Guinea Girl a Melodrama in Three Acts - Forgotten Books

GUINEA G IRLA Melo dram a in Three A c ts,

t o gethe r w ith the Inc identalMu si c , he re p re sented fo r theente rtainment o f the Cu rio u s ,

NORMA N DAVEY

LONDON

CHAPMAN 83° HA LL , LTD .

MCMXXI

m a nONDON AND no nw xc n PRES S , m u m », LONDON AND NORWICH, BNGBAND

TO ARTHUR AND TO ALEC WAUGHAND TO ONE , CYNTHIA

CONTENT S

PAGE

PRELUDE IN A “MINOR KEYPRELUDE IN A MAJOR KEY

ACT I .-HALF A LOAF

I . THE RAMPARTS OF A WORLDII . PORTRAIT OF A TEMPORARY GENTLEMANIII . DANAE

YVONNE EN PLEINV . ANABAS IS

ACT II . — THE WHOLE LOAF

VI . AN IS LAND OF THE BLE S TTHE AGREEABLE DRAGON

VIII . PLAYMATE S IN ARCADY1X . RE CIPE FOR A LOVE PHILTRE

A COUNT WITH AN ACCOUNTXI . A DUEL A LA M ODEXI I . BLIND GOD OF LOVEXIII . THE DUTY OF A FATHERXIV . PSYCHE UNENS LAVEDXV . A PURITAN IN POS S E

THE BUTTING IN OF MAJOR BOOMER

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

XVII . THE PHRYG IAN A S PRIE S TXVIII . KATABAS IS

ACT III .— NO BREAD

XIX . YVONNE ENCORE EN PLEIN 219

XX . A PURITAN IN ES S E 281

XXI . A GOD (LITERALLY ) FROM THE MACHINE 241

FINALE IN A MAJOR KEY

FINALE IN A MINOR KEY

PRELUDE IN A MINOR KEY

II y a nu dem i -s1ec le , on 16 c onfessaitfranc hem ent. et I

’

on proc lam ait qu e la.nature aim e la sim plicité ; elle nous a

donné depu is trop do dém entis .

HENRI POINCARE.


NUS , said the Astronomer at breakfast ,has a satellite .

I wish,” said the wife o f the Astronomer,that you wouldn’t dip your toast in your coffee likethat . It’s so messy . There, you’ve made threedrops o n the tablecloth already— and it’s dripping onyour coat now . If you m us t soak your toast in yourcoffee, why don’t you use the spoon Thi s cloth hasonly been o n the table fo r three days , and .

My dear, yo u don’t understand . This is the

greatest di scovery . A revolution , my dear . Ishall be remembered . Cassini was right , afterall . Belo p o lsky is a bungler and Schi aparell i a fool .I shall be known . Bellamy’s Satellite Imust write t o the Ti m es at once .

”

That tablecloth w as clean on Tuesday— and lookat it no wBut Horace Bellamy had no mind fo r tablecloths ,

and the only spots that he knew o f were t o be seen(through a tube) many milli on miles away upon thesun , upon migratory planets and upon fixed stars .I must write to the Tim es about it ,” he repeated .

He stared at the bacon o n his plate, which had growncold with neglect , with unseeing eyes . I had betterrun up t o town t o -morrow and see Cresson I mustcatch the My dear, I shall want breakfastto-morrow at It is most important that Ishould .

Your bacon ’s getting cold, said Mrs . Bellamy .

Paul said nothing . He ate his egg very slowly andbetween mouthfuls gazed wide-eyed o u t o f thewindow . The beech tree at the end o f the lawn wasall green and gold in the spring sunshi ne . A littlemist still lay in the middle distance in the hollowbelow High Wood and remembered places were

3


strange with morning mystery . A snowy cumulushung in the blue square o f the upper half of thewindow like a tree- shape o n a Wedgwood bowlin the lower frame, blue and gold crocuses and whi tesnowdrops flamed like stars o n the black earth o f theflower beds . If o ne followed the garden path to itsfar end beyond the juniper trees and through theGate to Nowhere , across Dearm er Bottom and throughHigh Wood and Wych Wood up o n to Fritham Down ,o ne came to the scarps above the Arw ell and caves inrock . Outside the largest and finest of thesecaves , upon the stony shelf above the stream , croucheda figure, bending over a wood fire . The figure wasclad in a pair o f blue serge football shorts and a white(but not t o o white) cotton shi rt its bare knees werestained with earth and scratched by the brambles o fWych Wood . Its mop of red-brown hair glinted likecopper in the sunlight ; and although t o others’seeming here was but a holiday schoolboy, to theeyes o f the informed , Pha-Mee, King o f the CaveMen , sat at the mouth o f his cave and guarded thetribal fire .This picture was very clear in the mind o f Paul as

he sat at table and ate, delicately, at his egg . Spotso n the skin o f a leopard o n a linnet’s egg : o n thetops Of toadstools o n the divining stone, fire -heat edand water-cooled round impress o f Wooden-leg :Friday footprints in the sand such maculae asthese alone held Paul’s interest : for spots o n tablecloths and spots on stars o r in telescopes he had no use .The Science of Astronomy is , o f its nature, a big

affair. The very aids to knowledge are, in thisinstance , large : bloated contraptions grown o u t o f

due compass . The practitioner herein deals withentities o u t Of all imagination . A million miles is a

PRELUDE IN A MINOR KEY 5

bagatelle, and other suns , hung in the immeasurablevoid , outdistance and outnumber o u r one Sun o f thi so u r Solar System , so as to be numbered and easily forgotten among the host o f stars . The watcher of theseand o f the planets and satellites Of the Circus in whi chEarth revolves , crouched upon his hi gh stool witheye glued t o the end o f a tube colossus , precessesslowly round as Earth moves , for all the world likesome fly a~perch upon the minute hand of a grandfather’s clock . Observatories are big houses underneath the domes o f whi ch observers become diminutive,and even those of unofii c ial students are not small .Horace Bellamy was no t a rich man (or it had beenlarger still ) yet the wh ite dome at the bottom o f hi s

garden overtopped the juniper trees and anyimaginative bird flying in the blue sky above itmight well have believed that the Great Ro c had atlast laid an egg .

g; If those who study the habits o f bacilli throughlenses immersed in o i l , following the life of strep to c o c c i(enlarged so many thousand diameters ) across themicroscopic field , m i ght with reason be believed t o besmall men ; those others , w h o record the destinies o fstars , might be thought to be b ig men , of a presenceto command , o f some material aspect t o the will top ower .Be the truth o f this as it may, Mr . Horace Bellamy

did no t conform t o this rule, and the m i crocosmrather than the macrocosm might more fitt ingly haveheld his attention . Fo r he was a little man , w i thweak blue eyes , an indeterminate chin , a raggedmoustache and an uncertain manner . Size in bodyand force o f character were centred in his wife, whow as a large woman with a face like a horse . But ,perhaps , this stellar heretic (fo r t o doubt Barnard and

6 PRELUDE IN A MINOR KEY

Russell and the others is sheer heresy) was not socompetent an astronomer as the Vi c ar and Dr . Fairweather and Miss Nasely and the dwellers in andaround Gatton -Thorndyke were ready to believe, forHorace Bellam y was o ne o f those many enquirers inscience who flourished in an amiable and futile fashionduring the latter decades of the nineteenth centurythe agreeable (and at times disagreeable) product o fthe Victorian boom in things scientific , a lack o f

education and an adequate patrimony . For betweenthe years 1 860 and 1890 there were in England agreat number of middle -aged and elderly gentlemeno f independent means (Horace Bellamy

’s fathersuccessfully launched the Bellamy E lectric Belt ) whowasted their time and neglected their social responsib ilit ies and bored their friends in the pursuit o f

sciences , o f the principles o f which they were ignorantand in the methods o f which they were inept . Mr .Horace Craik Bellamy was o ne o f these , so Mrs .Bellamy (who had brought three children into theworld ) may be forgiven fo r taking but small noticeo f what her husband saw (o r thought he saw) througha telescope .The Older astronomers , began Horace Bellamy,

may not have had, indeed had not , the perfectedapparatus that we have t o -day. S c hrOter, in

deed .

Bu t neither Paul nor Mrs . Bellamy were listeningto the astronomer . The latter was busy with thecoffee-p o t (a complicated earthenware affair in twoparts ) in conserving the remainder coffee for afterdinner consumption that evening. The former wasoccupied with Pha-Mee and the (Economy o f Fire ,when he was suddenly brought back to the here andno w by the sound o f his name .


Yes , dad , he said absently .

Bower must hear of this . I want you to bicycleover to Dayton thi s morning with a note to Dr .

Bower . Yo u know his house— the one behind thechurch , with the big Iron gates .But, dad .

Paul put his half-eaten piece of toast down o n hisplate and stared across the table at hi s father . Hisbig eyes were round and full o f trouble .

But what ?But I can’t go . I ’veYou’ll do as you’re told , said Mrs . Bellamy,

l ooking up from the coffee-p o t .

But I can’t , really .

You’ve nothing to dOthis morning . Yo u must

But I m going over to Wrenham Valley thismorning .

Paul , said his father, you must take this noteto Dr . Bower . It’s very important he should knowat once . He may have missed it last night,and his instrument is no tBut,” interrupted Paul .Yo u can go to Wrenham t o -mo .rrowBut . . but , to-morrow won’t do . IWhy won’t to-morrow do 9 asked Mrs . Bell

amy.

Because because, began Paul , and thenstopped . He remembered that he could no t explainto his father and mother precisely why t o -morrowwou ld not do as well as tod ay . They did not knowReena-Daa . They did not know that he knew ReenaDaa , whose name (among grown-ups ) was Cecily andwho lived (also among grown-ups ) in the house o n thehill above Wrenham Church , bu t who in real life w as


Reena-Daa, Qu een o f the Cave Men and consort t o ‘

Pha-Mee .

Because —I arranged to go to-day, ended Paul ,lamely .

Well, you can’t go to-day, said Mrs . Bellamy,finally, you’ve got to take that note over to Dayton .

”

I ’ll go and write it at once,” said Horace Bellamy,as he rose from the table it will be ready for yo uin half an hour .Paul left the dining-room and walked gloomily into

the garden . He no longer saw the great white cloudsthat hung in so j olly and drunken a fashion in thesky . No r did he see the crocuses and snowdropsin the flo w er-beds or the gossamer above the grass o rthe hedgehog that had crept out o f its winter quartersunder the wood-pile to enj oy the spring sunshine ,forgetful for the nonce o f dog or boy o r any dangernor even did he see Spot , the fox-terrier, who dancedaround him and then ran away with a broken stick inhis mouth , waiting fo r Paul to play with him . Fo r

a ll Paul could see at the moment was Reena-Daa, adeserted and pathetic figure alone upon the stonyshelf above the waters Of the A rw ell : alone beforethe charred remains o f the day before yesterday’swood fire . He pictured Cecily then outside the largecave— o r rather, as she would be there at eleveno’clock —waiting and waiting vainly for him t o comedown over the hill and j oin her : a pathetic figurewith a small Peter-Pannish face, a mass o f blackcurly hair

,a blue serge skirt and black stockings , o ne

o f which had come half-down and lay in wrinklesaround the leg . Surely a pathetic figure ; for it isover-young to be deserted and a queen at the age o fnine .He had promised to be there— he had promised


very faithqy to be there and he was to bring withhim a small med icine bottle of paraffin (whi ch he hadbegged o ff Jane ) with which t o set the fire alight In abecoming manner . And he was also going to bringwi th him his largest and latest catapult , whi ch George ,the gardener’s b o y at the Manor House, had secretlyhelped him to make .With so fine a fir e and so deadly a weapon , what

wild beast , mammoth or mastodon , would dare comenear the cave : o r what enemy tribe would attemptt o storm the stronghold of Pha-Mee and Reena-Daa ,

his queen And no w Reena-Daa— poor Cecily o f theunruly hair —would be alone o n the cold rock beforeno fire ; and she woul d have to eat by herself thepeppermints that she was to bring for them t o eattogether, and the pheasant feathers that cook hadsaved for her she would have to wear in her hair aloneand unadmi red . Paul glared at the dark junipertrees and the white dome o f the Observatory behindthem and very nearly wept .Horace Bellamy came down the garden path

towards Paul . He held a letter in his hand .

Here yo u are, Paul ,” he said . Yo u know Dr.

Bower’s house ? You’d better get Off at once .”Oh , but , dad— won’t it do t o -morrowNo no . I must go t o town t o -morrow . Dr .

Bower must have this at once . It’s very important .He may no t have seen it . It will be clear to n ight ,but the glass is dropping, and Venus may not bevisible to-morrow night .”Paul put the letter in hi s pocket and walked away

dej ectedly towards the small outhouse , part workshopand part tool-shed , where he kept hi s bicycle .He pumped up the tyr e , viciously , in j erks , and a

few mi nutes later turned o ut of the garden path into3


the m ad , with head bent low over the handle-barso f the machine , and upon his lips a plaint againstall astronomers , royal or otherwise , and in his hearta hatred o f all moons , planets and stars .

as axe >z< >1<

The Rector o f Dayton is (or was , for he is nowdead ) concerned only with God and his garden —therectory garden , that is . Of the garden o f God inwhich (as he was wont t o confess ) he was an unskilledlabourer, he knew but li ttle more than the names o fthe weeds . He was not an efficient weed-killer, andhe was accustomed to solace himself, o f an evening,with Cockburn and a quotation o f Matthew xiii . 29 .

The rooting up o f tares is an uneasy business whichis best left in the hands o f God . The Rector wasa theologian and a gardener, and had been something o f a scholar in his day . In the rectory gardenthere were no weeds . The Rev . the HonourableJu lian Carthorpe-Gream e saw to that .He was busy on o ne sunny day in early spring o n the

outer edge o f his garden , where the ground rose twelvefeet o r more above the lane leading up t o the houseof Dr . Bower , upon a hedge of clipped b o x . It was ahedge o f which he was proud and he stood before a boxbush

,shaped into the form of a bird , with a huge

pair of garden shears in his hand . The trimming ofthis was not a matter to be left to any commongardener paid by the week : the Rector always sawto it himself.As he stood thus , hovering, shears in hand , over

thi s twig and that , he caught sight , above the levelt o p o f the hedge , o f a small figu re pushing a bi cycleup the lane . It was the figure o f a b o y o f some twelveyears Of age , clad in a white j ersey and blue sergeshorts . He was bare-headed and hi s crop of red

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He was silent for a moment, and then , with a thrushhidden in the flowers of an almond tree near by asaccompanist , he began to repeat in an altogetherdifferent voice :

ipsa gem m is p u rp u rantem p ingit annum flo ridis

ip sa turgentes p ap illas de favoni spirituu rget in nodo s tep entes ip sa roris luc idi ,noc tis aura quem relinqu it , sp argi t um entes aquas .

eras am etqui nunquam am avi t quique am av i t eras am et .>l<

illa c antat; nos tac em u s : quando ver v enit m eum 2

quando fiam uti c helido n u t tac ere desinamp erdidi m usam tac endo

—no s tac om as— w e are, indeed , mute .He sighed , and , lifting up his shears , cut o ff a

"

twigwhich had just broken o u t into bud .

In silence have I lost my Muse

The Rector sighed again , while he clipped perfunc t o ri ly at his box hedge . He had wholly forgotten the boy and the bicycle .The b o y , however, continued to climb the hill and

to curse Venus .Who shall say that he was not heard That

Cytherea has no ears to hear That the Cyprianhas fallen asleep and may not be awakened ? ThatVenus is dead ? That Alitta, Astarte— name herhow you will- may so be spat upon by a small boywith impunity That Aphrodite m

’

a uo c;— does not pay her debtsNo t , certainly, the Rev . the Hon . Julian Carthorpe

Gream e , alone and lonely in his garden nor thechronicler of these events .

PRELUDE IN A MAJOR KEY

All heaven , in every baby born ,All abso lu te o f earthly leaven

,

Reveals itself , though m an m ay sc ornA ll heaven .

A . C . SWINBURNE .

PRELUDE IN A MAJOR KEY

HE Traveller stood in the middle of thec o l, leaning upon hi s staff . His ruck- sack ,bulged out of all shape and discoloured by

rain and travel, lay, as it had fallen from hi s shoulders ,o n the snow . He stood very still , for nearly aminute, gaz ing down the snow track, which ranaway to be lost among the larches a hundred feetbelow .

The snow lay banked high on each side of him .

The blue sky above him was unsullied by any cloud ,undimmed by any mist . The snow underneath hi sfeet gleamed and sparkled in the ho t sunshine .Already, even now and here, where the mountainroad ran highest, the white snow crystals fell intowater drops : sun -alc hem i ed from pearl to diamondas he watched . At inte rvals of seconds , small masseso f snow detached themselves from the banks atthe roadside to fall with a little rustling noise intothe roadway ; and , among the larch trees below, agreater mass would , now and again , slip from theweighted branch with a crash that echoed faintlywhere he stood in the c o l above . Already the blackstems and twigs o f the larches were breaking o u t

into green needles . High up and unseen in theblue vault above him , a lark sang ; alone , with theechoes of the snow fall , breaking the great silence o fthe hills . Spring had come .The Tra veller took Off his hat and threw it down

against his ruck-sack . He drew a handkerchieffrom his coat pocket and mopped his brow . Thelast hour of hi s climb had been heavy work .

He dropped hi s staff, and , sitting down o n thesnow beside hi s hat and sack, slewed around hi s waterbottle from where it hung on his back .

“He took o u t

the cork and drank .

16 PRELUDE IN A MAJOR KEY

He sighed contentedly, knowing that happinesswhich only comes to those who walk o n the high hillsalone . Fo r five minutes o r more he sat there, seeingbut the blue sky and the snow and the dark woods ,happily forgetful o f the dust and litter o f a solicitor’so ffic e— evidence of so many dusty lives . His mindwas clear of thought like a room , swept and emptyexcept fo r sunlight and the wind in at the window .

Presently, he rose and shouldered his sack . Hestuffed hi s soft felt hat into a pocket and , pickingup his long staff, strode bare-headed down towardsthe woods below.

And every prospect pleases , and only man isvile

,he muttered to himself, as he swung his stick

around him raising miniature snow clouds where theiron spike o f it struck the banks about him .

An hour later he was through the larch woods . Hehad dropped several hundred feet . He no longerwalked o n snow . The roadway o f red earth andgravel lay bare in the sunshine, and down it , now inthe middle and now to this side and that , ran a pigmyriver

,a crystal stream that splashed and bubbled

j oyfully about the pebbles and fragments o f rockwhich lay in its way, to fall , here and there , in atiny waterfall over a rock outcrop . Around andabout him the land lay no longer white with snow .

Patches o f snow still lay here and there where theshadows were deepest a pattern of white and brownlike the back o f a skewbald pony . And a little laterthere were flowers . A long bank of pale blue anemonesheld his attention frail , delicate blossoms o n slenderstems

, o ne o f which he plucked and threaded intohis buttonhole ; and a hundred yards further o n

there was a great clump of yellow daffodils and thensome s c arlet flowers the name o f which he did

PRELUDE IN A MAJOR KEY 17

not know, and about a fallen and rotting tree trunk,an army of purple toadstools , spotted with orange .The road was now free o f the water that had run

down it o n the hi gher slopes and a full-grown streambubbled beside it , now running side by side with it ,now swerving away from it with the slope o f theland . The larches had given place to birch and ilex ,to walnut and to chestnut and to ash , and here andthere a beech tree ; and , at a bend in the road ,where the stream ran into a marshy pool , a clump o f

tall yellow iris flamed o u t against the green sedge .A woodman , with a brown jungle o f a beard and a

great axe slung over his shoulder with a cord , passedhim , and wished him good-day in the harsh p ato z

'

s

o f the country . The Traveller wished him B on

yo u r with a good heart and a distressful accent , and ,taking a penny whistle from his pocket , began t o

play upon it as he walked . Had any clerk or clientmet him as he thus walked , piping unmelodiously,down the hill road , they had hardly recogni sed thejunior partner in the firm o f Maclean and Beck , o r

known o ne who had the reputation o f being a hardman .

The Co l St . Romain is not o ne o f the principalc o ls in this part o f the Pyrenees , lying, as it does ,upon o ne o f the subsidiary spurs o f the mountains .The road which runs over it is a by-road from A X- laVim aire to the hamlets that lie in the high pasturelands of the Brigandin and thence , circuitously, bythe narrow valley of the Navette, to Ou ilz .

Thus the Traveller would be unlikely to meet o r

to pass many by this road , and indeed the woodmanon the further slopes o f the Co l St . Romain was theonly man tha t the Traveller had seen since he hadleft Ax early that morning .


But as he came down into the more fertile country,and the woods and scrub gave way to grass-land ,signs of man’s habitation began to appear . Hereand there a rude fence marked a boundary betweenfields , and in the distance a number o f cows stoodout against green grass . A bare-footed boy passedhim, followed by a mongrel dog . A mile o r so awaywere to be seen the red roofs o f a small hamlet .The Traveller glanced at his wrist , about which wasstrapped a round , silver watch . It lacked some tenminutes to noon . He quickened his pace , for hebegan to be hungry . A farm cart rumbled pasthim and a little later he came upon a peasant woman ,seated o n a bank at the roadside, nursing a baby .

B on yo u r, M’

si eu , said the woman, staring at theTraveller w i th wide open eyes .Good-day,” replied the Traveller, what is that

Village there“Fév es c an,

” answered the woman . Yo u havecome from far, M’

sieu“ From Ax . Is there an inn , there, where I can

lunchIt is but a small place, Fév esc an. There is no inn .

But if M’

sieu will ask fo r the house o f Pére Giroy,Madame will surely give him an omelette and breadand cheese and wine .”

One woul d not wish for more, Madame . Is it farto Ste . Croix-de-JarrasBut no . From Fév esc an, about ten kilometres .I thank you ,” replied the Traveller, and he added ,

That is a fine baby, that baby o f yours, Madame .

”

For the Traveller was a bachelor and a lonely o ne ,

and he loved children .

M’

sieu is t o o kind,” murmured the mother.and she is hungry, the little o ne .

”


But not to be a general , said the peasant , with achuckle.But , indeed , no . She will grow up to be the most

beautiful girl in the Brigau din and she will marry littleAndre' , the son o f young Morat , whose father has twofarms and a house in Cai lhes .

”

Certainly that will be so, said the Traveller,and André will be a very lucky fellow . M atre

p u lc hrd, fili a p u lc hm'

o r, Madame .”Pardon , M’

sieu

I spoke in the Latin tongue . It means that shewill be more beautiful even than her beautiful mother .”But I am not beautiful ,” said the girl , turning her

big eyes wonderingly o n the Traveller.It is a great thing, M’

sieu , to have education,said the peasant . No w , if I had been taught things ,I would not stay in this place and cart manure fo rPé re Hériv al . One is shut in here ; one has nochance . I would go down to the big towns— toPerpignan (I was once there) : to Tarbes . But tolive and die in this hole of a place— bahBut it is the most beautiful spot,” cried the

Traveller the most beautiful place I have everseen .

”

Yet M’

sieu does not live here, said the peasant ,drily .

I see yo u are something o f a philosopher,replied the Traveller, but I must be walking o n,

o r there will be no eggs o r cheese left for me, and Iam hungry . Good luck to you , and may NeomiVé ronique grow up to be most lovely, and may greatgood fortune go with her . Adieu .

”

The Traveller strode down the road towardsFév esc an, and presently sat at the rough long table inthe house of Giroy and ate an omelette and drank

PRELUDE IN A MAJOR KEY 21

some rough red wine . Afterwards , he smoked apipe, and fell into a sombre mood . There grew In hisheart a great and bitter envy o f the peasant , who hadso sweet a wife and so fine a baby and , sitting at theroad edge, eating his cheese and bread , the peasantin turn envied the Traveller, who could talk Latin aswell as Father Antoine and w ho had leisure and moneyto travel and who was , without doubt , a milord inEngland and Neomi Vé ronique, lying in her mother’slap , gurgled happily in the face o f heaven and enviednobody .

ACT I

HALF A LOAF

M onte Carlo , beautifu lly situated ina sheltered bay to the N . of Monac o ,has a c harm ing c lim ate , bu t the c hiefattrac tion is the Casino .

KARL BAEDEKER .

CHAPTER I . THE RAMPARTS OF A WORLD

HERE is this to be said (I th ink ) in any undertaking— that o ne should begin well . Fo r

when you have travelled thus far o n yourjourney, you will be asked whence you have come .It is a great thing to be proud to answer that questionto be able t o say I know this is but a poor place t obe in ; yet I started from and to name someplace which will raise y o u at once in the estimate o fyour li steners . It is a great thing to be able to dothat and so I am pleased to begin this history (whi chis the history o f a j ourney) in the same place whereMr . Yorick and hi s man La Fleur begin theirsI mean MONTRIUL (or, if you prefer it , MONTREUIL ) .The town of Montreuil is built on the top of a small

hill and is completely surrounded with rampart s .Fo r several years during the late European war, thistown was the General Headquarters o f the BritishArmies in France . There is thus another good reason(besides the example o f Sterne) for choosing this littletown for the starting-point of a tale .

On a certain evening towards the end of March , o fthe year nineteen hundred and nineteen— some fivemonths , that is , after Germany had signed theArmistice with France and her Allies— two soldierswalked and talked on the ramparts o f Montreuil .It was half an hour o r more since the sun had set .

It was very mild and a warm wind blew fit fu lly aboutthese hi gh places , rustling the bushes that grew in theangles o f the bastion bustling now and again downthe narrow cobbled streets : rattling the booths inthe market-place, and unfurling the blue and red flagabove the doorway o f the Ecole Militaire . Masseso f flee c y cloud trailed across the darkening sky,rearing fantastic shapes , black against the silver Of the

C 25

26 THE RAMPARTS OF A WORLD

west and fading into a common greyness above andin the east .The two soldiers walked slowly along the western

rampart towards the Abbeville gate . They weremuch like any other two soldiers to be found in thetown o ne being employed as a groom the other, asa batman, o r officer’s servant . They were dressedin the regulation field service khaki j ackets , somewhattoo loose across the shoulders and too tight over thehips , and their badges and buttons , and the brassstuds and buckles of their bandoliers were polished ,as such have need to be, in soldiers constantly underthe eye Of the General Staff . They smoked cigaretteso f the kind known as gaspers and talked fitfu llyas they walked . Presently they came t o a low woodenbench beneath two trees on the inside of the rampartpath and sat down .

And ’

o w do you get o n with your bloke saidthe gro om , after a brief silence .Well , not so bad . Yer see, I ’ve been with ’

im

some time now, and I know ’is little ways ,” repliedth e other, in a strong Cockney accent (he came fromHolloway ) , and ’

e ain’t a cold-blooded bleeder likeyours is ’

e is a knock-out — ho l my ! but ’e i s a

knoc k-o u t’Ow de yer mean What sort of knock-out

The soldier from Holloway gaz ed o u t into the nightHe did not see the dim forms o f trees and houses thatloomed up faintly in the gathering darkness . H is

mind was unready in formulating the abstract .Ho a fair knock-o u t yeller boots and wiggle

woggle cane, and meet me at the Piccadilly Tubesort , when ’

e’

s at home .Ah said the other, with understanding .

But I likes ’im

, all r ight all OK. and affable

28 THE RAMPARTS OF A WORLD

Duggie bleeding Fairbanks , but if’e meets me o u t ’ere,

like this so to speak, when I ’m o rf duty, and I gets up— as I always does— being disciplined— ’e’ll say, Sitdahn

,White

,sit dahn , ’ returning my salute proper

as might be . I ’ates yer bleeding ’

aughty’o gs

But you say ’e worrits at times

Yes .’Ow do you mean , worritsWell

,

’

e’

s like this , yer see . ’E

’

s one of thesedressing up kind as messes abaht ’is clothes . ’

E even’as o ne o f them folding things as keeps the creases inyer slacks . And ’as ’is top boots rubbed w 1v

’ a boneo f an ’orse to polish ’em —and ’is spursBut I ’aven’t seen ’

im o u t riding, and ’e don ’t

come up to stablesNah ! Why , ’

e ain’t no rider : e s only got thebrains to fall o rf .

I ’ates your London ’o rsem an.

and this p li c e i s stiff w rv’ ’em . But

Bellamy ain’t so dusty to look after, if you’re notmoving ab aht .

”

Well,what’s the matter then

Why,what ’

e carries abaht w iv im i s a bleedingbazaar . All kinds o f little kni ck-knacks , what-motsand ’

Ow -nows . I was w iv ’ ’im as batman when ’

e

’ad a mobile unit : we ’

ad motor transport , in course,but I was always packing or unpacking ’is tiddley-bitslike a woman , yer know : bottlesMedicine bottlesNah ! Scent bottles and hair oil and little pots

o f cream stuff ter put o n yer face when yer shave ,and half-a -dozen razors , one for every day in theweek . And fancy soaps , and a little leather casefor ’is collars and gloves and ties , and a manicure .”Manicure Eh , What

’s that

THE RAMPARTS OF A WORLD 29

Yer know. What they clean their nails w i v .

A little bone thing and a file and little scissors w iv ’

curved ends’

Ere , Jack White, come nowStraight ! And you got to pack ’em all up

,

and unpack ’em and lay ’em all o u t— so — so as ’

e

knows exactly where they are . Ho, I tell yo u ,

’

e

is a fair ’

o w do yer doWell, gentry is funny .

And then all ’is books .BooksYus . ’

E’

s a lit eray bloke : that’s what ’

e is .All sorts of books .

’Orse managementOrse management be blowed Nah not military

books lit eray books . Funny sort o f books , yerknow : p o

’

t ry and Latin and French books— someo f

’em w iv’ pictures in ’em yus , and ’

o t stuff too, Ican tell yer like yer can’t get in London

,

’cause o fthe police .”

Oh dearHo yus , e s o ne Of the boys . Looks a fair

knock-out when ’

e comes back from leave, ’

e does .”Aren’t ’

e a married manNah . But I tell you what . ’

E’

d like ter be .

’

Ow do you mean , ’

c’

d like ter beWell, there’s a girl ’ere ’

e’

s sweet o n.

A FrenchieNah . A Waac a No rfic er Waac .In town here ?Nah . Over at the D .G .T. Camp . He’s fair

gorn on ’

er,’

e is . And ’

e’

s not the only o ne , neithernot ’arf.”Wish I was a no rfic er and ’

ad pots o f brass I’dtake ’

er to chapel , that I would

80 THE RAMPARTS OF A WORLD’

E ain ’t got pots Of money .

Eh with all them togs and boots andI know ’is sort ’

e ain’t no bleedin’ o rfic er whene s at ’

o m e . It’s ’er as ’as the money . She’s the

goods , w i v ’ a funny foreign name, too— Van’t ’Off .

”

Eh 1 My word ! ”Can’t say she’s my fancy . To o much Lord

Clarence , I ’ll meet you in the conservatory , ’ for me .

I like them little Frenc hy c u ddley ones . Theykno w

’o w to love .

”

I can never get o n wi ’t lingo , were it never so,said the groom , with a sigh .

It ain’t so ’ard , ’Arry, when you get the ’ang Of

it . It’s the voice o f love . I sees Ninette at thep ati sseri e, and I ses Vo u lez v o u s p rom ener avec m o i

c c s o i r , [Vl am z elle .9 And she says

S h— sh ,” said the other .

The two men jumped to their feet as a tall figu recame up along the path towards them .

Sit down— sit down , said the tall man, in a voiceand an accent commonly associated with Balliol .Ha , i s that you , WhiteYessir .”I shall want my best riding boots to -morrow

and see that they are properly poli shed . I ’ll begoing o u t to D .G .T. with the General .”Yessir .”Good-night , White .Good-night , sir .”The tall figure disappeared in the gloom .

Well , what did I say, ’Arry said White .The groom spat upon the ground , contemptuously .

CHAPTER I I . PORTRAIT OF A TEMPORARYGENTLEMAN

N the years prior to the year 1914 a number ofingenious gentlemen were wont to speculateupon the results o f an European war . Their

theories may be found (by those curious in the matter)scattered among the reviews and periodicals o f theperiod . Some even wrote whole books to prove apoint— that credit would break down at the veryopening o f hostilities that London and Paris wouldbe in ruins in a week upon aerial bombardmentthat these islands would be blockaded and starvedthat the yellow races would overrun Europe : thatBiblical prophecies would be fulfilled : that civilisation would crash : that the end o f the world wouldc o m e .

All these gentleman (as we know) were wrong .

The Great European War was , after all , very muchlike all other wars except that it was a bigger war,in which more guns were used , more ammunitionwas expended , more money was spent and more m en

were killed and it was won at last , as all wars havebeen won in the end , by the winning side havingsome men left while the losers had no men left . I t

was not long-range cannon , nor poison gas notaerial torpedos , nor directional wireless , no r submarines , nor all the new discoveries in science , noreven that mysterious thi ng called propaganda, w hichwon the war for the Allies it was arithmetic .But if many folk had nothing better to do before

the war than vainly to prophesy about it , there wereothers who

,when w ar came and we were all in it ,

talked much o f the effect of this state of war o n eachand all o f us . There was the Bishop of Merrow andThames , who said that the war was making us braverand more self-sac rific ing, and whose eloquence and

3 1

3 2 PORTRAIT OF A GENTLEMAN

aid to re c u it ing are beyond all praise . There wasthe Presbyterian divine, Dr . Mc Croggin, who hopedmuch from the limits to luxury imposed by the war .There was Pook , the theosophist , whose tract ,Purification by Fire was so famous ; and Professor

S au x by , who proved that foreign service wasmaking us more and more insular ; and Dr . Tibbs ,who proved that it was making us more cosmopolitan .

Then there was Strutt, the conscientious obj ector,who showed (until he was put in prison ) how warwas making us more bellico se ; and Tipping, the labourleader, how it was making us more democratic ; andByt ter, the Prohibitionist, how it was making us moredrunk .

In the reviews and j ournals o f the latter perio d o f

the war, will be found much matter relative to thesocial and moral changes which the war was causing ,yet amongst the many and conflicting theories o f

what the war did for us , it may be safely said that itdid o ne thing it took a number o f young men whohad no military learning and made them , o r tried tomake them , into soldiers . Among them it took PaulBellamy , a year and a half after he had left the University o f Oxford .

Fo r a matter of fact , the war (great as its influenceadmittedly was o n every one of us ) did not succeedin making Paul into a soldier it made him (ev entually) into a Staff Officer of the third grade , but certainadventitious factors , only remotely related to war,aided and abetted in this dispensation .

