  'I'm not likely to see him,' she said. 'At least, I hope not!'

  'My interest in Mr. Feist,' answered Logotheti, 'begins and ends withwhat concerns you. Beyond that I don't care a straw what happens toMr. Van Torp, or to any one else. To all intents and purposes I havegot the author of the stories locked up, for a man who has consentedto undergo treatment for dipsomania in a private hospital, by theadvice of his friends and under the care of a doctor with a greatreputation, is as really in prison as if he were in gaol. Legally, hecan get out, but in real fact nobody will lift a hand to release him,because he is shut up for his own good and for the good of the public,just as much as if he were a criminal. Feist may have friends orrelations in America, and they may come and claim him; but as thereseems to be nobody in London who cares what becomes of him, it pleasesme to keep him in confinement, because I mean to prevent any furthermention of your name in connection with the Van Torp scandals.'

  His eyes rested on Margaret as he spoke, and lingered afterwards, witha look that did not escape her. She had seen him swayed by passion,more than once, and almost mad for her, and she had been frightenedthough she had dominated him. What she saw in his face now was notthat; it was more like affection, faithful and lasting, and it touchedher English nature much more than any show of passion could.

  'Thank you,' she said quietly.

  They did not talk much more while they finished the short dinner, butwhen they were going back to the drawing-room Margaret took his arm,in foreign fashion, which she had never done before when they werealone. Then he stood before the mantelpiece and watched her in silenceas she moved about the room; for she was one of those women who alwaysfind half a dozen little things to do as soon as they get back fromdinner, and go from place to place, moving a reading lamp half an inchfarther from the edge of a table, shutting a book that has been leftopen on another, tearing up a letter that lies on the writing-desk,and slightly changing the angle at which a chair stands. It is an oddlittle mania, and the more people there are in the room the less themistress of the house yields to it, and the more uncomfortable shefeels at being hindered from 'tidying up the room,' as she probablycalls it.

  Logotheti watched Margaret with keen pleasure, as every step andlittle movement showed her figure in a slightly different attitude andlight, indiscreetly moulded in the perfection of her matchless gown.In less than two minutes she had finished her trip round the room andwas standing beside him, her elbows resting on the mantelpiece, whileshe moved a beautiful Tanagra a little to one side and then to theother, trying for the twentieth time how it looked the best.

  'There is no denying it,' Logotheti said at last, with profoundconviction. 'I do not care a straw what becomes of any living creaturebut you.'

  She did not turn her head, and her fingers still touched the Tanagra,but he saw the rare blush spread up the cheek that was turned to him;and because she stopped moving the statuette about, and looked at itintently, he guessed that she was not colouring from annoyance at whathe had said. She blushed so very seldom now, that it might mean muchmore than in the old days at Versailles.

  'I did not think it would last so long,' she said gently, after alittle while.

  'What faith can one expect of a Greek!'

  He laughed, too wise in woman's ways to be serious too long just then.But she shook her head and turned to him with the smile he loved.

  'I thought it was something different,' she said. 'I was mistaken. Ibelieved you had only lost your head for a while, and would soon runafter some one else. That's all.'

  'And the loss is permanent. That's all!' He laughed again as herepeated her words. 'You thought it was "something different"--do youknow that you are two people in one?'

  She looked a little surprised.

  'Indeed I do!' she answered rather sadly. 'Have you found it out?'

  'Yes. You are Margaret Donne and you are Cordova. I admire Cordovaimmensely, I am extremely fond of Margaret, and I'm in love with both.Oh yes! I'm quite frank about it, and it's very unlucky, for whicheverone of your two selves I meet I'm just as much in love as ever!Absurd, isn't it?'

  'It's flattering, at all events.'

  'If you ever took it into your handsome head to marry me--please, I'monly saying "if"--the absurdity would be rather reassuring, wouldn'tit? When a man is in love with two women at the same time, it reallyis a little unlikely that he should fall in love with a third!'

  'Mr. Griggs says that marriage is a drama which only succeeds ifpeople preserve the unities!'

  'Griggs is always trying to coax the Djin back into the bottle, likethe fisherman in the _Arabian Nights_,' answered Logotheti. 'He hasread Kant till he believes that the greatest things in the world canbe squeezed into a formula of ten words, or nailed up amongst theCategories like a dead owl over a stable door. My intelligence, suchas it is, abhors definitions!'

