Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli

by Marie Corelli

  CHAPTER II

  A laugh, clear and cold as a sleigh-bell on a frosty night rang out on the silence.

  “Why did you run away from me?”

  He replied at once, and brusquely.

  “Because I was tired of you!”

  She laughed again. A strange white elf as she looked In the spreading moonbeams she was woman to the core, and the disdainful movement of her small uplifted head plainly expressed her utter indifference to his answer.

  “I followed you” — she said— “I knew I should find you! What are you doing up here? Shamming to be ill?”

  “Precisely! ‘Sham’ is as much in my line as yours. I have to ‘pretend’ in order to be real!”

  “Paradoxical as usual!” and she shrugged her shoulders— “Anyway you’ve chosen a good place to do your shamming in. It’s quite lovely up here, — much better than the Plaza. I am at the Plaza.”

  “Automobile and all I suppose!” he said, sarcastically— “How many servants? — how many boxes with how many dresses?”

  She laughed again.

  “That’s no concern of yours!” she replied— “I am my own mistress.”

  “More’s the pity!” he retorted.

  They faced each other. The moon, now soaring high in clear space, shed a luminous rain of silver over all the visible breadth of wild country, and their two figures looked mere dark silhouettes half drowned in the pearly glamour.

  “It’s worth travelling all the long miles to see!” she declared, stretching her arms out with an enthusiastic gesture— “Oh, beautiful big moon of California! I’m glad I came!”

  He was silent.

  “You are not glad!” she continued— “You are a bear-man in hiding, and the moon says nothing to you!”

  “It says nothing because it IS nothing” — he answered, impatiently— “It is a dead planet without heart, — a mere shell of extinct volcanoes where fire once burned, and its light is but the reflection of the sun on its barren surface. It is like all women, — but mostly like YOU!”

  She made him a sweeping curtsy so exquisitely graceful that the action resembled nothing so much as the sway of a lily in a light wind.

  “Thanks, gentle Knight! — flower of chivalry!” she said— “I see you love me in spite of yourself!”

  He made a quick stride towards her, — then stopped. “Love you!” he echoed, — then laughed loudly and derisively-”Great God! Love you? YOU? If I did I should be mad! When will you learn the truth of me? — that women are less in my estimation than the insects crawling on a blade of grass or spawning in a stagnant pond? — that they have no power to move me to the smallest pulse of passion or desire? — and that you, of all your sex, seem to my mind the most—”

  “Hateful?” she suggested, smilingly.

  “No — the most complete and unmitigated bore!”

  “Dreadful!” and she made a face at him like that of a naughty child, — then she sank down on the sun-baked turf in an easy half-reclining attitude— “It’s certainly much worse to be a bore than to be hated. Hate is quite a live sentiment, — besides it always means, or HAS meant — love! You can’t hate anything that is quite indifferent to you, but of course you CAN be bored! YOU are bored by me and I am bored by YOU! — and we are absolutely indifferent to each other! What a comedy it is! Isn’t it?”

  He stood still and sombre, gazing down at the figure resting on the ground at his feet, its white garments gathering about it as though they were sentiently aware that they must keep the line of classic beauty in every fold.

  “Boredom is the trouble” — she went on— “No one escapes it. The very babies of to-day are bored. We all know too much. People used to be happy because they were ignorant — they had no sort of idea why they were born, or what they came into the world for. Now they’ve learned the horrid truth that they are only here just as the trees and flowers are here — to breed other trees and flowers and then go out of it — for no purpose, apparently. They are ‘disillusioned.’ They say ‘what’s the use?’ To put up with so much trouble and labour for the folks coming after us whom we shall never see, — it seems perfectly foolish and futile. They used to believe in another life after this — but that hope has been knocked out of them. Besides it’s quite open to question whether any of us would care to live again. Probably it might mean more boredom. There’s really nothing left. That’s why so many of us go reckless — it’s just to escape being bored.”

  He listened in cold silence. After a pause —

  “Have you done?” he said.