When the call to arms came to Paul ( in November,he was engaged in research upon saturated

ring compounds of the type

PORTRAIT OF A GENTLEMAN 3 3

CH 2

in'

a—

small laboratory in Bloomsbury . He had takena m oderate degree in Physics and Chemistry atOxford, and he had published (at his o w n expense )a small pamphlet o r brochure upon the metalliccompounds with the group 5 CH . The thesis hardlyreceived the attention in the scientific press whichits author had hoped for it . He was an independentand somewhat fit fu l worker, unattached to any publicorganisation or private firm .

His father had died during Paul ’s last year atOxford . The profits from the Bellamy E lectric Belthad ceased for some years and Horace Bellamy diedsuddenly a few weeks after the company’s assetshad passed into the hands o f the Official Receiver .The house at Gatton-Thorndyke and two telescopeshad been sold , and Mrs . Bellamy had gone to livewith her married daughter at Raynes Park . Paulcame into some three hundred a year from gilt-edgedsecurities upon his father’s death , and he made anothertwo hundred a year from occasional contributionsto the technical and scientific press and as a readerin chemistry and physics and allied subj ects for thepublishing house o f E rskine and Garrett . He livedmodestly in tw o small rooms Off Russell Square , andwas t o be found , most days , bending over a distilling

84 PORTRAIT OF A GENTLEMAN

flask in the laboratory of the Farim o re Institute inPenst im m o n Street .At the outbreak of w ar, Paul was twenty-three

years of age . His tall , slightly stooping figure,crowned with a mop of reddish brown hair, w as

familiar in Bloomsbury and Soho . His long face ,large nose and big , wide-opening eyes were wont toimpress the superficial observer, and , in the CafeRoyal , where he was to be found most eveningsafter six O’clock , he was commonly taken to be apract i tioner o f the arts rather than a scientist, animpression that was enhanced by his wearing o f abottle-green velvet j acket , the imbibing o f continental liquors and a professed admiration for the geniuso f the late Mr . Oscar Wilde . But beyond a disposition to talk on all or any subj ect, a leaning towardsthe company of the less reputable members o f society,a dislike o f any ordered work, and a taste in alcohol ,he showed little evidence o f being a man o f letters .When war was declared , he was not, at once ,

greatly perturbed . He walked through the rainto Penst im m o n Street o n the morning o f August 5th ,

w ith a slight feeling o f exaltation . He worked fit fu llyat his synthesis during the morning and left earlyto go to the Café Royal . He bought a paper andread the head-lines with an agreeable sense of excitement . It did not occur to him then that he wouldbe , to any great extent , affected himself by the European adventure . He drank Dubonnet with someacquaintances at the Café and was enthusiasticover the heroism of Belgium and France . But as theweeks passed , his own part in this imbroglio becamemore apparent . Recruiting posters caught his eyeat every turn o f the road . Friends o f his disap pearedfrom the Café . Recruiting sergeants tapped him o n


months during the autumn o f 1918 helped him greatlyin thi s . He learnt to speak o f that admirable inst itu t io n as the War House Of his rank as thato f a G .3 . o f Sir Matthew Tilden as Matildain a wonderfully natural manner ; and in the o ffic ers

’

club at G .H .Q . he was commonly to be seen diningat tables in the company o f officers higher in rankthan himself. He did not speak to attachedofficers : he was deferential, without being servile,to General officers and very courteous to chief clerksand sergeants-major.It may be inferred from this very brief account o f

Bellamy ’s military service that his career in the armywas a comparatively successful one . An appointment as a is not perhaps o f the highest order,yet it is a creditable achievement in a civilian, buta year o r so down from college and with no reputationin the world . Had the war continued , it is possiblethat Paul might have become, in time, a generalstaff officer o f the second grade .But the war, to the disgust of Paul Bellamy and not

a few other men o f parts , did not continue . Itstopped , somewhat suddenly, in November, 1918 ,

when the Germans signed an armistice which wassynonymous with surrender . The effect of this wasfelt Very quickly by Europe in general , and by Paulin particular. To begin with, the hope of decoratingthe peak o f his cap with gold leaves vanished . In thesecond place, the attitude o f his superiors changedit was a subtle change, but he felt it to be a very realchange, none the less .He began to feel that he was not indispensable ;

that a staff appointment is a temporary appointmentand no t a permanent rank that there were , o r wouldbe soon, regular Officers better fitted for his j ob . It

PORTRAIT OF A GENTLEMAN 37

was suggested to him , indirectly, that if he wished t obe demobilised , the matter could possibly be arrangedeven at this early date or , on the other hand , if hewished to remain a little while longer in the army, hewould be returned to regimental duty . These andlike suggestions became very apparent to Paul in thespring o f 1919 , and he began to see that while he hadnothing to gain by staying on in the army ( save afew months’ employment ) he might gain somethingby being demobilised at an early date : he wouldat least be well ahead o f the great rush back to civilemployment . Moreover, there was the question ofgratuity .

The gratuity given to temporary officers o n demobilisation in the late war was assessed , ( it will befound in the Pay Warrant , para . 497) on the officer

’speriod of service and on his rank or appointment .He received 124 days’ pay for his first year o f service ,and 62 days’ pay fo r each succeeding year o r part o f ayear . But the rate of pay upon whi ch this wascalculated was taken to be that which the o fli c er

received at the time of his demobilisation . No w as aat Montreuil , Paul drew £400 a year con

solidated pay . If he was returned to regimental dutyhe wou ld revert to the rank o f l ieutenant in the

at about £250 a year . If, therefore , he wasdemobilised from his present j ob , he would have agratuity o f some £400 instead of £250 on the basis o fthe 3 72 days’ pay due to him . He decided to bedemobilised without delay .

There was another reason which urged Paul Bellamyto leave the army.

"

TDuring the last few months that he had been atG .H .Q . he had seen much o f an officer in the Women’sAuxiliary Army Corps— one Monica Van’t Hoff. He


had persuaded himself that he was very much in lovewith her . Monica Van’t Hoff was to be demobilisedin a few days’ time . Paul had no wish to stay longerin Montreuil .It is a brave thing to marry ( in these days ) on a

putative income of £500 a year . But Paul Bellamy,it is to be feared , cannot be credited with so muchspirit . Monica Van’t Hoff’s position in the world ,both social and financial , was well known . On theother hand , it would be unjust to place Paul amongthe adventurers ; he was as incapable of marryingsolely for money as solely for love . Like every man ,he hoped to marry for both . He was sincerely in lovewith Monica as , indeed , were all who knew her .So , In these warm days of early spring, o n the sea

board Of Pas de Calais , Paul stood upon the thresholdof opportunity, the undeclared lover 01 MonicaVan’t Hoff.The little village o f la Calotterie hides itself in

an agreeab le manner among woods . The road thitherfrom Montreuil i s pleasing to the traveller . The carin which Paul sat was of high power, noiseless inaction , comfortably sprung and competently driven .

The General , beside him , was in a good humour . Thesun shone .Paul had been unusually silent during the drive .

He examined the set of his j acket a dozen times and ,as the car took the hill leading up to the D .G .T.

camp,he flicked o ff, with his handkerchief, the few

specks o f dust that had settled upon his boots duringthe drive . He straightened his cap .

I’ll be some time with Challo ner, said theGeneral , as the car drove into camp . You’re goingto see Maj or Denton , aren ’t you

c c

Yes, SIP.

”

PORTRAIT OF A GENTLEMAN 3 9

You’d better turn up at the Chateau for lunch .

Thank you , sir, but I expect Denton and Howewill ask me into their mess . I know most of theA wallahs , sir, and I may as wellRight . I think that would be better . Be here ,

then , at three o’clock .

Yes , sir .”Paul Bellamy jumped out of the car , held open the

door for General Brugh-S c raev ner, saluted , and walkedup the wooden steps into the warren of offi cers w hichhoused Transportation . Whatever Captain Bellamysaid to Major Denton in his office and later to CaptainHowe over a Martini in the mess , is as little ger m aneto this history as it was (p ossibly) to Operations B .

It did not delay Paul for long , for about noon hefound himself in an open glade to the south o f thecamp in a state of nervous agitation , flicking his bootswith his cane , hoping and fearing in almost equalmeasure that Monica would pass by there as she waswont to do at that hour.It was not the first time that Paul had suffered from

the tender passion . He had already made love to anumber of women and an affair o f the heart had heldhim in chains for nearly a twelvemonth after he hadleft Oxford . He had been a party in some few minorand disreputable adventures . But he had not heretofore propo sed to any woman to enter with her into thatstate which has been devised firstly for the procreationo f children and thirdly for mutual society , help andcomfort . He was now more nervous than he hadfeared to be o r even knew he was . In his heart hewas not a little afraid o f Monica Van’t Hoff.Th e khaki uniform of the Women’s Army AuxiliaryCorps fades easily into the browns and greens o f

tree-trunks , bracken and undergrowth in sp ring, so


that Monica came upon him almost before Paulrealised that she had entered the glade . She heldo u t her hand to him .

So you came over with the General , CaptainBellamy

Er— yes yes .I saw the car outside the office . Isn’t it lovely

in these woods , this morning ? One can smell thespring . Everything seems to be sprouting up ; youcan almost see the leaves growing .

”

Yes— lovely— awfully j olly,” said Paul , inanely .

Do you know, I ’m almost sorry I ’m going . Ihave grown quite in love with this spot , and it getsmore lovely every day now . I thought I ’d love toget rid of this beastly uniform and the discipline andall that and just be myself once more, but now,

youknow

,I ’m sorry to leave it all .”

When do you go ? ” stammered Paul .Next Thursday .

”

As soon as thatMonica nodded . He thought she had never looked

more desirable, as she stood there , a tall figure, lightlypoised on the mossy ground , her brown hair low overher forehead and her blue eyes looking very franklyand happily into his . If Monica Van’t Hoff was notpretty in the accepted sense (and she was not ) if herfeatures were too irregular, her nose too short and hermouth too large for the face beautiful yet the lightin her eyes and the laughter on her lips , her strength ,her youth and her particular charm which it was asdifficult to describe as to resist , made her desired andbeloved above women o f much greater beauty o r

even readier wit . Rogue in porcelain might havestood for her had she not been too tall for china andtoo wise to be a rogue.

PORTRAIT OF A GENTLEMAN 41

She stood there , laughing in the sunlight , out o f

sheer spring happiness , and Paul could have swornthat she knew why he was there and all that he wishedto say to her, could he but find words , and , o u t o f sheercontrariness , she would not help him out at all .Monica,” Paul blurted o u t at last , I love you .

I know that ,” said Monica , nodding her head .

Paul stared at her with his mouth half open . Itwas not the answer according to the rules , either oneway or the other . He could think o f no suitable reply .

I have known this for some weeks ,” she added .

Paul took a step towards her .Then you love me , Monica ?She stepped back from Paul , and her face grew

serious and her eyes troubled .

Indeed , I don’t— Paul . I like you very, verymuch . We have been good friends , haven’t we ?But I don’t love you .

”

“ Monica, cried Paul , marry me ! Can’t youlove me a little — just a little ? I love you , how can Itell you how much I love yo u I worship you Ican’t live without you ! I want you— you— youBut though the shadows in her eyes deepened , it

w as of pity only .

I do not love you . I ’m sorry , but there it is . Idon’t know why I shouldn’t love you— but I don ’t .I can’t help it . Paul , forget me : there are others .Women will easily love you . I don’t quite know whyI don’t myself. I shall be away in a few days . Forgetall about me .You do n t know me, Monica, o r yo u would nOt

talk like that .The trouble in Monica’s eyes lessened .

I think I do ,” she murmured .

Yo u don’t ,” broke in Paul , with violence . I sayD


you don’t . Yo u think this is but a passing fancythat I can fall in and o u t of love like a sentimentalclown .

”

I never said that , cried Monica .

But you meant that . You think me as light asair, as inconsistent as the wind Listen WheneverI hear the wind murmur it i s of you the seas whisperyour name in summer weather and shout it in winterstorms : the sunshine and the flowers but speak ofyou the moon , the stars of nightMy dear Paul , this is very pretty , but do v o u

su ppose any woman was ever won like thatYou think I ’m not speaking the truthI think you are just now remembering what you

made up yesterday to say to-day .

”

The hit was so shrewd that Paul was wholly disconcerted .

“ That is unkind o f you , he muttered at last ,with a hint of tears in his voice .

I did not mean to be unkind , said Monica , gently .

Then marry m e .

”

That would be to be most unkind , for I do notlove yo u .

”

Oh , yo u are heartless ! You think me but alove - sick school -boy . Don’t shake your head atme

,I know it . You think that this means

nothing to me : that in a week I shall be loving someother woman . You are wrong . You have brokenmy idol , rej ected my offering . You , and not I , areresponsible for the future . What may , w hat must ,happen to me i s to you but a small thing , somethingto be remembered and as soon forgotten

No , Paul , no .

Yes,Monica , yes . What will happen to me is

now at your door . Next week I am to be demobilised .

CHAPTER III . DANAE

E sat at a small round table o f enamellediron in the hot sunshine . A tall , conicalglass stood before him . He sucked up the

cool , orange-coloured concoction through two straws .A wide-brimmed panama hat guarded his head andforehead from the heat o f the sun . His gaily colouredblazer decorated pleasantly the white stone balustrade behind him . His silk shirt , open at the neck ,and hi s white duck trousers , looked agreeably cool .He carried a pair of brown tinted glasses across thebridge o f his nose : partly to protect his eyes fromthe glare ; partly because it is customary to wearsuch in Monte Carlo : partly because from beh indthese Obscure windows o ne may gaze earnestly uponbeauty without offence . For o ne who but three weeksago had stood a rej ected lover , eloquent o f despairand threatening moral dissolution , he seemed verym uch at his ease composed , free of care, and content .He finished h is drink , used his empty glass as a

gong to call the waiter and paid his reckoning . Herose, and , after pacing the terrace leisurely for afew minutes , turned into the Café de Rome for lunch .

Monte Carlo is commonly supposed t o be a resorto f the desperate o f broken men , making a last bidfo r fortune o f the fools who lose money and ofthe knaves who win it : o f the ingenious and theingenuous o f gilded men and scarlet womenPaphos and Aphaca— Sodom and Gomorrah : a citygiven over to evil , empty of the good , the just andthe upright .The picture is an alluring o ne , but in spite o f the

floor lo f Ciro’s , the cellars o f the Café de Rome , thesa lles des hem e, and !the suicides

’ graveyard , itscarcely lives up to its reputation . The greatmajority of folk who go to Monte Carlo live decently

44

DANAE 5

in Kensington o r Kingston : Boissiere o r NeuillyFifth Avenue o r Brooklyn ; play cautiously,drink not deeply, dance without impropriety andlove circumspectly . Paul Bellamy, late Captain inthe who sat at luncheon in the Café deRome, did not differ greatly from the many o f themiddle class who go to Monte Carlo once o r twiceand talk of it at all times , and who are happy inthinking themselves somewhat sadder dogs than (todo them justice) they are .It is a very j olly thing to be set free after four years

o f service in the field ; to be given four hundredpounds by a grateful country t o have a competence,even though it be small, to fall back upon , and so t obe under no immediate need to pass from the bondageo f one’s country into that o f one’s countrymen . Itis very pleasant when (fo r a period o f years ) one hasgone when they said go , and come when they saidcome , and done this when they said do this , to doas o ne wishes and t o go where one wills withoutany thought but to please the whim o f the moment .It is a great thing to have, suddenly, four hundredpounds t o one’s credit in the bank . If, added to allthis, one’s addresses have been rej ected without toogreat an injury to the heart , so that the sense o f

physical freedom is enhanced by the thrill o f a moralirresponsibility, o ne may be thought a happy mano r as near to happiness as imperfect nature will allow .

If Paul di d not consciously think he was happy,he none the less felt happy as he sat at his table inthe café surrounded with a number o f dishes carryinga variety o f hors -d

’

ceu vre . He filled his plate,leisurely, with a meticulous care in selection anegg in mayonnaise , tw o anchovies , some cucumber,an olive, some o f the vegetable salad which is a speci

4 6 DANAE

ality o f the café , and the heart of a globe artichoke .

He spent time upon the wine- list , turning from pageto page, reading the names o f . many wines whichhe did not intend to buy, while the waiter stood veryci villy and patiently behind him waiting for him tomake his choice .

It was a habit with Paul , this , to linger over awine-list . To be sure there are worse things toread , such as novels , newspapers , hotel bills , railwaytime -tables , the Army List and (usually ) one

’s passboo k . If o ne i s fortunate enough to be able to sitin the Café de Rome and read their wine list , it wereclownish but to turn to the page and straightwayorder a hock o r a claret, and unforgivable no t tolook at it at all , but shout for a beer or a mineralwater like a millionaire from Illinois . So Paul readabout Lafit e and Latour, Po yferré and HautBrion , Chambertin , Romanee , Musigny, Yquem , anda host of others before he ordered a half bottle ofChateau Filh o t and a Nap o leo n water . Of his tablewaiter he had already ordered oeu fs gelés , and a littlelater he was enj oying thi s excellent dish , agreeablywashed down with Chateau Filho t , when the reactiono f two of his senses caused him t o use a third . Hissense of hearing and his sense o f smell made him lookup from his plate .

If he had had no eyes to see , yet a step so lightand a perfume so delicately compounded shouldhave been alone enough to make him lo v e the unseenas she passed, even had he been as o ld as Methuselahand as cold as Knox . So that when she turned andsat at one of the small tables in a line with his o w nand faced him , he forgot all about frozen eggs andwhite wine and stared like a stuck-pig at the girlthree tables away .

DANAE 47

She w as worthy o f regard.

A sm all, oval face set in o ld gold . A face in whicheach feature was subordinate . A nose exquisitelymodelled ; a small , deli cate mouth , framed for kisses .Eyes o f the deepest blue, shadowed by long lashes .

Skin like the petal of a rose a small , rounded chin ,dimpling into laughter ; and about all , like the richfiligree setting o f an unblemished j ewel , a goldencloud o f hair.It was a splendour which even the wide hat could

in no way hide or diminish a million threads o f thepurest and palest gold , refined in the fire times withoutnumber, and draw n to the fineness of a spider’s web .

IVhenev e r she moved her head , light danced fromfilament to filament , so that the onlooker was dazzledby it . NO art ifice had framed that halo no alchemyknown to man nor art to w oman had fixed that lustre .Born of the Old gods , in some forgotten island o f theIZEgean, cradled in the sea foam , hidden ageless forunnumbered centuries , and here and no w unveiledto a world grow n blind and full o f fear : a w orldof li ttle men w ho had bartered away strengthand beauty for the copper coin of charity andhope .Paul stared wide-eyed at su c h beauty . If she

noticed his bad manners underneath her long lashes ,she m ade no sign of having done so . She talkedeagerly to the waiter who had hurried to her table

,

and then , turning from him , busied herself in searchingin the inside o f her bead bag which lay upon thecloth before her .She wore a tightly-fit t ing j umpe r Of white silk ,

lo w cut in the neck, and a whi te skirt . Her shortsleeves left her arms bare to above the elbow, andtheir slender and rounded beau ty and her small

48 DANAE

hand , with its long and delicate fingers , p layed fu rtherhavoc in the heart o f Paul .Paul Bellamy knew but little about w oman

’sdress . Yet he knew instinctively that she wasdressed with the most perfect taste

,with th e utmost

simplicity and at the greatest cost . S he wore noj ewellery save o ne ring carrying a sapphire , and aplain gold slave bangle above the elbow of her leftarm .

The unknown (and , as Paul feared , unknowable)o ne in the white jumper sipped at her Sauterne andate delicately of her p eti ts p o i s . She scerned unc o n

scious o f the presence of Paul or of anyone else in thecafé . As t o what Paul him self ate or drank for theremainder o f the meal , he had small remembrance .

He ate— and drank— mechanically . When the waiterbrought him his coffee and brandy, Paul did notagain ask for the wine list or demand that anotheryear be brought him , as he would at any other timehave done . One complex in his mind was dominantat the moment above all others .The girl of the golden aureole left the café before

Paul had finished his coffee . As she walked downthe room he gaz ed round-eyed at her slender figu reso lightly poised upon her small feet and at her smallankles , so thin that he might have made his thumband finger meet around them .

She was gone, and the café , that was still full ofpeople and gay with colour, seemed to Paul suddenlyempty and drab . He drank up his brandy hurriedlyand called for the bill .Outside the café Paul scrutinised all the chairs on

the terrace . She was not there . He walked throughthe gardens , up o n the o ne side and down o n theother, but without success ; and , after searching in

DANAE 49

vain the terrace below the casino, he c am e;bac k andwent inside . The long hall outside the gam ingrooms , though full o f women , was empty of the o newoman he wished to see again . He went into thesalles des jeuaz. The tables were not crowded at thishour only three were in play . He threw a fiv efranc counter, idly, o n v ingt

-deuw and raked in ,automatically and without delight , the thirty-sixcounters accruing t o him . He lost a few countersat the other tables , and, wandering twice aroundthe room and into the bar, he left the Casino in anill mood . He decided t o go up , by the rack railway,to La Turbie . Monte Carlo stifled him . So high aplace , and the wide spaces and the great View fromthere, might, he imagined, calm his discontent .The ascent to La Turbie (by rail ) i s always a

ridiculous adventure . The engine puffs and snortsat every steep place in a very human manner : therailside stations at which the train stops are like toystations o n a toy railway in a giant nursery and LaTurbie itself has a delightful air o f looking down o n

Monte Carlo (by which it lives ) as a contemptible spot .From these high hills , the bay o f Monaco looks minuteand infinitely remote— like a scene Viewed throughthe wrong end o f a telescope . The harbour itselfseems to be but a rectangular bath , and the big buoysin the middle o f it look for all the world like bath plugs ,the whi ch, if yo u leant down and pulled them up ,would allow all the water to run o u t o f the sea . Thereis someth ing remedial about all high places , andcertainly Paul returned to Monte Carlo in a bettermind than when he had left it .He had taken a healthy walk up o n the hi lls above

La Turbie, during which he had reflected that, in sosmall a place as Monte Carlo , he cou ld hardly fail t o

50 DANAE

see her again— and that before very long. Ho w hewould speak to her - if he would speak to her at allwhat he would say or what might come of it , he didnot know . A chaos o f thoughts and desires riotedin his mind his selective intelligence played no partas yet it was but clear to him that if he dined at theCafe de Rome he might possibly— even probably— seeher again . To see her again was his immediateintention .

He went back to his hotel , bathed and dressed fordinner slowly and with great care . He was at h istable in the Café de Ho m e at an early hour : only a

few diners had come in before him . He ordered h i sdinner and a bottle of Piper He idsie c k and sat , w ithwhat patience he coul d muster, to await the comingin of the unknown fair .Although he dallied over his food , the hers d’

ce uvre ,

soup and fish had been eaten without any sight o f herand , indeed , it was not until nearly half-past eightO ’clock , when Paul was eating a c o u p e jacqu es , thathis patience was rewarded .

She came in alone and sat down at a small table infront of a pillar opposite Paul across the dancing floor .If she had been beautifu l that morning wrapped upin a jumper, this night she was a vision o f delight ,a ho uri , sent by the compassionate o u t o f Paradise,to gladden the hearts o f true believers .Again she wore a dress o f the simplest design buta sheath of black taffeta, deeply cut in the back,sleeveless and ending just below the knee, and hungprecariously by two golden threads across her whiteshoulders .Without a hat to shadow it, the golden splendour

of her hair held the eye so that it could not turn awayto look upon any baser metal . It shone with a live

52 DANAE

itself a melody ; but with her very soul a corybant .Paul, w ho was himself a dancer, born and not made,watched the pair, envious of their skill and hotlyj ealous o f the man ’s privi lege . He drank his GrandMarnier at o ne gulp . He swore t o himself that hewould dance with her .The orchestra ceased t o play and the girl returned

to her table . Paul looked at her earnestly, but shemade no sign at all o f noticing his regard . At last heturned and motioned t o the waiter behind him .

I wish to speak to the head waiter, ” he said .

But certainly, Monsieur.”A few minutes later the head waiter st o o diat Paul

’selbow .

Your head waiter —your m ai tre d’

hdtel— is o f a classapart . He may have been— though thi s is hard tobelieve— once upon a time a waiter a common waiter .As a boy he may have been a c hasseu r : as a young man,a mere porter o f dishes in early middle age, a waitero f promise— and so o n up the social ladder . But Idon’t believe head waiters are made like this . Ibelieve them t o be recruited from the Church : fromthe higher ranks in the Church . A coadjutor, Iimagine, is taken o n probation a bishop— in p arti bu s— is appointed t o a lesser post with hopes o f advancement ; whilst a metropolitan o u t o f a j ob would beaccepted p er 88 .

In England, those o f the hierarchy who have missedtheir vocation drift naturally into becoming hallporters in clubs o f repute but in France they becomeh ead waiters .I do not know if the head waiter in the Café de

Rome is an unhatted cardinal, but he looks it . Heis alike the servant o f all and the master over o ne hei s courteous without being servile : he is tyrannous

DANAE 53

without being tactless : he is your gu ide in thingstemporal as he was once (we may suppose) in thingsspiritual and he is too much o f a philosopher to beyour friend .

It needs great moral courage to send for such a man ,but Paul ’s holding in this was stiffened for the momentwith the help of M . He idsie c k and Lam p o st o lle .

You wished to see me ? ” said the head waiter .There was a benediction in his speech .

The lady who is sitting at that little table , th ere ,by th e pillarMademoiselle QuesnoyYou know herBut certainly, Monsieur .Tell me

,i s she— er— du m onde— o r— du dem i

m onde

M onsi eu r , answered the head waiter, spreadingout his two hands in a gesture that accepted the folli esof youth

,the ways Of the world and the weakness o f

the flesh , wi th a fatherly indulgence , M onsi eu r , elle

c herc he se for tune .

”

I thank you much , said Paul . If she seeksher fortune , I will ask her to dance .

Mademoiselle will be enchanted , murmured thehead waiter . He bent slightly towards Paul , turnedand faded silently away .

A few minutes later Paul Bellamy stood before thesmall table by the pillar . The beautiful Quesnoylooked up and smiled at Paul , in a very friendlymanner , and Paul forgot altogether the pretty speechwh ich he had composed a moment ago . He couldonly stammer haltingly in the French of an Englishman .

Mademoiselle , will v o u do me the pleasure o f

dancing with m e

54 DANAE

But surely, Monsieur. I have a great envy t odance .”The tone o f her voice was a cadence as soft as the

echoes o f a tiny waterfall in the speaking hills .The music has begu n ,” continued Paul , and the

floor invites us . Let us go .

”

The first dance was to Paul an unmeasured delightand a memory never afterwards to be forgotten .

When , at last , the music ceased and he led the goldengirl to his table, it seemed to him that he had beendancing for the whole of time upon the roof of heavenand with Venus in his arms , snatched up o u t of herorbit around the parochial sun to be his partnerbeyond Space and Time , and yet the dance seemed ,at the same time , so brief that its ending was a causefor tears .He gaz ed across the narrow table at this divinity

and found himself dumb , but she talked all the whileeasily of trifle s of the state o f the floor of themusic of the other dancers now in French and nowin broken English , w hich Paul found adorable .

Yo u see that tall girl -there— dancing with theman with the big beard— le p o i lu lei

— the girl in bluewith very leetle o n her back— she is Karyska , th e newdancer in the ballet at Rome her man is an Americanbanker barbare, but he has much money . The youngman with the red -haired girl is the Du e de Vi c hanes,and the fat man at the table with the three womenthe fat man with the— c om m ent di tes -v ou s , la i éte

c hau ve — is S c hrOdenhe im er, the millionaire . Thegirl in greenMademoiselle, what will you drink ? ” broke in

Paul .A leetle champagne— as you say it , the bubbly,

n’

est- c c p as

DANAE 55

A waiter appeared suddenly from nowhere .Un P i p er , enc o rePaul nodded .

M erc i , M ’

si eur . The waiter vanished intonothing with the same suddenness .The wine waiter himself poured out the golden

liquid into the fine glasses . Paul raised his , and ,

stretching his hand out across the table,touched the

rim of his glass against hers .f i c o s beuum yeu ze, he murmured .

The beautiful eyes to which he drank gazed deeplyand fearlessly and very wisely into his across the t w o

glasses . Paul dropped his o w n gaze quickly lest heshould , under that starry spell , say and do that whichmight not , then and there , be said or done ; and itwas , perhaps , as well that the orchestra at thatmoment began a one - step and so saved Paul from abreach o f good manners , the which , together withlack o f cash to pay one’s bill , i s alone unpardoned inthe Café de Rome .

Of how many times they danced together or whatthey said to one another , while they sat at table ,sipping the golden Piper, Paul remembered little nextmorning . Late in the evening she had said she mustgo , and Paul had asked to be allowed to see herhome .His escort had been accepted .

As he walked beside her under the panoply of stars ,he could almost have believed that this was no mortalchild— but a goddess out of a pagan heaven . Bareheaded in the night , w rapped around in her black furs ,she seemed but as a star set above the clouds of storm ,

cold and unattainable , and but for the warmth o f herarm against Paul ’s and of her hand on h is , no womanbut the figment o f a dream .

56 DANAE

He had no memory o f whither they had walkedwhether to the north o r to the south —to the east o rto the west— but only that this itinerary seemed alltoo short . He had stood before the white face of herhouse, before he knew, almost , that he was there .

She had drawn her arm out of his , and , taking a smallkey from her bag , slipped it into the little hole in thetall door . A narrow rectangle o f blackness grew inthe doorway . In some small fraction o f a minute ,while Paul stood in the roadway, about to speak , theblack gap in the door had swallowed her up . And allPaul saw before him , when he had ended his request ,were the high doors , white in the starlight , and thesmall shield o f a Yale lock . He turned away at lastand , walking aimlessly down hill , found himself atlength upon the terrace below the Casino

,overlooking

the sea .

A great round moon had just risen an inch o r so outo f the eastern water, printing the still sea with silverbars . For a great while (as it seemed to him ) Paulleant upon the stone balustrade , gazing into the faceo f the moon .

He sighed heavily , from time to time , so that , hadanybody been near him , they might well have thoughthim to be o ne who , having lost all at the tables ,pondered o n the crime o f self-murder .

She m oves as a m oon in the wane

murmured Paul,heedless of fact— orient o r occident

were one to him at the momentS he m oves as a m oon in the wane ,

he repeated , and then , throwing out his two arms t othe moonrise , he mouthed out (as all o f us have doneat times , so it mu st be forgiven him )

DANAE 57

We shift and bede c k and bedrap e u s,

Thou art no ble and nude and antiqueLibitina thy m other, Priapu sThy father, a Tusc an and Greek .

We play w ith light loves in the portal ,And w inc e and relent and refrainLo ves die , and w e kno w thee im m o rtal ,

Our Lady o f Pain .

Cry aloud fo r the Old wo rld i s brokenCry o u t fo r the Phrygi an is priest ,And rears no t the b o untiful tokenAnd sp reads no t the fatherly feast .

He stood a little while longer staring at the sea insilence, and then , with a sigh , turned to make h isway home to b ed . But one memory alone remainedto console him . He remembered that she was todine with him on the morrow .

CHAPTER IV. YVONNE EN PLEIN

E was clad to -night in the tenderest greenlike a golden flower opening o u t o f its greencalyx : like a yellow iris above the green

sedge . She talked to Paul about herself,with

o u t restraint and without regret . Paul spokebut little : he was content to watch the light thatplayed about her hair : to gaze into her large eyesto study the changing expression in her face : toeye , with envy to possess , her parted lips , her whiteshoulders , eloquent with meaning as she shruggedthem : her slender arms and her long fingers , w herethey lay, now asleep and now alive , upon the tablecloth ; and to listen to the music o f her speechto sun himself in the caress of look and voice, like adog in a patch o f sunlight on a day in spring.

A h ! m ai s c’

est tri ste , c e m om ent-oi , d M onte

Carle . The season is ended , you understand : andwhat a season ! M on Di eu no-one but Spaniardsand Jews , and I don’t know who— m eteques— andAmericans— always the Americans— barbares . Je les

déleste , m o i : p unai ses! They are rich— yes— but

they are mean , and they have no manners . I dancedwith o ne here a few weeks ago . We had o ne danceand then , m o nDi eu , he wants to go home with m e

c om m e j’

étai s une fille . Ah , i ls s oni m al élevés , c es

gens-Id. They are not like the English , m on c héri .

The Englishman is genti l, bi en élevé he i s always agentleman , the Englishman .

”

Vo u s e‘

tes tro p aim able, Madem o i selle , said Paul ,fatuously .

He is so generous , the Englishman , murmuredYvonne Quesnoy , as she raised her glass and sippedat the golden Yquem .

She did no t seem t o expect a reply t o this generality and Pau l made none . He shifted in his chair

68

60 YVONNE EN PLEIN

o f the orchestra , which broke o u t suddenly into afo x -trot .Yvonne, let us dance , cried Paul .I will not dance much this evening— one dance ,

two dances , si v ou s v ou lez . Ce soi r, 7'

e fai s les jeu ze.

”

At the CasinoM ai s ou i . N o us allons c u Cas ino . J

’ado re la

danse , m ai s j’

adore p lus le hasard.

”

I hardly play at all,” muttered Paul , as they rosefrom the table .

Eh bi en .9 Qu

’

est-c c qu e v o us fai tes , done, dM onte Carle .9 But we will dance a little first . A llons .

The distance from the doors o f the Café de Rometo the Casino is short— fifty yards , perhaps —but inthe minute that it takes to pace these , many thoughtspassed and repassed through the mind of Paul .They were largely arithmetical in nature .

A bottle of champagne— o f He idsie c k- costs , in theCafé de Rome— well, it costs a great deal . A bottleo f Yquem , even though it be not o f the most notableyear, costs very nearly as much . Altogether, withthe champagne o f last night and the dinner o f this ,Paul remembered to have spent some three hundredfrancs . It seemed to him to have been a very largeexpenditure for a small return— so far ; and thereseemed a prospect o f an immediate further spendingo f these so necessary paper tokens . It i s , truly, aj oyous thing to have the most lovely girl in the worldclinging to your arm , as yo u walk under the kindlystars , but it stops you running suddenly away intothe darkness . Even had Paul found the moralcourage to leave Yvonne standing lovely and alonebefore the Temple o f Chance, he was physicallyunable so t o do . Instead ,

he climbed with her thebroad steps o f the Casino, and in through its doors ,

YVONNE EN PLEIN 6 1

with his mind a queer amalgam o f bravado andregret .He walked , a little behind her, down the outer hall

and in through the swing doors that lead to the gamingrooms .

Trenle-quatre est le num éro c c so i r,” murmured

the doorkeeper, as Paul passed within . If Monsieurwins o n it, he will remember me Hein

Paul followed Yvonne down the room between thetables . She did no t stop or look at any o f them .

We will play in the Salle Privée, she said , asthey neared the doors at the end o f the room , c c

n’

estqu e la c anai llequ ’

on trou ve i c i .”