  'So do I. I never understand them.'

  'Besides, you can only define what you know from past experienceand can reflect upon coolly, and that is not my position, nor yourseither.'

  Margaret nodded, but said nothing and sat down.

  'Do you want to smoke?' she asked. 'You may, if you like. I don't minda cigarette.'

  'No, thank you.'

  'But I assure you I don't mind it in the least. It never hurts mythroat.'

  'Thanks, but I really don't want to.'

  'I'm sure you do. Please--'

  'Why do you insist? You know I never smoke when you are in the room.'

  'I don't like to be the object of little sacrifices that make peopleuncomfortable.'

  'I'm not uncomfortable, but if you have any big sacrifice to suggest,I promise to offer it at once.'

  'Unconditionally?' Margaret smiled. 'Anything I ask?'

  'Yes. Do you want my statue?'

  'The Aphrodite? Would you give her to me?'

  'Yes. May I telegraph to have her packed and brought here from Paris?'

  He was already at the writing-table looking for a telegraph form.Margaret watched his face, for she knew that he valued the wonderfulstatue far beyond all his treasures, both for its own sake and becausehe had nearly lost his life in carrying it off from Samos, as has beentold elsewhere.

  As Margaret said nothing, he began to write the message. She reallyhad not had any idea of testing his willingness to part with the thinghe valued most, at her slightest word, and was taken by surprise;but it was impossible not to be pleased when she saw that he was inearnest. In her present mood, too, it restored her sense of power,which had been rudely shaken by the attitude of the public on theprevious evening.

  It took some minutes to compose the message.

  'It's only to save time by having the box ready,' he said, as he rosewith the bit of paper in his hand. 'Of course I shall see the statuepacked myself and come over with it.'

  She saw his face clearly in the light as he came towards her, andthere was no mistaking the unaffected satisfaction it expressed. Heheld out the telegram for her to read, but she would not take it, andshe looked up quietly and earnestly as he stood beside her.

  'Do you remember Delorges?' she asked. 'How the lady tossed her gloveamongst the lions and bade him fetch it, if he loved her, and how hewent in and got it--and then threw it in her face? I feel like her.'

  Logotheti looked at her blankly.

  'Do you mean to say you won't take the statue?' he asked in adisappointed tone.

  'No, indeed! I was taken by surprise when you went to thewriting-table.'

  'You did not believe I was in earnest? Don't you see that I'mdisappointed now?' His voice changed a little. 'Don't you understandtha
t if the world were mine I should want to give it all to you?'

  'And don't you understand that the wish may be quite as much to me asthe deed? That sounds commonplace, I know. I would say it better if Icould.'

  She folded her hands on her knee, and looked at them thoughtfullywhile he sat down beside her.

  'You say it well enough,' he answered after a little pause. 'Thetrouble lies there. The wish is all you will ever take. I havesubmitted to that; but if you ever change your mind, please rememberthat I have not changed mine. For two years I've done everything I canto make you marry me whether you would or not, and you've forgiven mefor trying to carry you off against your will, and for several otherthings, but you are no nearer to caring for me ever so little than youwere the first day we met. You "like" me! That's the worst of it!'

  'I'm not so sure of that,' Margaret answered, raising her eyes for amoment and then looking at her hands again.

  He turned his head slowly, but there was a startled look in his eyes.

  'Do you feel as if you could hate me a little, for a change?' heasked.

  'No.'

  'There's only one other thing,' he said in a low voice.

  'Perhaps,' Margaret answered, in an even lower tone than his. 'I'm notquite sure to-day.'

  Logotheti had known her long, and he now resisted the strong impulseto reach out and take the hand she would surely have let him hold inhis for a moment. She was not disappointed because he neitherspoke nor moved, nor took any sudden advantage of her rather timidadmission, for his silence made her trust him more than any passionatespeech or impulsive action could have done.

  'I daresay I am wrong to tell you even that much,' she went onpresently, 'but I do so want to play fair. I've always despised womenwho cannot make up their minds whether they care for a man or not. Butyou have found out my secret; I am two people in one, and thereare days when each makes the other dreadfully uncomfortable! Youunderstand.'

