“They are very pretty and attractive,” Larisa said almost beneath her breath. “They make me feel very … dull and … shabby by comparison.”
“Do you really think that?” he asked. “Shall T tell you what I thought you looked like as you came back to the table just now, having taken off your hat?”
Larisa did not answer but she raised her eyes to his.
“I thought you looked like the dawn when it sweeps away the darkness of the night, when just for that one moment there is the gold of the sun in the sky and at the same time the darkness with its fading stars is still there.”
Larisa drew in her breath.
There was that note of sincerity in his voice which made her feel that he was speaking the truth which came from the very depths of his heart.
Then she dropped her eves and looked away. “Thank … you,” she murmured, “but you … make me … feel… shy.”
“I adore you when you are shy,” Comte Raoul said. “I had forgotten that a woman could blush or that eyes could be so innocent and child-like.”
He paused and then he added:
“Oh, my dear, I wish you had not come to Paris tonight!”
“But… why?” Larisa asked in consternation.
“Because I do not wish you to see anything that is ugly or sordid,” he answered. “I wish you to remain as you are, looking like Aphrodite awakening to the beauty of love and ignorant of the sordid emotions which besmirch and deface something which is in reality Divine.”
Larisa looked at him in bewilderment.
She did not understand what he was saying, and yet she knew that every word he spoke seemed to envelop her in a cloud of glory.
How could she have thought—how could she have imagined in her wildest dreams—that Comte Raoul de Valmont, “Monsieur le Diable,” would speak in such a manner?
She knew it was an unbelievable enchantment to be here alone with him as she had never been alone with a man before. But the things he said and the way in which he spoke seemed to call not merely to her heart but to her very soul.
She had always known that love, real love, would be part of God, but it was impossible to tell him so—and yet she felt that he understood.
As the next course was being served he said:
“Tell me about your home and your family.”
Larisa started with her father’s interest in Greece. “That is why I smiled when you said I looked as if I came from Olympus,” she told Comte Raoul. “My sisters and I can never get away from the Greek image.”
“You have sisters?”
“Three.”
“And they are as beautiful as you?”
“Papa called us his four Venuses.”
“It is sheer cruelty to a mere man, but I would like to see them.”
Larisa was silent, then she said in a low voice: “Perhaps if you saw Athene and Delos you would no longer admire me.”
Comte Raoul looked at her for a long moment before he replied:
“Look at me, Larisa.”
She turned her head obediently and met his eyes. “Do you really think,” he asked, “that what I feel for you depends entirely on your looks—breath-taking though they are?”
She could not answer and he went on:
“We both know that what we feel is far, far deeper than the superficiality of outward appearance.” Larisa drew in her breath.
“I adore your face, your blue eyes, your straight little nose, the curve of your lips,” he continued. “But my heart responds to your heart, my soul to your soul. I feel the magnetism of your spirit, your character, and your personality reaching out to mine. It is all part of my love.”
Larisa felt herself quiver at what he said.
Yet she knew that the actual words which came to his lips were not important.
It was what remained unsaid that vibrated between them and was like a magnet drawing them closer and still closer with every minute that passed.
She told him about her home and how she went to work to keep Nicky at Oxford, and she knew that he understood.
Finally, when there were only two cups of coffee in front of them on the table, the Comte had a glass of brandy in his hand, and there were no longer any attentive waiters to interrupt them, he said quietly:
“Now tell me exactly what has happened at Valmont.”
In a low voice Larisa explained how Nurse had come to her bed-room in a flood of tears and how she had overheard Bernard boasting that he had poisoned the wine on Monsieur le Comte’s instructions.
“Nurse believed it to be the truth?”
“She was sure that Bernard had done what he said.” Larisa answered.
“And you had no doubt in your mind that my father would do such a thing?”
Larisa paused for a moment and then she answered :
“The first day I came Monsieur le Comte spoke of Valmont belonging to Jean-Pierre and that the continuance of the family was centred only on him.”
She felt that this would hurt Comte Raoul but she went on:
“I thought then that he seemed to be ignoring the fact that you were in existence, Yet I was sure the Estate must come to you before it could go to Jean-Pierre.”
Her voice died away. Then as Comte Raoul did not speak she added:
“Later I asked Madame Savigny if it was not a fact that you would … inherit Valmont when you father was … dead.”
“So you think he had been planning to get rid of me for a long time?” Comte Raoul asked.
“It seems impossible! Unbelievable! But his whole interest, the only thing he appears to care for, is Jean-Pierre!”
“I know that,” Comte Raoul answered, “but I did not think he would go as far as murder!”
‘“Because he has … failed this … time,” Larisa said in little more than a whisper, “he may … try again!”
“That is of course a probability,” Comte Raoul agreed.
She turned towards him quickly.
“Then you must not come back to Valmont; it would be … dangerous. You must… stay in Paris!” Comte Raoul squared his chin and for a moment his lips met in a hard line.