But I have no t a ticket for the private rooms ,obj ected Paul . His expression lightened it seemeda comfortable way o u t o f the difficulty . Yvonneswung round and faced him : she stamped the floorangrily with the high heel o f her golden slipper .

Quelle be‘

ti se A lors , i i fau t jouer i c iPoised o n o ne small foot, with her frail hands

clenched and her eyes afire , she seemed t o Paul moreto be desired than ever .We’ll play at that table over there ; there is

less o f a crowd there , and I know the croupier .”After a little pushing, and words from a baldheaded man with a black beard , whom Yvonnepushed past , Paul found himself sitting at the table .

Yvonne sat next to him o n his left and beside thecroupier .The players around the table were not remarkable

they were of the types commonly to be seen at MonteCarlo at the end o f the season .

There were the usual number o f elderly ladies ,chiefly dressed in black o f an expensive dowdiness ,acid in manner and cautious in play . There were a

62 YVONNE EN PLEIN

couple o f young men of a trade to which the uncle ofCressid has lent a name . There were Old men withsystems and young girls without . There were twoJapanese gentlemen , who played far more heavilythan any other players at the table , but whoseimmobile features might have been cut in bronze .

There was the usual American seeing Europe, andthe usual Englishman , seeing nothing . In brief,around this table, as around the other tables inthe room , sat the great middle-class , with here andthere a prince or pimp , countess o r courtezan , to beexceptions to a proved rule . If one should searchall Europe for the birth-place of adventure , o ne couldhardly find a more unlikely spot than this , the common gaming room of Monte Carlo, at the end of themonth of April .Yvonne Quesnoy took a number of counters ,

mostly fiv e -franc ones , with a few o f twenty francs ,and placed them from time to time o n black o r red ,o dd or even , p asse o r m anqu e, on the squares anddoz ens and rarely o n a number, en p lein . Paul hadchanged a hundred-franc note and played a cautiousgame o n low hazards . At the end o f a quarter o f

an hour, Paul found himself some twenty francs tothe good , whilst Yvonne had no counters left .She held u p her silk bag , wide-open fo r Paul to see

its emptiness : its emptiness save for the silk pouchholding the powder puff and the little mirror .

Cheri , I have not a counter left ,” said Yvonne ,turning her large eyes appealingly o n Paul , p as un

so u give me a hundred francs to play withIt is to be feared that Paul gave her the hundred

franc note with but an ill grace . So plainly, indeed ,did he show his bad temper, that, although he saidno word o u t loud , yet Yvonne, watching him narrowly

YVONNE EN PLEIN 63

through her long lashes , knew that it woul d be uselessto ask him for more .She took the note and thanked him prettily never

theless, leaning her golden head towards hi m untilher silken hair brushed against his , so that its fragranee almost for the moment stole away his prudence .She did not at once pass the note to the croupier

for change into counters . She watched the wheel inan absent manner as it spun , while her fingers , idly,as though without direction , folded and refolded thenote . Suddenly, j ust as the croupier was about tochant the monotonous Ri en ne o u p lu s ,

” she placedthe now many-folded note o n seventeen .

An audible sigh went up from those near her . Ahundred franc stake is not a great o ne fo r MonteCarlo, but, en p lein, o n a o ne in thirty- seven chance,it is big enough . Paul was too angry— too materiallyinterested in the matter— to sigh : he stared at thewheel with a fixed gaze as it revolved slowly andyet more slowly . The ball fell into 21 and then o u t

again : it hovered over 9 and 3 4 , coquetted with 3 ,seemed t o make up its mind to stay in 11 , and , then ,at the last moment, j umped o u t again , and , finally ,with a last despairing wobb le , fell into 17.

Diw -sep t gagne ,”

said the croupier, impassionately .

The players about the tables o f Monte Carloform the most undemonstrative audience in theworld . Yvonne took her three thousand five hundredfrancs from the croupier in a silence

,and under the

cumulative stare of fifty pairs o f eyes . She arrangedher winnings o n the table in front o f her withouthaste , methodically . Paul alone had . shown anyemotion as the ball fell into the number

,but she cut

his exclamation short with a Tai s -to i , done

6 4 YVONNE EN PLEIN

Fa i les v o s jeua’

, .lI ess ieu rs , cried the croupier,fa i les vo s fea r ,

” as he spun the wheel in one directionand the ball round the groove in the other .Very deliberately, Yvonne placed her stakes upon

the table : 180 francs again on 17, 3 60 francs a

c heval, o n 16 and 17, francs on transversale

sim p le, covering 1 3 , 14 , 15 , 16 , 17, 18, andfrancs , the remainder o f her winnings , on the middledozen .

The silence o f the table was more eloquent than anyspeech . There were yet many seconds before the ballw ould cease to roll or the croupier would stop furtherstakes with his ri en ne va p lus .

” Hurriedly, otherplayers at the table began to follow Yvonne’s play,a few placing small stakes o n 17 en p lein, others morecautiously, backing ro uge , im p ai r , m anqu e,” o r agroup of numbers containing the number 17.

The behaviour of the ball o n a roulette board isinfinitely various . I do not know how or by whomthese small round balls are made . They may b e -nodoubt they are— turned o u t by the thousand fromautomatic machines , controlled by some mechanic ,by some low workman , as the Great Lexicographerhas it . They may be sold by the gross over commoncounters by automatons in starched collars t o retailerswith starched souls .But before the spherical travellers are placed in

the circus to make or to mar the fortunes of men andw omen w ith the high courage of adventure , some Impo f Opportunity is imprisoned with in each small ballby the Gods o f Chance to plagu e the player watchingthe itinerary of the Imp .

Sometimes he will jump in and out of every numbero n the board with a fine impartiality, until at last,wearied with so many futile attempts to find a resting

YVONNE EN PLEIN 65

place t o his liking, he will drop into a particularnumber o u t o f sheer fatigue . Sometimes he will seemto be in love with a group o f two o r three numbersto gether, wobbling backwards and forwards amongthem , until , at the last moment, he will spin away ,as though having suddenly made up his mind t o havenone o f them , and drop , at haz ard , into some numbera diameter away . Sometimes he will fall two , three ,four times into the same number and , at last , hop o u t

into its right o r left hand neighbour in perversity , toannoy those players who thought him happily settledin the number upon which they had punted . Sometimes , as he did in this case , he will run around andaround the circle , slowly and yet more slowly, butalways in the groove above , as though he had no likingfo r any number o n the board , but proposed to stay forever, against the laws of gravitation , o n the higherslopes , and so do in all those who were rash enoughto adventure their money o n the table , yet at the lastmoment to drop suddenly and finally into the onenumbe r which he had had in his mind all along .

In this last manner the ball rolled while Yvonnehad her all upon and around dia -sep t. Slowly andmore slowly the ball moved , until o ne wondered h o wthere was yet enough centrifugal force to keep it inthe groove above . And then , very deliberately, itsank solidly into seventeen . A table at Monte Carlonever cheers , but , as the croupier told all at the tablethat seventeen had won (which was needless , sointense had been the interest o f everyone ) , it camenearer t o cheering aloud than that restrained assemblyhas ever been . The two croupiers lifted the wiregratings o f their till s and between them counted o u t

to Yvonne the Very presentable sum o f francs .To Paul himself, sitting at her elbow, it seemed a

66 YVONNE EN PLEIN

dream a dream of a kind from which the happydreamer but t o o soon awakes .Yvonne made no sign o f deli ght in her fortune . Her

beautiful face was as immobile as when,a quarter o f

an hour earlier, she had lost her last few francs andhad borrowed a hundred from Paul . She motionedthe croupier for the box into which it is the customfor winners at high odds to drop a gift . As she foldeda thousand franc note and stuffed it into the narrowslit o f the box , the faces o f the croupiers glowed withsatisfaction . After all , they were but salariedOfficials , and it mattered nothing to them if a greatrun o f luck should even end in closing a table o r inbreaking a bank .

There is , as the Scriptures tell us, a time to laughand a time to weep, a time to eat and to drink and atime to refrain from these indulgences . S O, likewise,i s there a time to punt and a time not to punt .Wranglers and their kind will tell yo u that the chanceagainst the ball falling into the same number a thirdtime is the same as for the second and for the secondtime as for the first . This , though proven under theLaw o f Averages , is bunkum , and Yvonne did notyet again place a limit stake, nor indeed any stake ,upon di sc -sep t.She put fifty francs o n 3 6 and , together with those

who blindly followed her play, lost . But she doubledthe thousand francs she put o n even and trebled thefiv e hundred francs she put o n the last dozen , theball having fallen , after coquetting with half a doz ennumbers , into 3 2 . From then onwards , she playedwith skill and caution and , by a quarter o f an hourbefore eleven O’clock , when the table closed downfo r lack o f funds , after paying her o u t fo r a limitstake o n 23 , she rose from the board richer by

CHAPTER V. ANABASIS

E long, grey limousine glided through thenarrow streets o f Monte Carlo and out andup o n to the hill road . Its broad , black

varnished mud-guards shone in the sunshine , and ,from the great nickel head lamps and its platedfittings , a dozen images o f the sun himself winked atthe traveller o n foot , leaving him standing stilldazzled a second later and angry in a cloud o f dust .Others in Monte Carlo were at odds with the lady inthe limousine, beside the walkers in the road , the dogswho had escaped death and the peasant strugglingwith a crazy horse in the shafts o f a ditched cart andcursing the rich already out o f sight above the hairpinbend .

Fo r instance, there was , at this very moment , whilethe car took the bend in the mountain road , a disgruntled gentleman , upon o ne o f the seats on theterrace , chewing the end of a cheroot that had goneout . He looked plainly out of humour from the clothtops Of his boots to the crown o f his straw hat . Perhaps he had reason to be put out , for he had lost nolittle custom and was in the position Of a literaryagent (say ) whose best-seller has turned publisherovernight . He cursed the god o f chance in fluentand unprintable argot .The once-upon-a-time hierarch also cursed the

Ingenious Deity . He sat alone in his small roombehind the kitchens of the Café de Rome and even theemptied bottle before him had failed to put him intoa better temper . He also deplored the loss of apercentage charge . True , there were still at histables gentlemen with money and ladies without , o u to f whose juxtaposition a discreet and benign intermediary might yet draw profit . But the loss ofYvonne meant a materi al loss of income and his own

68

ANABASIS 69

remembered phrase added no w an insult to injury inthat she had found the fortune which he was w ent so

happily t o say she sought .Then there was the Semite in the Boul evard du

Nord , who sat in the doorway o f hi s shop and weptbehind a pair o f horn-rimmed spectacles . He re

counted to himself again and again the number o farticles of value which had been deposited in his handsfo r money a tenth their worth , only to be redeemedwithi n the week . There was the am ber necklac e,with o ne great bead in it as large as the egg o f apigeon , o n which he had advanced 200 francs , thewhich he could have sold for a thousand any day .

There were gold bangles , a diamond ring, a silvermounted dressing-case , a platinum wrist watch, silksand perfumes and pots and bottles mounted in goldall o f them , name o f Satan ! to be redeemed in amorning by a she-Gentile without morals and withoutmanners with nothing but a couple o f thousandfrancs and a bunch of pawn tickets .Co henste in took o ff his spectacles and wiped the

lenses with a large , discoloured handkerchief.Ten thousand francs I could have made o n all

that ,” he groaned , “ and to lose such profit in ahalf-hour .He rose slowly and painful ly out o f the broken chair

in search o f a glass and bottle which lived upon a shelfin a dark corner.His wife loomed up largely out o f the shadows .It was a shame, Isaac , that a daughter o f Satan

shouldHold your tongue, curse you growled Cohen

stein , women’s gabble nothing but gabble,

gabbleHe drew the cork fro m the bott le and a gentle

70 ANABASIS

cluck-cluck -cluck sounded soothingly In his ears .Isaac Co henst e in needed something more thanspiritual consolation that morning .

There was a fat gentleman with a bald head , a tinymoustache the breadth ofhis nose, and amultiplicity o fc hins , who wore an overlong frock coat and a perpetualshrug o f the shoulders . He no w stood in the barebedroom o f the flat which Yvonne had vacated andshrugged his shoulders until o ne wou ld have thoughthis shoulder blades must have cracked . That histenant had that morning paid her rent which had beenoverdue for many weeks would seem to be an o dd

cause for such misery in a landlord . Yet he stoodbetween the tumbled bed and the dismantled dressingtable and very nearly wept .

Name o f God , that she should win he muttereddej ectedly, spreading o u t two fat hands at the opendoor o f the empty wardrobe : empty except for thelitter o f tissue paper in o ne corner . Name o f God ,that a woman like that should win ! ”He would no t be able t o let the flat now- not until

the coming winter. The season was over . But fo rthe cursed chance o f the tables and the folly o f adamned Englishman , the woman would have had theflat for another two months . And paid for it

,too .

She would have found the money somehow— therewas no trouble about that . He was not a hard manhe would have given her time to find it . He wasalways ready to let a tenant stay o n a few weekslonger in such a case . It was a charitable policy, anda profitable o ne ; and no risk in it . In the emptyalcove o f the window there had stood a large trunk

,

full o f beautiful and expensive clothes furs had hungin the wardrobe . The hall porter downstairs w as

entirely to be trusted . NO tenant— mo tenant whom

ANABASIS 71

he was deputed to watch— ever passed him with alarge trunk , o r even a small one .The cursed Englishman groaned the landlord

,

as he remembered how Yvonne had flung the notes o nthe table , carelessly— as one might pay a waiter, whilethe Englishman had turned a contemptuous backupon hi m and watched Annette pack silks in tissuepaper.Dog o f an Englishman he muttered and I

lose tw o — three thousand francs He turned,

kicked an empty cardboard box across the floor,and

shrugged himself o u t of the room .

There was also Monsieur Adolphe Rollin , the hairdresser in the Rue St . Jacques . To do MonsieurRollin justice , he was not at odds with Yvonne overloss o f custom , but he regretted her departure . A s

he sat at hi s white-painted desk , in his pleasant , sunlitshop

,surrounded with rare and beautiful things

frail bottles o f fantastic shape filled w ith essences andperfumes : pots and boxes o f ivory and mother-Ofp earl and sandalwood and tortoise-shell and delicateinstruments o f nickel and silver plate , he sighed alou dand stroked his silky black beard as was h is habitwhen his thoughts were elsewhere .

To be sure it was no t the loss o f a single client thatfilled the heart of Adolphe Rollin with regret , but form any weeks he had tended with delighted care thehair o f Yvonne .He was an artist , was A dolphe Rollin . It was not

often that o ne had such a head o f hair under one’shand . As he combed o u t that si lken flood , let ting itfall over his open hand like a cascade o f sunlight , heused to vow that there was no woman in Monte Carlo

-nay , nor in Paris itself— to equal thi s .He sighed as he sat at his desk , and spoke sharply

72 ANABASIS

t o his cashier, who interrupted his thoughts withtrivial words about nothing . A woman w ho washonest and understood accounts , but with hair likebrass wire and an Offence to the eye .

That is not hair— bah ! muttered Adolphe , t ohimself. No w , Mademoiselle Yvonne, such softness—such a fragrance— such colourHe stroked his beard and ceased to hear what his

cashier was saying . Adolphe Rollin had the soul o fan artist— and the heart o f a man .

Lastly, there were the many to whom , by the graceof the God of Chance, Yvonne owed her fortune .There were those who had placed their money o n anynumber but seventeen , o n any number but thirtythree, when thirty-three and seventeen won for her atthirty-fiv e to o ne . There were all the folk- and theywere legion— who backed her number when shepunted and lost all those who lost o n o dd when shewon o n even all those who followed her lead whenshe lost o n red .

But though she had caused to close down more thanone table, no croupier had any grudge against her ;how should they, who are but salaried officials ,fattening o n the bounty of those who win .

Or the Prince ? Or they o f the Company o f theE stablishment of Baths Who are they to be disgruntled with the happy winner o f half a millionfrancs At three thousand or so hours o f play ayear, this— the very breaking o f a bank indeed —isbut a bagatelle . Day in , day o u t , month in , monthout, over the dividend year, thirty-fiv e is thirty-fiv eand thirty-six is thirty-six . Whether your moneybe o n ro uge o r no i r it is always!B lane that wins inthe end . No t , to be sure, by chance, but by arithmetic .

O as s a:

ANABASIS 73

But if many people were out of love with Yvonne,one at least was no t . As Paul Bellamy sat besideher o n the terrace , she was to him the most wonderful ,the loveliest , the tenderest and the best-beloved girlin all the world . He felt as if he were the prince in afairy tale . A great , white moon hung in the skybefore them and threw a ladder of silver Over the stillsea . The hotel was an enchanted castle, the redroofed

,Italian town , asleep in the shadows below

them , a princess’s fief , and the Princess herself satbeside him , with her slender fingers happy prisonerswithin his hand .

Presently the Princess spoke , very sweetly andtenderly , not as she had spoken with him an age (as itseemed ) ago at Monte Carlo , in the ugly FrenchEnglish of that time and place , but in the pure idiomo f the most beautiful language to speak in theworld .

Dear Paul, she began , speaking slowly andarticulately, without any o f the clipping of words andslurring o f syllables dear to the Parisian , so that Paulfollowed her readily enough , I have buried my past .I have buried my past deep in the ground with a spadeof gold . Thanks , dearest, t o yo u .

”

With a sudden gesture she turned her hand in his ,closing her long fingers around it and lifted his handto her lips .Thanks , dear heart , to yo u , I have buried my

world —a half world . With four hundred thousandfrancs in my bank , I am no longer I am nolonger what I was . And I am grateful , dear Paul , amI not grateful shall I no t be grateful to my deliverer— and my lover ? Or

, rather, I should say, myhusband fo r you shall be my husband— fo r so longas yo u wish it ; in the world into which we shall

F

74 ANABASIS

climb , you will be my loving husband . We shall be,then and I , as man and wife , but with this difference,Sir, only . That when you weary o f me (no , no , besilent and listen to me) yo u shall go away just howand when you will and that while yo u are with me,y o u are my guest . We shall reverse the commonmethod , and Madame , not Monsieur, shall pay fo rboth .

”

Yvonne , how can IBe silent : have I not said that I am grateful

who owe so much to you . Yesterday we were of thehalf world tod ay we are o f the world . Believe me ,there is no di fference between the half and the whole,but an addition of francs : there is no barrier thatcannot be climbed wi th a gilded ladder there is nodoor that cannot be opened with a golden key .

”

The rank is but the gu inea’s stamp ,” mutteredPaul .

“ There is nothing that may not be achieved ,continued Yvonne

,with wit and wealth— and I have

lived by my wits for more years than I care to re

member o r will tell even to you . To-morrow we w illmake our entry into the world . Believe me , the halfworld knows the world better than the world knowsitself it is its m éti er to do that it i s the knowledgeby which it lives . To -morrow we set o u t to conquerthe world .

”

Yvonne , dear o ne But how and whereWe will go to the Ile de l ’Esc o p e .

”

Never heard o f the place .Of course you haven’t . Yo u b elong neither t o

the world nor to the half-world .

”

YvonneDear Paul

,I did not wish to hurt you . But very

few know o f the Ile de l’Esc o p e and the Chateau

ACT I I

THE WHOLE LOAF

Oh l’

o r son or qu ’

il sém e au lo in , qu’

il m ultip lie ,La-bas , dans les villes de la fo li e ,LR-bas , dans les ham eaux c alm es e t do u x ,

Dans l ’air e t la lum iere e t la splendeur , parto utS o n o r ail équ e s

’

eni v re d’

esp ac e ,

S o n o r p lanant, so n or rapac e ,S o n o r vivant,S o n o r dont s ’é c lairent e t rayc nnent les vents ,S on orqu e bo it la terre ,Par les p o res de sa m isere ,S o n or ardent, so n or furtif, so n o r reto rs ,Mo rc eau d ’

esp o ir e t de sole il— so n o r

EMILE VERHARREN .

CHAPTER VI . AN ISLAND OF THE BLEST

HE Ile de l’Esc o p e is no t only a piece o f landentirely surrounded by water it is apiece o f land almost wholly covered w ith

flow ers , and it lies asleep upon the blue water under abluer sky, dreaming upon its own beauty, happily cuto ff from the mainland by six miles Of sea . Thesemiles of water, deep blue by day or changed to crimsonby the sunset o r to silver by the waking moon , mightyet be a hundred for any noise o f the affairs o f menthat di stu rbs this happy island . Though so small adistance away from the coast of France , the fortunesand misfortunes o f Europe matter but little t o the Ilede l’Esc o p e . War and the pain o f war, peace andthe miseries o f peace , have small effect o n the fewhundred islanders who live simply by the fish theycatch and the grapes they grow and by servicesrendered to the Visitors at the Chateau Falaise . Butif the natives o f this island of flowers , set like a j ewelin a southern sea and by such good luck separatedfrom the woes o f the larger land by water, live in greathappiness and content, it may yet be supposed thattravellers t o the island must bring with them , w illyni lly, some contagion from the madding crowd .

Fo r the Chateau Falaise i s an hotel o r h o steh'

ywithin the meaning of ordinances concerned , and anywhose papers are in order and whose purse can command the tariff, have the right t o enj oy ( if the hotelbe not fu ll ) the hospitality o f the Chateau Falaise .It is to be imagined that the guests bring with them

some infection from the outside into thi s retreat ,some echo o f noisy armaments , some whisper o f

untoward issues , some disclaimer of happiness , somememory o f a cause fo r tears . Patri ae qu is ew su l se

qu oque fugi t ? asks Horace : What exile from hiso w n land ever escaped himself as well What

79

80 AN I SLAND OF THE BLEST

soldie r uncertain of his command o r minister o f hisappointment o r deputy of h is seat, what financier,watching the price o f money o r merchant anxious forhis market , what husband , j ealous of his wife , o r

lover, unhappy in his suit, can free himself o f thesefetters even in holiday at an hotel But if it be atall possible , by means o f place alone , to escape for atime these burdens , no more likely cause could befound than the peace and beauty o f the Ile de l ’Esc o p eand the quiet comfort o f the Chateau Falaise .But there is yet another and adventitious cause

contributory to the happiness and well-being of theseVisitors . When Monsieur Fabien Pavois , some twelveyears ago , bought , redecorated and largely rebuilt theo ld Chateau Falaise and turned it into an hotel , hewas big with an idea . It was a great idea— it was anidea o f ideas , o f which his bank book is witness t o -day .

His idea, like all great ideas , was a very simple o ne .

People at hotels (and elsewhere, for that matter) ,argued Fabien Pavois , pay for many things besidesthe necessities of food and lodging even outside thedelight o f Lucullian dishes o r an Imperial bedchamber.Some (and especially the English ) will pay for games—w

for the golf-course o r the tennis cou rt : others (andpart icularly the Americans ) for o dd conv eniences ,such as manicurists and tape-machines , cocktailsand clam-chowder some , again , for the Casino or thep lage : for dancing ; for women for gaiety fornoise . But there is o ne thing for which folk will paythe highest price a thing, moreover, for which thehotel propr ietor has not to pay ; and that is goo dcompany . By good company is meant good companyin purely a social sense . It was t o meet this demandthat Fabien Pavois opened his hotel in the Ile del’

Esc o p e .

AN ISLAND OF THE BLEST 81

One cannot, o f course, in a public hostelry turnaway guests merely because they have relations inPutney o r deal in pig bristles o r are not noticed inDebrett, but Fabien Pavois easily overcame th isdifficulty by the place he chose for his hotel . On theIle de l’E sc o p e there is no casino and no beach ;neither golf no r tennis ; there is no theatre and no

band ; no ballroom and no bar ; no women and nonoise . Climbers o u t o f Putney and dealers in pigbristles and the like, preferred to go to N ice o r MonteCarlo, Biarritz o r even Cannes , where such andsimilar extra-mural entertainment could be enj oyed .

They did not in any way trouble M . Fabien Pavoisat the Chateau Falaise .Fabien Pav o is ’ sp ared no money in convert ing the

o ld chateau into a modern, comfortable, and indeed ,luxurious hotel . His purpose w as to eliminate allsocial discom fort for the guests he sought it was alsoclear ly necessary to avoid all material discomfort .

S o the o ld chateau was rebuilt no bedroom lacked abathroom opening from it : the public rooms wereexquisitely decorated and lighted by electric lamps

,

h idden in alabaster dishes : the billiard table wasby an English firm o f world-wide reputation , andthere w as e ev en a library equipped with books in amanner unlike any hotel . A wide terrace stretchedbefore the chateau, and the gardens , beautifullyplanted with roses and flowering shrubs , fell away interraces to the lower cliff . The chef was from Pariscertain entrées in that city still bore his name ; andhe was paid by Pavois the salary of an under-secretaryo f State the hotel service was said to be unsurpassedby that o f any o f the older London clubs , and thehead gardener had been in the employ o f Lady Flayne .

The hotel c harges were as high, if no t higher, as those

82 AN ISLAND OF THE BLEST

o f any of the great caravanserais of the Riviera, butthe clientele peculiar to the Chateau Falaise couldafford to pay (and did pay ) for the comfort and thequiet and , above all, for the social immunity that itenj oyed .

It was thus that the Chateau Falaise was alwaysfull - and always full of those whose place in societywas assured . Guests booked their rooms from yearto year. The Duchess of Pennyghael had been inthe habit o f spending May and June at the Chateauuntil her age and infirmity kept her from travellingso far afield . Lord Fenfie ld , the Comtesse de la Bri eand the Cardinal Vo iv e tella were co nstant visitors ,and Baron Hohendorf rarely missed a year, untilthe outbreak o f the late war prohibited his exc u rs io ns .

It need hardly be stated that, with such a conne c t ion, P

'avois had no need to advertise . To doso , indeed , would have spoilt his custom , and theChateau Falaise is no t to be found in the adve rtisement pages o f any time-table o r guide -book : atCook’s and other tourist agencies it is unknown , andPavois pays yearly fo r the omission o f any mentionof the Ile de l’Esc o p e from the handbooks o f Mr . KarlBaedeker . But even Fabien Pavois was unable t oprevent a European war o r to escape some o f i t s

effects , and although Lady Cantire and o ld Mr .Oc kringto n, Dr . Hanson and Canon Fairmead andthe Hon . Kenneth Kingston-Pugh were o f the o ld

order, he knew nothing of John Paterson save hisname : he had doubts o f Major Boomer, and thepresence in his hotel o f Theophilus J . Potter, o f theAmerican was a matter of continual annoyance and regret . Moreover, in this spring o f 1919

the world was as yet under the shadow o f war, and


freed her from a tie that had be en irksome for someyears . However, she did not marry again , butremained an exemplar in widowhood , wearing theblack silks and satins , but here and there relievedwith the white of o ld lace , after the fashion o f anearlier age . In her youth she had been in attendanceo n Queen Victoria, and was said to have enj oyedher confidence . She still spoke o f the Prince Consortas the Prince— a matter which caused at timesconsiderable misunderstanding— and she consideredher opinion o n manners and deportment to befinal .Lady Cantire had been a constant visitor to the

Ile de l ’E sc o p e before the war . The war had naturally interrupted these visits , but the spring o f 1919

fo und her once more at the Chateau Falaise, to themingled satisfaction and regret of Monsieur Pavois .Fo r although her presence was an honourable dist inction to any hotel proprietor, it w as always aresponsibility . Her views on othe r guests were severeand she was not always discreet in the expression o f

them . She had sent fo r Pavois soon after her arrivalthis time, and he had stood before her o n the terracevery humbly to hear her complaint . She had gonestraight to the point .Who is Boomer ? she began , in a voice which

the Maj or, who was smoking a cigar o n the lowerterrace , might very well have heard .

Maj or Boomer, milady murmured Pavois .Yes , who is heRoyal Engineers , I believe , milady— eru o n

leaveGod bless the man , I know that : can’t help

knowing it when he struts about the place in uniformlike a Prussian Adjutant in a garrison town . Why

AN ISLAND OF THE BLEST 85

doesn’t he wear mufti , if he must come here Don’tknow where you find these people , PavoisYes , milady, murmured Pavois , humbly .

And the Yankee lamp-post 9Pardon , miladyPotter, his name , i sn’t itMr . Theophilus Potter, o f MilwaukeeHeaven help us -worse than Chicago What’s

he doing here Why isn’t b e serving o u t coffee o rchewing gum o r whatever he does to the troopsWhy do you have such people hereWell , milady,” murmured the unfortunate Pavois ,

spreading o u t his hands , what is it that o ne cando ? I am v er

’ sorry , milady : eet i s much regretit is to me p éni ble but , milady, things have changed .

My hotel , even now, i s not yet full . It cannot behelped it is the war .”

Oh , I know ; c’

est la gu erre . I ’ve heard thatexcuse till I ’m sick o f it . You c an go , Pavoisbut if you have any more of these oddities stayinghere , I leave .

”

There is Mr. Oc kringt o n, miladyPavois , apologetically .

That old fooland to -morrow the Canon Fairmead arrives ,

and on Tuesday the Ho n. Kingston-PughSo Kenneth is coming— and the Canon Well , I

suppose I ’ve got to be thankful for small mercies .And then Wednesday, Mr . Paul FennimoreNever heard the name

and MadameWhoThat is Madame Fennimore

,milady she was

la Comtesse de I have forgot the name for them oment .”


Um— an Englishman with a French countess aswife . Well , let’s hope they’re respectable .

”

M . Fabien Pavois spread o u t his hands more widelythan ever .Milad y, je v ou s assu re I know Madamewould IWell , I suppose it’s all right .I make my humblest apologies bu t the war

if milady will excuse me I have some affairsGod bless the m anm

yes , go . I don ’t want youany more .

”

It is t o be regretted that M . Fabien Pavois , in theprivacy o f his o w n room and in speaking to hisadjutant, referred t o Lady Cantire in terms hardlyproper to the aristocracy o r polite even to her sexfor it i s scarcely good manners to refer (even in theFrench tongue ) to the relict o f an Earl as a sacredfemale o f the canine tribe . Yet he at least paidLady Cantire the compliment o f echoing almost herve ry phrase in respe ct to the newcomers , sayingthat he hoped— that he sincerely hoped— they wererespec table .

CHAPTER VI I . THE AGREEABLE DRAGON

T is not a state o f mind that she would haveadmitted even to herself : it was a word no t

to be found in her vocabulary yet it must beconfessed that Lady Cantire was bo red .

She sat in a complicated wicker chair o n theterrace . An awning o f striped canvas guarded herfrom the sun : the softest o f cushions were at herback : a footstool supported her feet : a table ather side bore her work-basket , her handbag, hersmelling-salts and her novel . Fitton , her maid ,sat a few feet away, ready for any service that mightbe asked o f her, o r to talk if her ladyship was soinclined . She bent low over her needle , decentlygarbed in black , with white , starched collar and cuffs .Overhead the sun shone out of a blue sky . The

warm air was fragrant with the scent o f rosesdrowsy with the murmur o f many bees . Below laythe sea, of the very azure hue from whi ch the coastis named , splashed here and there with white andbrown where the sails of fishing boats stood o u t againstthe dark water . The red roofs and the white wallso f the Port St . Simon gleamed in the sunlight halfa -dozen miles away . The wide terrace lay in deepsilence save fo r this murmur o f the bees the slightru stle, now and again , o f a lizard o n the lichenedstone and the faint echo of the lip -lap of the wateragainst the rocks below .

Yet Lady Cantire was in an i ll -humour . Thecushions in her chair had been arranged and rearrangedhalf-a -doz en times by Fitton without any success ;and twice she had been sent into the house in searcho f things w hich Lady Cantire found afterwards inher bag o r her work-basket . The smelling saltshad been judged as lacking in strength and thewo ol as poor in qualitv and Lady Cantire had

88 THE AGREEABLE DRAGON

thrown down her novel with a complaint against theauthor fo r having written it , and against Mu die

’

s

for having sent it to her . She now lay back in herchair, with her knitting lying idle in her lap , andstared gloomily out to sea .

Lady Cantire was bored— even in the Ile de l’Esc o p eand at the Chateau Falaise . The world , in whichonce she had played a part , had gone on and lefther behind . The miserable war had altered manythings . In the old days at the Chateau , things hadbeen otherwise . There had been the Baron— a relictalso o f her order— whose memories o f the PrinceConsort and the late Emperor were always piquantthere had been the Duchess , whose gallery o f theportraits of family skeletons was unique : therewas the dear Cardinal , who could be wittily indelicatewithout being indelicately witty , and who couldkiss her hand with an air unknown among the meno f to -day . No w she had to console herself withOc kringt o n and his ear trumpet and dissertationso n the state of his stomach : with the pulpit platitudes of Canon Fairmead ; and Dr. Hanson o n

butterflies . Kenneth , it is true , was at times amusing , but b e spared little time for Lady Cantire , andmoreover, spoke habitually an argo t which was asdifficult to understand as it was painful to hear spoken .

5” So Lady Cantire leaned back among her cushionsand stared at the sea and yawned : she was t o o wearyo f things even to continue her knitting o r to abuseFitton . She sat for some little time gaz ing towardsthe low coast line of the mainland , her mind takenup with memories , seeing nothing o f material things ,until a gleam o f sunlight upon polished metal caughther eye . It was a motor launch , half way acrossthe intervening stretch o f water, making fo r the

THE AGREEABLE DRAGON 89

little harbour below ; already the faint put-put ofits engine could be heard o n the terrace .

Lady Cantire watched the approach of the launchwith more animation than she had yet shown thatmorning .

“ It must be the man Fennimore , andthe French woman : Pavois said they were comingto-day I expect they’ll be impossible ,” and sheshrugged her shoulders despairingly . Yet she cont inu ed to watch the boat w i th interest . The arrivaleven o f any g uests was a relief from presentmonotony .

The launch grew larger every moment as it slippedover the still water . Looking down upon it , as itcame under the island , Lady Cantire saw , beside thecrew , two people sitting in the stern . The one , ayoung man in white ducks and a panama ; theother, a woman , slender in figure , clad in a whitesilk jumper and a white skirt, whose face was hiddenunder a broad-brimmed hat . The bows of the boatwere encumbered with a number o f trunks and packages , a French maid w ith an impudent face and anAlsatian wolfhound in a spiked collar, who laystretched o u t o n the deck with h is nose betweenhis paws , seemingly bored with the whole affair .In another minute the launch had passed out o f herview under the cliffs above the harbour .They lo ok quite respectable ,” muttered Lady

Cantire .

Yes , milady, said Fitton .

I didn’t speak to you , snapped Lady Cantire .