  'And it's the Cordova that neither likes me nor hates me just at thismoment,' suggested Logotheti. 'Margaret Donne sometimes hates me andsometimes likes me, and on some days she can be quite indifferent too!Is that it?'

  'Yes. That's it.'

  'The only question is, which of you is to be mistress of the house,'said Logotheti, smiling, 'and whether it is to be always the same one,or if there is to be a perpetual hide-and-seek between them!'

  'Box and Cox,' suggested Margaret, glad of the chance to say somethingfrivolous just then.

  'I should say Hera and Aphrodite,' answered the Greek, 'if it did notlook like comparing myself to Adonis!'

  'It sounds better than Box and Cox, but I have forgotten mymythology.'

  'Hera and Aphrodite agreed that each should keep Adonis one-third ofthe year, and that he should have the odd four months to himself. Nowthat you are the Cordova, if you could come to some such understandingabout me with Miss Donne, it would be very satisfactory. But I amafraid Margaret does not want even a third of me!'

  Logotheti felt that it was rather ponderous fun, but he was in such ananxious state that his usually ready wit did not serve him very well.For the first time since he had known her, Margaret had confessed thatshe might possibly fall in love with him; and after what had passedbetween them in former days, he knew that the smallest mistake on hispart would now be fatal to the realisation of such a possibility. Hewas not afraid of being dull, or of boring her, but he was afraid ofwakening against him the wary watchfulness of that side of her naturewhich he called Margaret Donne, as distinguished from Cordova, of the'English-girl' side, of the potential old maid that is dormant inevery young northern woman until the day she marries, and wakes totorment her like a biblical devil if she does not. There is no miserlike a reformed spendthrift, and no ascetic will go to such extremesof self-mortification as a converted libertine; in the same way, thereare no such portentously virginal old maids as those who might havebeen the most womanly wives; the opposite is certainly true also, forthe variety 'Hemiparthenos,' studied after nature by Marcel Prevost,generally makes an utter failure of matrimony, and becomes, in fact,little better than a half-wife.

  Logotheti took it as a good sign that Margaret laughed at what hesaid. He was in the rather absurd position of wishing to leave herwhile she was in her present humour, lest anything should disturb itand destroy his advantage; yet, after what had just passed, itwas next to impossible not to talk of her, or of himself. He hadexceptionally good nerves, he was generally cool to a fault, and hehad the daring that makes great financiers. But what looked like themost important crisis of his life had presented itself unexpectedlywithin a few minutes; a success which he reckoned far beyond allother successes was almost within his grasp, and he felt that he wasunprepared. For the first time he did not know what to say to a woman.

  Happily for him, Margaret helped him unexpectedly.

  'I shall have to see Lady Maud,' she said, 'and you must either gowhen she comes or leave with her. I'm sorry, but you understand, don'tyou?'

  'Of course. I'll go a moment after she comes. When am I to see youagain? To-morrow? You are not to sing again this week, are you?'

  'No,' the Primadonna answered vaguely, 'I believe not.'

  She was thinking of something else. She was wondering whetherLogotheti would wish her to give up the stage, if by any possibilityshe ever married him, and her thoughts led her on quickly to theconsideration of what that would mean, and to asking herself what sortof sacrifice it would really mean to her. For the recollection of the_Elisir d'Amore_ awoke and began to rankle again just then.

  Logotheti did not press her for an answer, but watched her cautiouslywhile her eyes were turned away from him. At that moment he felt likea tamer who had just succeeded in making a tiger give its paw for thefirst time, and has not the smallest idea whether the creature will doit again or bite off his head.

  She, on her side, being at the moment altogether the artist, wasthinking that it would be pleasant to enjoy a few more triumphs, tomake the tour of Europe with a company of her own--which is always theprimadonna's dream as it is the actress's--and to leave the stageat twenty-five in a blaze of glory, rather than to risk one moreperformance of the opera she now hated. She knew quite well thatit was not at all an impossibility. To please her, and with theexpectation of marrying her in six months, Logotheti would cheerfullypay the large forfeit that would be due to Schreiermeyer if she brokeher London engagement at the height of the season, and the Greekfinancier would produce all the ready money necessary for gettingtogether an opera company. The rest would be child's play, she wassure, and she would make a triumphant progress through the capitals ofEurope which should be remembered for half a century. After that, saidthe Primadonna to herself, she would repay her friend all the money hehad lent her, and would then decide at her leisure whether she wouldmarry him or not. For one moment her cynicism would have surprisedeven Schreiermeyer; the next, the Primadonna herself was ashamed ofit, quite independently of what her better self might have thought.