Then he said quietly:
“That is not the answer. This is something which has to be faced; to be fought out between my father and me.”
“It might be .., dangerous for … you,” Larisa insisted.
“It has already been dangerous,” the Comte answered, “but you have saved me. Do you think I can forget for one moment that you rode alone to Paris to protect me?”
Again there was that note in his voice that made her quiver.
“Now I am taking you back,” he went on. “Who knows that you have left the Chateau?”
“Nurse said that Leon was to be trusted. I told him I wished to go for a ride.”
“Did he seem surprised?”
“No. I explained that I felt I needed some exercise and I had not asked permission of Monsieur le Comte to borrow one of his horses. I had the feeling, although I might be wrong, that he would not betray me.”
“Let us hope you are right,” Comte Raoul said. “I do not wish you to be involved in this. If my father suspects you are interested in me or that you came to warn me, he would undoubtedly dismiss you!”
Larisa gave a little sound of dismay.
She knew that Comte Raoul spoke the truth, but it would be terrible to have to go back to England not knowing what was happening to him, not knowing the end of the drama with which despite herself she was now closely associated.
Comte Raoul paid the bill and had risen to his feet when from the inner room of the .Restaurant a vision of loveliness appeared.
It was a woman with dark flashing eyes and like the ladies in the Theatre her lips were crimson and her eye-lashes mascaraed.
She had red hair surmounted by a small hat trimmed with ospreys.
Her evening-gown was very décolleté and the emeralds which encircled her long, white neck must have been worth a King’s ransom!
She was about to leav
e through the outer door which was opened for her when she saw Comte Raoul.
She gave a little cry of delight and held out both her hands to him.
“Raoul! How delightful to see you!”
Comte Raoul raised first one of her hands and then the other to his lips.
“Needless to say,” he replied, “the pleasure is mine!”
“You have not been to see me for weeks, or is it months?”
“That is an omission I must undoubtedly correct, at the earliest opportunity.”
“Please come!” she said softly. “I want to see you.”
Before Comte Raoul could reply, the lady’s escort, a middle-aged man, came to her side.
“I am waiting. Odette,” he said.
“I am just coming!” Odette replied a little impatiently, then added: “Your Serene Highness knows Comte Raoul de Valmont?”
“We have met,” the elder man said coldly.
“We have indeed, Your Serene Highness,” Comte Raoul replied.
“Do not forget, Raoul, that I am expecting you,” Odette said softly.
Then she took the arm of her escort and swept from the Restaurant.
While they had been talking Larisa had not moved from her place at the table.
She could only watch and feel overwhelmed by the beauty, the loveliness, and above all the sophistication of the woman talking with Comte Raoul.
She had been able to see the expression in her dark eyes when she looked at the Comte.
“She loved him!” Larisa told herself, and the knowledge was like a pain in her breast.
Comte Raoul had his back to her so she had no idea what was the expression on his face.
But she told herself that he could not help responding to anyone so alluring, so enticing.
She suddenly felt as if the Restaurant had become very dark and all the excitement she had felt while they had been having dinner had gone, leaving a kind of emptiness and utter depression.
‘How could I have imagined for one moment that he was interested in talking to me,’ Larisa asked herself, ‘when he could be with someone like that?’
She thought how drab and dull she must look despite what he had said to her.
Her lips must look so pale beside the warm crimson of Odette’s, and those of the other women with whom he had been sitting in the Folies-Bergere.
No wonder he wished to come to a quiet Restaurant when he was escorting a dull little Governess in a black riding-habit instead of someone in a Paris creation which revealed her white neck and shoulders.
As Comte Raoul turned back towards her Larisa rose from the table and picked up her riding-hat.
The first dinner she had ever had alone with a man was over!
It had been an hour of sheer delight in which she had talked, listened, and felt herself quiver to many strange emotions.
Now ahead there was only the long journey back to Valmont and the thought that she was taking Comte Raoul away from his amusements and the women who loved him.
“Monsieur has enjoyed his dinner?”
It was Madame bowing to them as they were ready to leave, and now the Chef, wearing the white hat of his calling, came from the kitchen.
“You are satisfied, Monsieur?” he asked Comte Raoul.
“As usual everything was excellent and the wine superlative!” Comte Raoul answered.
“And M’mselle?” the Chef enquired.
“It was the best dinner I have ever eaten!” Larisa said in a low voice.
Madame gave a little cry of delight.
“That is what we wish to hear,” she said. “Please bring M’mselle to us again soon, Monsieur.”
“I will do that,” Comte Raoul replied.
Larisa wanted to add miserably that it was something that would never happen.
Instead she forced herself to smile at the Chef and Madame, then she followed Comte Raoul outside.
Instead of the carriage she had expected there was waiting for them the Comte’s phaeton, drawn by two spirited horses which she had seen before outside the front door at Valmont.
The groom jumped down and Comte Raoul took his place and picked up the reins.
Larisa climbed into the seat next to him.