Some three quarters o f an hour later, Lady Cantiresat listening in a somewhat absent way to KingstonPugh . He stood over her, in a white silk shi rt ,innocent of tie and open at the neck , and a pair o fgrey flannel trousers , very green about the knees ,

G


where he had been scrambling over the seaweed-grownrocks . He stood six feet thr ee and a half in the flat

,

rubber-soled shoes that he wore . He had no hat,

and his black glossy hair, close cut around his roundhead , and still wet from the sea, shone in the sunlight .A damp towel hung over his left shoulder . He w assaid to be the best- looking man in the Cornish Guards ,a regiment in which good looks are proverbial , andyet o f a type that has , commonly, small claim tobeauty ; for his head was small and round , ratherthan long his nose, short his profile, irregular .But his deep blue eyes , the poise o f his head upon thene c k , and the whole grace and perfect bal ance o f hisbody were not easily forgotten , and his voice was verymusical and persuas ive .Had a topping dip, he was saying, water’s

perfect this morning found the best place fo r a divein the island . Asked Boomer to come with mebut says he don’t swim , (I suppose he

’s too fat t o doanything but float ) so I hadHe broke o ff suddenly, staring over Lady Cant ire ’s

head .

My aunt ! he muttered .

What did yo u say What is that ‘

P said LadyCantire, fumbling fo r her lorgnette . She found it atlast , and turning in her chair, gaz ed through it towardsthe house behind her .On the steps leading down from the house to the

terrace , stood tw o figures , a man and a woman . Theywere clearly the newcomers from the launch . Sheraked them with her glasses . She took little troublewith the man she decided that he was good-looking,o f a weak character, and like any other young man o fa class t o which she was accustomed . But the womanw as beautiful , no t m erely good-looking o r pretty o r


know, and we’ve got to be democratic and all thatnowadays.

”

I do not see the necessity in the least, said LadyCantire, as she rose from her chair . I ’m goingindoors . Fitton , you c an take the things up to myroom ; no , I ’ll take the bag myself. I ’ll warn theCountess against that man Boomer— there’s no needfor her to be pestered with his attentions .”As it happened , Boomer had seen the newcomers

before Kingston-Pugh . He had been walking withPotter o n the beach at the back o f the harbour whenthe launch came in . He had not gone o ff pop, exceptin so far as to swear a number o f soldierly oaths ,and the despatch with which he climbed up on t o thej etty by means o f the iron staples let into the masonry

,

so as to be in at the death as it were , was admirablein o ne o f his age and figure ; Potter, a thinner andyounger man , arriving at the landing stage but a badsecond .

Lady Cantire sat in her wicker chair upon theterrace and metaphorically purred with pleasure .The Comtesse de Niv erseine sat beside her andhandled her knitting needles under the o ld lady’sdirection .

Slip one , knit o ne , purl o neBut I do not understand your English - how do

yo u say — stitches . It is but to make a simple littlecoat— for Adrien .

”

How o ld is he ? ”Ah , but he is young— quite young— not yet three

years o ld . He is too young to bring with us . Wehad to leave him at the Chateau with the others .Then he 18 not your only childThe Comtesse laughed gaily .

THE AGREEABLE DRAGON 98

But no, vm z’

m ent, and she held up her slenderhand and counted o n her fingers— o ne , two , three,four— three boys and o ne girl . Paul and me , we havebeen married just five years , but Jean and Georgetteare y

'

um eauw — how you say it —twins .”Lady Cantire was more delighted than ever with the

Comtesse de Niv erse ine . To find su c h Victorianvirtue, su c h domestic happiness , existing in an agewhich she not infrequently damned as godl ess , and ,moreover, in a country confessedly pagan , was balmto a distressed spirit .I wish you could have brought your little ones

with you , murmured the old lady .

The Comtesse de Niv erse ine— o r Yvonne , t o useher

'

shorter name— put her kni tting down in her lapand turned her beautiful eyes , now clouded withtrouble, on Lady Cantire .

Ah , it hurt me so to leave them , the little ones .But Paul was not well and he needed a change, andthen , a hotel , Lady Cantire , is not a place fo r littlechildren . I do not like t o leave them behind , butmy mother is looking after them . She loves them all ,and they are happier there than if they were here .

You are quite right, quite right,” murmured Lady

Cantire .Indeed , Lady Cantire was in a mood to approve o f

almost anything that Yvonne said . In four days theo ld lady had succumbed completely to the beauty andcharm , the quaint wit and the o ld-world manner o fthe Comtesse . Weary o f her present company andhaving accepted the newcomers almost before theirarrival , Lady Cantire had taken the young Comtesseunder her wing from the beginning . Her youth , hersimplicity, her ingenuousness , pleasingly relieved attimes with a worldly wi sdom altogether Victorian,


and a piquancy o f phrase wholly Gallic, completedthe conquest . Even Pavois was appeased ; hisknowledge o f the English nobility, was , in fact, betterthan his knowledge o f the French ; as a Southernerhe knew little o f the North, and Niv erseine , it ap

p eared, was in Brittany . The judgment o f so severea critic as Lady Cantire (who remembered t o haveheard the o ld Marquise de Ro c hequ esno y speak o f

Niv erse ine ) was enough for him . In Paul, LadyCantire took no especial interest : she accepted himas the husband o f the Comtesse ; as a presentableyoung man of an o ld Somersetshire family the whichinformation , indeed, she had gleaned from Yvonne .But though luck was with Paul and Yvonne insecuring so early an ally su c h as the Lady Cantire,there were uneasy occasions . Yvonne was a bornsto ry-teller, and this , practised through many years ,was apt to run away with her : nor was she alwayscareful to warn Paul in advance .On this very morning , for instance, Paul and

Kingston-Pugh came o u t o n to the terrace , andYvonne, who was growing a little weary o f her companion , j umped up and ran to Paul , sayingThe sea is lovely this morning ; let us go o u t in

the boat, and Mr . Kingston-Pugh will come with u swon’t yo u , Mr . Pugh If you’ll wait, I ’ll go in andchange I won’t be long .

She waved her hand t o Paul and ran into the hou se,and Paul , perforce, sat down beside Lady Cantire,whom he feared and disliked in equal measu re .I wish you could have brought your children with

yo u , said the old lady, beaming on the unhappyPaul . And the twins mu st be darlings . Ho w o ld

are theyIt is, t o say the least, disconcerting to any young


When , some ten minutes later, Yvonne ran downthe steps and j oined the three men o n the terrace , shelooked so bewitchingly lovely that even Paul forgotaltogether the complaint he had against her . Herclosely-fit t ing j umper o f green silk suited her toperfection : the mass of her hair, escaping from underher small tu i ban of green wool m a riot of spun gold ,gleamed in the sunlight : her small feet, cased inwhite doe-skin , tapped impatiently o n the stones o fthe terrace , and the Maj or stared at her with suchinsistence that one less magnanimous , in these matters ,than Yvonne, might even have found an occasion foroffence .

But she smiled happily and equally o n all three men .

Major Boomer , you will come too We are goingo u t in the launch and to go right around the islandlike that ,” and she made a large circle in the air withher hand .

Delighted— delighted to come, stammered theMaj or, pulling at his moustache and flushing an evendeeper red .

Bi en allons w let us go , and Yvonne led the waydown the steps from the terrace .

That afternoon , over a cup o f tea, Lady Cantiresought light upon an unnatural phenomenon . Itwas not that she had the slightest suspicion of theComtesse de Niv erse ine , but Paul ’s words were , atleast , o dd ; and Lady Cantire did not like oddity .

And the Comtesse de Niv erse ine had explainedOh , the dear Paul , it is so like him he was think

ing o f Marie, the youngest . She’s just two years oldand he’s devoted to her . He thinks more o f Mariethan of all the others— which is really rather sweet o fhim . No — why, Michel and Georgette are four yearso ld now

THE AGREEABLE DRAGON 9?

MichelYes , the twinsBut Comtesse , I thought yo u said the boy was

called JeanJean Michel , replied Yvonne ; he was

christened Jean after Paul ’s father, and Michel aftermy brother— poor Michel , who was killed in the war .”The blue eyes o f the Comtesse de Niv erse ine filled withtears .He was the as of his sector : he fell from two

thousand metres together with the Boche avi an heattacked . They saidLady Cantire laid her hand 011 Yvonne’s arm .

Let us be thankful that the awful war is over, andthat your husband has been spared

“ After being twice wounded ,” sobbed Yvonne .

How I suffered ! After every p erm i ssi on I neverthought I shou ld see him again .

Lady Cantire left Yvonne to go upstairs to dressfor dinner more than ever assured that the Countesswas the most beautiful , the most charming and themost lovable o f women and she began to hold Paulin better opinion . To be so loving a father andhusband , and so gallant a s oldier : to be twicewounded fo r one’s country : these are virtues notto be hid— o r so thought Lady Cantire . It causedsome confusion later, however, that while Yvonnewas recounting Paul ’s exploits , Paul himself (who ,to do him justice, made no secret of the part heplayed in the campaign ) was exchanging war remiui sc enc es with Major Boomer .

Of course , I was never actually in the line, thoughI have been under shell-fire a number of times andlucky enough never to be hit ,” he had said . Whilstthe Major, who had spent most of his time during


the war in a steam launch between Merville andCalais- a steam launch with a lovely polished copperfunnel and nickel fittings , as b efit t ed a field officero f the I .W.T.

- retailed , at some length, certain o f

his affairs o f gallantry in the Back Areas , none ofwhich were particularly creditable to any o f the

parties concerned .

It has been said by the cynic that to married folkalone is reserved the luxury o f quarrelling in b ed .

Those in such a position , who do not enj oy the warranto f society in this matter, dare not ( it has been urged )fall o u t with all the world against them . So Paul, itmay be considered , lent , in some sort , a moral aspectto a relationship to be deplored even by the mostfree-thinking , in his words to Yvonne that night .But Yvonne laughed happily and made nothing o f it .

Chéri , I know I ought t o have told you howmany children you have, and how long we have beenmarried— and many other things . But I did notknow at all myself until I was talking to Lady Cantireshe is so fond o f children that I made it three— o r

was it four — I forget .”But good heavens , Yvonne, if you don

’t re

memberDear Paul, that

. is all right ; Lady Cantireadores me, and the others don’t matter. Though Iwish I could remember the children’s names ; butthen, I never could remember names- only faces .Oh , and Paul dear, don’t forget you’ve been woundedtwicePaul sat up in bed with a j erk .

Good God he groaned .

But Yvonne nestled her golden head deeper intothe pillow and refused to listen .

Don’t talk to me, I ’m going t o sleep .

CHAPTER VIII . PLAYMATES IN ARCADY

HE sun is a great dispeller o f ill humours .He is the healer, the life bringer . He isthe only true doctor to the troubled mind .

He is the best apothecary in the world . There isno tonic sold for gold over any chemist’s counter soremedial as that celestial pick-me-u p which is pouredfor nothing at daybreak over the wide counter whichi s the rim o f Earth .

Paul had fallen asleep over night but to hob -nobwith distressful dreams , yet the memory o f thisand his anger with Yvonne , vanished in the morningsunlight as had the mist above the meadows twohours earlier .He stood before the wide open window, bathed in

golden light , breathing in the sweet air, magicallycompounded o f sea-salt and the fragrance of so manyflowers , in great gulps , and happily forgetful thathe had ever been at odds with anyone . He threwo u t his arms wide as if to embrace the sun and allthe sky, in sheer love of life, only to have them , ina second , without warning , pinioned at his side , bytwo encircling arms from behind to be lost in a cloudo f silken hair : to feel warm k isses o n his neck , andto hear an echo of laughter and the whisper o f lovenames in his ear .The sun

,the wide sea, this quiet island and Argive

Helen together did conspire to put Paul into a bettermind , and as day followed day without untowardhappening , Paul fell easily into that rare humour,so hard to hold in this egotistical age , and forgot thecares of To -morrow in the delight o f To -day ; and ,hourly, he grew more in love with Yvonne .So, also, did all others in the Ile de l ’E SCOp e .

The forgetfulness o f Yvonne as to certain detailsher genius as a teller of stories , which together gave

100

PLAYMATES IN ARCADY,

. 101

rise to odd occasions , no longer troubled Paul . Thenames and ages o f his children , the number andnature o f his wounds , became , by repetition , fixedeven in the mind o f Yvonne , and a certain confusionin parents and the shifting topography o f Niv erse ine

mattered nothing to a society which to a man , andeven to a woman , were slaves to Helen . There w ereeven material witnesses to the truth .

Old Mr . Oc kringt o n, for example , had met theo ld Comte de Niv e rse ine many years ago . He satin his wheeled chair in a sheltered corner o f theterrace , with Yvonne beside him , and the littleelectric battery and mouth-piece between them , sothat he might miss no word spoken . He had evenstayed a few days , long before Yvonne was born ,at the o ld chateau , and he recalled , with thehelp of the Comtesse , the aspect o f that picturesquepile .He saw it quite clearly in his mind , as it had stood

then , a sombre monument between dark woods . Abroad stone terrace , grey with lichen , bearing uponevery pedestal a shallow Grecian vase, made a stagefrom which the great square mass o f the chateauwith its Doric columns and wide pediment stood o u t

against a background o f dark trees . From theterrace, the grass land fell away in a gentle slope formore than a mile , w ith the thick woods o n either sidea strip o f grass no wider than the terrace where itleft the chateau , but widening wi th the slope o f theland to the lake at the far end . To the right , at thelake’s edge , stood a small Doric temple capped witha bronze cupola , turned by rain and weather to abright green ; and beyond the lake , a tall gate o f

iron , finely wrought and flanked by two stone gri ffinso n tall pillars , rose o u t o f the grass ; for this gate

PLAYMATES IN ARCADY

was never used'

an'

d'

the way in to the chateau layby the avenue o n the other side .Thus di d Mr . Oc kringt o n remember to have seen

the Chateau Niv erse ine when he was a young manand the o ld Count , Yvonne’s grandfather, had beenhis host . Canon Fairmead , o n the other hand , aftera wonderful walk with the Comtesse to t he highcliffs at the back o f the island , pictured the chateauotherwise .

Yvonne had sat down on a rock outcrop at thecliff’s edge and gazed dreamily down upon the bluewater which encircled the rocks below . The Canonstood beside her .

“ It is , my dear Comtesse, the most wonderfulview in the island ,” he had said , for he was showmano n this occasion .

Yvonne sighed pensively and looking up with arare smile , in which a little pain of regret was equallyblended with the delight o f happy memories , saidIt makes me to remember my Niv erse ine , when

I was a lit tle gi rlfi une p eti te sau vage, w ai m ent— butso happy .

”

Are you not happy —here and no w , Comte ssemurmu red the good Canon , with a solicitude verypraiseworthy in o ne whose duty it is to console .And the Comtesse de Niv erseine had laughed in

the face o f the sun and the sea, happily, yet therewere tears which quivered upon her long lashes .

M on p are , je su i s heu reu se. I am happy, yes ,but can o ne be sans sou es

’

, who has three— fiv e littlechildrenIt is perhaps t o be regretted that a partaker o f

one sacrament should so speak to a priest o f another,y et it cannot be denied that Canon Fairmead wascharmed . To be addressed as father, as to be

104 PLAYMATES IN ARCADY

There was little company at Chateau Niv erseine ,for the Countess had died when the children wereyoung . The local c u re, a retired colonel o f infantry ,o ne o r two o f the p eti te noblesse of the neighbourhood ,were all the visitors ; and the Count was occupiedbut with his hobby o f heraldry , with the breeding ofhis dogs or with a tenantry as impoverished as himself.It was a gloomy picture, as Yvonne painted it, yetto be remembered happily as the place of one’schildhood , as a stage of so many never to be forgottenplays .Lady Cantire described the Chateau Niv erse ine

at second hand to the Misses Verek er-Prynne as arambling building o f high gables and many turrets ,set in the green meadows beside the river . Therewas some doubt as to the name of the river, LadyCant ire

’

s geography being as insecure as Yvonne’s ;so Lady Cantire believed that it was th e Seineand left it at that . The Count , it seemed , was aquite cheerful aristocrat with a large family, a giftfor hospitality and a passion for fly

-fish ing. Itseemed there was an Hotel Niv erse ine belonging tothe family in the Rue de Grenelle , but that the Countseldom went t o Paris . He was a Royalist , a strongsupporter o f the Catholic party and disliked rubbingshoulders with the ruck of Jews and Socialists nowin power . Dr . Hanson , who had left the hunting ofM im aeseop ti lu s o c hreari a to show Yvonne some verybeautiful orchids growing down by the stream ,

vaguely ‘ conceived the Chateau Niv erseine t o bebuilt into a small village huddled on the top o f aprecipitous hill ‘, rather after the manner of a miniatureCarc assone .

Major Boomer and Kingston-Pugh, who weremu ch with the Comtesse, would doubtless have

PLAYMATES IN ARCADY 105

formed even other pictures of this chateau had theyshown the slightest interest in such matters , butthey were far too taken up with the present to enquireinto the past . The sunlight in her hair : the lighttouch of her fingers ; the laughter in her eyes , allthese were more to them than pedigrees or the accounto f many mansions , and Yvonne w as careful neverto bore her audience .Had the company at the Chateau Falaise been more

homogeneous,it i s possible that Yvonne’s imagina

tion might still have caused trouble , so as to suspecther of being other than she made herself out to be .But the society on the Ile de l’Esc o p e at this time ,at the end o f the war, was even heterogeneous , andthe good fortune o f

”

Lady Cant ire’

s acceptance wasenough for all .Day followed day in the Ile de l ’Esc o p e without

incident in an ordered seemliness , as dream to dreampasses to the happy dreamer . No clouds rose outof the hori z on to veil the sun no wind came fromthe earth’s end to ruffle the placid surface of the sea .

The happy business of doing nothing in particularoccupied everybody’s time . To climb the cliffs forflowers : to bathe and afterwards to lie on the sunhot rock between sleep and wakefulness : to diveinto the deep pools : to fish through laz y hoursto circle the island in the launch and to discoverhidden beaches and caves , wonderful with colouredlight : to be free of noise and a crowd : to have nopurpose in view and no care for money and nothought of time , was very sweet indeed to Yvonne,and if she was lovely when she first came into theisland harbour, she grew more beautiful each day,until all on the island , from the waiter at her tableand the fisherman who dug bait for her to Lady

H

106 PLAYMATES IN ARCADY

Cantire and even Pavois himself, were very muchher slaves . All but two , for there were yet tw opeople o n the island to whom the coming o f Yvonnewas no more than that o f any common guest , whotroubled neither to seek nor to avoid her company

,

to whom her youth and her beauty, her wit and herbirth were o f no account .They were John Paterson and Dr . Hanson’s

daughter, Cecily .

Who John Paterson was o r whence he had comeo r why he was here , even the perseverance o f LadyCantire had failed to answer . There was nothing inany way mysterious about the man , nothing o u t

o f the ordinary . He was of an average height ando f a heavy build . His face was large and round ,i rregular in feature , inclined to be a little m orose inrest , but lighting up very vividly when he spoke .His eyes were of light blue , shadowy with dreamshis hair, a brown m o p upon his head , unbrushed andunbrushable : his age might have been anythingbetween thirty-fiv e and fifty . He spoke Frenchfluently, when he wished to do so (as at times he didto Yvonne) and was an entertaining talker . Heseemed to have been everywhere , to be a man o f

learning and of some wealth , but he made no effortto talk o r walk with Yvonne . He did not , o n theother hand , run away from her . That , at least ,would have been more flattering than to treat her(as she expressed it pathetically to Paul ) as thoughshe were a man . As the days passed , she grew moreinterested in Paterson than Paul suspected o r thanshe herself imagined .

That Cecily Hanson should not trouble her smallhead about Yvonne worried Yvonne not at all .It was understandable . That she should show no

CHAPTER IX . RECIPE FOR A LOVE

PHILTRE

HE Gardens o f the Luxembourg were fu l l o fflowers . Upon the benches a miscellanyo f folk dozed happily in the sunshine .

Around the pond , a number o f children o f all ages ,o f all classes , in a motley o f clothing , were busywith boats . All manner o f ships sailed upon thisplacid sea : from great schooners , a full metre fromstem to stern , rigged from top -sail to spinnaker,complete to every sheet and halyard , to the toy boato f p‘ainted tin at a few sous . The place was noisywith the shouting and l aughter o f the

‘

c hildren, andthe orders of their elders against the wetting o f

feet, the spotting of clean clothes or the falling intothe water .In these pleasant gardens and among this noisy

and happy throng walked Monica Van’t Hoff. Shemight have found much to smile at in the scenearound her . Almost at her feet a small child in ared tunic , whose nose and curly black hair witnessedhis race, was busy negotiating a mortgage o n a sunkvessel (the salvage o f which seemed to be uncertain )with a skill of which his father would have been proud .

A siren o f some eight years , with a green frock and amop o f copper-coloured hair, was shamelessly incitinga boy lover to recover her ship at the risk o f a wettingand the anger o f those in authority ; and two littleboys in blue tunics were attacking one another in anamateurish kind o f way to the huge delight o f a slimdamsel in pigtails and a printed frock, who was thecause o f war .But Monica did not smile at any o f these things

she saw little of what was happening around her .She walked with bowed head and unseeing eyes , sothat she very nearly stepped upon a battleship

108

RECIPE FOR A LOVE PHILTRE 109

which had been dry-docked o n the pathway, andonly avoided the accident by the cries o f the shipowner .About half-past twelve she left the gardens and

walked across the road to Fo yo t’

s ; but even t heentertainment of so noted a kitchen failed to makeher more cheerful and she ate her food and dranksome white wine in a listless manner .Monica Van’t Hoff, indeed , was suffering from two

diseases particular to this age , loneliness and re

morse though she w ould have confessed to neither,and chose to dub Paris empty when it was full asan egg, to damn its entertainment as dull when ithad never been more gay , and even to grumble atthe weather when the sun shone .She went back t o her hotel and moped and made

excuse to quarrel with the comfort and service ofthe Clarice , which is the best in Europe . Even thearrival and unpacking o f some furs from the RueSt . Honoré , o f a robe from Paquin, and a ski rt fromCheru it and lingerie from Madeleine and from Puskaand perfume from Arys failed to put her in a goodtemper . She sat and yawned that evening througha performance of Thai s at the Opera and awoke t othe conclusion next morning that Paris was unbearable . She scribbled a reply-paid telegram for roomsand rang for her maid .

She might have gone back to England , but she hadleft Ushar because it had been insufferably dul l afterthe camp at la Calotterie , and the Manor House ,though large, seemed , at the moment , hardly largeenough for herself and her sisters and the flu ffy-hairedwoman whom her brother was fool enough to wantto marry . So she had come to Paris .And now even Paris failed to amuse her.

110 RECIPE FOR A LOVE PHILTRE

She looked back with regret upon what she hadalready, in a few short weeks , begun to call the goodo ld days of war . She longed for the camp for theurgency of effort for the circumstance of commandfor the delight o f responsibility, the which , whenonce tasted , i s never quite to be replaced by anypinchbeck entertainment .In this , she was but one among a multitude . For

the bringing into the war of so many women o f whoma number had before no aim in life and no experienceo f service of any kind , had loosed in turn , at the end ofthe war, a number o f women with nothing whateverto do . Once to have done work w ell once to havebeen o ne o f a happy company now disbanded, i s aregretful being . The claims o f society, familybickerings , even the change o f travel , are but poorsubstitutes for the work o f war as well expect o ne

whose palate has become used to Bordeaux and brandyto be content w ith milk and soda or ginger-beer .So Monica thought much o f happy days at la

Calotterie ; and with the memory o f la Calotteriecame the remembrance of Paul .No woman readily forgets a man who has wooedher : even if she does not love him . Moreover,Paul had been much in attendance upon her duringthe last six months and she missed him . Also, atthe back o f her mind , not altogether t o be hiddenbehind a lumber o f other thoughts and memories , wasthe thought that she had been a little unkind tohim a little too ready to take account o f frailtiesthat were rather generous than otherwise : to maketoo much o f a love of rhetoric : to have been needlessly harsh in her dismissal o f hi m .

She was (she assured herself) not the least littlebit in love with him but she was sorry for him . She


a Tim es o n the bookstall to read during the j ourney .

Headlines and matters of European import all falla little flat in the reading , after years o f battle andtales o f disaster and victory : the leader page wasmore than commonly dull but turning to the pageo f Law Court reports , her eye was held by the longreport o f a case in which the firm of Cohen , Binettae t Cie . , o f Paris , sought payment from the executorso f the estate for goods supplied to a suicide .

The case was a painful o ne . The dead manappeared to have been a captain in the Army , andto have been living w ith a woman o f a rapacityabove the ordinary of her kind . At least , clothesand furs to the sum of over ten thousand poundshad been ordered for her by the deceased , of whichsu m two ~thirds had been paid . The firm of Messrs .Cohen , Binetta e t Cie . sued the executors for thepayment o f the rest o f the debt . The case was ofinterest from the legal point of view and the summingu p o f the learned judge was a masterly expositionupon an obscure point o f law , but the human sideo f the affair only appealed to Monica, and it wasinevitable that she should be rem i nded of Paul by it .Indeed , the memory of this cas e haunted her througho u t the j ourney : she wondered if the unhappyofficer had also been rej ected by the woman he lovedand taunted into excess and despair : she thoughtmore kindly o f Paul and more hardly o f herselfthan she had yet done . She was heartily glad whenthe lo ng and wearisome j ourney drew near to itsend . She looked forward with impatience to thequiet of the Ile de l ’Esc o p e and the decent company o fthe Chateau Falaise and the reasonable chance o f

finding someone there whom she knew .


Paul had christened it Table Bay not becausethe little creek mimicked in pigmy the Africanoriginal, but because a wide and flat rock , round as

though it had been a table , rose out o f the waterin the middle of the pool .It was a place that might have been especially

so ordered and set apart for the amphibious asecret cove , hidden carefully away , and only to berevealed to lovers and w ater-lovers , who w ould bealone with the sun and the wet rocks and the sea .

Paul had discovered the place and he took pride inhis finding of it , for the way there was not easyindeed , it was by accident and not by design , bygood luck only, that Paul had found a way downfrom the top of the cliff to the pool below .

For the first part o f the descent, the cliff face wasmuch broken and the way easy enough to the activebut half way down , a great slab o r shelf o f rock ,thrust outwards and upwards by some volcanicaction , seemed to cut o ff any further progress . Atthe base , however , of this shelf there was a narrowcleft cut into the cliff , the which , once o ne had learntthe footholds , it was easy enough t o climb down intoa long and narrow cave , which formed the upper endo f the cove like a stem to a funnel . From the cave ,the rock floor sloped gently to the little beach of fine,silver sand , which lay directly under the shadow o f

the overhanging rock above . On either hand rockpromontories ran o u t into the sea, enclosing a pool ofblue-green water some fifty yards across . Ou t o f

the middle o f this pool and about thirty yards fromthe narrow beach , rose the round , flat rock fromwhi ch Paul had named the cove . It lay, smoothand round and black as though it was afloat upon thes till water, and no t the flat top o f a rock pillar, half a

114, RECIPE FOR A LOVE PHILTRE

hundred feet high, rising o u t o f the foundations o fthe sea .

In this rock-ringed pool , Paul and Yvonne wereused to bathe o f a morning, did they wish to bealone o r feel o u t o f humour with the strip o f sandbelow the harbour, where were the bathing tents .The cave under the hanging rock made an admirableplace in which to unrobe and the table-rock was betterthan any diving-board .

In the morning, the narrow beach lay in shadow,

but the rocks o n either side ran o u t into the sunlight ,and above all the table rock itself lay basking in thesun all day long . This rock was some fifteen feetacross and to swim o u t through the cool , green waterand to climb up o n to its warm top and lie there in thesun until ready to fall again into the water, was adelight that never palled however many timesrepeated . With Yvonne and the rock island , Pauldevised the most wonderful o f games for it was theo ld game o f I am king o f the castle, with Paul o rYvonne being king or queen in turn , and the broadrock, the castle and the attacking rascal , merman o r

mermaid, as the case might be . Whoever was o n therock , first, had to keep the other o ff it, if he could, andsave himself from being dragged o ff it into the waterand if and when the rascal had at length landed, theking o r the queen fought with the invader a battleroyal until o ne o r the other o r more often both,locked in o ne another’s arms , reeled drunkenly to theisland’ s edge to plunge headl ong into the cool seabeneath a shower o f silver spray . It was the j olliestgame in the world , and , when weary o f attack andcounter-attack , o ne could call a truce and lie togetherin amity o n the hot face o f the rock under the sun ,until the salt water dried on one’s skin to a fine powder


hi m with her blue eyes wide open , earnestly gaz inginto his , and asked him if he was happy and if he stillloved her .

How can you ask such a question cried Pau l .And you are happyI am in love .

”

Dear Paul , kiss me .Then , more kisses ! Did I stop them , when a

million seemed so few ? ” murmured Paul , takingYvonne in hi s arms and they lay thus , w ithout anymore words , upon the warm rock beneath the sun ,whilst the sea birds circled above them and the waterlapped gently against the rocks , and o u t to sea awhite patch upon the blue water grew nearer andlarger and became the sails of a boat making for theisland harbour .Some more people arriving , said Yvonne ,

suddenly that is the lVI ari e from Po rt St . Simon .

”

What do I care for a lot o f stuffy people in ahotel ? ” cried Paul , rather inconsequently . IwantBut Yvonne slipped from him and , running to theedge o f the rock, cried , Yo u must catch me first ,”dived into deep water. Paul dropped in after her .The whi te sails of the M ari e passed out o f sightbehind the rock barrier and into the harbour .

It was half an hour before lunch time . A numbero f people sat o r walked upon the broad terrace in fronto f the hotel . Lady Cantire sat in her usual chair by thebalustrade o f the terrace she was busy with hercrochet needle and , on the stone balustrade , o n herleft hand , stood her large and elaborate work-basket ,full o f silks and wools , needl es and thread , scissors andthimbles and a miscellany o f useful and useless odds


and ends . Opposite her, o n the balustrade , satKingston-Pugh , smoking a cigarette and swinging hislegs to and fro and pretending to listen to Hooper,who was becoming eloquent o n behalf of prohibitionin America with the help of a silver fizz .Yvonne lay back in a long , easy chair and listened

with half-closed eyes to the compliments of MajorBoomer who was standing by her . She felt sleepyafter her morning’s bathe and , under the shelter ofthe wide hat which she wore , she made small attemptto keep her eyes open . Paul turned his back uponBoomer and the sleepy Yvonne and talked to Paterson , who was explaining to him the rigging peculiarto the fishing boats of that part of the coast , as shownin that o f the M ari e, which was standing out from theharbour below them , under full sail .Further along the terrace , Cecily Hanson sprawled

o n the grass and played with Lux . Dr . Hanson satin an uncomfortable, enamellediron chair and re

read the Tim es . At the far end o f the terrace , CanonFairmead w as trying to make old Oc kringt o n (whohad left hi s electric battery indoors ) understand whathe was saying .

It was a scene of a kind very commonly to be foundin any expensive and quite reputable hotel a numbero f intelligent people listening to one another w ith theutmost boredom .

Kingston-Pugh had no interest in prohibition , andLady Cantire thoroughly disliked Hooper . Shewielded her needles in grim silence , whilst KingstonPugh yawned behind his hand . Hooper continued tobe patriotic and full o f figures and pitiless to hisaudience . Yvonne wished Major Boomer would goaway , and would have told him so quite frankly hadshe no t felt too sleepy even for that effort , Paul , who


always felt, for some o dd reason , a little uneasy inPaterson’s presence , and had no care for boats , wishedsimply to be left alone to order another cock-tail .Dr. Hanson read the Tim es , which he had seen before ,and wished it was lunch time . Old Oc kringto n wholistened , perforce , to the Canon upon the thriftlessnes so f the working classes , heard about o ne word in threeand had a vague impression that the worthy priestwas seeking material support for some mission . Hewished that he would speak a little more distinctlyand say how much he needed and why . The onlytwo o n the terrace who were quite content with eachother’s company , and in no way bored , were Cecilyand the dog, Lux , who played a very j olly andferocious game together with a round cork float froma fish ing-net, which Lux had brought up from thebeach .

Above , the sun shone out of a blue sky ; below ,

there stretched the sea as though it had been cut insapphire , unsullied by white foam o r break of wave .Rose petals that had fallen upon the stones o f theterrace lay where they had fallen , untroubled by anypuff of wind . The ash o f a cigarette , knocked o ff

against the edge o f the stone coping, fell among theflowers a dozen feet below in the true perpendicular .A great butterfly, all blue and orange , flap p ed its wayslowly and comfortably along the terrace like an o ldlady crossing a village green . The small noise of humantalk o n the terrace drowned all other noises o f so stilla place , so that with four folk talking within an acre ,o ne no longer heard the bees or the lizards , the distantcall of the sea-birds o r the faint echo o f the sea againstthe rocks below . Even , it seemed the voice ofAmerica upon the sins of the flesh : o f the Churchupon the sins o f the p eop le o f the Army upon love


Mr . Fennimore ? ” began Monica , looking fromthe unhappy Paul to Lady Cantire , “ I don’tBut Monica never finished her sentence . There was

a dull crash as o f something having fallen from aheight , and a smothered oath from Kingston-Pughand a cry from Lady Cantire , and the large squarework-basket , that had stood o n the balustrade byKingston-Pugh’s elbow, was no more to be seen , forit lay , upside down , in the garden below , with itscontents scattered among the flower-beds .I say , I ’m most awfully sorry , Lady V began

Kingston-Pugh , I never saw your basket there andI swung my elbow round and before I could save it,it had gone over, you know . Really, I am awfullysorry so clumsy o f me .But Lady Cantire was pale with anger and would

listen to no apologies . She rose from her chair withdignity and glared at Kingston -Pugh .

Such clumsiness , she said , freezingly, wouldbe shameful in a schoolboy, but then your manners ,Kenneth , have always been miserable . I am goingin to lunch . I leave you to recover my work-basketand be careful to find everything that was in it nota needle must be missing . You can come and makeyour apologies t o me when you give me back thebasket precisely as it was before you knocked it over .”Lady Cantire stalked maj estically into the house .

That’s torn it ,” said Kingston-Pugh , cheerfully,as he watched the o ld lady walk away .

“ Monica ,come down and help me pick up the pins and needlesand things ; I ’ll never find ’em all without a woman tohelp me ,” and before Monica quite knew what shewas doing , she was following Kingston-Pugh downthe steps to the lower garden . Hooper, robbed o f

his hearers , finished his silver-fiz z at a gulp and


hastened towards the house . Yvonne , now quiteawake, sat up in her chair and stared after Monicaand Kingston -Pugh as they disappeared down thesteps from the terrace .Pugh’s done it , all right , laughed Maj or Boomer,

who had noticed nothing but the affair o f the workbasket, “ it will be some time before he can makehis peace with the old lady .