  She looked up at him. The moonbeams set tiny frosty sparkles in her eyes.

  “Have I done?” she echoed— “No, — not quite! I love talking — and it’s a new and amusing sensation for me to talk to a man in his shirt-sleeves on a hill in California by the light of the moon! So wild and picturesque you know! All the men I’ve ever met have been dressed to death! Have you had your dinner?”

  “I never dine,” he replied.

  “Really! Don’t you eat and drink at all?”

  “I live simply,” — he said— “Bread and milk are enough for me, and I have these.”

  She laughed and clapped her hands.

  “Like a baby!” she exclaimed— “A big bearded baby! It’s too delicious! And you’re doing all this just to get away from ME! What a compliment!”

  With angry impetus he bent over her reclining figure and seized her two hands.

  “Get up!” he said harshly— “Don’t lie there like a fallen angel!”

  She yielded to his powerful grasp as he pulled her to her feet — then looked at him still laughing.

  “Plenty of muscle!” she said— “Well?”

  He held her hands still and gripped them fiercely. She gave a little cry.

  “Don’t! You forget my rings, — they hurt!”

  At once he loosened his hold, and gazed moodily at her small fingers on which two or three superb diamond circlets glittered like drops of dew.

  “Your rings!” he said— “Yes — I forgot them! Wonderful rings! — emblems of your inordinate vanity and vulgar wealth — I forgot them! How they sparkle in this wide moonlight, don’t they? Just a drifting of nature’s refuse matter, turned into jewels for women! Strange ordinance of strange elements! There!” and he let her hands go free— “They are not injured, nor are you.”

  She was silent pouting her under-lip like a spoilt child, and rubbing one finger where a ring had dinted her flesh.

  “So you actually think I have come here to get away from YOU?” he went on— “Well for once your ineffable conceit is mistaken. You think yourself a personage of importance — but you are nothing, — less than nothing to me, I never give you a thought — I have come here to study — to escape from the crazy noise of modern life — the hurtling to and fro of the masses of modern humanity, — I want to work out certain problems which may revolutionise the world and its course of living—”

  “Why revolutionise it?” she interrupted— “Who wants it to be revolutionised? We are all very well as we are — it’s a breeding place and a dying place — voila tout!”

  She gave a French shrug of her shoulder and waved her hands expressively. Then she pushed back her flowing hair, — the moonbeams trickled like water over it, making a network of silver on gold.

  “What did you come here for?” he asked, abruptly.

  “To see you!” she answered smilingly— “And to tell you that I’m ‘on the war-path’ as they say, taking scalps as I go. This means that I’m travelling about, — possibly I may go to Europe—”

  “To pick up a bankrupt nobleman!” he suggested.

  She laughed.

  “Dear, no! Nothing quite so stupid! Neither noblemen nor bankrupts attract me. No! I’m doing a scientific ‘prowl,’ like you. I believe I’ve discovered something with which I could annihilate you — so!” and she made a round O of her curved fingers and blew through it— “One breath! — from a distance, too! and hey presto! — t
he bear-man on the hills of California eating bread and milk is gone! — a complete vanishing trick — no more of him anywhere!” The bear-man, as she called him, gloomed upon her with a scowl.

  “You’d better leave such things alone!” he said, angrily— “Women have no business with science.”

  “No, of course not!” she agreed— “Not in men’s opinion. That’s why they never mention Madame Curie without the poor Monsieur! SHE found radium and he didn’t, — but ‘he’ is always first mentioned.”

  He gave an impatient gesture.

  “Enough of all this!” he said— “Do you know it’s nearly ten o’clock at night? — I suppose you do know! — and the people at the Plaza—”

  “THEY know!” — she interrupted, nodding sagaciously— “They know I am rich — rich — rich! It doesn’t matter what I do, because I am rich! I might stay out all night with a bear-man, and nobody would say a word against me, because I am rich! I might sit on the roof of the Plaza and swing my legs over the visitors’ windows and it would be called ‘charming’ because I am rich! I can appear at the table d’hote in a bath-wrap and eat peas with a hair-pin if I like — and my conduct will be admired, because I am rich! When I go to Europe my photo will be in all the London pictorials with the grinning chorus-girls, because I am rich! And I shall be called ‘the beautiful,’ ‘the exquisite’— ‘the fascinating’ by all the unwashed penny journalists because I am rich! O-ooh!” and she gave a comic little screw of her mouth and eyes— “It’s great fun to be rich if you know what to do with your riches!”

