Revenge of the Heart

by Barbara Cartland

  “It is different for you – you are a man!”

  “I am still a human being and where I have just come from human beings have to fight to live. It has made me appreciate life in a way I never did before.”

  She turned her face away from him and he could see her profile silhouetted against the water and thought, although he was not certain, that she was attractive.

  At the same time there was something about the sharpness of her chin that made him think she was unnaturally slender.

  “Because I was saved by a friend from doing what you are contemplating doing,” he said, “I suggest we sit down somewhere, preferably with a glass of wine and you tell me why you are taking such a desperate step.”

  As he spoke he saw her whole body stiffen and she said quickly,

  “I have told you to go away – if you want a woman – there are – plenty of them in the – streets.”

  It was the obvious interpretation she could put on what he had just said and Warren answered,

  “I swear to you, I was not thinking about you like that! If I wanted what you suggest Paris caters for, it would be easy without my having to come to a towpath on the Seine!”

  He spoke as he might have done to a rather foolish child, and as if she understood, she said,

  “I apologise – that was rude – when you are trying to be – kind.”

  “You must be aware it is the sort of thing you must expect if you walk about Paris late at night alone.”

  “I am not walking about Paris,” she said fiercely. “I came here to – drown myself – and you are preventing me from doing what I – want to do.”

  “As I have already pointed out, it is unlikely you will be successful. Suppose you consider my suggestion and talk it over with someone who has once been in exactly the same position as you are?”

  “I doubt that very much.”

  “It is true and I really feel it is Fate that I should have seen you and known what you were about to do.”

  “How – did you know?”

  The question was curious and Warren answered it truthfully,

  “I was aware you were in danger just as a month or two ago I was aware that I and the man with whom I was travelling were in danger before it actually occurred. My instinct, or whatever you like to call it, saved our lives in the same way that I hope I have been able to save yours.”

  The girl gave a little sigh.

  Then she turned from the river and took a step away from it as if she realised that what she had intended was for the moment at any rate impossible.

  They walked side by side up the steps to the road, and now in the moonlight Warren looked at her and realised she was very young – in fact so young that despite the fact that her hair was heaped on top of her head, he thought she was only a child.

  Then he realised that she was too tall to be so immature and that the illusion of childishness was caused by the fact that she was so extraordinarily thin.

  She was a replica of some pitiful sights he had seen amongst some of the tribes of Africa and was obviously suffering from malnutrition.

  It was an explanation anyway for her wishing to die, but he merely said,

  “There is a small restaurant near here where I used to eat when I was young. If it is still open, I suggest we go there while you tell me about yourself.”

  “I have no intention of telling you anything, so perhaps I should not accept your – invitation under – false pretences.”

  “Then I will talk,” Warren said, “and you can listen!”

  The girl stood for a moment undecided, as if she thought it might be wiser to run away from him.

  Once again he knew what she was thinking and he said,

  “As it happens, I would like to talk to you, because I have a tremendous problem on my mind. It is one that would not have been helped by the music and the laughter that I could have found across the river, and that is why I was walking here. You may in fact, be the ‘guiding light’ I was seeking.”

  “You do not look as if you had any problems,” the girl remarked.

  He knew as they walked under the light from the streetlamps that she was impressed by the smartness of his white shirtfront and long tailed evening coat.

  “You would be surprised at those I have suddenly been confronted with!” he said. “So please do as I ask and I promise that when you want me to escort you back to wherever you are staying I will do so – immediately.”

  He felt a little shudder go through her as if his words evoked something unpleasant.

  Then he crossed the road and walked a little way further before there was a turning where he remembered the restaurant had been.

  He found it was open, but the tables outside on the pavement under a red and white striped awning were empty.

  Inside half-a-dozen customers were seated at tables in the centre of the room, while those at the side where there were sofas against the wall were unoccupied.

  At the sight of Warren in evening dress, the proprietor hurried forward and led him to a sofa table in a corner.

  As he sat down, Warren became aware that the girl seated beside him was surprisingly not embarrassed by her surroundings, nor by the fact that she was without a wrap or gloves.

  Then he noticed that the gown she was wearing was threadbare.

  She had a long swan-like neck, and he thought if she was not so thin she would be very attractive.

  She made no attempt to look at the menu the proprietor put in front of her at the same time as he handed one to Warren.

  “Shall I order?” Warren asked.

  “Thank you.”

  Glancing at her without appearing to be too curious, he realised he had been right in thinking she was suffering from lack of food and was in fact, near to starvation. He could see the prominent bones at her wrists, the thinness of her fingers and, as he had noticed before, the sharp line of her chin.

  Her eyes were unnaturally large and he knew she was remarkably pretty – in fact the right word was ‘lovely’.