”

Paul continued to stare before him into nothingness .Paterson sat upon the stone balustrade and watchedPaul’s face . Canon Fairmead continued to bellowat Oc kringt o n Cecily to play with Lux Dr . Hansonto read the Ti m es . At length Yvonne jumped upfrom her chair and took Paul by the arm .

A llows -

y,” she cried , gaily , j

’

ai faim .

They went together into the house . The Maj orsighed sentimentally . Paterson continued to lookthoughtful . In the lower garden , Monica and Kingston-Pugh stood and gazed down upon the litter inthe flo w er-bed .

I don’t wonder Lady V. is fed up with you , saidMoni ca . It was damned clumsy of you , Kenneth .

Kingston-Pugh grunted unintelligibly and droppedo n his knees among the flowers .I say, do you know Paul ? He’s quite a dear

boy, but why he should look like a stuck pigFennimore muttered Pugh among the flowershere’s a box of needles upset here : devil o f a

business to find ’em in this stuff.”His name’s no t Fennimore , it ’s Bellamy .

Kingston-Pugh rose from the flower bed andstraightened his back .

I don’t doubt it . Ho w do you know him ?He was at G H .Q . with m e : I

’

v e known himfor about a year .


He didn’t seem altogether pleased to see you,

suggested Kenneth .

Monica looked steadily at Kingston-Pugh . Therewas a look o f trouble in her wide grey eyes .Kenneth, she said slowly , he loved me . I

sent him away . I was harsh to him : too harsh tohim , I think . I should have dismissed him moregently . Perhaps he thinks ill of me I havehurt him but why does he call himself— what isit —FennimorePugh brushed away the dirt from the knee s of his

trousers before he repliedWell , yo u see , there

’s his wifeHis w i fe cried Monica .

Well , the Comtesse .

”

What ComtesseCalls herself the Comtesse de Niv erse ine and

that old fool of a Cantire is dotty about her . Charming woman , to be sure ; took the place by storm .

Big chateau somewhere : old royalist family : threeor four children , too young to bring ’em along .

Four children ! echoed Monica , faintly .

And t w o twins— o r is it o ne twin l— two out ofthe four, I mean ,” continued Kingston-Pugh , gravely .

Was that the woman in the long chair o n theterrace in the silk jumperWith the fair hair and big hatYes .Pugh nodded .

Monica Van’t Hoff stood staring down upon theoverturned work-basket in the flo w er-bed for someseconds without speaking . When she spoke at lastit was with an obvious effort .Kenneth , that woman is not his wife .

S o I gather.”


Fo r some minutes , Monica bent over the flo w erbed in silence . When , presently, she spoke again ,it was in a gentler tone .

Kenneth , you are right . I cannot say anything,for this is all my fault it is my fault that Paulbut I will not stay in the same house with thatwoman . I will stay a couple of days for the look ofthings , and then go on to Hyeres or somewhere . I ’mglad I didn ’t give the show away just now on theterrace it was a lucky thing that yo u knocked overthe work-basket .”

Very fortunate, agreed Kingston-Pugh , drily .

CHAPTER X . A COUNT WITH AN ACCOUNT

ONIGA VAN’T HOFF lay awake half thenight . Remorse and regret , a woundedvanity, love and pity, j ealousy and hate ,

and the abasement of self-accusation , all in turntormented her and drove away the healing virtuesof sle ep . Lying with open eyes through the stillhours , whilst the white patch of moonlight on thefloor slowly precessed around the circle , growingnarrower and longer as the moon sank towards thewest , she admitted to herself secretly that she lovedPaul , that she had always loved Paul , even in thewoods o f la Calotterie, and that she would neverforgive him : that she never could forgive herself.This last thought grew above all other thoughts andbecame a pain in the heart to deaden all other pains

,

so that, as the hours passed , the hurt of her pridebecame less until no longer remembered , and heranger and j ealousy died away into pity, and therealone stayed with her , when at last she fell asleep ,bitter remorse for having driven her lover to such apass . With a chastened mood and a humble spiritshe lay penitent accusing herself o f all ready andwishful to save Paul at any cost to pride and vanityto forgive that so she herself might be forgivento love that she herself might be loved : to repairthe evil she herself had caused . Only in such mindas this was she able , an hour before daylight, to fall ,uneasily , asleep .

Paul also slept ill .The troubles which kept him awake were not so

praiseworthy as those o f Monica, though they wereequal in effect .He had seen nothing of Monica since her arrival

and the fiasco of the work-basket . She had busiedherself in her room with a long unpacking during

125

126 A COUNT WITH AN ACCOUNT

the afternoon . She drank tea with Lady Cantireand the Comtesse de Niv erse ine (who showed noproper sense of shame) and to whom Monica was verygracious . Paul , after listening to a discussion onbaby- linen , somewhat hampered by the limitations o fYvonne’s English vocabulary , allowed himself to betaken away by Kingston-Pugh to explore a newlydiscovered cave . Any attempt to see Monica aloneafter dinner that evening had been equally hopeless .After drinking coffee o n the terrace with half thehotel about her, she let Cecily lead her away to seethe sunset from the high cliff at the west of theisland . When sh e returned , she went to bed , andthough Paul had waited in the hope o f speaking toher alone when she came in , his patience was u nrewarded , since

' she took Cecily up to her room toshow her the latest spoils from Paris .So Paul went t o bed ill at ease and in a bad temper,

which the tranquillity o f Yvonne did not improve .He cursed the evil chance which had brought Monicato the Ile de l ’E sc o p e , and spoke of her to Yvonnein a manner hardly creditable even in a rej ected lover .I do not ask if you love her now , p eti t lap in,

”

answered Yvonne , as she stood before Paul , her softhair in a golden mist around her head , her slenderlimbs stained from ivory to rose in the light o f theshaded lamps , so that Paul could but take her inhis arms and kiss her and swear that he loved , andcould eve r love , none but her .

Ce n’

est p as ga , p eti te go sse, said Paul , I loveher no longer . I love you— you only. But sheknows I am not married : that you are not a Comtessethat all our story is made up . She ’ll make a sceneand we’ll have to leave . It will be damned unp leas

ant . I f it hadn’t been for Pugh’s clumsiness in


entretenu e to be familiar with the m ai tre d’

how l and

to be followed by M essi eu rs les m and to bepointed at by the English . Ill ai s non, je su i s du

m onde , vraim ent 7y reste .

”

Paul paced the terrace on the following morning ,restlessly, awaiting a chance o f seeing Monica alone .He had let Kingston-Pugh carry o ff Yvonne on som eexcuse o r other , which he hardly heard , and now ,

except for Lady Cantire, who was in the nature ofa fixture to her chair and work-basket , he was aloneon the terrace . If Monica would only come out ofthe hotel , he could easily talk with her alone . Foran hour he haunted the terrace and , at last , in despair,questioned Lady Cantire as to whether or not shehad seen Monica that morning .

I have not seen her this morning yet , Mr . Fennimore , said the old lady , “ no doubt she is tiredafter her j ourney o f yesterday and is still in herroom .

But Fitton had another suggestion to make .I beg your pardon , milady, but Miss Van’t Hoff

has been o u t of her room an hour o r more . I wasta lking to Miss Thompson (that

’s her maid , milady)before I came out o f the house .

”

Do you know where she’s gone broke in Paul .Miss Thompson thought she was going down to

the harbour, sir ,” said Fitton .

Paul made his excuses to Lady Cantire and hurriedaway .

The harbour of the Ile de l’E sc o p e is a simple affairmade up o f a rock reef on the right hand , a stonej etty , bent to an obtuse angle in the middle , andbetween them a strip o f sand , half a mile in length .

On the rising ground at the head o f the j etty , areclustered a number of mean houses , fisherm en

’

s

A COUNT WITH AN ACCOUNT 129

dwellings , for the most part tumbling into decay .

A few fishing-boats lie upon the upper beach near

the j etty . The low stone wall along the outer edgeof the j etty is commonl y draped with fishi ng nets .The reef o f rock runs out half a mile o r more beyondthe end o f the j etty, thus completely sheltering theharbour, the waters o f which are freely besprinkledwith the cork floats of lobster pots and the like ,which cause annoyance to incoming craft . But thetraffic of the port of the Ile de l ’Esc o p e is small .As Paul followed the crooked pathway down to

the harbour and came in sight of the j etty , he saw afigure in a green jumper and a white skirt alone 0 11

the quay, which he knew at once to be Monica . Heslackened his pace , almost unconsciously, as he cameup to the j etty , the difficulties of speech becomingmore apparent to him the nearer he came to Monica ,and when , at last , he stood before her , he was quiteat a loss for words . But Monica spared him anytrouble in beginning .

Paul ,” she said , holding out her hands towardshim with an appealing gesture, I ’ve been a brute

I didn’t mean . All this is my fault ; forgive me .”Forgive you for what ? ” asked Paul , and he

laughed , and the accent of bitterness in the laughwas really adm i rably done .Monica Van’t Hoff did not look at Paul . She

leaned upon the stone wall o f the j etty with her backtowards him and stared o u t to sea .

I said more— more , perhaps , than I meantI was harsh I did not mean t o be harsh , to be cruel ,to hurt you . I had no thought that you would takeme at my word . I said you know what I said .

I am sorry— Paul : I am very, very sorry . I did


not mean— I swear that I did not think —that youwould- would take it so hardly— as toTo go to the dogs suggested Paul .Yes ,” said Monica, in a whisper .To the female dogs ,” added Paul , with a grim

laugh , still more admirably done , but she is a prettyfemale dog , is she not o f the rarest and most costlybreed .

”

Paul , said Monica, humbly . I know I am toblame , but I did not wish to drive you to this . Yo u

— you must leave this woman .

”

Perhaps ,” replied Paul , drily , you may havenoticed that she is very beautiful , more beautiful than

- the run of women . She seems not unfond of me .

Of her moral worth , doubtless , I am u nfit t ed to speak,butBut , Paul , yo u must leave her, you canno tThe Comtesse de Niv erse ine and her husband

cannot stay here if you choose to tell all the worldwho they are . A generous action , truly, on your part ,whoMonica swung round from the wall on which she

had been leaning and faced Paul . There was a highcolour in her cheeks and a light in her eyes , so thateven Paul , who had risen from the bed of Helen , wasmoved to grant her a claim to beauty .

Paul , she said , slowly , you do me less thanj ustice . I have no interest in such am ou rs , eitherto cloak or uncloak them . I am not a policeman .

Social impostors in a hotel merely amuse me . I don’tstoop to expose them . Paul , you must leave thiswoman for another reason . I said just now that Isaid more than I meant that day in the woods of laCalotterie ; but more than that, I did not mean whatI said . I said I did not love yo u . I was mistaken .

”


It i s Au rillacq, said Yvonne , with a shrug of hershoulders .A few minutes later the man in the panama stood

on the j etty . He was a short man of some forty oddyears of age , inclined to grossness , and clad in a whiteduck suit with large , silver buttons . His hands werefat, his fingers short and podgy and heavy with rings .His face was round like an orange , his eyes small andblack , his nose short , his lips thick and his chindouble . His upper lip carried a small black moustacheending in a short horizontal spike on either side o f hisnose . His cheek and chin had been clean shaventwenty-four hours earlier .He walked towards the group on the j etty with a

quick , strutting gait , which advertised the sense ofhis own importance and worth in the world . Thefour watched him in silence . Kingston-Pugh sat onthe sea-wall , swinging his legs idly, and Monica leantagainst the wall beside him . Paul and Yvonne stooda few paces away and Yvonne slipped her arm throughPaul ’s as the newcomer came up to them . He liftedhis hat formally to Paul and said , in reputableEnglishIf Monsieur will be so kind to let me speak with

Madame alone a moment ?Had Yvonne’s arm not been linked in his , Paul

would surely have acceded to this request : indeed ,he was about to speak in this sense , when Yvonneforestalled him .

What concerns me concerns my husband ,Monsieur ,” said Yvonne , in French .

The fat man in the panama hat shrugged hisshoulders elo quently , and answered in FrenchThat is as you wish Germaine , you will kindly

pay to me my half o f your winnings . That was the

A COUNT WITH AN ACCOUNT 13 3

agreement . However, I will be content withfrancs . I am not difficult : it is generous , that .Yvonne threw back her head and laughed .

Is he mad or merely drunkKingston-Pugh slipped down from the sea-wall and

raised his hat half an inch from his head in a veryfrigid manner .May I ask , he said , coldly, to whom we have

the honour of speaking“ I am the Comte d ’

Au rillacq: Germaine know svery well

“Monsieur le Comte d ’

A u rillacq, broke in KingstonPugh

,grandly , is mistaken . I have the honour to

present him to the Comtesse de Niv erse ine and to herhusband , Mr . Fennimore .

”

Comtesse de Niv erse ine broke in Au ri llacq,angrily, Countess of Nowhere I know this womanwell she is a nobody . I lent her five thousand francsto play with at Monte Carle . If she loses , ga ne fai tri en, but if she wins , she will pay me half o f what shehas won that was the agreement and now she hashow you say it —bust the bank and run away witho u t paying me my money . I learn she has come herewith an Englishman and I follow her . C

’

est une

La Comtesse began Pugh .

Bah E lle n’

est p as Com tesse . E lle étai t m a

m ai tresse . N o m d’

un c hi en, elle n’

est qu ’

une grue .

Peste .

’ et v o leuse, aussi i ty’

en a c ent m i lle franc sBut Paul had shaken himself free from Yvonne and

,

before A u ri llacqcould say more, had smacked himsoundly across the cheek .

LiarThe Comte d ’

A u rillacqstaggered back a few paces .

Hi s hat had fallen o ff. H is bald head gleamed whitely

13 4 A COUNT WITH AN ACCOUNT

in the sunlight . He rubbed his cheek tenderly withhis hand . He seemed t o o astonished even to resentthe physical attack . Paul stood before him

,pale

with anger, his lips parted , his hand clenched .

You can use a pistol , I suppose , Monsieur ?A pistol ? P o u rqu o i muttered the Count .Damn Am I to call you coward as well as liar .

If you won’t fightFight ? A duel ? Because of Germaine here ?

To fight with the pistol p ou r une fem m e c om m e ga

une grue- une p N om de D i eu , c

’

est i di o t

No , Monsieur, yo u need not fight if you are acoward and prefer to be horsewhipped in public .

”

Oh , fine, fine ! murmured Kingston-Pugh ,involuntarily .

The Count bowed .

Monsieur leaves me no choice , he said , coldly .

If he has a friend who willPugh began Paul .Charmed

,Fennimore , charmed to ac t for you ,

and Kingston-Pugh turned to the Count . At whattimeLe Capitaine Janeau x will call upon you this

afternoon at the hotel and make the arrangements ,”said the Count .He bowed stiffly, turned and walked back to the

steps at the end of the j etty .

Paul swore under his breath and , breaking awayfrom Yvonne

,who had placed her arm over his

shoulder,strode moodily away .

I say,never been in a duel before , said Pughgt o

Yvonne . No end of a lark .

”

Yvonne laughed happily .

Oh , the cl ear Paul— i t est c harm ant.

Monica walked up to the hotel by herself.

1 3 6 A DUEL A LA MODE

plainly glad to have rid himself o f the apology andstill to preserve the hope of a duel .

A lors , M onsi eu r,” he said , brightly, it is now

only to arrange z e place and z e time— and z e pistolsand z e oder tings .”Good . For the place , I suggest the small beach

to the left of the harbour . It is a deserted place andhidden from view by the cliffs o n either side . Thereis a pathway down to it from the top of the cliff, whichI can show yo u . It is an ideal place for an affair likethis . As fo r the time , shall we say noon to-morrowAt that time , the sun will be high up in the sky andnot shining in the eyes of either o f the principals ,and the light will be excellent .”

B i en, M onsi eu r,” murmured Captain Janeau x ,

ga va bi en. E t les p i sto lets , vou s en avez

Kingston-Pugh walked over to a chair o n whic h wasa leather dispatch case . This he opened and , takingout a couple o f army revolvers , he handed o ne to theCaptain .

A little heavy for duelling, perhaps , he murmured , but very effective weapons . Ou r Armypattern , you know ‘ 45 calibre .

”

Captain Janeau x handled the heavy revolver alittle doubtfully .

Z ey are z e pistols to kill , he murmured .

That is the obj ect that my principal has in view,

replied Kingston-Pugh , grim ly .

S ac ré D i eu , but if ’e is killed , there is z e

Monsieur le Comte d Au ri llacq, said KingstonPugh , with a grand a ir, should have thought o f thisbefore he spoke as he did to Madame .”The Captain pushed up the peak of his cap and

wip ed his forehead with a yellow silk handkerchief.

A DUEL A LA MODE 13 7

He muttered something in French about d ’A u rillacq

into his beard .

In the event o f Monsieur le Comte falling,continued Kingston-Pugh , gravely , which is notunlikely , as Mr . Fennimore is said to be the bestpistol shot outside the Army , you will , of course ,make no report to the authorities for, say , twentyfour hours

,so as to give time for my principal and

myself to leave the country .

”

1Mai s , c ertainem ent,” murmured Janeau x , ah

sent ly .

“ You say Monsieur Fennimore is— c om m e

vo as di tes — a crack shotHe is said to be the third best shot in England ,

but Monsieur le Comte is no doubt used to the pistolalso

0h , m ai s ou i , o u i , said Captain Janeau x , hastily ,and , after expressing himself fully satisfied with thearrangements and the usual formal phrases of leavetaking , he turned and walked away . Kingston -Pughwalked by himself for some minutes , seemingly deep inthought .

No w for Paul , he muttered , at last , as he climbedthe steps leading up from the terrace .

He found Paul in a deck chair in a shady corner ofthe big terrace . He was mak ing an early afternoontea off a large gin and ginger ale with ice in it and asuccession of Turkish cigarettes . He was alone andin an ill temper . Pugh dropped into an empty wickerchair beside Paul .Have a drink said Paul

,grumpily .

Don’t mind if I do . I ’ve been talking withJaneau x — d

’

A u rillacq’s se c o nd ,~

yo u know . It’s drywork ,Paul made a noise which was half way between a

gru nt and groan , equally comp ounded of disgustK

13 8 A DUEL A LA MODE

and despair . He leant over towards the smallenamell ed iron table and struck the brass bell uponitSome fellow, the Count , what said Kingston

Pugh , vaguely .

Fat bounder, growled Paul .He lit another cigarette at the stump of the one he

had just finished .

Regular fire - eater, continued Kingston-Pugh .

Struck me as being a coward as well as aof the first water , said Paul , using a word which ,however applicable to the Comte d ’

A u ri lla cq, cannotbe reported , and should not have been used by Paul .I wish to God thatHush broke in Pugh , here’s the waiter .What’s yoursSame as yours— gin and ginger ale— looks cool .Paul emptied half o f his glass at a gulp .

Two large gin and ginger ales ,” he said to thewaiter . What have you got in that bag ? askedPaul , when the waiter had gone . SamplesThe pistols .”Good God What the devil he broke o ff ,

as the waiter came towards them with the drinks .By the way , where’s Yvonne ? She’s not beennear me this afternoon . I thought she was with

She’s gone o ff somewhere with Paterson ,Kingston -Pugh .

Ugh ! With that fellow ! Well , here’s luck !Paul drank deeply . Pugh s1p p ed at the co ol

concoction and , putting his glass back upon thetable, reached down for the dispatch case . He placedthe c ase o n his knees and threw back the lid .

Janeau x was delighted with these, and we’ve

1 40 A DUEL f l LA DIODE

rose and left him with a reminder that the hour wasnoon o n the morrow .

“Oh , curse you ! ” he growled , as Pugh turned

away . But a smile hung upon the lips o f KingstonPugh , and his step was light , and the responsibilitythat commonly lies heavily upon the shoulders o f

seconds in affairs of honour seemed to trouble himnot at all .Of the six on the island who had part in or knew

of the duel to take place on the morrow , only twoslept easily that night , Kingston-Pugh , who hadarranged , and Yvonne , who was the cause of theaffair . Yvonne , indeed , was hugely delighted withthe whole business . Never before had any man foughtfor her ; never before had her honour been held sohighly that a man’s life might hang upon it . Neversince she had done with the half and entered into thewhole , had she realised so fully what it meant to betruly of the world . She was in the highest humourall that afternoon and evening, even to the extento f waking John Paterson o u t of his coldness and

reserve and keeping him with her for an hour in theafternoon whilst Paul gave way to gin and despair ;and she was more tender to Paul that evening thanshe had ever been , though even her rare beauty andher practised art , and the champagne which hedrank at dinner and the many drinks afterwards ,failed to minister to his peace o f mind or lighten h isgloom . Yvonne’s praise of his high courage : herkisses on his lips her arms about him her pictureo f the Count fleeing the island on the morrow w ith abullet in his arm and a broken spirit , brought himno cheer . He lay awake long after Yvonne waspeacefully asleep , watching the stars drift slowlyacross the square of the window

,with bitterness in

A DUEL A LA EVIODE 141

hi s heart against all the world , and with a deeperbitterness , which was almost common hate , againstYvonne and the beauty of Yvonne that had broughthim to this pass . He cursed himself again and againfor the fool that he had been o n the quay that morning, for this giving way to so childish a sense of thedramatic as to challenge the Count to a duel , achallenge which he fondly believed at the time theComte d ’

A u rillacqwould never have accepted . It istrue that Yvonne had no knowledge o f the Count ’sprowess with the pistol ; but her relationship withhim seemed to have been comparatively brief and ,beyond expressing a surprise (and delight ) that theCount was ready to fight at all , she brought littlesolace to Paul . When at last he fell asleep , it wasbut to stand as target to marksmen through successivenightmares .Monica slept even less easily than Paul , for a

conscience that had insisted on laying at her doorPaul ’s moral and material downfall now questionedher as to his chance of death also . It is true thatshe doubted both the courage and the ability of theComte d

’

A u ri llacqin a duel , for Kingston-Pughhad not entertained her with his histo ry, nor had sheseen the pistols . But untoward happenings haveoccurred even in the most formal and best organisedo f duels , and fear and pity and remorse playedshuttlecock with her through the night .As for the Comte d ’

A u ri llacq, he cursed his Captainvolubly for his gross mismanagement of the affair onhis return from meeting Kingston -Pugh , and heleft him that night , after a most unpleasant interview, with definite orders to carry out , which madeCaptain Janeau x to sleep even more u neasily thandid his owner .

A‘

DUEL A LA MODE

The day dawned on the morrow in splendour aso n other days , and the sun climbed up into a bluesky without a stain o f cloud . Paul breakfasted ,sullenly, in silence , and afterwards went out to batheby himself, leaving Yvonne still a -bed . He toldher, with a grim humour, that he might as well dieclean . She had laughed gaily at him , and Paulthought her uncommonly heartless as he flunghimself out of the room .

But Paul was not altogether just to Yvonne . Shewas not so heartless as he suppo sed . She hadno mind to allow blood to be shed . Even if shehad no gratitude to o r pity in her heart for Paul ,to let him be shot o r to shoot the Count in a duelmight be uncommonly inconvenient to her, and ,at the very least , must end her stay at the ChateauFalaise . Had Paul been less concerned with hisown part in the affair, he must have suspected herreadiness to accept so much . Yvonne , indeed , had aplan well formed in her mind . She knew from Paulthe hour and place o f the action , and she purposedto break in upon the actors at the last moment andstop the duel . A tragic ending would thus be avoided

,

her o w n love of the melodramatic would be amplysatisfied : the Count would be forced to leave theisland , and she would appear in the fascinating parto f the loving wife who will accept any insult ratherthan let hurt or danger come to her husband . Properlymanaged the scene might be a quite touching one

,

and she had it in mind to impress John Paterson,

whom she knew to be a man of integrity and o f

a kind heart , into the business of stopping thefight .By eleven o’clock Paul had not yet returned from

his bathe, o r he might have met Pugh who was

144 A DUEL A LA MODE

down to the water’s edge . she waved a tiny, lacehandkerchief at the distant launch .

John Paterson looked keenly at Kingston-Pugh .

He did not start from the harbour ? I saw thelaunch at the other side o f the island , o ff the bathingpool , an hour ago . It must have picked him up there ?Kingston Pugh nodded .

He did not know that the Count had goneNo .

Does she believe he’s followed the man to fighthim ? ” asked Paterson , nodding his head towardsYvonne .

Pugh gazed at the rapturous figure at the sea’s

edge . She looked wonderfully bewitching in thebright sunshine , with all her hair a -flam e and oneslender arm held out above hef

'

head seawards .No ,

” he said , after a moment’s silence .She is not his wifeNo .

”

It is a funny world , said Paterson , with something o f a sigh .

A very funny world , agreed the other .You find it so , tooI find it funny in a different way, said Kingston

Pugh , as Yvonne turned and came towards them .

CHAPTER XII . BLIND GOD OF LOVE

F Lady Cantire had welcomed the coming of theComtesse de Niv erse ine to the Chateau Falaiseas a relief to monotony if her beauty and her

wit had pleased the old lady more than she couldhave thought possible ; this affair of honour andits ending delighted her beyond measure . She sat ,

with her crochet work untouched in her lap , andlistened to Yvonne’s account of the matter with thedeepest interest . She learnt how the Count , anill-mannered fellow, a barbarian , and a one-timesuitor for the hand of the Comtesse , had displayed hisbad manners to the Comtesse in her husband ’s presence o n his arrival the day before . The suddenblow, the challenge to fight and the threat of thehorse -whip , lost nothing in the telling , and the endingo f the tale in which the Count , as craven in spiritas bankrupt in manners , had fled the island to befollowed by the husband in a motor-launch , was amost delightful conclusion to the affair . No t forvery many years had Lady Cantire been so intriguedby passing events not for a long time had her loveo f the dramatic and bizarre been so amply satisfied .

No t since her uncle , old Lord Flac karm ah , had discovered the well-known painter, Joseph Bunt , painting Lady Fla c karm ah from the nude and had thrownhim through his own studio skylight, had she beenso thrilled by the affairs of other people .I hope Mr . Fennimore will find the Count in Port

St . Simon and make him fight,” said Lady Cantire ,with vigour, and I hope he shoots himBut the law , complained Yvonne , the law

she is not just if Paul kills d ’

A u rillaeq, we must goaway from France . The law , vraim ent, c

’

est béte .

That is the worst o f a republic ,” replied LadyCantire, prim ly .

“ You should have a king . But145

146 BLIND GOD OF LOVE

it is the same with us . But what can one do nowadays We are democratic , and a man is not allowedto defend his o w n honour . That is called freedom .

But if Lady Cantire was as delighted in hearing ofthe affair as was Yvonne in the telling of it , to one,at least , the thought of it brought but misery . Monica ,who had j oined Lady Cantire while Yvonne retailedthe event , heard the story to the end in silence . Shestood , dej ectedly, for some little while, gazing seawards towards Port St . Simon .

Paul has followed the Count to fight him inFrance she said, at last .Yvonne nodded her head .

Oa i , te brave p eti t hom m e— and he will kill himhe will kill him unless he run away ,” she cried ,laughing gaily .

Monica stamped her foot upon the stone flags ofthe terrace and her face flushed angrily .

Oh , but y o u are heartless , heartless she cried .

You , Lady V . , should , at least , know better . Hemust be stopped .

”

She turned and hurried away .

Lady Cantire held her lorgnette to her eyes andgazed after the retreating figure of Monica, whosevery back looked angry .

I do not understand the new generation , saidLady Cantire , with disapproval in her voice , thereis no need for this display o f— er— gratuitous emotion .

Considering Mr . Fennimore 1s your husband , I think— I think, my dear Countess ,” (and Lady Cantireshut her lorgnette with a snap as though thus closingthe subj ect ) , that her solicitude is misplaced .

”

The Port St . Simon is o f some size and o f moreimport ance in the Mediterranean trade but although


Presently, the story having been concluded in alower tone , Monica heard Paul begin to talk morereputably in an ordinary voice . She did not hearclearly what the Count said , but Paul ’s answer waspainfully distinct .

Oh , that’s all right . You have made a handsomeapology , m on v i euw (Paul had put away more thanhalf a bottle of P i p er ) . It was a misunderstanding— an unfortunate misunderstanding . I lent Yvonnethe money on which she w o n —» o n which she brokethe bank— she’d lost all yours before I picked her up .

Naturally , she’s grateful . Of course , as you’re notgoing to butt in , it’s all right ; we’re good friends .You see , she w ou ld come here and do the societystunt . It ’s damned awkward at times .The Count murmured something sympathetic ,

which was inaudible .Bit difficult at times , continued Paul . Yo u

see,there’s a girl who was running after me when I

was at G .H .Q . Well , she turns up , and if it hadn’tbeen for a bit of diplomacy o n my part , we’d havebeen in the soup , you know and then you buttedin . but , anyway , that’s all right .”Again the Count’s 1 eply was inaudible .

But if you turn up again , you know , damme , I ’llput a bullet into you . Garc on, enc ore un P i p er

Monica Van ’t Hoff beckoned to her waiter .I ’ll change my table ,” she said in French , and in

a low voice , I have heard enough .

”

Pardon,M adam e

I l fau l c hanger m a p lac e .

That evening the Direction gave her the information she required as to the Paris train . It left at

on the morrow . The Direction regretted thather stay at the Regence had been so brief.

BLIND GOD OF LOVE 1 49

While Paul was drinking champagne with the Countd

’

A u ri llacqon the balcony o f the Hotel Regence ,Yvonne sat alone at her table in the great diningroom of the Chateau Falaise and ate mechanicallythe food that was put before her . She scarcelynoticed that the filet de so le was o f a kind o f whichshe was especially fond ; or that the so ufllé w as ano ld favourite ; and she sipped at the Montrachet ,in a listless manner, as though it had been but an

ordinary wine of last year and not a vintage of ’

08 .

Even the waiter, who served her, marked a mannerso foreign to her common habit . Had she had theordering of the dinner and the choice of wines herself,she might well this night have commanded anesc all0p e de veau and a dem i -Barsac , without thoughto f wine list or the bill of fare . Annette , also , foundher mistress in a strange mood , and dressed her tha tevening for dinner with a despatch , which was aspleasant to the dresser as it was rare in its happening .

Commonly , the business took a full hour, and by thetime Yvonne was ready to walk out o f her roomand down the broad staircase

,the floor was littered

with silks and lace,the bed and every chair was

burdened with frocks that had been tried and foundwanting , and Paul , if he had the patience to remainin the room , was reduced t o oaths and Annette totears . But , on thi s night , there w as no Paul to bein the way in the room and to declaim against theways of women and of Yvonne , and upon the longlashes o f Annette there quivered not o ne solitarytear . The chairs had been empty, save for the clothestaken off, and the bed bare , but for the frock to beput on , and on the dark carpet there lay not so muchas a stocking o r a handkerchief, a shirt , a garter, or aglove .

1 50 BLIND GOD OF LOVE

Annette had laid out the silver cloth by Ko b sk i ,and it lay there longwise on the white quilt

,gleaming

luminously in the lamplight , like a slender fish abovethe sea-foam under a tropic moon .

Madame will wear this ? ” Annette had asked,

without any hope that Yvonne would agree . ButYvonne had only nodded with not a glance bed-ward

,

and had allowed herself to be undressed and dressedagain without a word , as a child will who is anxiousonly to get the business over and to be downstairsagain . She had no complaint against wearing thisfrock no wish to attempt any other no demand tobe undressed again when once dressed and dissatisfiedbefore the mirror no criticism of Annette’s handlingo f the affair . She was dressed that night and readyto go down to dinner in a record time , and instead o f

being the last to enter the room and under the eyesof all , she was the first to sit down , unseen of anybut the waitersFor Yvonne that night was as she had not been

for many years . She was full of thought careless,

unconscious almost , o f material things : heedlesso f what she ate and o f what she drank and of howshe had clothed herself. She had won , successfully,to a world from half a world ; she w as not aware ,perhaps , how tru ly she had conquered this world ,in so far that she had , even , been conquered by it ,and had now caught the contagion from those whoinherit the world . Where money has no value , thethings which money buys have no value , since whatis always to hand is quickly forgotten or despised .

When one once has all the bread that one can eato ne can no longer live by bread alone . This processo f detachment was an unconscious one . - No suchthought as this— o f the value o f bread , for examp le


Pugh and with John Paterson and even with Hooperand Boomer . She began to think , not a little oddly,more of Paterson in relation to Paul than of KingstonPugh , although Kenneth was without doubt thehandsomest man o n the island . But Paul was thenext best-looking , and it may have been that someunconscious distrust o f beauty had grown up in themind of Yvonne, so that too fair a body might bethought to house too poor a spirit , whilst irregularityin feature and a grossness in form might be witnessesto a good courage . It may have been some suchlogic as this : it may have been that since Patersonwas the only man o n the island who did not waitupon her, he was so appraised of more worth— for it isin nature to esteem those who rej ect us it may havebeen that , since his part with her to stop the duel ,he was more in her mind , but it was in comparisonto John Paterson rather than in comparison to anyother that Paul failed to qualify in retrospect .Yvonne finished her dinner in such a mind and

afterwards sat in the lounge and drank coffee withLady Cantire . But she sipped at her coffee in silenceand let Lady Cantire do all the talking ; whichpleased the o ld lady very well , for the affair of the dueland its ending had awakened in the mind of LadyCantire memories of past scandal , and she wasgarrulously reminiscent . Yvonne was just presentenough to murmur Yes and Vraim ent,

” and tomake the right noises in suitable places , so that LadyCantire thought she had never found so appreciativea listener and became more than ever in love withYvonne . There is nothing so highly valued by Ageas the ear o f Youth .

But at last Yvonne made her excuses she wouldgo out into the garden and enj oy loneliness and the

BLIND GOD OF LOVE 153

night . She rang the bell and asked for her maid andcloak .

The night , it is so lovely : it is wrong to be indoors ,” she murmured . Yesterday, she woul d haveused the occasion to say that she was so anxiousabout Paul and that she would be alone to think o f

him . To-night she left Lady Cantire with but a vagueapology and the Good-night o f convention , anddrifted dow n the lounge and o u t o n to the terracewithout a glance at any there o r to see if she wasfollowed . But her silence and her absent mannerwere, none the less , satisfactorily interpreted by LadyCantire

,who , walking across the room and j oining the

Verek er-Prynnes , said how di strai te was the Countess ,how anxious about her husband and Adela Verek e rPrynne agreed that such conjugal fidelity was but toorare in these days of separation and divorce .The moon hung hi gh above the gardens a semi

circle o f silver in the black cupola of night , so that theChateau itself threw but short , fore -short ened shadowand the terrace lay white in the moonlight . Yvonneleant upon the stone balustrade and looked towardsFrance , now invisible but for a little cluster of pointso f light , like stars , which marked the Port St . Simonand the life o f man . In the light o f these terrestrialstars , men and women talked and walked , o r talkedand drank , sadly o r gaily as their mood was : butYvonne did not think o f these ; and there also theCount drank and Monica went dry-eyed to b ed , butYvonne did not th ink of them and there Paullaughed , but Yvonne had no thought o f Paul . Shegazed across the silver water and saw but o ne face , aface rugged to the verge of the grotesque , but set w ithtwo , big , blue eyes full o f visions and crowned with am o p o f upstanding hair . She leant upon the parapet

L


under the moon and for the first time since she hadplayed in the meadows as a child , was glad to be alone .Boomer had followed her o u t from the house , but hisdismissal had been brief and cruel . He now talkedwith Kingston-Pugh , who had been too wise torisk rebuff, at the far end o f the terrace by themyrtles .Yvonne stayed thus , without speech o r movement ,

for many minutes , whilst Boomer complained o f histreatment at her hands to Pugh , and Pugh smokedhis cigar unsympathetically, and the moon climbedperceptibly a few inches hi gher across the sky . Butpresently footsteps sounded on the stones and thenstopped , as a dark figure stood in the middle o f theterrace half-way between Yvonne and Kingston-Pugh ,and stared o u t into the night .Mr . Paterson ,” said Yvonne , in a low voice , half

turning her head .