  Besides, it was certainly not for his money that her old inclinationfor Logotheti had begun to grow again. She could say so, truly enough,and when she felt sure of it she turned her eyes to see his face.

  She did not admire him for his looks, either. So far as appearance wasconcerned, she preferred Lushington, with his smooth hair and faircomplexion. Logotheti was a handsome and showy Oriental, that was all,and she knew instinctively that the type must be common in the East.What attracted her was probably his daring masculineness, whichcontrasted so strongly with Lushington's quiet and rather bashfulmanliness. The Englishman would die for a cause and make no noiseabout it, which would be heroic; but the Greek would run away with awoman he loved, at the risk of breaking his neck, which was romanticin the extreme. It is not easy to be a romantic character in the eyesof a lady who lives on the stage, and by it, and constantly givesutterance to the most dramatic sentiments at a pitch an octave higherthan any one else; but Logotheti had succeeded. There never was awoman yet to whom that sort of thing ha
s not appealed once; for onemoment she has felt everything whirling with her as if the centre ofgravity had gone mad, and the Ten Commandments might drop out of thesolid family Bible and get lost. That recollection is probably theonly secret of a virtuously colourless existence, but she hides it,like a treasure or a crime, until she is an old and widowed woman;and one day, at last, she tells her grown-up granddaughter, with afar-away smile, that there was once a man whose eyes and voice stirredher strongly, and for whom she might have quite lost her head. But shenever saw him again, and that is the end of the little story; and thetall girl in her first season thinks it rather dull.

  But it was not likely that the chronicle of Cordova's youth shouldcome to such an abrupt conclusion. The man who moved her now had beennear her too often, the sound of his voice was too easily recalled,and, since his rival's defection, he was too necessary to her; and,besides, he was as obstinate as Christopher Columbus.

  'Let me see,' she said thoughtfully. 'There's a rehearsal to-morrowmorning. That means a late luncheon. Come at two o'clock, and if it'sfine we can go for a little walk. Will you?'

  'Of course. Thank you.'

  He had hardly spoken the words when a servant opened the door and LadyMaud came in. She had not dropped the opera cloak she wore over herblack velvet gown; she was rather pale, and the look in her eyes toldthat something was wrong, but her serenity did not seem otherwiseaffected. She kissed Margaret and gave her hand to Logotheti.

  'We dined early to go to the play,' she said, 'and as there's acurtain-raiser, I thought I might as well take a hansom and join themlater.'

  She seated herself beside Margaret on one of those little sofas thatare measured to hold two women when the fashions are moderate, and arewide enough for a woman and one man, whatever happens. Indeed theymust be, since otherwise no one would tolerate them in a drawing-room.When two women instal themselves in one, and a man is present, itmeans that he is to go away, because they are either going to makeconfidences or are going to fight.

  Logotheti thought it would be simpler and more tactful to go at once,since Lady Maud was in a hurry, having stopped on her way to the play,presumably in the hope of seeing Margaret alone. To his surprise sheasked him to stay; but as he thought she might be doing this out ofmere civility he said he had an engagement.

  'Will it keep for ten minutes?' asked Lady Maud gravely.

  'Engagements of that sort are very convenient. They will keep anylength of time.'

  Logotheti sat down again, smiling, but he wondered what Lady Maud wasgoing to say, and why she wished him to remain.

  'It will save a note,' she said, by way of explanation. 'My fatherand I want you to come to Craythew for the week-end after this,' shecontinued, turning to Margaret. 'We are asking several people, so itwon't be too awfully dull, I hope. Will you come?'

  'With pleasure,' answered the singer.

  'And you too?' Lady Maud looked at Logotheti.

  'Delighted--most kind of you,' he replied, somewhat surprised by theinvitation, for he had never met Lord and Lady Creedmore. 'May I takeyou down in my motor?' he spoke to Margaret. 'I think I can do itunder four hours. I'm my own chauffeur, you know.'