“You will bring my clothes down as soon as you get back,” Comte Raoul said to the groom.
“I will do that, Monsieur.”
The groom saluted and they drove off.
“What about my horse?” Larisa asked. “Or are we stopping at your house?”
“We cannot do that,” Comte Raoul answered, “and your horse has already left for Valmont. He will be waiting for you in the drive when we arrive there.”
“Why can we not stop at your house?” Larisa asked curiously.
“The answer is quite simple,” Comte Raoul replied. “It is a bachelor establishment.”
“Do you mean that no woman ever visits you there?”
He smiled.
“I would not say that, but certainly not one of the Beau-Monde.”
Larisa was silent, digesting what he had said.
She was glad he included her in the Beau-Monde. At the same time it seemed that the Demi-Monde enjoyed special privileges which were forbidden to her.
She thought of the women she had seen with Comte Raoul this evening and found herself wishing that she too could be of the Demi-Monde.
How hard it must be to resist the wiles and the loveliness of such women, how easy to be bored with what Madame Savigny had described as the ancien regime who would not go to the Folies-Bergere or any other of the gay Parisian night-spots, but sat in their houses disapproving of everyone else.
It was not surprising, Larisa thought, that someone like Comte Raoul found the bright lights of the new Paris more amusing and more entertaining than the life in which he had been brought up.
Valmont might be beautiful but he had described it as a “cemetery.”
He was young, gay, debonair, dashing, and adventurous!
Was it likely that he would want to spend years of his life thinking only of economy, grudging the expenditure of every penny, talking only to the few blue-blooded families like his own who thought everyone else vulgar and parvenu?
“I wish I were a man!” Larisa said aloud.
“I for one am exceedingly glad you are a woman!” he smiled. “But why this sudden desire for a change?”
“I was thinking how amusing your life here must be, even though some people consider it reprehensible,” Larisa replied.
She paused and added in explanation:
“Madame Savigny explained to me how much your relations and their friends disapprove of all the new innovations, even of electric light!”
“And you really think my behaviour is more to be desired?” the Comte asked.
There was an irony in his voice and Larisa answered:
“Naturally I am not aware of the things you have done of which people disapprove so strongly, but all men want to be gay and how indeed could you resist women who are so lovely or so enticing as those I saw you with tonight?”
“You sound as if you were a little jealous of them,” the Comte said.
“It is not so much jealousy as envy.” Larisa replied. “I suppose all women want to be beautiful and gorgeously dressed, to wear expensive jewels and have young men like you admiring them.”
“Did I say I admired them?” Comte Raoul asked.
“It is obvious, is it not?” Larisa asked. “You asked the two ladies in your box to your party, and the lovely lady who spoke to you just now is very anxious to see you again.”
Comte Raoul did not answer.
They were moving through the narrow streets of the suburbs.
In a few minutes Larisa knew they would be out of the city and into the open countryside.
She wondered why she worried about anything except the joy of being beside him, of watching him drive his horses with an expertise that she had never seen before, knowing that he was not only the most attractive man she had
ever seen but also the most attractive man in all Paris.
For the moment there were no beautiful women to tempt him or to distract his attention.
She was alone with him and she knew that this was a moment she would always remember.
‘What is the point of talking?’ she asked herself. ‘There are no explanations and, indeed no answers to all the questions that perplex me. I shall never understand his life and all I can do is to be grateful for whatever kindness he shows me; for the times that we can be together.’
How could she have dreamt, she thought, the day before yesterday that she would have a man like Comte Raoul talking to her of love or giving her dinner?
Even if she never saw him again she knew that when they had sat together beneath the statue of Aphrodite and when he had taken her to the Restaurant there were moments that she would never forget and which were hers for all eternity.
No-one could take those away from her whatever happened!
If she never saw him again it would still be something to remember, something to treasure, something which in some strange, inexplicable manner had become part of herself.
They drove on and she had the feeling that the Comte was pushing his horses a little and that he was in a hurry to reach Valmont.
Larisa tried not to think how hard it was going to be to leave him; to go into the house alone, not certain what would happen to him or what Monsieur le Comte’s reaction would be to his unexpected arrival.
She tried to tell herself that it was none of her business.
But she knew that she was irrevocably and indivisibly a part of the terrible events taking place in the Valmont family and at the Chateau, so she could no longer pretend that she was an outsider or that they were nothing to do with her.
Now the woods were appearing which surrounded the Valmont Estate and they turned in at the high, wrought-iron gates which were surmounted by the family crest in stone.
They entered the long, lime avenue but to Larisa’s surprise the Comte drove his horses off the gravel and onto the grass verge, and they travelled only a very short distance before he brought them to a standstill.
“Why are we stopping here?” Larisa asked. “Is your groom to meet us here with my horse?”
“No, I told him to wait at the bottom of the drive,” Comte Raoul replied. “Then you can ride back to the stables and say you got lost, which was why you took so long to return.”
The Devil in Love (Bantam Series No. 24) Page 13