John Paterson started slightly, and then walkedslowly towards her . He stood beside her, not lookingat her, but o u t to sea . He waited for her to speak .

She did not speak for some seconds , as she looked upat him with her chin resting in her hand .

It is very lovely, i s it not so she said at last,

speaking in French .

It i s very lovely, agreed Paterson , speakingslowly, correctly, but with an English accent thatYvonne found very lovable .I have always been in love with the moon

,said

Yvonne, softly, ever since I was a child in thePyrenees , where the moon is more beautiful than anyw here else ; especially in winter, when it sets uponthe snow mountains .Yet people fear the moon and pull down their

b linds to keep it o ut o f the room,

” said Paterson.


silver fairy from a Midsummer Night’s Dream , o r

Titania herself. Her small face, pale in the moonlight , was clear-cut o u t of the darkness like a cameo inivory her arms and hands shone , luminously, in thenight . But John Paterson did not look at her ; hegazed seaward and only turned his head when , atlast , she spoke .

Do you know why I brought you hereMadame ,” said Paterson , speaking slowly, un

certainly , as though w ith effort , I cannot— it wouldbe impossible to guess why you should come whyyou should seek the company of one as dull as myself.My friend , murmured Yvonne , Spare me your

compliments , for I am serious . I would talk t o yo uo f myself.”I listen .

I would repeat to you a little story . Onc e upona time there was a little girl who lived with her fatherin an o ld castle . I want you to picture to yourselfthis castle and the meadows among which it stood

,

and the little river that ran half way round it , andthe road that ran past it , and the stretch o f black pinewood that cloaked the hills behind . The castle wasbuilt in the shape o f the letter L . A squat , squaretower o f grey stone , here and there yellowed withlichen , rose in the centre , and at each end there was atall, round tower capped with a pointed roof, like anextinguisher t o a candle . The castle was very olda former Niv erse ine had once entertained Louis XI .in it— and was o f interest t o antiquarians the windowabove the door in the west wing and the details o fthe pillars in the small chap e l— which stands beyondthe west wing and o n the very bank of the streamare illustrated in standard works o n architecture .Half a kilometre from the castle is the little village

BLIND GOD OF LOVE 157

o f Niv erse ine , a cluster of barns and cottages , witha couple of inns and a tiny church falli ng into decay .

The road through Niv erse ine is but a by -road ,leading from the small country town o f Fronchas tonowhere , into the hil ls at the head of the Val del’

A b ane and the few farms scattered among them .

Few travellers pass by that road or come to Niverseine , and during my chi ldhoo d in the o ld castle , Isaw no one outside o u r own family save the villagepriest , the doctor from Fro nc has and a rare visitorinterested in antiquarian research . Company wasno t entertained at the Chateau Niv erse ine , for myfather was that most to be pitied of all people , a mano f birth but without money ; a man as proud as hewas poor . Yo u must picture hi m as a grey , gauntfigur e , long in the face , with piercing , deep -set eyes ,a ragged beard , and long , restless hands : a man ,morose, save when in his cups bitter, disappointed .

There were five o f us chi ldren , my sister and threebrothers . My mother died when I was six years old ,and we grew up to hate and despise our father almostas fiercely as he did us . My brothers , who are allolder than I am , soon left Ni v erse ine : Raoul , theyoungest , was killed at St . Quentin Isidore is something indefinite in Indo -China , and of Charles I knownothi ng , even whether he is alive o r dead . My siste rwas seduced by a forester and was turned out of thecastle by my father she died in a hospital in Orleansa few years ago .

I do not wish to weary you too much with afamily hi story that is so unpleasant . I but want youto see the picture o f this grim castle, solitary , outsidea village of ruined farms and bank rupt farmers ,inhabited by an aristocrat who could hardly findpennies t o buy bread with, who had driven hi s sons


from his door and o ne daughter to the streets , andnow lived but in the hope o f selling his youngest child(who had some claim to beauty) to the highest bidder .Yvonne was silent for some seconds . Her com

panion still stared fixedly o u t across the moonlitwater . Then she began to shudder, as if taken withan ague , although the night was warm .

Paul bought me,” she said , in a whisper .Paterson murmured somethi ng unintelligible.I am glad my father died , continued Yvonne, in

an even voice, before he could enjoy the proceedsfrom the sale . It is little to be thankful for amid somuch suffering ; for, my friend , I suffer— ho w muchI suffer cannot be measured . There are thingsthings that happen to m e— things that cannot betold . I am alone, much alone . Dear friend , forgivem e i f I if I I sh o u ld

With a break in her voice and a half stifled sob,Yvonne put o u t her hand and laid it o n Paterson’s ,where it lay across his knee .Forgive me that I should weary yo u withwith

Paterson took the slender hand in his and gentlybut deliberately put it back in Yvonne’s lapMademoiselle,” he said , in a low voice , you would

more readily win my sympathy if you spoke the truth .

Yvonne stared a moment at Paterson , still as ifcut out o f marble then she jumped up suddenly and ,without any word spoken , ran up the path .

That night Yvonne lay awake and lonely in themiddle o f her large bed . She could not sleep . Sheheard the clock in the hall below strike hour after hourthrough the night , and she did what she had not donesince a little wooden ball had , twice running, falleninto seventeen : she wept .

160 THE DUTY OF A FATHER

be given by Kingston-Pugh , al one was surety forits success , fo r Pugh had a reputation in such matters .That Kingston-Pugh was a competent cricketer ;that he could sit a horse that his cutter, N o Tru m p s ,and his skill in it , were spoken o f with respect in thebar parlours o f Dovercourt : that he was a knownplayer at Queen ’s Club a plus four : an authorityo n A u c ti on, goes without saying . These were butthe appurtenances o f his class . Much more thanall this , he was unequalled in intimate and , whatmay be called , paper games . He had never beenbeaten in Clumps . In Tea-Pots he had no rival .He held the championship at Everything in theKitchen beginning with K . He had caused morescandal in Consequences than any other playerin the Home Counties . He had held the Sixp encefor Up Jenkins several years running . In the art o fpicnicking he was known , o r rather would have beenknown if Frenchmen ever picnicked , as m ai tre .

And then the picnic was to take place on Black Ro c k ,

which , as it was the most uneasy place to reach inthe island , being nearly wholly surrounded by waterand only linked to the mainland by a neck of slipperyand seaweed-covered rocks as the rock itself slopedfor the most part at a steep angle and w as t o o smallto hold comfortably the number of people askedto the luncheon , was , o f itself, enough to assurethe success o f the picnic .It is essential , in the true art o f picnicking , that

the guests should arrive by different routes , so as t oallow the maximum opportunity for someone to failto find the place o f the picnic or to arrive too lateto eat o f the lobster or whatever happens to be hisfavourite dish . So the guests to Kingston-Pugh’spicnic were to come by tw o ways . The younger and

THE DUTY OF A FATHER 161

more agile— Pugh himself and Boomer and Hooper,Paul and Paterson and Cecily and Lux— came overland , whilst Yvonne and Lady Cantire , Canon Fairmead and Dr . Hanson and the Vereker-Prynne s ,

together with the food , Fitton and Alphonse camefrom the hotel , by sea in the launch .

The w ay down from the top o f the cliff to BlackRock is steep and difficult . Some sort o f a pathhas been cut into the Cliff’s face by fishermen , buthere and there the path has fallen into disrepair andthere are ugly places to be passed over with the bodypressed tightly against the rock face, the fingersclutching desperately into the rock crevi ce and thefeet slipping uncomfortably on the sloping ledge .

At the bottom o f the cliff, a narrow pro cession o f

rounded stones , a hundred yards o r so in length ,leads o u t to the rock . These for the most partare draped in green and purple sea-weeds , veryslippery and deceiving , and conducive to wet feetand sprained ank les . The Rock itself rises somedozen feet above this c aw ew ay and is about tenyards across . It is , certainly , a picturesque andromantic spot . Great cliffs tower in a semicircleabove it ; the water around it is deep green o r

purple , here and there tinged to blue or olive-greenwhere the sea -weed grows near the surface . Ascombining the maximum o f savage beauty with themaximum o f material discomfort , no better placecould be found for a picnic in the island .

The land party reached Black Rock first, KingstonPugh leading the way with Major Boomer, Patersonwalking with Hooper, and Paul bringing up the rearwith Cecily and Lux . Since Paul ’s return to theisland Yvonne had shown towards him a coldnessthat puzzled almost as much as it angered him .


He expected to return as a hero, having exacted afull and adequate apology from the timorous Countas such , indeed , he was accepted by the hotel ; andLady Cantire , in particular, had been very effusiveto him , and had bored him with a long accounto f how Sir Gerard Orp ienthu gh , when a young man ,had tracked his wife ’s lover from Brighton to Bathand would undoubtedly have picked off his man hadhe no t put to sea in 3 Jamaica sugar boat . Theapproval of Lady Cantire , however, was of smallmoment to Paul , and in no way compensated forthe unkindness o f Yvonne , who brutally refused toaccept his o w n account of the affair or to believe thathe had meant to fight at all who called him cowardwho kissed him but perfunctorily at his repeatedinstance who took his kisses in marble coldness andwho behaved in all ways as though they were a couplemany years married and about to seek legal relief assoon as the necessary evidence could be arranged .

So o n this day o f the picnic Paul walked withCecily whilst Yvonne went in the launch with LadyCantire, and being so cruelly treated by his mistress ,began for the first time since he had come to theIle de l’E sc o p e , to see a beauty apart from that o f

Yvonne . He walked beside Cecily, whilst Luxpranced o n in front o f them , and admitted to himselfthat there was somethi ng compelling in her greyeyes , a softness in her voice, a beauty in the poise o fher head , and grace in her carriage : that her freshness , her happiness and her youth were worthy o f

possession . She was not Yvonne ; but at least shehad a charm o f her o w n, and it was pleasant to walkand talk with her . He had, somehow, a strangefeeling o f having met her before, although he had noremembrance o f her name and could recall no definite


o f the table , but a foot from the Rock’s edge, satKingston-Pugh as host , with Lady Cantire o n hisright hand and Yvonne o n hi s left . Boomer hadsat down on the other side of Yvonne . CanonFa irm ead was next to Lady Cantire , and then AdelaVerek er-Prynne , and then Dr . Hanson . Paul andCecily , Hooper and the elder Verek er-Prynne andJohn Paterson completed the other half o f the table .The picnic was a success from its very beginning .

Pugh was the perfect host , not only in the choice o ffood and wines , not only in the placing o f his guests ,but in that most subtle art of neither talking himselftoo much nor too little , and of throwing o u t a wordnow and again for general notice , so as to preventthe talk from falling altogether into a number o f

unconnected duologues .It was an admirable luncheon party the behaviour

o f the guests was perfect . Hooper forgot to talkabout America o r to disparage Europe , and Dr .Hanson forgot to talk about butterflies . Paultalked equally with Dr . Hanson and Cecily : CanonFa irm ead was at his best : Paterson talked withanimation to Rowena Verek er-Prynne : Boomerforgot to be gallant, and Yvonne delighted LadyCantire with anecdotes about her father , the Marquis ,and his Royalist intrigue , and evidenced a filialpiety which charmed the o ld lady beyond measure .You love your father very much ,” she had said ,

and Yvonne had replied , with a great tenderness inher voice ,

Oh , but I love him . I do not know whom Imore love , Papa o r Paul .My dear,” said Lady Cantire , that is very

sweet o f yo u ; t o o many young people nowadaysbreak the Fifth Commandment .”


Ah ! Vraim ent ; but my father, I love him somuch , murmured Yvonne : we are such , as yousay, pals . If he were only with us here no w I woul dbe quite , quite happy .

”

Everybody fully enj oyed the luncheon everybodytalked easily no one was in the least bored in spiteo f the variety o f the company . This business o f

eating out o f doors o n a rock and the picnic magicin it seemed sensibly to have infected the party witha holiday spirit .So much was everyone o n the rock taken up with

o ne another, that no o ne (for Fitton and Alphonsewere half asleep in the launch a hundred yards o ff) ,saw a stout and ridiculous figure making its waypainfully from stone to stone along the narrowcauseway from the shore ; and it was not until apair o f fat hands had appeared gripping the rockedge behind Paul and the stranger had hauled himselflaboriously up o n to Black Rock thatYvonne saw him .

Oh, m an D i an ! she cried , with an accent o f

horror in her voice . But no o ne heeded her, fo r alleyes were now upon the intruder.He was a short , fat man o f any age between forty

and fifty . He wore the clothes o f the French lowermiddle class when o n holiday ; a long , loose frockcoat that fell to his calves grey and black patternedtrousers , very baggy at the knees a low-cut waistcoat which showed much o f a starched shirt front,not t o o clean a deep , fly-away collar over whichooz ed a succession o f chins and a broad , black ,made -u p bow tie . A heavy, silver-gilt watch-chainstretched in a double festoon across his stomach andhe carried a hard felt hat , a size t o o small for him ,

o n the back o f his head . His face was large and fatand round , and hi s su p p er lip bore a ragged , reddish


brown moust ache of the walrus variety. He looked ,as indeed he was , a waiter in a provincial café o u t

o n a holiday . Each o f his three chins was sparselyplanted with short reddish bristles that pointedto his having shaved , or, perhaps , been shaved , somethree o r four days ago . He stood panting, for theclimb had been an arduous o ne and he was clearlyo u t o f training, upon the higher part of Black Rock ,and smiled benevolently down upon the company .

He took a yellow linen handkerchief from his coatpocket, removed his hat, and mopped his browgenerously ; put his hat on again o u t o f the straightand his handkerchi ef back into its pocket, and spreado u t his hands towards Yvonne .At last— at last , my little Neomi , he cried in

French , with a marked Southern accent , and a strongmelodramatic appeal , - at last , I ,

have found yo u .

Fo r years I have tried to find my little daughtermy little , golden-haired daughter— who ran awayfrom home so many— o h ! so many years ago . To

find her and to say that all is forgotten : all is fo rgiven . It was but my duty as a father as a fatherw h o loves his daughter : his little Neomi ; to seekher o u t wherever she was t o take her to his breastto bring her home again . I threw up my appointment- what is that , however, important , comparedto a father’s duty and to his daughter’s happinessI traced my little Neomi to Monte Carlo , for my veryo ld friend and once colleague, Jul es Gu erc in, hadtold me o f her ; and from Monte Carlo I have followed her here . At last ! I thank the good God ,that at last I am able toHad any o f the picnic party looked at Yvonne

instead o f , as they did , wide-eyed , at the fat man inthe frock coat, they might have been not a little


Oh , but, she cried , it is Badot, the factor o fmy father : the good Badot . And he has come allthe way from Niv erse ine to tell me that Neomi -thatis my Borz oi , Lady Cantire , which I love so muchto tell me that my Neomi hasfiv e -six little pup -peesAnd with a look of rapture o n her face and a quick

step backwards , the Comtesse de Niv erse ine disappeared in a shower of spray .

The Vereker-Prynnes screamed— Lady Cantire didnot scream : she was a woman o f an aristocraticspirit and practical . Quick , Kenneth ,” she cried ,o r she will be drowned .

” The men had all jumpedto their feet and a bucket o f ice that Paul had upsetin his excitement rolled downwards across the tablecloth , carrying destruction with it and leaving a littero f broken glass and plates in its wake . Maj or Boomerswore volubly and unreproved . Hooper put his footthrough the salad-bowl . But before the drops o f seawater had ceased to fall upon the rock before LadyCantire had ended her appeal to him , Kingston-Pughhad thrown o ff his coat and dropped into the greenwater . The fat man’s bowler had fallen o ff in hisagitation and now bobbed up and down upon the sea .

He waved his hands wildly , cryingIll a fille— m a p eti te fille . E lle sera noyée E t

l’

argent Une grande som m e On le p erd . Qu elm alheu r .

’ But no o ne heeded him . All watchedthe water

,where Kingston-Pugh supported Yvonne .

The launch came up to them in a few seconds andYvonne and Pugh were pulled o n board .

You two must go straight back to the Hotel andchange

,

” cried Lady Cantire from the rock . Yvonneshook the water from her hair and o u t o f her eyes .I want Badot to come too ,” she

'

said . The launchflirted around to the rock-ledge and the fat man in


the frock-coat was pushed into the boat in a somewhatdaz ed condition . The group o f picnickers o n therock watched the launch as it turned and made forthe harbour along the coast . Two wet and bedraggledfigures sat beside each other in the stern they seemedin good spirits and little the worse for their wetting .

A gross figure o f a man with a bald head sat in thebows he looked bewildered and unhappy .

Yvonne waved a sodden handkerchief at the Rock .

Lady Cantire waved back .

They won’t hurt from the water, she saiddecidedly , but I ’m sorry for her poor clothes .” Sheturned and stared at the litter of broken crockery andspilt food upon the tablecloth . And I ’ve thoroughlyenj oyed the picnic Kenneth always does these thingsso well . Fitton , clear up this mess .It is very fortunate that she fell clear of the rock,

said Canon Fairmead , very fo rtunate indeed .

”

The dear child murmured Lady Cantire,is so fond of dogs .

Georges Bau diro n (alias Badot ) sat in an obscurecafé in Port St . Simon in front o f an iron table .Facing him sat Jules Gu erc in of the Etablissement desBains of the Principality o f Monaco . Gu erc in hadordered a dem i -blanc for both and now he was all agogto hear the news . That it was bad news , Bau diro n’

s

face and manner bore witness and it was not untilhe had dru nk half o f his beer that he found words fora commination that began in , unnaturally, cursing hisdaughter and ended in , more naturally , cursing theEnglish . Baudiro n knew nothing of Shakespeare, aswas to be expected in a peasant— a peasant’s peasanto u t o f the Hautes Pyrenees— who, at the age o f fortyhad won t o head-waitership inthe Café des Négociants

M


in Marseilles,but, had he been familiar with that play

wright,he might well have borrowed the words of

Lear to speak his pain .

Ho w sharper than a serp ent’

s to oth it i sTo have a thankless child

He cursed Yvonne at her u p-rising and her down

sitting : by day and night by board and bed . Hehad

.been a m odel father— all the world was witness

to it'

: he had launched her o u t into the world : hehad shown her, o f his ripe knowledge , the way of ithe had not only given her an education , he had eveno u t o f the savings o f years— lent her money to buyclothes with : a great sum , a thousand francs : thewhich (name o f God and a dog) she had never paidback : o n which she had never even paid interest .And now, when she had touched a fortune : —de

D i en l ) , a hundred thousand , tw o hundred thousand ,five hundred thousand— God knew how many thousands o f francs — now to have nothing to do withhim : to treat him like dirt : to throw herself into thesea : to let an Englishman . to t. oand Georges Bau diro n choked ln his beer .But she is your daughter, my friend , broke in

Gu erc in, soothingly, yo u have a just claim . If shewill not see what is her duty she is still yourdaughter : she cannot stay at Pavois ’ as a Countesso f Nowhere . It is easy , my friend , very easy . Yo uhave but to say five thousand francs - ten thousandfrancs- and I do no t trouble the Comtesse de Niverseine . ’ Good and a little later you can go back andsay Just another ten thousand francs and

Yo u are a fool .”And why, thenThe damned Engli shman

CHAPTER XIV. PSYCHE UNENSLAVED

WILL not bathe in Table Bay to -day . I amtired of that place . Ca m

’

enna i s .

”

Yvonne turned her back o n Paul andshrugged her shoulders .Well , where shall we bathe ? said Paul , im

patiently .

I do not bathe this morning . Ah, there is Mr .Paterson . I want to talk to him .

Yvonne turned and ran lightly dow n the steps towhere Paterson was walking in the lower garden .

Paul watched her with a frown darkening his face .I ’m fed up too , he muttered to himself.He walked back towards the house . In the door

way he met Cecily Hanson coming out w ith Lux .

Come for a walk,” said Paul , suddenly .

No w

Yes . Lux wants a run , too .

Cecily leant forward and spoke to the dog .

Come for a walk Come for a nice walkLux pranced delightedly on all four legs at once and

barked vociferously .

He’s dying for a walk, continued Paul . Aren’tyou , o ld fellow , and nobody takes you and sitting o nthe sand looking after people’s clothes while theybathe , is a poor game , isn’t it Come along .

”

Right . Where shall we go ?Let’s walk across to Lem ale

’

s farm and down intoPetit Val .”Are the others comingPaul shook his head .

Yvonne’s a bit tired she’s not coming o u t thismorning . Pugh and the others have gone for aswim .

”

Lux threw up his head and began to bark again .

We’re going for a walk , yes a long walk ,” said172

PSYCHE UNENSLAVED 173

Cecily, and the three set o ff, Lux leading the way in anelaborate dance o f his o w n invention.

One of the chi ef delights o f the Ile de l ’Esc 0p e isthat o ne c an enj oy in so small an area, so great » a

variety o f scene . The coast to the north-west , westand south-west , is bold and preci pitous . Great cliffstower above narrow and inaccessible beaches o r risesheer out o f the green water . In the south-east andeast, the land falls away gently to the coast, and herethere are wide sands , and a salt marsh and the moutho f a small river, whilst t o the north-east and north ,the coast is low for the most part, but rocky andbroken with creeks and coves and rock-reefs runningo u t into the se a .

In the west of the island the land is high and barein the middle there are woods ; and in the east ,meadows and a river . This stream rises in the highground in the west and runs eastward . The valleyin the upper part of the stream is narrow and precipito u s, but it widens and becomes shallower with the fallo f the ground, and when it comes o u t o f the middl ewoods and into the grassland , it runs quickly betweensandy banks a half-dozen yards apart .In these green meadows , beyond the dark woods ,

upon the bank o f the stream , sat Paul and Cecily .

A little way o ff Lux was bu sy trying to attract noticeto himself by vigorously scraping o u t an abandonedrabbit burrow . A few feet below, the brook ranslowly between banks o f red earth .

~ To the right, theforest lay like a dark cloak across the valley . To theleft, in the far distance, gleamed the sea . Opposite ,beyond the meadows , the hills rose evenly, here andthere scarred with a rock outcrop . The soft, shortgrass at the river

’s bank was starred with daisies .Cecily lay at length upon the grass with her elbows

174 PSYCHE UNENSLAVED

apart,her chin in the hollow of her hands , watching

a small,green beetle give an acrobatic display at the

end of a blade o f grass . Paul sat beside her, his handsaround his knees , chewing a stalk o f wheat . Theyhad said nothing o r little for some time , when Cecilylooked up from the green beetle (which had fallen o ff

its trapeze in its last evolution) and saidI love this part o f the island : I think it is the

most beautiful of all .”Paul gaz ed at Cecily for some seconds before

speaking . As she lay there in the grass , he thoughtthat she looked as lovely— more lovely than any parto f the landscape which she praised . If she was nottechnically beautiful , if her features (as compared toYvonne’s for instance) were irregular, her skin toobrown from the sun , her hair not o f go ld , but betweenblack and brown , a nondescript tint— yet her small ,elfin face seemed to Paul very lovable her dark hairwhich lay coiled upon her neck looked as thoughit would be very soft t o the touch and Paul had alonging to uncoil it so that it should fall loose overthe shoulders and to see how far it fell : her smallmouth seemed to have been made for kisses , and herslender body so light that Paul longed to pick her upand hold her in his arms and see how little she reallyweighed . One may be to -day a lover o f Apollo’slyre nor yet deaf to the reed notes o f Pan , nor beskinned alive for it .I like the cliffs better and the rocks and the pools ,

said Paul , at last . Do you know the cove I callTable Bay ? I must take you there o ne day . It isvery wild . I don’t like this kind o f scenery so muchthese fields and this small stream and the low hillsit might be England .

”

And that’s why I love it, broke in Cecily .


impatience almost, in that her memory o f her chi ldhood and the picture of a beloved playground hadto some extent been marred by this memory o f

Paul . But Paul had , for the moment , quite fo rgotten the present he had forgotten the intermediatepast ; and the past which held all his mind was o fa childish love affair beside a stream— very muchlike this stream n

years ago in Hampshi re , when Paulhimself was a slight figure in football shorts and aflannel shirt , and Cecily’s hair had hung in a disorderlymane half way down her back , and her skirts barelytouched her knees and they had been King and Queentogether o f the Cave Dwellers in the sandstone cliffs .Paul had loved otherwhere and otherwise since—there had been Monica : there was Yvonne ; andbefore Moni ca there had been o thersm o f a sort , butnow it seemed to him , in the flo od o f such tendermemories , that there had only been Cecily, for it i scommon nature to remember most these first awakenings o f p assion , when there is no previous memoryto cloud the mirror o f the mind , and no probationis needed to forget what must first be forgotten .

So Paul , in this sudden knowledge , saw not thefield o f flowers and thi s stranger stream and theisland hills and the sea afar o ff, nor the black andgold butterflies , nor Lux scraping at his rabbit hole ,but the scarps above the A rw ell and the round moutho f a cave not Cecily , tall and composed , in a whitecotton skirt and a yellow jumper and her hair bunchedup on her neck under a yellow felt hat but a smallfigure , in a loose holland frock hanging from theshoulders by two loops , with legs in black stockingsthat were continual ly coming down and coll ecting inwrinkles above the instep ; with brown arms andhands not too clean, and with a mane o f untidy,


dark brown hair not Cecily Hanson, five and twentyyears o f age , silent and self-sec ure with knowledge o fthe world and of man and a contempt for both o f

them , but only Reena-Daa , leaning o n Pha-Mee anda great talker, without any bitterness , withoutknowledge and without contempt .And so Paul , who was Pha-Mee , stretched o u t his

hands toward s Reena-Daa , who w as Cecily Hansonand not Reena-Daa save in the mind o f Paul , andcriedReena-Daa , Reena-Daa, I love yo u , as I have

always loved you from the beginning . You andonly you .

” And Paul would have seiz ed hold o f

Cecily and taken her in his arms and kissed her o nthe lips had she not quickly sprung up and away, tothe great j oy o f Lux , who imagined that at last shehad come to play with him .

Paul , how dare youBut Paul coul d only babble foolishlyCecily , my Cecily . Why, we have always loved

o ne another, Reena-Daa . We have loved , have kissedeach other so many times . Don’t you rememberdon’t you remember howThe high colour in Cecily’s cheek , lighting the olive

tint of her skin, made her look prettier than ever .How dare you make love to me ,” replied Cecily,

hotly . Yo u , a married man with four o r five , o r

i s it six , children . (She never seems to be able toremember ho w many it is . ) Yo u — you, whoand Cecily choked with indignation .

This rem i nder o f Yvonne came to Paul like a colddouche . He had entirely forgotten Yvonne in theheat o f the moment ; forgotten altogether that hewas supposed t o be happily married , to be the husbando f a Cou ntess , t o be the father of so many children.


He pulled himself together with an effort . This hadbeen madness a midsummer madness, born o f

memories , of too dearly beloved dreams . He wasstill Paul Fennimore , husband o f the Comtesse deNiv erse ine . It was , at least, something that Cecilybelieved this : that she had known him in that farand wonderful past , but as Paul and as Pha-Mee,that his family name was nothing to her . For thisdispensation , at least, Paul felt grateful , and hebegan , marvellously quickly considering that he hadbut just recalled the present, to take the part o f theunloved husband— o f the victim o f the unhappymarriage— o f the relict in love o f the faithless wife .

The eagerness died o u t o f his voice, the light fromhis eyes . His arms fell listlessly to his side, hisfigure seemed visibly to have shrunk . At a word ,he had grown old .

Yo u are right ; there is my wife — m y w i fe .

He no longer looked at Cecily, but across the streamwith a fixed stare that clearly saw nothing o f theearthly landscape . He sighed heavily .

I had forgotten . It is so easy to forget, t o forgetsome things— those things , when o ne remembersothers . Forgive me . Of course , there is Yvonne .”Paul ran his fingers through his hair . He continued

to stare at nothing . Cecily did not speak . Shewatched Paul , thoughtfully, and the shadow o f asmile lay upon her lips . Lux , finding that thesehumans had , after all , not jumped up to play withhim

,but only to perform some stupid manoeuvre

o f their o w n, returned to his advertisement o f therabbit hole .

I wonder, continued Paul , in a dreamy voice,I have often wondered how many— how fewmarriages can be called happy. Every day o ne


the rich suitor— it i s the history o f my m arriageand true to type in all its details . It is easy to forgetthat I am married , that I have children , whom I loveand whom their mother— hates , thatPaul ,” broke in Cecily, suddenly . Yo u are

nothing like so good a liar as Yvonne . Yo u are toocrude, too gross . You lack finesse . Get her to giveyou some lessons before you tell me any more stories .”Paul dropped his half smoked cigarette and gaped

at Cecily .

What what he stammered , youknow all about it That Yvonne that we arenot married that she is not thatthatI know enough , broke in Cecily, with decision .

I do not wish to hear any more stories. No , noteven a true story : it might be even less pleasantthan the other ones . Why you a re living here withthis woman — this music-hall Countess - I don’tknow : nor do I care . It is a matter o f no interestto me and I do not want to hear any more about it .”But how —how did you find o u t gasped Paul

That damn scoundrel o f her father, I supposeYes , I understood him . But I knew from the

beginning that you were no t married t o this woman .

”

Good God gasped Paul , who told you ?No t Monica

No , Lux .

Cecily knelt down among the daisies and put herarm around the wolf-hound .

And did the good do g tell me all about it, then ,the good , clever do g

Law told yo u shouted Paul , Are you m ad

Cecily looked up from her rubbing o f Lux behindhis ears .


Next time, said Cecily, slowly, you w ish topose as being married , see that your wife’s dog isyours also . Lux knew and obeyed Yvonne ; heneither knew you nor obeyed you . Husbandspermanent husbands , not temporary husbands— areaccepted by their dogs .”Then everybody knows gasped Paul .Mys elf and Kingston -Pugh and Mr . Paterson .

The Boomer man , possibly, has his suspicions .”Lady CantireShe is not our generation . And the othersPaul shook himself.What does it matter— no w ? Yvonne— is not

my wife , she is nothing to me , she never w as . Iwas mad ; that is all over now . I thought I lovedMonica , once, and then it was a madness . Andnow I know I only love you— v o u . Cecily— Cecilyo f o ld , Reena-Daa

“ Mr . Fennimore , interrupted Cecily , in a coldand formal voice, yo u are , pardon me , too catholica lover at least , for my taste . You are , I think, to oo ld to be again my lover, and I am , happily, still tooyoung . You will meet me , in the future , as a Mr .Fennimore , of, I believe , Somersetshire , and thehusband o f the beautiful and charming Comtesse deNiv erse ine . My interest in your affairs does notextend beyond your dog Lux and I will walk backby ourselves .”Paul stood and watched Cecily until she disap

p eared among the trees . He was very angry and hecursed, with equal bitterness , Yvonne , Cecily andLux .

CHAPTER XV. A PURITAN IN POS S E

T the foot o f the tall cliffs , which flank on theWest the narrow beach where a week ago

a duel was to have taken place , a widerock ledge runs o u t into the sea . This shelf isbroken here and there with fissures and strewn withb o u lders , ,

that have , in time of storm , been wrenchedfrom the cliffs above and caught by this broad stepfrom falling into the water . Perched on the top o f

o ne o f these round rocks sat Yvonne . Below her,with his back against the stone upon which she sat ,with his head o n a level with her knees , sprawledJohn Paterson , sucking at a foul and aged briar pipeand staring across the blue water with wide openeyes . For a long while these two had sat thus uponthese rocks without a word to o ne another, so busywas each with thought . The sea-birds wheeled incircles overhead , circles for ever growing nearerand less in diameter as the two intruders remainedstill and silent , without motion and without speech .

The green water below lapped against the rockwith a rhythmic cadence . Far o u t o n the blue seatwo small triangles of white grew slowly larger , andat last were to be seen as fishing boats , with darkhulls and masts and a dot o f a man at the tiller .The black mass o f a tramp steamer, capped with acloud o f smoke , crawled painfully along the horizontowards Port St . Simon . Half a mile away, a smallskiff bobbed up and down o n the swell and from itsstern o ld Auguste Léha c tended his lines . But noneo f these things , nor the rocks below them , nor thesea about them , were seen by Paterson o r by Yvonne .They were both filled with thoughts as is an egg

with meat .But whereas the thoughts and images in the mind

o f Yvonne were particula r the thoughts in the mind182

184 A PURITAN IN POS S E

fading from the screen almost at the moment whenthey appeared . These pictures, superimposed o n

each other in their hurry, were vague in detail , but anoutline here , a m o ti f there, being held in the memory ;an interminable series . A village in the Scotchlowlands : a clergyman in rusty black before anopen grave, peasants snu ffl ing and coughing aroundhim in the bitter wind : a bare attic in Aberdeen

,

and himself, a gawky lad , poring over the pages o fBlackstone : a crowd around a pit-head , a black- legbreaking from the crowd , with j acket split up theback and bleeding at the mouth . A committeeroom , with a dozen men seated around a great table .A tawdry figure in the Waterloo road , seeking forcustom . A dog run over by a motor lorry . An o ld

young man , in a stained cloak and a black beard ,sitting at a small iron table , drinking une verte, aman with bright eyes and restless fingers who hadonce been a poet . An o ld and decrepit man withuntidy white hair, shuffling across a club smokingroom , trailing a rug behind him . A board meetingo f a bankrupt company and the face o f themanaging director. The face o f a dancer in acabaret . Faces in the crowd along the Canneb iere .

A pediment against a saff ron sky boys , as slender asfawns , with honey-coloured skins , diving for penniesinto an emerald sea . The storm-scarred bows o f atramp steamer, no w reeling heaven-high into the air,now plunging into the foam until green water sweptthe lower deck from stem to stern . A camp-fire

between the r1v er bank and the pine trees : themosquitoes dancing ceaselessly up and down in acloud over the water . Broadway, at night , underthe sky-signs . A Mayfair drawing-room . The readingroom of the British Museum . The Cloisters o f St .