  Knowing it would be ready, he ordered first some vichyssoise, a cold soup, which was nourishing because it was made of potatoes and cream.

  Then he ordered a chicken dish which the proprietor informed him was the Specialité de la Maison.

  “I think I remember it when I came here many years ago,” Warren remarked.

  “Then I am delighted to welcome you back, monsieur,” the proprietor replied.

  Warren then ordered a bottle of champagne and made it clear that he required it to be served without delay. As the proprietor took the wine list from him, Warren turned to look at the girl beside him and said with a smile,

  “Now suppose we introduce ourselves? My name is Warren Wood.”

  There was a little pause before she replied,

  “Mine – is Nadia.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Charrington.”

  “So you are English!”

  Even as he spoke, he was sure, again with a perception that was instinctive in him, that although her English seemed perfect, her appearance denied it.

  There was nothing he could put his finger on, but he was certain there was some other nationality to which her blood owed allegiance.

  Yet Warren thought it was a mistake to sound as if he was questioning anything she told him and so he asked her,

  “Now we know each other, suppose you tell me what you are doing in Paris and why you are so anxious to leave it?”

  As if she found the way he was expressing it almost amusing, he thought there was a slight smile on her lips before she replied,

  “You promised we would talk – about you!”

  “Very well, I will keep my word,” Warren replied. “Which incidentally, I always do.”

  He knew she would understand he was reassuring her that he would let her leave the moment she wished to go and he had no other designs on her.

  “I arrived,” he continued, “in Paris tonight from Africa and I am leaving first thing
tomorrow morning for England.”

  “You have been in Africa? What have you been doing there?”

  “I was travelling with a friend who is writing a book on the tribes of North Africa, particularly the Berbers. We have been to places where they had never seen a white man before and we very nearly left our bones behind.”

  “It sounds very dangerous!”

  “It was! At the same time, as I have just told you, it cured me of wishing to kill myself.”

  She looked at him and he knew she was taking in the smartness of his evening clothes and was aware of how expensive they were.

  After a second she said,

  “You don’t look as though there was – any reason for you to want to – die.”

  “There are other reasons why people commit suicide besides lack of money!”

  “Yes, I suppose there are,” she agreed, “but being absolutely penniless and – alone is very – frightening!”

  The way she said ‘alone’ made Warren lower his voice as he asked,

  “Who have you lost?”

  “M-my – mother.”

  “And you have no father?”

  “My father is – dead.”

  There was a tremor on the last word, which made Warren feel there was something particularly painful about the way she had lost her father.

  “And you have no other relations who could look after you?”

  “N-no – not in Paris.”

  It was quite obvious she had not the money to go anywhere else and he said,

  “It seems impossible that anyone in this overcrowded City should be completely without friends, relatives or acquaintances.”

  She looked away from him as if she did not wish to reply and he noticed that her eyelashes were very long and dark.

  After a moment he remarked lightly,

  “Then perhaps I have been sent as your ‘Guardian Angel’ to save you from yourself.”

  “Which is something you – should not have done.”

  “Why not?”

  She sighed.

  “Because it is only – prolonging the agony.”

  There was no time for him to reply because the proprietor brought the vichyssoise soup and set down the bowls in front of them.

  They were accompanied by a basket containing crisp rolls warm from the oven and there was a large pat of butter.

  It was then that Warren knew how desperately hungry Nadia was, not because she rushed at the food, but because she deliberately waited, almost as if she was counting the seconds before her hand went out to touch the roll.

  Slowly, so slowly that he knew she was forcing her will to behave with propriety, she broke it, helped herself to the butter and spread a very small piece of the crust with it. Then again she waited before she lifted it to her lips.

  Warren pretended not to notice.

  Instead he tasted the champagne, asked that there should be just a little poured into the glasses and the bottle then returned to the ice cooler.

  He also asked for a bottle of mineral water.

  By the time all this was done Nadia was delicately and slowly drinking a spoonful of the soup.

  As she did so, Warren thought, although it might have been his imagination, there was already just a touch more colour in the deathly whiteness of her skin.

  She made no sound until the soup was finished.

  Then, as she took a sip of the Evian water, Warren suggested,

  “Try to drink a little champagne. It will give you an appetite.”

  “Do you think I need a stimulus to – acquire one?”

  “I have learnt from experience,” he replied, “that when you have been without food for a long time and you think you are very hungry, it is surprising that, when the food is actually there, you suddenly have no desire to eat it.”

  “Did you learn that in Africa?”

  “Yes,” he answered, “amongst a great many other things.”

  “I would like to hear about them.”

  “Are you really interested or just pretending to be?”

  For the first time she gave a little laugh.

  “Actually I am interested, but I admit I have not thought about anything except my own troubles for what seems a long time.”

