I was glad to perceive that Ivana wore a dress uncommon by reason of its simplicity, but in the best of taste. Though she was not naked to the waist, her dress of black spangled tulle trimmed with cabochons of jet was not the least to attract attention. Over her head was a mantilla kept in place by a head-band of large cabochons of jet. She might have stepped out of a portrait by Goya. The
Professor did not leave her, but they left us. Of course one does not walk about the rooms of a Casino as if one belonged to a wedding party.
I came up to Rouletabille and Madame Boulenger chatting together in a recess near the french windows which overlooked the terraces. The three of us sat down in rocking-chairs and enjoyed the coolness of the moonlit night, which was something of a relief after the stifling atmosphere of the gaming-rooms.
We remained there for some time wrapped in our own dreams, when I clearly discerned on one of the gravel paths leading to the sands two dark forms which emerged from the shadows, crossed a space which was in the light, and disappeared into the semi-darkness again.
I at once recognized in those two solitary wayfarers Roland Boulenger and Ivana.
When the light suddenly revealed them, Roland was holding Ivana’s hand and impressing upon it a fervent kiss. Just then Ivana made a gesture as if to draw back, but Roland held his ground and dived into obscurity with his captive.
From where we sat we overlooked the scene which lasted several seconds. We ourselves were in the shadow, and could not be observed from below. Moreover, the two persons who occupied my attention seemed scarcely to be thinking of us. They had completely forgotten us.
And now I must confess that this sudden vision greatly distressed me; not, to be sure, on my own account, but on account of the two friends who were seated beside me. It seemed to me impossible for them not to have witnessed what I had so clearly seen. Nevertheless Rouletabille did not move a muscle. On the other hand Madame Boulenger rose to her feet and said:
“Don’t you think it’s a little cold here? Suppose we go back.”
We stood up in our turn and accompanied her to one of the gaming-rooms in which she amused herself by backing the numbers in the game of “ball,” winning some twenty francs, and giving way to demonstrations of almost childish glee. When we left the game and turned round we found ourselves face to face with Roland and Ivana, who for a while had been watching the play.
“Hullo, there you are!” exclaimed Madame Boulenger. “Where have you been?”
“Star-gazing,” returned the Professor. “You’ve no idea how beautiful it is outside.”
“What do you say if we walk home?” suggested Thérèse.
We made our way back. Roland and Ivana went some little distance ahead of us.
We walked home in silence.
CHAPTER IV
CONFIDENCES
I MADE UP my mind to have a talk with Rouletabille. At one moment I thought of hastening my departure by the old device of sending myself a telegram calling me back to Paris, and leaving behind me possibilities of drama which were no business of mine. And then I reflected that Rouletabille was my friend, and that it would be an act of selfishness not to open his eyes if he had closed them. After my own experience the blindness of some men no longer astonished me. There is no sealing-wax which when it becomes set can more firmly close two eyes than a woman’s kiss — a kiss and the seals are affixed! The woman may wander about in the light of day as she pleases for the man will fail to see the least thing. What is the use of being called Rouletabille, what is the use of leaning as you go through life on “the right end of your judgment” — you fall into the same pit as other men and find at the bottom of it your honour in shreds and your home in ashes.
Next morning as I stood at the window shaving myself I saw the Professor and Ivana leaving the villa for a ride. They were mounted on fine animals who were impatient to be off, and the riders seemed not less filled with a certain animal eagerness which showed me that they were already carried away by the sharp morning air and the gallop which they had in prospect.
Ivana rode, astride, a thoroughbred mare that the groom could scarcely hold back. Roland’s cheeks were flushed, and I thought he gave a slightly malicious smile as he turned to the villa and waved farewell before starting. I imagined that this salutation was addressed to Madame Boulenger, but as I leant forward I perceived Rouletabille at the window of his room. He asked me how I had passed the night....
The sound of the horses’ hoofs quickly died away.
“Well, and aren’t you riding this morning?” I inquired.
“No. It doesn’t appeal to me in this place. There are too many motor-cars on the roads.”
“Oh, at this early hour...”
“And then I may tell you I went with them once, but whether they’re riding or walking they talk of nothing else but fowls and tuberculosis. I would just as soon stay here.”
The day was uneventful. I increasingly felt that our existence was becoming of less moment to the Professor and Ivana. They thought only of themselves. In so far as we were concerned I found things somewhat dull and next morning I said to Rouletabille:
“Let’s lunch together at Havre.”
“All right. I’ll go and let them know.”.
“What’s the use?” I asked. “Our absence will not even be noticed.”
He looked at me and smiled and gave me a gentle tap on the shoulder.
“There, I see you want to talk to me.”
“Very likely.”
An hour later we were on the boat to Trouville, and when we reached Havre I took Rouletabille to Frascati’s to lunch. During the short crossing he unburdened himself to me very frankly in regard to his plans for the winter, and a long journey which he intended to make in Syria and Mesopotamia as correspondent for his paper.
“What about Ivana?” I inquired.
“Oh, she wouldn’t let me go alone.”
“Are you sure?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, her work with Roland Boulenger...”