  “Do YOU?” he enquired, sarcastically.

  “I think so!” here she put her head on one side like a meditative bird and her wonderful hair fell aslant like a golden wing— “I amuse myself — as much as I can. I learn all that can be done with greedy, stupid humanity for so much cash down! I would,” — here she paused, and with a sudden feline swiftness of movement came close up to him— “I would have married YOU! — if you would have had me! I would have given you all my money to play with, — you could have got everything you want for your inventions and experiments, and I would have helped you, — and then — then — you could have blown up the world and me with it, so long as you gave me time to look at the magnificent sight! And I wouldn’t have married you for love, mind you! — only for curiosity!”

  He withdrew from her a couple of paces, — a glimmer of white teeth between his dark moustache and beard gave his face the expression of a snarl more than a smile.

  “For curiosity!” she repeated, stretching out a hand and touching his arm— “To see what the thing that calls itself a man is made of! I did my very best with you, didn’t I? — uncouth as you always were and are! — but I did my best! And all Washington thought it was settled! Why wouldn’t you do what Washington expected?”

  The light of the moon fell full on her upturned face. It was a wonderful face, — not beautiful according to the monotonous press-camera type, but radiant with such a light of daring intelligence as to make beauty itself seem cheap and meretricious in comparison with its glowing animation. He moved away from her another step, and shook his arm free from her touch.

  “Why wouldn’t you?” she reiterated softly; then with a sudden ripple of laughter, she clasped her hands and uplifted them in an attitude of prayer— “Why wouldn’t he? Oh, big moon of California, why? Oh, pagan gods and goddesses and fauns and fairies, tell me why? Why wouldn’t he?”

  He gave her a glance of cool contempt.

  “You should have been on the stage!” he said.

  “‘All the world’s a stage,’” she quoted, letting her upraised arms fall languidly at her sides— “And ours is a real comedy! Not ‘As You Like It’ but ‘As You Don’t Like It!’ Poor Shakespeare! — he never imagined such characters as we are! Now, suppose you had satisfied the expectations of all Washington City and married me, of course we should have bored each other dreadfully — but with plenty of money we could have run away from each other whenever we liked — they all do it nowadays!”

  “Yes — they all do it!” he repeated, mechanically.

  “They don’t ‘love’ you know!” she went on— “Love is too much of a bore. YOU would find it so!”

  “I should, indeed!” he said, with sudden energy— “It would be worse than any imaginable torture! — to be ‘loved’ and looked after, and watched and coddled and kissed—”

  “Oh, surely no woman would want to kiss you!” she exclaimed— “Never! THAT would be too much of a good thing!”

  And she gave a little peal of laughter, merry as the lilt of a sky-lark in the dawn. He stared at her angrily, moved by an insensate desire to seize her and throw her down the hill like a bundle of rubbish.

  “To kiss YOU,” she said, “one would have to wear a lip-shield of leather! As well kiss a bunch of nettles! No, no! I have quite a nice little mouth — soft and rosy! I shouldn’t like to spoil it by scratching it against yours! It’s curious how all men imagine women LIKE to kiss them! They never grasp an idea of the frequent unpleasantness of the operation! Now I’m going!”

  “Thank God!” he ejaculated fervently.

  “And don’t worry yourself” — she continued, airily— “I shall not stay long at the Plaza.”

  “Thank God again!” he interpolated.

  “It would be too dull, — especially as I’m not shamming to be ill, like you. Besides, I have work to do! — wonderful work! and I don’t believe in doing it shut up like a hermit. Humanity is my crucible! Good-night, — good-bye!”