  “When did your mother die?”

  He thought for a moment she would not reply.

  Then she said,

  “Two days ago. She was – buried this morning.”

  Then, as if without his asking her, she knew what he wanted to know, she added,

  “I sold Mama’s wedding ring, her clothes and everything I possessed to pay for the funeral. Even so, the Priest had to help me from the Charity Funds.”

  She said the word ‘charity’ as if it was an insult and Warren said,

  “I understand. So you have nothing except for what you stand up in.”

  “M-must we – talk about it?”

  “That is why we are here.”

  “Very well – you may as well know the truth. I have nothing and nowhere to stay tonight. In the circumstances the river seems very inviting.”

  “As long as you end there and not in some extremely uncomfortable prison.”

  She looked at him sharply before she replied,

  “You seem very certain that I should be prevented from doing what I want to do. But every day dead bodies are discovered in the river and no one has prevented them from drowning.”

  “You are one of the lucky – or unlucky – ones, whichever way you like to think about it.”

  “Unlucky? Of course I am unlucky!”

  He was thinking of what he should say to her when the chicken arrived.

  It was deliciously cooked with cream and there were vegetables and sauté potatoes to go with it.

  As he had anticipated, Nadia could eat only a very little, despite the fact that he noticed she took several little sips of the champagne.

  Then she put down her knife and fork, looked at him pleadingly and said,

  “Forgive me – when you have been so kind – but you are quite right – and it is impossible for me to – eat any more.”

  A waiter took away their plates and Warren ordered coffee and enquired,

  “Now, suppose you tell me how you are in such a plight when it is obvious that you are educated, and are also what is called a ‘lady’?”

  To his surprise Nadia stiffened and again looked away from him.

  “I-I am not being rude,” she said, “but – I cannot answer that question.”

  “Why not? I wish to understand.”

  She clasped her hands together and he knew that she felt she was being very obstructive before she said,

  “It is a story I can tell – nobody – but Mama and I came to Paris because – if you like – we were in hiding – and our money gradually grew less and less. Then – Mama became ill.”

  “So you spent what you had on doctors’ fees!”

  Nadia nodded.

  “But they were hopeless. They could do nothing for Mama and as she was in pain and I could not afford the right food – or the proper attention for her – it was perhaps a – good thing that she – died. I-I mean – good for her.”

  “I know what you are saying,” Warren said sympathetically. “There is nothing worse than watching somebody you love suffer and not being able to help.”

  He was thinking as he spoke of his father and he could understand how frightening it had been for somebody like the girl beside him who was obviously wellborn.

  “I wish you would tell me the whole story,” he sighed.

  She shook her head.

  “I-I cannot do that. All I can say is, Thank you very much forgiving me such a – delicious meal!”

  She looked at him as if she expected him to get up and leave and he replied,

  “You are not so foolish as to think that I would walk away and leave you here. Even if I gave you some money, which I could quite easily do, I would not be able to sleep at night wondering what had happened to you.”
<
br />   He smiled before he added,

  “I am sure you would feel the same. We all want to know the end of the story.”

  “Perhaps there will not be one.”

  “Nonsense! You are well aware that is not true! One chapter is finished, but life at your age and mine, I hope, will perhaps be more enjoyable in the next chapter than in the one we have just completed.”

  Nadia’s eyes seemed to fill her whole face as she said,

  “What – can I do?”

  It was the cry of a child who was afraid of the dark, and Warren answered,

  “I have an idea which has suddenly come to me almost as if I heard it spoken by somebody outside myself and yet I am almost afraid to tell you about it.”

  “There is no need for you to be that.”

  “Very well, I will risk your saying it is quite preposterous, and yet it is in my mind and I can see it falling into place like a jigsaw puzzle.”

  “You are making me – curious.”

  At the same time as she spoke Warren saw there was a wary look in her eyes, and he knew that she was afraid that his suggestion, proposition, or whatever it might be, was what she had feared in the first place.

  Almost as if he could read her thoughts, he was aware that she was measuring the distance between her seat and the door.

  If he said what she anticipated he might say, she could get up and run from the restaurant and be down the road and out of sight before he could follow her.

  “It is nothing like that,” he said very quietly.

  Now the wary look in her eyes changed to one of startled surprise because he had read her thoughts and, as he saw the colour come into her cheeks, it made her look surprisingly lovely.

  Chapter Three

  Choosing his words carefully, Warren said again,

  “I arrived back in Paris tonight having been in Africa for nearly ten months, during which time I have had no letters and seen no English newspapers.”

  He realised that Nadia was listening intently to what he was saying and he continued,

  “The reason I went to Africa was that a woman to whom I was secretly engaged changed her mind because she found a man in a more advantageous Social position than myself, and decided that a title was more important than love.”