A PURITAN IN POS S E 185

Tro p him e and an aged figure in a ragged cassockwalking therein . A vineyard above Fiesole ape ck-marked beggar outside Santa Maria in Co sm edin.

The ward o f a large hospital . Scenes —lightni ngflashes of scenes — in Europe , in Asia , in America .

Before-the-war pictures war pictures . A shellburst in a trench : shattered bodies that had oncebeen men . The dump called Euston : the ridgeabove Serre , strewn with the broken ferro—concretepilons of a proj ected power- line . The mine heapsofNoeux - les -Mines . The shattered hamlet of Brielenthe Meni n Gate : guns and butterflies in AveluyWood . Gun pits : block-houses a dug-out : adressing station : beds in a base hospital : RouenEtaples . An endless series o f pictures , of parts ofpictures

, o f places , of actions , o f the faces o f menand women .

These , all these , and a hundred other picturespassed through the mind o f John Paterson , as he satpropped up against the enduring rock , with his headalmost brushing against the hem o f the skirt o f

Yvonne, and before him , and unseen by him , thebent back of Léhac , fishing b e at s , the distant yellowstreak o f the coast of France and the sea . Throughall this cinema show o f the memory there ran aconcept : an enquiry into causes an asking aftereffects a seeking after a teleological conceptionan attempt to fix a lowest common mul tiple t o whichall these so variable factors might be reduced . As ithad held the minds of Calvin and o f Knox, o f Hegeland Kant , and to a more material motion , o f Huxleyand Darwin , so also did it hold the mind of JohnPaterson . If it might have been said of Yvonne thatshe was only concerned with causes so Patersonwas but interested in effects . As Yv onne lived in

N


the beginning, so Paterson was for ever troublingabout the end .

August Léhac had by now hauled in his lines , anda number of silver fish flopped about the bottom ofhis boat in their death agony . He put out his oars

,

and sculled slowly and painfully towards the rocks .The tramp steamer had passed out of sight behindthe headland that shelters the Port St . Simon . Asea-bird

,grown bold by the silence and stillness o f

these two on the rock-shelf, had perched not half-adozen feet away from Paterson .

At last Yvonne spoke .

My friend ,” she said , speaking in French , noteasily , as was her custom , but with some sign ofeffort my friend , the last time I talked with you

-when I sought your sympathy and your helpthat night , under the moon , on t he terrace do yourememberI remember, murmured Paterson , sucking

noisily at his pipe .

I was a fool then . I should not have talked in theway I did but I have so often , so often before .

You were right ; it is true . I cannot claim yoursympathy unless I tell you a true tale— the truthabout myself. And I need it so much , dear friendyour sympathy and your help . So I shall no w tellyou what I have never told before to anyone ; thetrue story . Listen .

”

John Paterson took his pip e out o f his mouth andlooked up into the blue eyes of Yvonne .Mademoiselle,” he said , in a troubled voice ,

I have no wish I think I would rather nothearBut yo u must— you must hearme ! cried Yvonne .

Paterson bowed hi s head .

A PURITAN IN POS S E

a shop . But I was wise— I was not like the othergirls : I sought something more than money— morethan the immediate return . I looked ahead ; Iconsidered my career —even at Montpellier . I wasbeautiful ; and , more , I was young . Old Panaqu e ,the vintner, would have given much— and my fatherwas furious with me for not accepting his offerbut I was wise I knew better than to throw myselfaway in Montpellier I sought for something of morevalue in the end than money— an education .

There was a student then at Montpellier from yourUniversity o f Oxford : he was there to improve hisFrench and he was a clever and a cultured man .

During the year that I lived with him I learnt muchand , particularly, I learnt to speak English assab lywell . It was essential for me to speak EnglishI had decided that from the beginning Also , Igrew very fond o f Geoffrey and when , a year and ahal f later , there came the war and he had to j oin theEnglish Army , I was very unhappy to see him go .

Soon after the outbreak of the war , my fatherobtained the post o f head waiter in the Café desNégociants in Marseilles , and we left Montpellier .My father was in a low medical category and hewas never called up . He remained in Marseilles .But Marseilles was no place for me and I decided togo elsewhere . I borrowed some money from myfather for clothes and so -forth and went to Niceand afterwards to Paris , to Biarritz , to Cannes andto Monte Carlo . And I have succeeded . I am onlytwenty-three m —twenty-four now— and I am very beautiful . Dear friend , don’t you think I am beautiful ?Yvonne bent low over the head o f Paterson

,but

he did not look up into her face : he still staredfixedly o u t to sea ,

A PURITAN IN POS S E 189

There— there is the true history of myself,

added Yvonne . Will you give me your sympathynow 9 No w that I have been so truthful 9 Will yougive me your help— your love 9John Paterson was about to speak , but before he

found words for a b eginm ng, Yvonne slipped downsuddenly from the top o f her rock and over o n toPaterson , before he could move away . She flungher arms around hi s neck and pressed her mouth tohis , before he was quite aware o f what had happened .

§5 H e jumped to his feet , carrying Yvonne with himand (not t o o gently ) freed himself from her encirclingarms . Mademoiselle ,” he cried , breathlessly, “

no . I do not love you I .

But I do not understand- I do not understand ,my friend . Am I not beautiful 9 And Yvonnedrew herself up to her full height and held out her armshorizontally from the shoulders on either side o f her,so that , as she stood there with the sunlight caught upin her hair, and her lips half parted and her eyesaflam e wi th passion , and her perfect body held thusrigid and lightly balanced as though a model to anyGrecian chisel , the very rock itself might have grownsoft beneath her small feet and the sea have climbedup against gravity to woo her, and the amorous seabird have taken the dove’s part and dropped to perchupon her round and slender arm . But John Patersonstepped back a few paces from her, and his eyes wereveiled with trouble and he did not smile .I cannot love you, he said , slowly and sorrow

fully .

Yvonne sat down limply o n her rock her arms felllistlessly t o her side and she spoke with bowed head .

It is because I am a common person a womano f no importance— o f no account, — dem i -m ondaine

190 . A PURITAN IN POS S E

ane grae it is that 9 You think I am but une fem m e

entretenu e the mistress of Paul . But you don’tknow you don’t know . It is not so . It is the otherway round . I am no longer of the half-world . I amo f the world . I am rich— very rich : with moneythat I have won myself : won at the Casino atMonte Carlo . Half a million francs ! It is I whobrought Paul here because he started my luck . Iwas kind to him o u t of gratitude . I am no longera woman to be pointed at , an outcast . I have money ,much money I am of the worldJohn Paterson sat down beside Yvonne . He took

o ne o f her small hands between his .N0 , don’t kiss me,” he began , as she raised her head

towards hi s . I am but human , after all , andI thank you , at least, for that compliment,

murmured Yvonne .and I do not love you .

Yvonne shook her golden head in dissent , butPaterson continued .

You are not quite just to me— Yvonne . But Icannot blame you for that : it is very natural thatyou should think so . But I want you to believe thiso ne thing at least . Wh ether yo u are o f the world o r

o f those unhappy ones o f the half-world is irrelevantto me . I have , indeed , a greater contempt for whatis called the world than I have for what is called thehalf-world , where there is more need for pity than forblame . Were you the commonest walker by nightabout St . Lazare and not the beautiful and clever andwitty woman that you are

,it would be all the same

to me , did I love you .

”

Cheri ,” murmured Yvonne , ecstatically her

slender fingers tightening around his as they lay inhis hand .


great nursery o f the world and it will be no comfort toyou that yo u have all the money to buy new dolls andlarger Noah’s Arks and a more beautiful rockinghorse ; for then you will have no more pleasure inhorses o r arks o r dolls . You will be very lonely inthe playground of the world : you will despise themoney which but buys toys and you will hate toysand the other children who are still content to playwith them .

Yo u would love me if I was poor ? ” whisperedYvonne , gazing up in Paterson’s face .

John Paterson shook his head and his blue eyeswere full of pity .

I cannot love you at all , for we mean differentthings by love . For you are still a Pagan— a beautifulPagan whilst I am a Christian , an ugly, solemn,stupid Christian ; and you believe in beauty andstrength and health and riches and I believe but inugliness and in poverty and in pain .

Yvonne stared out across the water for some secondsand then , slipping her hand out of Paterson’s , sheturned and walked dej ectedly away .

John Paterson sat for half-an-hour longer alone uponthe rocks . Many more pictures and fragments ofpictures passed before him : then , he, too, rose andwalked back, soberly , t o the hotel .

CHAPTER XVI . THE BUTTING IN OF MAJORBOOMER

T began , as many a greater matter has begun ,in

a flash of temper over a trifle .

Yvonne had decided not to bathe , but insteadto go o u t in the launch and potter about among thecaves and creeks at the back o f the island . As Paulwanted to bathe— and particularly to bathe withYvonne in Table Bay— h e followed her down to thequay in an ill humour .He hated these excursions in the boat, and , as Pugh

and Boomer were to come too, he saw that his part inthe business would lie chiefly in making himselfagreeable to the crew or lying with Lux in the bows

,

if Cecily had no t already taken that sagacious animalfor a walk .

As it happened , he was spared the companionshipof Lux (against whom he felt no small spite ) as he w as

nowhere to be found at starting, and Yvonne , withPu gh and Boomer o n either side o f her, and Paulbringing up the rear, walked down to the harbour do gless . The launch lay beside the seaweed-grown stepsat the end of the j etty , with Morin , the engineer,holding the boat close against the steps with a boathook caught into a crevice in the masonry .

Kingston -Pugh ran quickly down the steps andjumped into the launch first and , holding out his hand ,helped Yvonne over the gunwale , to the evident chagrino f the Maj or, who had promised himself this privilege,but had not been prepared for the sudden agility o f

Kingston-Pugh .

Yvonne sat down in the stern , followed b y Boomerand Paul was just about to step dow n into the boat

,

w hen she looked up and said suddenlyOh , Paul dear, I know it wi ll be cold o n the water .

I shall want my clo ak . Run up and fetch it— yo u

193

194 THE BUTTING IN OF MAJOR BOOMER

know , the white o ne : Annette will give it toyou .

”

Yvonne smiled sweetly on Paul , but Paul was angryand hurt by Yvonne ’s refusal to bathe with him , andaltogether o u t o f love with this marine excursion ,and he stepped sulkily into the boat .

Oh , damn the cloak he growled yo u don’t

want it it’s quite warm .

He sat down lumpishly in the middle o f the boatand muttered something under his breath aboutwomen always wanting men to fetch and carry forthem . He behaved very admirably as though he andYvonne had been married for years .But Boomer was delighted . His large , red face

glowed with satisfaction , and he jumped up in theboat so suddenly that the lurch he caused made Morinlose his grip with the boat-hook , and the launch driftedaway from the quay and was only brought in again atthe imminent risk o f Morin over-balancing himselfand falling into the water .Let me go , Countess , said Boomer, hurriedly,

lest Paul shoul d change his mind and awake tohis duties , I ’d love to go deli ghted, only toodelighted .

”

Yvonne beamed sunnily upon him .

Oh , Major Boomer, how sw eet o f you I know Ishall be so cold o n the sea ,” and Yvonne shudderedprophetically . Ring fo r Annette when you get tothe hotel and ask her for my white cloak my whitecloak from Madeleine . She will know . We waithere for you . Thank you so much , Major Boomer .”Charmed , dear Countess , charmed ,” muttered

the Maj or, stepping heavily ashore .A husband— he is no good , Mr . Pugh, I S he ? ”

murmured Yvonne .


The cloak that Maj or Boomer carried so carefully overhis arm had itself been wrapped many times aro undthe body of Yvonne . He had often seen it o n her . Itwas very much a part of her cut to her form , scentedwith the perfume that she used . And with thisthought, as he made his way down the crooked pathto the quay, Major Boomer, it is to be regretted , tookthe liberty of lifting the soft fabric o f the cloak up tohis face and o f kissing it with some ardour . In doingthis , he raised the part of the cloak where there wasa small pocket, out of which something fell on to theground . Maj or Boomer heard the slight noise of itsfall and stopped . Bending down , he picked up asmall, thin , gold card-case . With its impact o n theground , the card-case had sprung open and a numbero f rectangular pieces of white pasteboard decoratedthe path .

Maj or Boomer collected these scattered cards carefully . The greater number o f them bore the insc ription

Mlle . Yvonne Quesnoyrue Fo u rc ro y , Wagram .

Paris 17e

but there was a miscellany of others , the greaternumber of them being English . There was o ne of

Mr . Paul Bellamy,87, Grenville Street, W.C.1 .

and a number, including two general officers , whosenames were familiar to Boomer, and which it wereindiscreet to name .Major Boomer p u t the cards back into the card-case

with great care and the card-case back into the pocketof the cloak . He stood for a moment in thought and

THE BUTTING IN OF MAJOR BOOMER 197

then went on down the path with almost a triumphantair . He was pleased to find that a certain suspicionwhich had been b o u rgeo nning in his mind for some dayswas proved to be correct and , moreover, he saw , inthe knowledge that was now his , a certain help towardsthe end which he had in View . He whistled cheerfullyas he walked .

Yvonne was very gracious to him when he reachedthe launch , and she let him help her o n with the cloakand made him sit beside her while Paul went andsulked in the bows .During the morning, and throughout the voyage ,

Major Boomer made himself so generally agreeablethat Yvonne (who , in her heart , had always dislikedthe man ) was ready to admit him more of a gentlemanthan she could have , before , believed possible . Hewas cou rteous without being offensively gallant toher : he showed no j ealousy against Kingston-Pughhe made no attempt to lord it over the sulky Paul , o rto show , even , that he noticed his ill-humour . H i s

conduct was altogether admirable . It is wonderfulhow greatly the promise o f success— even in a wrongcause— will improve the manners . When the voyagewas over and they had returned to the hotel , it wasalmost with a feeling inclined to regret that Yvonneparted with Major B o omer before going upstairs tochange for lunch .

After lunch— a gloomy affair at which Paul wasmore boorish than ever —Yvonne went up to her room ,

and Paul , after a deplorable exhibition of bad temperand conjugal infelicity in front of Annette , went o u tto bathe by himself. Boomer hung about the t erracemost o f the afternoon in the hope of finding Yvonneal one . But he had no fortune in this . It was notuntil tea-tim e that Yvonne app eared from the house ,


and then she sat in a chair and drank tea with LadyCantire , whilst Maj or Boomer , at the other end o f theterrace, sipped at a whisky and soda with H00p er

and watched Yvonne longingly and paid no attentionto what Hooper was saying .

After tea , he had no better luck , for Yvonne hadleft Lady Cantire to walk with Paterson , and Boomer’samiability o f the morning had by now worn suffi cientlythin for him to be offensive to Paul over a dry Martinibefore dinner .With his dinner, the Maj or drank a bottle o f the

Widow . He hoped t o bring the matter to a happyending that night and he felt that he needed such astimulant to gallant endeavour . This excellentmedicine certainly cured very swiftly the relapse intothe dismal into which he had fallen , for a moment ,before dinner and , as the level o f the sparkling floodin the gold-necked bottle grew lower, his spirits rose .He wielded his fork and knife with the air o f a conqu ero r his white shirt front grew rounder his face

,

redder his moustache bristled more fiercely hiseyes gleamed ; and he looked more often and moreearnestly towards the Fennimores’ table on his righthand than he should have done in so public and so

formal a place .Yet , to be sure , Yvonne that night was very worthy

of regard . Annette had excelled herself in hairdressing, and the golden cloud about Yvonne’s head ,bound with a silver cord , framed in the dark curtainsbehind her, was as if she had been painted by Leonardoo r by Giorgione , or by some old and forgotten masterwhen all the world was Pagan . She wore a simplefrock o f black taffeta, broidered with silver, and evenPaul , who had seen her in and out o f so many dressesand who w as in as bad a temper as any man should be,


But not so lovely as you are , Countess ,murmured the Maj or .It w as the direct attack , which Maj or Boomer had

found successful on more than one occasion before andone which naturally appealed to him . He had littlepatience o r skill to continue the more elaborate andsubtler methods . At another time Yvonne mighthave repulsed so crude a compliment , but the Majorhad shown himself so agreeable that morning, and ,now , under the moon , she was in a sentimental mood ,so that she let the manner pass and even was readyto appreciate the bluntness of it ; for bluntness andhonesty are commonly thought to go together . SoYvonne simply smiled and said , gentlyI thank you for the compliment .You are very, very beautiful . There i s no o ne so

lovely as you are Countess— Yvonne , I love you .

”

Boomer leant forward and tried to take her hand ,but Yvonne had slipped quickly away . It was notpossible in the light clearly to see her face , but Boomercould tell from the tone o f her voice , as well as fromthe words spoken , that she was very angry .

Major Boomer ! What do you do ? A h ! c’

est

une béti se you are mad it is insult to me,

a wife . A nim a l

But Maj or Boomer only babbled , incoherently, Ilove you : I love you , Yv o nne m dearest Yvonne .

He made another movement towards her .Yvonne shrank away .

But you are mad ,” she cried mad v ou s étes

p o m p ette : drunk —tight —gri s c om m a an P o lonai s

“ I love you - I love you -m y beautiful o ne ,

repeated Boomer, fatuously .

Go— go away at once or I will tell my husband ,and he will shoot you dead . C

’

est efiroyable

THE BUTTING IN OF MAJOR BOOMER 201

Your husband 9 Ah , my little Yvonne , youdon’t understand . I know all about it— all about it .Aha

,your husband— and his wife, the Countess !

You don’t think I believe all that , do you ? Youtake me for a fool— like the rest o f them here , andthe gallant Major laughed an unpleasant laugh intothe darkness . I know everything . I knew thething was a put-u p j ob from the beginning . I amnot a fool . And , Yvonne , I love you— I love you , Iam mad for you . Leave this fellow Paul— h e isn’tworth it— and come away with me . At least , I am aman . We’ll go to Monte together— o r Biarritz oranywhere y o u like it’s a dull hole here anyway, andwe’ll have a real , good time together, you and I .

”

You are drunk— quite drunk ,” muttered Yvonne .

Mon Dieu , I do not love Paul very much noww ai m ent : but to love you on ne p eu t p as

ne p eut p as

Yvonne , cried Major Boomer, hoarsely , if youwill not love me, let me love yo u — I will I willtell everythi ng that you are not married to this manthat you are not a Countess at all— but only a er

a dem i -m ondaine from God knows where . I ’llI ’ll , damme , I ’ll spoil your game here anyhow . Butno , no z there is not need for that : list en, dearestBut Yvonne was paying no further heed to the

exposition of Boomer . She stood , stiffly, with thetips of her fingers resting on the coping o f the stonebalustrade before her, staring, wide- eyed , into the softdarkness of night , and laughing .

Boomer’s phrases died away into broken words .Thi s laughter , and the odd note in it , disconcertedhim . He did not like it , nor could he understand it .

“ Yvonne I am Yvonneo


he stuttered , altogether at a loss at the sound o f thislaughter .Yvonne ceased to laugh suddenly , and when she

spoke there was nothing humorous in her tone of voice,

and had her face been visible it would have been seento be not only grave but sorrowful .Major Boomer,” she said , speaking very slowly, as

though meticulous in her choice of words , you are toolate . It is clever in you to know all this— for it is true .Vo u s avez rai son. But no w — you are t o o late , I say .

It does not matter . I do not care— any more . I shallno more be the Comtesse de Niv erse ine . That doesnot matter, for t o -morrow— o r after to -morrow— I goaway from here . But not with you , m on v i ew s . I go— all alone . It was a good idea in you to think o f

this — to (ho w you say it 9) split my gaff 9 —but youare too late , for now , it does not matter nothingmatters .”Major Boomer stood with bowed head for some

seconds . He dropped his half-smoked cigar on tothe stones and ground it

,savagely, under his heel .

Then , without a word , he turned and walked quicklyinto the house .

204 THE PHRYGIAN AS PRIEST

here , a capital prone among the nettles there , aloneremain to witness to an antique piety .

Once upon a time , the Ile de l ’E sc o p e , this place ofthe Watch Tower, this guardian island , had been aGreek colony . Before the good St . Louis had setout o n his crusades from the port of Aigues -Mortes ,away to the West : before the mob in Jerusalemhad shouted for the release of Barabbas and theColonial Governor had washed his hands in publicbefore Caesar’s legions had overrun the mainlandbefore Theban Pindar sang or Al exander set his faceto conquest, before the Stagyrite had thought orwritten , o r Socrates had drained the hemlockthe Ile de l ’E sc o p e was a home of piety and of theworship of the go ds .Little now remains of these many temples : the

sea and the rain and the wind have worn away .thelasting stone . The worshippers of a Newer Godhave thrown down the old altars and upon the fo undations o f the Temple o f Apollo rises the fortifiedchurch of St . Apollinaire . Grass has split the marbleand weeds have overgrown the ruins that remained ,

until now there is left but a few feet of a mosaicpavement to show where once stood the Temple o f

Aphrodite .

High up , u pon the tallest cliff, whose face is sheer,so that a stone upon its edge , stubbed with the toe ,will fall cleanly into the water seven hundred feetbelow , lie these few fragments , buried in flowers .Here , once , had risen the temple to the Goddess .Slender pillars of the finest marble had upheld the1 00 f : upon the graven altar had f0 1 ever flickeredthe undying flame here the mosaic of the forecourthad been pressed beneath the soft feet o f virgins ,dedicate to Her worship and inland , with the slope

THE PHRYGIAN AS PRIEST 205

o f the hill , the gardens had fallen away, terrace byterrace , in which the devout might w ander , and where ,on certain feast days , the passer-by , even if he w ere110 more than a shepherd from the grazing landsbe low or a sailor off a shi p in port , might , in theshadow o f the myrtles , claim , in the name of the Goddess , her largesse .

But long ages since , the gardens had grown overw ith weeds and the myrtle trees had witheredthe courts no longer echo ed with song : wine-spilthno longer stained to purple the white flowers amongthe grass . The sunset no longer flushed the milkwhi te marble to rose and the altar stone was no morereddened with the blood of the slain kid . Hereand now, the green lizards , the painted butterflies ,beetles , fireflies and the moths of night alone courtedone another in this broken and deserted fane . One

who had studied under the Athenian himself, hadgraven for this temple o f his native island , an imageo f the Goddess , and had here , in piety and for noreward in money , set it up . But now thi s figure

,

lacking a leg and an arm and with a mended nose,

lives but dustily in a corner in a provincial museum ,

a matter of interest to greybeards w ho have forgotten ,and blue- stockings who have renounced the Goddessin whose image the figure was graven and a thousandyears ago , the rose tint had faded from those marblelimbs and the crown of golden hair had been blownabout the world in dust . No image to Aphrodite ,here , on this day , in thi s year of grace , stood to stealaway the hearts of men ; save o ne mortal , fairerthan any marble .

Upon the broken pavement among the flowers stoodYvonne , gazing into the round face o f the settingsun . She stood alone there and still and silent ;


with her golden head sunk a little forward and herface grave beyond her nature . No vestal , once inservice at this fane , could have been so fair notThais nor Rhodopis not any Lalage or Gly c eranor Cynthia nor Lesbia nor Lai's nor golden Danaenor the Cyprian herself, were more beautiful to lookupon than this patient figure , in this high place ,framed in the splendour of the dying day . But nomemory o f this sacred spot stayed in the heart ofYvonne , and she ground in powder under her smallfeet the dust of the holy symbols , with as littlethought of it as though it were o f the commonhighway ; for the mind of Yvonne was filled withthoughts far away from any old and pagan worship .

She had come here into the once garden of lovelaughter, not knowing whither she had come, norwith care for gladness , but in grief, in humility andalone .

She watched the round , red rim of the sun sinkslowly down until it touched the crimson water .She was unhappy she knew now that she had neverbeen happy : although once , and no t so many daysago , she had thought herself happy : happy to bewith Paul , happy to be the Comtesse of Niv erse ine ,happy to have so much money and so many beautifulthings to eat well and lie softly to be admired o f

all for her beauty, her grace and her wit .Fo r this , ever since she could well remember,

had been her ambition : to be no longer poor anddespised : to have wealth and with wealth thatfreedom and place in the world which wealth alonecan bring . Of that place in the world she knewherself to be worthy that no o ne , born to it , couldfulfil the part with more ease or with a better spirit .I t .w as a part that she knew herself, and had already


saintly he seemed to her : the more t o be beloved .

Had she been poor and ugly , he would have likedher better . He had said that . The thou ght of thispassed again and again through her brain . If onlyshe had been ugly 9 No — she could not help beingbeautiful : she would not wish to be otherwisefor his sake so that she might , at least, have something to bring him . But to be poor ? Well , shehad once been poor ; very poor . Perhaps , if shewere to be poor again 9 The thought stayedin her mind obsessed her . Supposing she had thecourage to do this to renounce riches to give up ,freely

,so much : to be , once more , poor and an

outcast , o f her o w n volition ? The idea fascinatedher . If she could achieve such virtue , would not thensuch a man as he was , love her for it ? She satdown on a stone, which had once been part of thealtar to delight in life and buried her face in herhands and wept .The red ball of the sun had already disappeared

into the sea and some o f the colour had faded o u t

o f the water and the twilight had sensibly deepened ,and in the purple sky o ne star and now anotherbegan to be seen , when Yvonne at last rose andturned to go back to the habitations of man . Downfrom the place o f the altar, through where once hadstretched the garden terraces , Yvonne walkedslowly and with bowed head , and the ghosts of Paganworshippers accompanied her down the crookedand broken way .

She did not see them as they pressed about heror hear them as they talked to o ne another o r mockedher for her humble bearing , or cried out upon herfor a traitor in her change o f heart . The E lder Godsstood in her p ath, but she passed o n, heedless of them .

THE PHRYGIAN AS PRIEST 209

In vain that Priapus leapt out from be hind a clump ofw ild roses to seize her that Cupidon cried forlornlyby the wayside that Bacchus barred the way withhi s leopards , casting the wine-skins at her feetthat Apollo followed her and that Cytherea, asbeautiful as thi s h er once handmaid , stood in herpath and called to her to stand . In vain , from amongthe reeds in the marsh below , Pan piped to her . Shehad no care fo r any of that gallant company : shesought other gifts than theirs she was stricken witha fever against which they knew no medicine : shehad become a neophyte at another fane than anyo ne of theirs .When she reached the house, it was already grow

ing dark . She avoided Kingston-Pugh and Boomer,who were smoking and talking together on the terrace ,and she only stopped for a moment in the lounge tosay good -night to Lady Cantire .Paul had waited for her coming in , upon the

terrace ; but he had been at the far end , talking toCecily, w hen she passed hurriedly into the house ,and so had missed her . When at last he went upt o bed , it w as but to find her already asleep and hereyelashes wet with tears .

CHAPTER XVIII . KATABASIS

FABIEN PAVOIS sat in his private roombefore a large and complicated roller t o pdesk and considered his accounts . They

were good ; they were better than they had beenduring the war years , but they still were not so goodas they had once been or might yet be again . Nextyear he looked to be making a more substantialprofit . This year, perhaps , close as it was upon theheels of war, with peace , indeed , as yet u nrat ified ,

o ne could hardly expect a big return . Other hotels ,in other places , were earning it is true great profitsthey had no empty rooms they were daily, almost,increasing their charges without the loss of a guest

,

and their c li entele consumed large quantities ofchampagne and smoked putative Havanas withoutnumber and at prices the very thought of whichwould warm the heart of any hotel keeper . Butthese were those who had profited from the war

,

providers of food and clothing fo r the millions whofought, makers of shells and explosives , o f cannonand motor vehicles , o f chemicals and disinfectants

,

of bombs and bicycles , o f paint and varnish and horseshoes and housewifes , of bobbins and ribbons andbuttons and badges and buff slips and the thousandand one odds and ends ordered in haste and by themillion . These gentlemen , however, with such fatpocket-books and so urgent a necessity to be livingwitnesses to their wealth , did not come to the ChateauFalaise , but stayed in Biarritz or Monte Carlo orDeauville o r Aix-les -Bains according to season .

They had never heard of the Ile de l’E sc o p e , norwould they come to so quiet and remote a place evenhad they known of it . Fabien Pavois sighed a littleenviously as he thought of this golden harvest .Still , although his own receipts ' were at the mom ent

210

212 KATABASIS

Maj or Boomer took a large, patterned handkerchieffrom his pocket and blew his nose violently.

“ Yes , sir ? ” murmured Pavois , encouragingly .

A delicate matter,” repeated the Maj or, yo u

ought to know . The Comtesse de Niv erse ineAh ejaculated Pavois .

is not the Comtesse de Niv erse ine , continuedBoomer . She is not a countess at all . She is -er

nobody : she is a— a dem i -m onde— one o f the birds .They are not married . His name isn ’t Fennimore ,it’s Bellamy . It’s all a plant— scandalousFabien Pavois scratched at his chin . He eyed “

the

Major furtively , with a troubled look .

I thought I ought t o tell you ,” added Boomer .Pavois did not show in his face the very real extent

to which this news troubled him . Some sign of hisuneasiness he did show— but a sign , an indication only .

He was used to controlling his emotion it was a self~discipline necessary to his part in life . But , in fact , hewas very much disturbed . In the first place , if whatBoomer said was true , his own perspicuity had beensadly at fault, for he , more than any other, had takenthese folk at their own valuation ; he had , in fact ,stood sponsor for them he had even advertised theirarrival . No t only was his own am o u r p rop re hurt ,but he saw himself placed in a very awkward position .

Then there was the question of Lady Cantire . Shehad taken up the Countess . She had run th e

Countess . She had ignored her o ld friends in favourof the Countess- this so -called Countess . She wouldnever forgive Pavois in the matter . She woul d nevercome again to the Chateau Falaise . No r would herfriends : she was a woman o f influence, that wasworse still . It was a damnable business .This is very serious ,” said Pavois , after a pause .

KATABASIS 13

It is a business very serious . You say this , sir, buthow do you know 9 La Comtesse de Niv erse ine has ,perhaps , enemies ? You say she is not— but have you ,as you say , the proof 9

I c anno t I may not disclose the mannermy source of information ,” said the Maj or, stiffly .

It may not be true ,” murmured Pavois , a littleless gloomily . You may— pardon me , sir— youmay have been misinformed . Madame la Comtesseis ver’ well known o

’

n’

est p as p o ssi ble .

Monsieur Oc k ringt o n himselfFabien Pavois spread out his hands hopefully, but

there was little hope in his heart . He knew, from themoment that Boomer had spoken , that he had beenwrong, woefully wrong that he , Fabien Pavois , andLady Cantire and everyone had been grossly deceived .

But if only the deception could be maintainedif only this fat fool had not if no one else knew .

Pavois ’ train of thought was broken into by a knockon the door and the entry, immediately after it , ofPierre , his head waiter .What do you want 9 said Pavois , brusquely in

French , I ’m busy .

”

Pardon , Monsieur, it is Monsieur Fennimore . Heasks for his bill . Madame leaves this morning andMonsieur follows her to -morrow .

”

What’s that 9 cried the Major , jumping to hisfeet , the Countess is leaving 9Madame has already departed , Monsieur. She

left for Port St . Simon half an hour ago . MonsieurFennimore leaves to -morrow , I understand .

Th e face of Fabien Pavois had grown brighter .This sudden departure o f the Countess simplifiedmatters . It did not matter much no w who she w as .

If only this man Boomer would hold his tongue .

214 KATABASIS

Major Boomer , began Pavois , as the Comtesseis gone ; there will be no needBut the Maj or did not wait to listen to the very

sound advice of Fabien Pavois . He flung himselfo u t of the room in a whirlw ind of oaths , beforePavois had time to speak .

Paul stood in the middle of a room still untidyfrom the effects of a hurried packing . The bed and

all the chairs were heaped with clothes and the floorlittered w ith handkerchiefs and stockings and silksand tissue paper . He read the note , that Annettehad just handed to him , with a gloomy face . It wasscrawled illegibly and in haste across half a sheet ofthe hotel notepaper, and it told Paul , with a brevitythat he found heartless , that Yvonne had left thatmorning in the launch for Monte Carlo and thatAnnette was to pack the rest of the luggage andfollow immediately . She said nothing about Paulexcept to direct him to pay the hotel bill and to bidhim good-bye . A cheque for frs . was enclo sedwith the note . He crumpled the note into his pocket

,

and, leaving Annette to her packing , strode moodilyo u t o f the room .

He walked out on to the terrace . The place seemedempty, although Canon Fairm ead sat talking withLady Cantire, Dr . Hanson and Cecily and the VerekerPrynnes made a group about Lux, and Boomer w astalking earnestly to Hooper in a corner .Where is the Comtesse, Mr . Fennimore 9 called

Lady Cantire , as soon as she had caught sight of Paul .I’

v e not seen her all the morning .

Paul stood before Lady Cantire and looked grave .We’ve had a letter fromNiv erse ine , from Yvonne’s

mother, w ho is looking after the c hildren . Marie is

216 KATABASIS

Her youngest child is very ill , continued LadyCantire . Mr . Fennimore follows her to-morrow .

Kingston-Pugh frowned .

Where’s she gone to 9 he said abruptly .

Why , to Niv erse ine , o f course ,” replied LadyCantire . Where should she go 9 That ’s where thechild is .You ’ll miss her .Yes , indeed . I shall be very lonely without her,

murmured Lady Cantire , fondly . The dear child— so devoted to her children .

”

Kingston-Pugh found Paul alo ne after lunch . Hewent straight to the matter without circumlocution .

Where’s Yvonne gone to 9Paul hardly noticed this use o f a familiar name .

She ’s gone home . Ou r youngest child i s ill ,muttered Paul , sulkily .

Rats said Pugh , rudely . She’s not yourwife, there are no children and no Niv erse ine . Iknow all that . Where has she gone ? ”

Monte Carlo , if o n must know,

” growled Paul ,but I ’m damned if see what it’s got to do with you .

”

Everyone— even Boomer, who now repented hispart in the matter— deplored the loss of Yvonne,with the o ne exception , perhaps , of Cecily, whoshowed 110 care in the matter o ne way o r another .If anything , she was glad of the going o f Yvonne,which occasioned Paul’s going also . Indeed , she wona material benefit from this hurried exodus .She left him behind , herself, and I hate the animal .

I give him to yo u ,

” said Paul , with no little bitterness .So Cecily and Lux stood upon the stone j etty and

watched Paul embark , very pleased to be left sohappily in each other’s care .

ACT I I I

BREAD

Vo ila un typ e ,tene z ,qu i n’

a jam a is

vo u lu to u c her so n pinard , u i as gu ola ,

MEME QUAND IL Y AVAIT DURAB —Gu s

220 YVONNE ENCORE EN PLEIN

slipping o ff her hat , threw it , with a gesture, o n to a

chair at her side .