“Oh, I think she will be able to take a holiday by that time.”
“I’m glad of that,” I said with emphasis. He did not challenge my “I’m glad of that.” I am inclined to think, indeed, that he failed to hear it. He pointed to the huge funnels of a liner which surpassed in size any of those of the ships in the harbour which we were then entering; and he described to me the pleasure which he found in long sea voyages, and the wonderful rest and quiet which were to be derived from them. His only regret was that ships were now provided with wireless and thus they constantly received news of a world from which they were otherwise completely cut off.
“Upon my soul, I hardly thought that you were so fond of living in retirement. Are you becoming a misanthrope?”
“I have no reason to become one,” he answered with decision, and with a look in his eyes which made me feel ill at ease; so much so that when we were at Frascati’s I was at a loss to begin the conversation which I had determined to have with him.
It was he who helped me out of the difficulty when I thought he was wholly occupied in dismembering the claw of a lobster, by rapping out all of a sudden:
“I say, what about it? Tell me what’s worrying you.”
“Haven’t you guessed?” I returned.
“Speak out. We’ll see about that afterwards.”
“I consider that Roland Boulenger behaves like a spoilt child.”
“He always did. There’s nothing new in that.”
“That he should be spoilt by his wife and even by other people is a matter of indifference to me, but...”
“Now I see what is upsetting you,” interrupted Rouletabille, still engaged in struggling with his lobster. “You think that he takes too many liberties with Ivana.”
I gave an affirmative nod and he went on:
“You even think that Ivana is too ready to let him take them.”
I did not answer but took refuge in an eloquent silence.
Just then some acquaintance came up and shook Rouletabille by the hand. We chatted of indifferent matters. Our conversation was not resumed until we came to dessert.
“You will readily believe that I didn’t wait for your arrival to perceive the game that is being played,” he said.
“Game!” I repeated. “It’s a very dangerous game.”
“No,” he made answer in a positive tone. “I have no fear with Ivana.”
“You make a mistake.”
“What’s that?”
“I say that you make a mistake. In principle you are right to have the greatest confidence in your wife, who is the best of women, but in practice when the best of women lends herself to such a game, even in all innocence — why, take it from me that her husband may have every reason to feel anxious.”
Rouletabille knitted his brows, remained silent for a few seconds and then said:
“My dear Sainclair, it is quite pardonable for you to talk like that.”
I flushed, for he had touched me on the raw. He realized that he had hurt me and he apologized.
“I’m sorry,” I went on with a mournful shake of the head, “but if we are real friends, I don’t think that we shall I hesitate to hurt each other in this difficulty.”
“In this difficulty? That’s using rather theatrical language for a few exaggerated attentions to which no one attached any importance until you came here.”
“I don’t know about that,” I exclaimed, “someone attached importance to those attentions.”
“Who?”
“You, my dear fellow. You who made me come here. You who were the first to speak about them, because... because you found that I did not broach the subject quick enough for you.”
“Well, that’s true,” admitted Rouletabille. “You are quite right. I got you to come here for that very reason. I wanted you to see for yourself... so you think that the thing stares you in the face?”
“My poor friend...”
“Now you’re going too far,” he broke in. “I am not yet your poor friend, and I hope I may never become your poor friend. You shall know what’s happening, for nothing happens without my knowledge.”
“I am very glad to hear you say so. Rouletabille has always known everything before anyone else. Therefore you don’t surprise me. But you must forgive me if I ask you whether you know that in the study before lunch Roland took hold of Ivana’s hand and squeezed it with such eagerness that she had to ask him to stop his assurances of devotion...”
“Yes, I know that.”
“Do you know that during lunch Roland’s boot was endeavouring to reach Ivana’s shoe under the table?”
“I am fully aware of it.”
“And that in the evening in the Casino gardens Ivana gave Roland the hand which she snatched away from him in the morning and he covered it with kisses?”
“The wretches!” cried Rouletabille, bursting into a roar of laughter.
I looked at him in the utmost bewilderment. “Do you think it is a laughing matter?” I stammered.
“Good heavens, yes. You don’t suppose that I’m going to cry over childish nonsense like that. If you know Roland Boulenger you know that he can’t help indulging in some more or less extravagant gallantry if there’s a woman near him, but it doesn’t mean anything except to those who treat him seriously.”
“Still, you must confess that you are not easy in your mind, for if you know all about it, it is because you are keeping an eye on your wife.”
“I am quite easy in my mind and I am not keeping an eye on my wife. The reason why I know all about it is because she tells me herself. That’s where you make a mistake, my dear Sainclair.”
“I have nothing more to say.”
“Well, I’m only just beginning,” he made answer, rising from the table. “Come, let’s have a turn on the promenade.”
He took me by the arm and I was soon in possession of the secret.
“You must have noticed that Madame Boulenger is at least as calm about it as I am.”
“Oh, the poor dear lady, she’s had so much experience!”
“Well, I must tell you that Thérèse, Ivana and I entered into a conspiracy: we determined to save Roland from an evil influence. Did you ever hear any talk of Theodora Luigi?”