  'Yes, I know,' Margaret answered with a rather malicious smile. 'No,thank you!'

  'Does he often kill?' inquired Lady Maud coolly.

  'I should be more afraid of a runaway,' Margaret said.

  'Get that new German brake,' suggested Lady Maud, not understanding atall. 'It's quite the best I've seen. Come on Friday, if you can. Youdon't mind meeting Mr. Van Torp, do you? He is our neighbour, youremember.'

  The question was addressed to Margaret, who made a slight movement andunconsciously glanced at Logotheti before she answered.

  'Not at all,' she said.

  'There's a reason for asking him when there are other people. I'mnot divorced after all--you had not heard? It will be in the _Times_to-morrow morning. The Patriarch of Constantinople turns out to be avery sensible sort of person.'

  'He's my uncle,' observed Logotheti.

  'Is he? But that wouldn't account for it, would it? He refused tobelieve what my husband called the evidence, and dismissed the suit.As the trouble was all about Mr. Van Torp my father wants people tosee him at Craythew. That's the story in a nutshell, and if any of youlike me you'll be nice to him.'

  She leaned back in her corner of the little sofa and looked first atone and then at the other in an inquiring way, but as if she werefairly sure of the answer.

  'Every one likes you,' said Logotheti quietly, 'and every one will benice to him.'

  'Of course,' chimed in Margaret.

  She could say nothing else, though her intense dislike of the Americanmillionaire almost destroyed the anticipated pleasure of her visit toDerbyshire.

  'I thought it just as well to explain,' said Lady Maud.

  She was still pale, and in spite of her perfect outward coolness andself-reliance her eyes would have betrayed her anxiety if she had notmanaged them with the unconscious skill of a woman of the world whohas something very important to hide. Logotheti broke the shortsilence that followed her last speech.

  'I think you ought to know something I have been telling Miss Donne,'he said simply. 'I've found the man who wrote all those articles, andI've locked him up.'

  Lady Maud leaned forward so suddenly that her loosened opera-cloakslipped down behind her, leaving her neck and shoulders bare. Her eyeswere wide open in her surprise, the pupils very dark.

  'Where?' she asked breathlessly. 'Where is he? In prison?'

  'In a more convenient and accessible place,' answered the Greek.

  He had known Lady Maud some time, but he had never seen her in theleast disturbed, or surprised, or otherwise moved by anything. It wastrue that he had only met her in society.

  He told the story of Mr. Feist, as Margaret had heard it duringdinner, and Lady Maud did not move, even to lean back in her seatagain, till he had finished. She scarcely seemed to breathe, andLogotheti felt her steady gaze on him, and would have sworn thatthrough all those minutes she did not even wink. When he ceasedspeaking she drew a long breath and sank back to her former attitude;but he saw that her white neck heaved suddenly again and again, andher delicate nostrils quivered once or twice. For a little while therewas silence in the room. Then Lady Maud rose to go.

  'I must be going too,' said Logotheti.

  Margaret was a little sorry that she had given him such preciseinstructions, but did not contradict herself by asking him to staylonger. She promised Lady Maud again to be at Craythew on Friday ofthe next week if possible, and certainly on Saturday, and Lady Maudand Logotheti went out together.

  'Get in with me,' she said quietly, as he helped her into her hansom.

  He obeyed, and as he sat down she told the cabman to take her to theHaymarket Theatre. Logotheti expected her to speak, for he was quitesure that she had not taken him with her without a purpose; the moreso, as she had not even asked him where he was going.

  Three or four minutes passed before he heard her voice asking him aquestion, very low, as if she feared to be overheard.

  'Is there any way of making that man tell the truth against his will?You have lived in the East, and you must know about such things.'

  Logotheti turned his almond-shaped eyes slowly towards her, but hecould not see her face well, for it was not very light in the broadWest End street. She was white; that was all he could make out. But heunderstood what she meant.

  'There is a way,' he answered slowly and almost sternly. 'Why do youask?'

  'Mr. Van Torp is going to be accused of murder. That man knows who didit. Will you help me?'

  It seemed an age before the answer to her whispered question came.

  'Yes.'