  He checked her movement by a quick, imperious gesture.

  “Wait!” he said— “Before you go I want you to know a bit of my mind—”

  “Is it necessary?” she queried.

  “I think so,” he answered— “It will save you the trouble of ever trying to see me again, which will be a relief to me, if not to you. Listen! — and look at yourself with MY eyes—”

  “Too difficult!” she declared— “I can look at nothing with your eyes any more than you can with mine!”

  “Madam—”

  She uttered a little laughing “Oh!” and put her hand to her ears.

  “Not ‘Madam’ for heaven’s sake!” she exclaimed; “It sounds as if I were either a queen or a dressmaker!”

  His sombre eyes had no smile in them.

  “How should you be addressed?” he demanded, “A woman of such wealth and independence as you possess can hardly be called ‘Miss’ as if she were in parental leading-strings!”

  She looked up at the clear dark sky where the moon hung like a huge silver air-ball.

  “No, I suppose not!” she replied— “The old English word was ‘Mistress.’ So quaint and pretty, don’t you think?”

  ‘Oh mistress mine, where are you roaming?

  Oh stay and hear! your true love’s coming!’

  She sang the two lines in a deliciously entrancing voice, full of youth and tenderness. With one quick stride he advanced upon her and caught her by the shoulders.

  “My God, I could shake the life out of you!” he said, fiercely— “I wonder you are not afraid of me!”

  She laughed, careless of his grasp.

  “Why should I be? You couldn’t kill me if you tried — and if you could—”

  “If I could — ah, if I could!” he muttered, fiercely.

  “Why then there would be another murderer added to the general world of murderers!” she said— “That’s all! It’s not worth it!”

  Still he held her in his grip.

  “See here!” he said— “Before you go I want yon to know a thing or two, — you may as well learn once for all my views on women. They’re brief, but they’re fixed. And they’re straight! Women are nothing — just necessary for the continuation of the race — no more. They may be beautiful or homely — it’s all one — they serve the same purpose. I’m under no delusions about them. Without men they are utterly useless, — mere waste on the wind! To idealise them is a stupid mistake. To thin
k that they can do anything original, intellectual or imaginative is to set one’s self down an idiot. YOU, — you the spoilt only child of one of the biggest rascal financiers in New York, — YOU, left alone in the world with a fortune so vast as to be almost criminal — you think you are something superlative in the way of women, — you play the Cleopatra, — you are convinced you can draw men after you — but it’s your money that draws them, — not YOU! Can’t you see that? — or are you too vain to see it? And you’ve no mercy on them, — you make them believe you care for them and then you throw them over like empty nutshells! That’s your way! But you never fooled ME, — and you never will!”

  He released her as suddenly as he had grasped her, — she drew her white draperies round her shoulders with a statuesque grace, and lifted her head, smiling.

  “Empty nutshells are a very good description of men who come after a woman for her money” — she observed, placidly— “and it’s quite natural that the woman should throw them over her shoulder. There’s nothing in them — not even a flavour! No — never fooled you, — you fooled yourself — you are fooling yourself now, only you don’t know it. But there! — let’s finish talking! I like the romance of the situation — you in your shirt-sleeves on a hill in California, and I in silken stuff and diamonds paying you a moonlight visit — it’s really quite novel and charming! — but it can’t go on for ever! Just now you said you wanted me to know a thing or two, and I presume you have explained yourself. What you think or what you don’t think about women doesn’t interest me. I’m one of the ‘wastes on the wind!’ I shall not aid in the continuation of the race, — heaven forbid! The race is too stupid and too miserable to merit continuance. Everything has been done for it that can be done, over and over again, from the beginning — till now, — and now — NOW!” She paused, and despite himself the tone of her voice sent a thrill through his blood of something like fear.

  “NOW? — well! What NOW?” he demanded.

  She lifted one hand and pointed upwards. Her face in the moonbeams looked austere and almost spectral in outline.

  “Now — the Change!” she answered— “The Change when all things shall be made new!”