“Of course, I know about that. In fact everybody does, for there’s one thing in Roland Boulenger’s favour — everybody is told of what’s going on!”
“Some women don’t know how to conceal their love affairs,” Rouletabille returned. “There are others who boast of love affairs which they’ve never had, but I don’t think that Roland...”
“He is dangerous, but let that pass. Was this conspiracy your own idea?”
“No.”
“How did you learn about it?”
“You would make a good examining magistrate. I’m not going to finesse with you.”
“I hope not. It’s a serious matter. Tell me everything.”
He walked a few steps and came to a decision. He admitted that when he was in Paris he was extremely worried by the Professor’s free and easy manners and Ivana’s somewhat coquettish submission to him. Nevertheless he had too much experience of his wife’s sincerity to have the slightest doubt about her. The terrible incident which had preceded their marriage was a lesson to him which he would never forget. During those tragic weeks he could have believed, he did believe, that Ivana had betrayed her sworn word for the benefit of their most ruthless enemy. Everything seemed to point in that direction. Ivana’s most striking as well as her most incomprehensible actions seemed to confirm the reality of it. She was betraying Rouletabille. Not at all. She had never been so loyal to him. She had never laboured so assiduously for the success of their love. And if Rouletabille had refrained from condemning her once for all it was because of the ever-recurring miracle of his common sense; of that reliance on “the right end of his judgment” which enabled him to see light where others discovered but murder and mystery.
“You understand,” he said, “that when you have been through it once, you do not give way to your first impulse if appearances make a bad impression on you. I said frankly what I had to say to Ivana. She made no reply at first. I saw that my questions, which showed that my suspicions were aroused, came upon her as a disagreeable surprise. She asked me to give her a few hours in which to consider her answer. I knew Ivana’s obstinate disposition. I almost regretted having spoken to her. Our former experience in which she had triumphantly established her innocence should have, it seemed, saved her from any such conversation between us. In short I expected some outburst from her, and I must confess that when I returned home that evening I felt rather ‘in a mess.’ Accordingly I was greatly relieved to perceive that she wore her usual smile. She took me by the hand and led me to Madame Boulenger who was waiting for me in the drawing-room.
“‘My dear Thérèse,’ she said, ‘I am bringing him to see you. He is jealous. Get me out of it.’
“It was then that I learnt of the conspiracy,” went on Rouletabille. “Madame Boulenger had observed her husband’s devotion to Ivana before I did; before, indeed, Ivana had unburdened herself to her about it. Ivana, in fact, intimated to her that she would be compelled to resign her position with the Professor. And then Madame Boulenger burst into tears. ‘If you leave him he is done for,’ she said. Théodora Luigi has returned. He swore to me never to see her again, but he has seen her. His reason for not going back to her is that he is in love with you. Don’t let him give up all hope!’
“You realize, Sainclair, you realize now the terrible game: ‘Don’t let him give up all hope!’”
“Well, I can see that Madame Boulenger is in the mood to sacrifice both of you for the sake of her husband, for the health of her husband, for the fame of her husband. What would she not do for him! She has bruised her own heart for him. She has allowed herself to be trampled upon by him. She would allow the whole world to be trampled upon by him, and the happiness of one young household
like yours is not going to stand in the way of her holocaust.”
“For all that, my dear Sainclair, I don’t want you to look upon me as an utter fool. If this business were going to continue indefinitely, you may take it from me that I should not allow myself to be affected either by the tears of Madame Boulenger or by the altruistic reasoning of Ivana, who sees only in it a means of saving a wonderful brain and perhaps of securing the early and happy success of his famous work on the serum of tuberculosis.”
“Oh, come, you don’t expect me to believe that story,” I interrupted. “Do you mean to tell me that you’re going to wait to ‘get back’ your wife until the Professor has discovered the cure for tuberculosis?”
“Don’t be an ass!” he burst out, giving me a solid punch in the side. “We are simply waiting until Théodora Luigi goes away, which will happen soon. She’ll never leave Prince Henry of Albania. Prince Henry is on a three weeks’ visit to France. He is returning to his country in a fortnight from now, and, it seems, will remain there for some considerable time. We shall be rid of the ‘poison.’ Ivana and I will make our trip to Syria. You see that in reality,” he concluded, making an effort to smile, “the whole thing is not very serious. If you knew Ivana better you would even say that it was not serious at all. She knows what she is about, I can assure you. So as to make your mind quite easy I will tell you what she said to me in our last talk on the subject. She ended in this way, and I am repeating her own words: ‘The day on which you entertain the least suspicion, give the signal and we’ll leave here at once, and Roland Boulenger shall never see me again.’”
“Don’t wait for that,” I returned. “Don’t wait until you ‘entertain the least suspicion’ but give the signal at once.”
“Yes, but she would be certain then that I really did suspect her, and she would never forgive me for it.”
“Oh, women!” I could not help exclaiming with a certain admiration. “What are we men compared with women! Finally to sum up: Your reason for making me come here was less because you wanted me to reassure you than because you wanted to reassure me.”
Collected Works of Gaston Leroux Page 86