Look , Monsieur, look ! Is it not frightful ? Ihave been but a little savage on a desert island for solong a time .”She shook her head violently from side to side , so

that all the silken mass o f her hair stood o u t about herhead in a great halo ; and the sunlight , streamingin through the upper part o f the shop window, clearo f the shelves of bottles

,touched to a living flame

every golden hair .Adolphe Rollin came up t o his most beloved clientand passed his hand with a caressing motion over thisaureole , pressing the soft mass down over the earswith a tender care , talking half to himself and half toYvonne the while .

Ah , but Mademoiselle should not have left it solong she should have come to me before . Suchwealth such richness in tint such a texture , shouldnot be left uncared for . A maid is useless in such amatter yes , to lay o u t a dress to pour o u t waterand such-like common tasks but to dress hair— andsuch a hair as this it needs an artist . Come , Madem o iselle , we will see what we can do with it .”Yvonne sighed , laid her small hand lightly for a

moment upon Rollin’s white -sleeved arm , and allowedherself to be conducted to the chair .There was the flat proprietor

,with the so many

chins and the head,smooth and polished like an ivory

ball , who was also pleased to have Yvonne again ashis tenant . It w as now late in the year and the flatwas still empty he was even prepared to forget hisanger against Yvonne for having so suddenly paidup her rent more than a month ago, and to usher heronce m ore into her o ld flat , almost "with the air o f 8.

YVONNE ENCORE EN PLEIN 221

father welcoming home a prodigal daughter . Heeven , in c onsideration of the season , offered a slight(and temporary) reduction in the rent .She dined alone , o n the ni ght of her arrival , at the

Café de Rome , and the head waiter left an Americanout of Seattle to be waited upon by an underlingwhile he hurried across to her table . He talked withher for many minutes now standing upright andturning an occasional glance behind hi m around theroom now leaning forward , with his hands restingo n the edge of her table , and hi s head close to hers ,talk ing, it m ay be supposed , o f intimate and importantmatters no t to be overheard . There was no doubtthat he was delighted again to see Yvonne a guest athis board . She was looked after with a greater carethan was any other diner in the café , and when shewould have paid her bill , the head waiter himself wasat hand to beg her to allow herself to be the guest o fthe direction this first night o f her retu rn . She mustnot be permitted , he had said with a fine manner , t opay for her dinner that night : he hoped t o see herhere often again now : and— not alone . He , himself,saw Mademoiselle Yvonne Quesnoy to the door .Everyone , it seemed , who had known Yvonne in

the pa st many , who now saw her for the first timein this happy Principali ty by the Sea, were glad to seeher . Even little men

,toilers paid by the hour, with

o u t any material ends to serve or any hope of favour,smiled upon her as she passed . The doyen o f theguardians o f the garden , a whi te-bearded patriarch ,resplendent in h i s green uniform , who had spoken w ithso many notable people, who had seen through longyears so many fortunes lost and won , talked with herbeside the little crysta l stream that babbles for everunder the palm trees stood and talked with her fo r


several minutes,his wrinkled face wreathed in smiles ,

welcoming her b a c k to her estate . Upon the broad ,white quay above the blue water o f the harbour o fMonaco

, Niccolo , her particular boatman , who so oftenhad sailed with her in his cutter, doffed his cap andbrushed her white hand against his grizzled moustacheas only a Neapolitan may , not only with the delighto f one who has to work to live , in seeing once againan old patron : but in the j oy of seeing Yvonne forher own beauty’s sake and had he not had a wife ,sharp in the tongue , and many children to be fed , hewould have begged Yvonne to come out with him inthe Pap i llon,

without any demand for hire, in orderthat he might , perched upon the fo’c ’sle’s edge, gaz eaft upon Yvonne at the helm so that he might feasthis eyes upon that slender form , clad in a white j ersey,leaning upon the tiller, her small feet wedged againstthe opposite gunwale for leverage her head , bare o fany hat

,golden against the white mainsail . The tram

conductor had a word for her the woman at the kiosk,whose ill-fortune in life had soured her tempe r, smiledas she sold her Le Peti t Jo u rnal : the negro porter,with his breast full of medals and his gay livery, o u tside the Hfit el de Paris , bared his white teeth in asmile , as broad as Africa itself, as she passed by andlittle Joseph , in the Bar Americain , danced j oyfullyabout behind his counter as she sat perched upon ahigh stool in front of him , and made her drink a c ocktail , specially prepared for her and at his own expense .

Two slender and elegant young men , in hats o f thefinest straw and coats of the most fashionable cutwhose boots were topped with cloth and whose caneswere topped with silver : who wore rings upon theirfingers and silk handkerchiefs of many colours p ro t ru ding from their breast pockets who carried , the one


the croupiers , the cashiers , the managementw it mighteven be believed Monsieur B lane himself - weredelighted at her return . Those in the gaming roomsw ho were but salaried officials were glad to welcomeagain a generous winner : the direction o f theE stablishment o f Baths was pleased to see her foranother reaso n it was anxious to have its revenge ,to try with her, once more , the fortunes of the spinningball . It was wishful to see the current paper thatshe had won changed once again into counters andthrown upon the board : it repeated to itself theShi bboleth o f the young man in the c loth-toppedboots o ne does not win twice .

She looked more than ordinarily beautiful that nightas she walked through the long hall and in at the doorsopening to the gaming rooms . She wore a shea th-likedress of black taffeta , cut low in the back and heldover her shoulders with two threads of black silk , sofrail as to seem hardly able to bear even that lightweight . A narrow black ribbon was bound low uponthe forehead , carrying in its centre an emerald , aslarge as a thrush’s egg and as pure a green as the waterunder the shadows of the rocks of the Ile de l ’Esc o p e .

She held in her hand a bag, made of black silk andbroidered in silver, which was slung between two largerings of Chinese j ade .

All those who walked in the hall ; because theywere out o f lo ve with play , or ill-used o f Fortune andunready to tempt her further o r simply to walk andtalk and waste time ; o r to watch others there o r

to sit and make love upon the settees between thepillars all these watched Yvonne as she passedthrough to the tables . And as the guarded doorsswung discreetly and silently behind her , a little fireo f enquiry sprang up in her wake . Who is she ?


asked one . Is she asked another, endinghis question with a raising o f the eyebrows indefault o f a noun . To dress like that ! ” murmured another, with a shru g o f the shoulders .And the informed told such as were not , who shewas and what she had done . Ho w she had oncebeen poor, and well , what woul d you ? ” howshe had broken a bank and was now rich : thatshe had won a hundred thousand , two hundredthousand , half a million , nay , a million of francs ,accordi ng to the imaginative index of the speaker .She passed on through the double-guarded doors

unquestioned by the human Cerberi before them , whoknew her well . She passed in to the silence o f thegaming room from the noise of laughter and light talko f the crowded hall . As she passed down betweenthe tables in this , the outer room , many turned tolook upon her and s ome , even with money o n the table ,turned for an instant from the whirling ball , as someo ne at their side whispered her name . She walkedthrough the room to the doors leading into the SallesPrivé es without looking to her right hand or to herleft without noticing at all those there who knew he rw ithout seeing the delighted look of the croupier atthe far table to whom she had thrown a thousandfrancs but little over a month ago .

She passed through the farther doors .She took up her accustomed place at the left hand

of the croupier . She arranged in little piles of hundredfranc counters the notes she had changed . Twentylittle piles of wh ite bone counters , with fifteen countersin each , stood at h er right hand , in testimony to thefact that she had not come here idly to pass the time

,

but to gamble in the fullest sense of the word .

Twice the little wooden ball ran around its allotted


groove and dropped at last into a number, beforeYvonne upset any of the piles she had built o r . p u t

a counter o n a number . Then , very deliberately ,before even the croupier had taken up the ball , sheplaced o ne hundred-franc counter o n 17 three countersac heval, on 16 and 17 ten counters on the transversalesim p le of 17, thirty counters o n the middle doz en ,sixty each on im p ai r , m anqu e and ro uge .

Theorists will tell you that there is no system— nowinning system —at roulette . There is a theory ofnumbers there is a law of chance and of averages ,and upon this the game o f roulette is based . In thelong run —for as long as 3 5 is two short o f 3 7— thebank must win , and the player lose— in the end . Bya laborious system o f doubling up on the even chance ,a guarantee against loss and some small profit can beassured , but the limit o f the stake precludes the successof this system . The bank m us t win it is , after all ,their business to do that .But in spite o f the assertion o f the mathematicians ,

the gambler still believes in the god of chance . If theball has dropped into red fiv e times running it is useless to tell him that by every law o f chance andnumbers there is still an even chance o f the ballfalling into red yet a sixth time he won’t believe you ,and down goes his money on black . The ball may falltwice running into 24 : it is unavailing to persuadeyour gambler again to place his stake on this numberor to theorise that the chances of the ball falling intothis o r any other number are equally 3 7 to 85 against .He will no t be convinced , nor put his counter on 24 .

He will follow— as every player at roulette has alwaysfollowed - some obscure system of his own someunexplained , and inexplicable , preference for numberssome imagined law in variation the indications given


cautious nature , followed Yvonne’s lead upon i m p a ir ,m anque or ro uge or more boldly on the middle dozen ,on a column , o n transversa le si m p le or transversalep lei n o r en c arré . Some thus put their money withhers on the lower chances and hedged with a fiv e -franco r two fiv e -franc counters en p lein o n a number inp a i r, p asse o r no i r . A few bold and pessimistic spiritsplaced all against Yvonne ; o ne , a bald-headed , fatman on her right , placing twenty francs on 3 4 , ahundred on the last dozen and two hundred each inp ai r and p asse . A few , put out of humour by thelargeness o f Yvonne’s stake , placed no money on theboard at all , but waited t o see the fortune o f thegreater gambler, and to learn whether or no the luckwas st ill with her , before they ventured themselvesto follow or to avoid her lead .

Fai tes v o s jeuw — fai tes v o s jeucr , repeated thecro upier, more insistently ; and then , as the wheelrevolved slowly and yet more slowly and the ball leftits circular course above the numbers to drop downupon them , ri en ne va p lus ri en ne o u p lus ,

” insharper and more impatient tones .The small ball of wood hopped in and out of the

numbers around the circle in a very active and friendlymanner, as though he would declare to all present a fineimpartiality : as much as to say that to him all numberswere the same , that it mattered not a jo t to him in

whi ch number he at last rested and that , for thepresent , anyway , he was full o f life and in 110 moodto settle down in a hurry . All eyes around the rouletteboard , except t w o , watched , with a fascinated stare,the activ ity o f the little wooden ball , upon whosewhim depended so large a sum o f money : all eyesexcept Yvonne’s . As fo r her, she paid no heed whatso ever to the arena in which the li ttle servant o f the


god of chance followed his duty , but stared beforeher with a fixed gaz e not seeing any around her o reven the squares burdened with counters staringwith wide open eyes at the would-b e -young womanfacing her, with the too-powdered nose and the t o ogolden hair yet not seeing her, but seeing only therocks and the sea and a face full of kindliness and pity,o f a great tenderness for her, but not , as yet , alightwith love .

The round messenger o f chance continued to hobnob , impartially, with a dozen numbers . No w fallinginto 28 and hopping out again with a great suddenness , as though regretful for ever having looked inthere coquetting with 81 and with 5 : wobblingabout 12 in a very suspicious manner, but , at the lastmoment , darting away with a renewed energy lyingfor so long in 3 4 th at beads of perspirati on gatheredupon the forehead of the bald gentleman , and then ,at the last moment , shooting o u t in the very spasmo f death and falling heavily and finally into seventeen .

No one spoke no o ne moved . Even the croupierhimself, in whom the man had long since been ab

sorbed into the machi ne , delayed his accustomedepitaph upon the dead he was at least three secondsbehind time with the three words Di ce-sep t gagne .

”

The croupiers lifted the brass gratings under whichlay the paper by which to-day man lives in changefor which he can be fed and watered , clothed andloved aye , and be born and buried also and togetherthey made up the winnings due to Yvonne , and withtheir rakes pushed the pile o f paper to her. The lessfortunate in that they had ventured less had

,very

properly , to wait for service .

It was a large and wonderful array of notes that w as

c ollected together and pushed in front o f Yvonne

YVONNE ENCORE EN PLEIN

seven and thirty crisp thousand franc notes and halfa -doz en hundred-franc counters a very presentablesum o f money to be earned , as it were , in somethingunder three minutes .No one said anything all looked at Yvonne , to seehow she would hold herself in such fortune . Had shecried o u t aloud— which would have broken the un

written law o f the place , but might yet have beenexcused had she incontinently fainted— whichmight even have been commended— no one wouldhave been astonished .

Instead o f either of these evidences o f emotion , shestared for a moment , dully, at the pile of paper beforeher and then , leaning forward with her elbows on thetable and burying her face in her hands , sobbedbrokenly .

282 A PURITAN IN ES S E

noon , sacrificing, in lieu o f notice , a day’s charge forhis room .

He told no o ne of the reason of his going, or eventhat he was about to go he was discourteous enoughto say good-bye to none , and , indeed , had shunnedany company since Annette had given him , beforeluncheon , the note that Yvonne had left behind forhim .

He read it again and again , with a puckered brow .

It thoroughly disturbed him . I go back t o MonteCarlo ,” she had said , to lose all my money at thetables , so that I shall again be poor, so that you maylove me for I know now that money has no valueis no thing .

” He was profoundly disturbed . Thiswas madness- a midsummer madness , and it was hisfault . This last consideration worried him hugelyhe could not keep his mind off it . It was utter folly ,and yet he was responsible for it . His conscience ,which was the most active .and dominant part ofhis nature , accused him of these happenings put itto him that he had played the causative par t totragedy, that he (unwittingly , perhaps , but none theless actively ) was stamping one who loved him ba ckinto the mire . These thoughts were torture to JohnPaterson . Fo r an hour he paced up and down inthe lower garden turning the matter over in h is mind ,growing more unhappy and distressed every minuteuntil , at last , he made h is decisio n , and turning,walked sharply into the house , to pack his bag and topay his bill and to look up the trains for Monte Carlo .

The day after Paul and his impedimenta were safelycarried across to Port St . Simon , Kingston-Pugh alsoleft the Chateau Falaise . Ever since Yvonne’s -goinghe had been silent and even morose and very differentfrom his com mon habit of c hee

'

rfulness and com mon

A PURITAN IN ES S E 23 8

talk . He was brusque to Lady Cantire , impatientwith Canon Fairmead and the Verek er-Prynnes , andrude to Boomer . He was not as discourteous asPaterson in omitting his farewells , but he performedthem in a brief and perfunctory manner, whichclearly advertised an absent mind .

Boomer followed Kingston -Pugh , to the opensatisfaction of Lady Cantire but the going away o f

Boomer was but a poor compensation for the loss ofYvonne

,and Lady Cantire sat upon the terrace and

politely stifled her yawns whilst listening to CanonFa irmead , and wondered how much longer she couldendure the boredom of the Chateau Falaise . WhilstLady Cantire was pondering upon her return to England : whilst the Vereker-Prynnes were consideringif it w as not no w becoming too w arm to stay longerin the South whilst Canon Fairmead w as remembering his canonical engagements and Dr . Hanson h i swork at the Museum whilst Cecily w as debating inher mind the vexed question of quarantine for Lux ,

and Hooper dreamed of Paris , John Paterson wasrolling slowly along towards the Principality o f

Monaco in that train from Marseilles , the which , perhaps because the coast along which it runs i s so lovely

,

never seems to be in any hurry .

Throughout the j ourney , Paterson’s consciencegave him little peace , and by the time evening hadcome and the train had pulled up in the little stationo f Monte Carlo , he w as in a fever to see Yvonne toundo the 111 that he had done , and to persuade her toa more rational intention .

One very practical difficulty faced him as he sat atdinner in his hotel . He had come here t o find Yvonne

,

to help her , to prevent her from any rash endeavours .But he did not know her address

,save only that she

Q

w as , he supposed , i nMonte Carlo . But though MonteCarlo is not a large city, yet together with Monacoand the Condamine it holds a fair number o f folk .

Moreover, he did not even know Yvonne’s name— o r ,

at any rate , her real name . It was exceedingly nulikely that she would be staying in Monte Carlo as theComtesse de Niv erse ine , and , except for her first nameo f Yvonne (which she might have adopted for the Ilede l ’Esc o p e ) , and that of Neomi , (which her fatherhad used and she had doubtless long discarded ) ,he saw no way of tracing her . He could only hopethat he might meet her in the Casino , in the gardens ,on the terrace o r in the Café de Rome .

With this thought in his mind , he left his hotel afterdinner and made his way to the Casino . He did notat once go into the building , but crossing the squarebefore the doors , turned down to the left and o n tothe broad terrace overlooking the sea . For a quartero f an hour or more he paced up and down with hishands clasped behind his back and his chin sunkforward on to his chest , staring with unseem g eyesupon the stones at his feet , and revolving in his mindthe manner to be adopted and the arguments to beused , when he should meet Yvonne . Although h i sconscience had urged him thus far— to come to MonteCarlo and seek out Yvonne and save her, if he could ,from so mad a venture— yet he saw very clearly thatshe might easily put another interpretation o n hiscoming nor readily believe his disinterestedness in hiscare for her . This view of the matter troubled himmuch and he dreaded meeting her as strongly as dutyurged him so to do

,but th is dislike o f what he felt to

be his clear duty , only made him the more anxiousto perform it , fo r there was that element in JohnPaterson’s particular ethic that insisted upon the

A PURITAN IN ES SE

Go ! Go cried Paterson , impatiently . Thatis all I want to know .

”

The head-waiter faded slowly away into theshadows . Paterson threw down his half-fini sh edcigarette on to the gravel and ground it under hisheel with an exclamation of disgust . He gulped downthe remainder o f his Vichy water and strode acrossto the Casino .

The long outer hall was fairly full o f people , andfor a few minutes Paterson wandered among thecrowd o n the possible chance that Yvonne had comeo u t of the gaming rooms to walk for a moment or toseek refreshment at the bar at the far end o f the room .

But he could see nothing o f Yvonne among the crowdthat wandered in an aimless fashion up and down thefloor and around the columns o n either side . Hequestioned with himself whether he had better go intothe gaming rooms and seek her there or wait here inthe hall until she came out . If he went into therooms , he would have to obtain a ticket to enter .Moreover, she would be likely to play in the S a llesp ri vées . Also , he had all the Englishman’s dislikeof a scene or any display o f emotion , most o f all at aroulette table . He decided that it would be a betterplan to wait and speak to her when she came out . Itwas already past ten o ’clock and unless she was playing to an unusually late hour, it was not likely that hewould have to wait for too long a time . He hadnothing to do , in any case . He had no wish to playhimself indeed , he never gambled at all .He walked across to an unoccupied settee between

two of the columns and sat down . He would amusehimself while he waited by watching those who passedby him .

One is no t likely to find a greater diversity o f folk

A PURITAN IN ES S E 287

anywhere in the world than in the great hall of theCasino at Monte Carlo . Players at the table to someextent conform to a type, or at least to a selection oftypes and the interest common to all the watchingof the behaviour of a ball , the delight in good fortune,the despair in losing, tends to reduce faces to (as itwere ) a lowest common mul tiple of the primitiveemotions of hope and fear ; of pleasure and of pain .

But , here , in the hall outside , the vagaries of agyrating ball no longer hold men and women undertheir spell o r , at the most , only in retrospect . Also,many walk and talk in this lobby to the Temple ofChance, who have no intent to gamble , who are in thePrincipality because it is o ne of the most beautifulspots in Europe : who have come hither but to beable to say they have been to Monte Carlo who arehere because of others who are here , o r may be herewho are here to play golf or for treatment at the baths ,or simply to enj oy the luxurious accommodation ofthe Het el de Paris o r the renowned kitchen of the Caféde Rome . To begin with , Paterson had been but apoor spectator he was too much busied with his o w nthoughts , too ready to regard himself as a critic o f

understandi ng, doomed to sit out a transpontineperformance in which no good thi ng c an be found .

But as the minute hand o f the clock precessed slowlyround the dial , and the same actors again and againcrossed the stage before him , so that they becamefamili ar figures , the thoughts that troubled himbecame less instant and he began to be concernedwith those about him . He fell to wondering whothese folk were and why , particul arly, they were herehe began to study their faces to note their action ,and to seek in these material indices and vi sible signs,an insight into their lives .


In so cosmopolitan a place , in so democratic an age,at the end of a world war, when the social equilibriumhas been so rudely disturbed , it were rash to be dogmatic about any one or to draw any conclusion fromappearances , and had John Paterson been able to testthe truth of his inferences he would have been not alittle amaz ed .

The tall gentleman , for example , with the griz zledmoustache , the military bearing and the eye-glasspendant from the silken cord was not , as Patersonhad imaged him to be , a colonel of his regiment , but anaval outfitter from Portsmouth . The lean , youngman , with hair overlong at the back and a scholarlystoop , who wore a coat of an exotic cut and a mauvewaistcoat and who carried o n his finger a ring mountedwith a scarab , had nought to do (professionally ) withletters , being, as he was , a subaltern in the TenthDragoon Guards . The stout man , in the ill-fitt ingsuit of white dri ll , ,

w as not an army contractor o r aretired hotel-keeper , but an authority on Copticinscriptions and one of the first scholars in Europe .The apparent virtuoso was a bank clerk from Staines ,and the seeming solicitor, with the sharp face andpapers peeping out of his breast pocket, was SirCharles Ganton , the hardest cross-country rider inthe home counties . The white-haired , cadaverous ,ecclesiastical- looking man had never heard o f theOxyrynchus Papyri or the Pi o nian text, being Chairman o f Jo y-Rides , Limited and the short , grossman , with the fierce moustache , was neither a confidenc e trickster nor a member of an even less savouryprofession , but no less a person than the Marqu e sePalli o dac c ia and a p ersona grata at the Vatican . Withthe women it was less easy to be mistaken they falleasily into types and are apt , in their dress , in little


that Paterson staggered backwards in order to keephis balance . She stood before him , enraged , panting,the tears still wet upon her eyelashes .

Oh , you fool Yo u fool You fool she cried ,wildly, so that all in the hall turned to look at her .You fe e l I have not lost— I ’ve wonSobbing brokenly and without another look towards

Paterson , she turned and walked hurriedly away .

John Paterson stared after her in utter amazement .Madame has great fortune,” said an o ffic io u s

voice at his elbow .

He turned and saw a little man in a long-tailed coat,who had just come o u t of the gaming rooms .She has won much 9 muttered Paterson .

But, yes , Monsieur they have had , again, toclose down a table .”

CHAPTER x x r. A s on (LITERALLY) FROMTHE MACH INE

F the Casino of Monte Carlo is the last place whereo ne would expect the unusual to happen , it mayequally truthfully be suggested that the square

harbour of Monaco is laid out to be the incunabulumo f the unexpected .

Monte Carlo itself is a fairy city given over to theworship of the hazard a toy town , designed for theentertainment of the idle and the rich a stage ,particularly furnished with properties to deceive thevulgar, to intrigue folk of a small imagination .

But if one walks down the hill from the squareoutside the Casino , past the Post Office , which sosubtly in its architecture disguises its utilitarianmotive , and o n to the Condamine and the port ofMonaco , o ne encounters an altogether differentatmosphere and if one is o f a sensitive humourto react to the peculiar genius of a place, one mayenjoy this harbour o f Monaco in a manner unknownto the many who go to Monte Carlo .

The spirit that inspires Monte Carlo may be considered to be that in which trivial things are takenseriously , in which matters of no moment mattermightily . It is best and most adequately understoodas the fane in which slaves are gods : a place

,set

apart and laid under a spell , in which to eat o f costlydishes to drink of rare wines to believe to be permanent what is most transitory to transmute spiritto flesh and flesh to spirit to gild the basest coin withan undying lustre , is the very proper and last duty ofman . It is a shrine at which the artificial is naturalthe useless , of use the unreal , real the false , truea temple in which the painted cardboard is gold andsilver the wooden sword , Excalibur and the paste

,

j ewels .

242 A GOD FROM THE MACHINE

But Monaco , o r rather the harbour of Monaco , is o fa reverse order, for, here, the natural is artificial notthe useless of use , but the useful , useless not theunreal , real , but the real , unreal . It is a place ofessential and primitive things which are , here ,accidental and secondary .

The blue water that kisses idly the faced stone ofthe wharves is real water, and the wharves are realwharves with great iron rings let into the stones forships ’ hawsers : and the lighthouse is a real lighthouse , a -flam e of nights and the cranes , real cranesmade to work . But with all this , it is a comic operaport— a Gilbert and Sullivan affair ; and the portofficials , though burdened with very real duties , mightyet be tenors o r barytones , and the sailors , supers .In such a place as this , the most untoward events , theoddest occasions , might well happen . To this quietharbour, square as a swimming bath , clean under theunclouded sky as a model in a museum , might comeany Jason in search of a more than golden fleece, o rthe Wanderer from beyond the rim of the round earth .

In the hot sunlight , the white stones of the quaygleamed more whitely and the water below seemed ofa deeper blue for each being placed against the other .No litter o f merchandise, commonly found upon awharf, lay along the quay ; no ropes were loopedaround the stone bollards to run out over the quay’sedge and to become a cause of stumbling to thosewalking along the edge with head in air . No vesselslay on the water below to parade their spars andtackle above the edge of the wharf ; no skiffs hungabout the steps for hire , save o ne only . The quaylay silent in the bright sunshine . No rattling ofchains or the cries of stevedores no shrill whistlefrom busy locomotives , nor noise of cranes , broke in


Yvonne , he began , at once , I think yo u aretreating me shamefully , abominably . I can’t get aword with you , a look from you . Yo u cut me inpublic . I am turned out o f your flat . I I amtreated worse than a dog , and if it hadn ’t been for me,you would still be on the streets— o r starving . Thisis the gratitude of a woman . To be treated like dirt .I left the woman I loved and who loved me — for youto be thrown over now , to be used as long as I c o uldbe of use to you and then to be thrown away— like aworn-out glove . It ’s it’s sham efu lYvonne looked up , not u nw istfu lly ,

’

int o Paul’s face .

Dear Paul , I am so sorry, but I cannot love youany more . That is all . Forgive me —please . Butyet , I have not been unkind to you— I have paid mydebt . I have now very much money . If youwant more moneyI want you— you , Yvonne ! broke in Paul ,

taking her hand in his .Yvonne did not attempt to withdraw it , but she

looked up into Paul ’s face with tears quivering uponher long lashes and smiled sadly and shook her head .

But before Paul could speak again , the three uponthe wharf were interrupted by Ni c c o ld who camerunning towards them and crying o u t to them to look

,

and stabbing skywards with his finger .These three, shaken o u t o f the t o o earnest contem

p lat i o n o f their own particular affairs , became awareo f the material world around them and o f a hummingin the air, that grew every second louder and moreinsistent . Following Niccolo ’s gestures , they saw ,

high up above them in the blue sky, an aeroplanecircling earthwards .When first the talkers on the quay had looked up ,

the machine was but small and black against the blue

A GOD FROM THE MACHINE 245

dome of the sky . But while they watched it , as itdropped every second nearer earth in circles ofdiminishing diameters , it grew larger and yet larger,so that its structure could be seen , its two planes , itsscrew, as a concentric haze of air currents , its pilotand passenger, as dots , one behind the other ; and ,as it dropped , its colour lightened from black to brownand from brown to drab , and the noise o f it s enginedeepened from the mere buzzing of a hive o f beesto the sustained note o f a threshing machine , to themore strident note o f a circular saw .

As it circled lower and yet lower, until the verystays and struts o f the planes became visible and thesigns and letters upon its wings and fuselage , and thesunlight was reflected from the nickel plate o f itsfittings in points of fire , its wide wings flamed to whiteagainst the background o f hills and the blue water,and the note o f the buzz -saw deepened to the roar o fa platoon o f trolley-cars and then suddenly broke o ff ,so that it seemed that all the world had , in a second ,fallen asleep . It swept low over the head of Yvonne ,and a second later lay upon the still waters of theharbour like some gigantic seagull that had forgottento furl its wings .Ni c c o lo left the group about the bollard and ran t o his

boat for here , at last , was a hope of custom .

Paul and Paterson and Yvonne watched Niccoloscull furiously towards the seaplane . As he reachedit , a tall figure clad in a brown leather coat climbedo u t over the edge of the cockpit and down o n t o o ne

of the floats . Fr om there , he stepped into the skiff .Even at that distance the figure seemed familiar, andbefore Niccolo reached the steps of the wharf, hispassenger was recognised and Paul found hisname .


By God , it’s PughMy dear fellow ,

” broke ln Paterson , as Pugh cameup the steps , but this is delightful , to see you here ,too , and to arrive like this . This is awfully j ollywe ’ll all have toBut Kingston-Pugh was no t listening to John

Paterson . He looked only at Yvonne .

You had better come with me ,” he said , briefly .

He did not seem to expect an answer . He un

buttoned his leather coat , drew a cigarette case froman inner pocket , took a cigarette , lit it , and inhaledthe smoke with patent enj oyment .Can’t smoke while flying , he muttered .

Come with you ? said Yvonne , at last , withamaz ement in her voice . When 9 H o w 9 Why ?Your three questions are quickly answered ,

replied Pugh , coolly . Anywhere yo u like ; in thatseaplane ; because I love yo u .

”

‘ My dear fellow began Paterson , sm ilingat Kingston-Pugh .

But you are mad , mad broke in Paul , rudely .

Yo u must be a lunatic . To ask to supposethat Yvonne to to He flo underedand stuttered in his anger and his failure to find wordsto express it adequately .

The lover, the lunatic , the poet , murmuredPaterson . Yet she is hardly dressed for flying , isshe 9 and he looked down smilingly upon the slenderfigure o f Yvonne , clad but in a thin , slight frock ofgreen and gold .

Pugh puffed at his cigarette .

I have a spare flying kit on board .

Yvonne was gazing at him with shining eyes . Shelooked more her old self than she had done for severaldays .


to the steps . By the time Boomer, sweating genero u sly , had reached Paterson and Paul , Niccolo ’s skiffwas half-way back to the seaplane with two passengersin its stern .

Who in the deuce is that she’s gone o ff with 9asked Maj or Boomer, as soon as he found breath forwords . Looked like Pugh .

”

Pugh , muttered Paterson , laconically .

Paul said nothing . He continued to gaze gloomilyat the seaplane . The pilot had dropped a bundle intothe skiff and now Pugh was helping Yvonne into theheavy leather coat . A moment later, he had hauledher up into the seat beside him : th e air was rentwith the din of the engine , and the plane began toslide across the water at an ever quickening speed .

Suddenly, it left the water, cleared the breakwaterby a few dozen feet and began to climb steeply intothe air, not in circles , but in a straight line for the West .The three watchers on the quay gazed at the sea

plane as it grew smaller and ever smaller, until it wasbut as a distant gull and now but a speck in the skyand now altogether vanished .

At last , John Paterson , with half a sigh and noword o f farewell to Paul or to Boomer, turned andwalked away .

The Maj or turned to Paul .Damn Pugh ! It was a smart get-away . We are

not like to see her again .

”

Paul tapped Boomer upon the shoulder with hisfore-finger . He spoke slowly and with emphasis andin a more manly spirit than he had shown proof o ffor some time .My dear Major, you should know your Shake

speare better . We are not like to see her like” 3again

FINALE IN A MAJOR KEY

Quam iu v at im m i tes ventos audire c ubantemet dom inam tenero c o nt inu isse sinu

au t , gelidas hi bernu s aquas c um fuderit Auster,sec u ru m som nos im bre iu v ante sequ i

TIBULLUS .

252 FINALE IN A MAJOR KEY

remedied with a sheet o f the Co rri ere della S era . If e

sat perched precariously upon his high seat , with thereins (which had been mended with cord in tw o places )held listlessly in his hand , his head sunk forward andhi s small , sharp , black eyes clos ing continually in thebeginnings o f sleep . He might easily have fallenwholly asleep and o ff the box , had he not pulled himself u p with a start whenever his head nodded tobeyond a certain angle . On these occasions , he wouldflick the horse , that had fallen into a still slower gait,with his whip , at the same time making an inhumannoise at it— some sort o f a groan , eloquent alike o fferocity and despair . The animal would then awakenfo r a moment into something appro aching a trot , t ofall a minute later into its o ld stride as the whip wasreturned to its socket , the re ins lay slack again uponits back and the straw-hatted head o f the driver beganonce more to nod upo n the edge o f sleep .

If the horse was but a sorry quadruped , the harnesswas in even a worse pl ight . It had been broken inmany places and mended with string and againbroken and again so mended ; and , for variety, thecollar was held together with ru sted iron wire, and , inplaces , where a complet e strap o r thong was missing,hemp did service in its stead .

It was a thing at which to wonder, that the conveyance itself did not fall t o pieces even at thi s slow paceo n a smooth road . Fo r the woodwork had parted ina dozen ways , the whole contraption creaked and

groaned in complaint , whi ch rose t o a shriek and aclatter o f despair whenever there came a rut or inequality in the road . Whether what was de scribedby its owner, generically, as a vettzura , was, in fact , aVicto ria , a landau o r a ba ro uche o r some vehi c le o f

an older perio d , such as SMELFUNGUS o r the genial

FINALE IN A MAJOR KEY 253

YORICK might himself have ridden in on his grandtour, is a matter for experts to decide . At any rate ,it was a relic o f a past age , and such as is seldom seenin these days o f petrol and hi gh speed .

The barouche— if that was what it was or had beenonce— carried a si ngle traveller. He w as a tall , thin ,distinguished-looking man clean-shaven , with whitehair and a cleanly cut profile . Although he was sixtyyears o f age he looked some years younger, and it didnot need an unduly intelligent observer to infer thathe w as , or w as once , connected with the law . For therest, he wore a cool suit o f w hite linen a finely-wovenpanama a pair of tinted spectacles with tortoiseshellrims to guard against the glare of the sun , and , at themoment , had spread over his face a fine , cambrichandkerchief as a protection against flies and the dust .He lay back against the dusty cushions o f thebarouche , with his feet resting o n the small seatopposite him and might well have been asleep .

Upon this road from Montepulciano to Pienzathis month o f the year at this hour after noon , whenthe sun w as yet hot upon the earth , there were butfew travellers , and Theodore Beck , late o f the wellknown and highly-esteemed firm o f solicitors , Macleanand Beck , had met o r passed , since he left Montepulciano , but half-a -doz en wayfarers , peasants o n theland , and for wheeled traffic , only a water ba rreldrawn by a pair o f oxen and the diligence , grey withdust , carrying two women and a priest .No Latin lo gi c ianw fo r the Latin races are alone

logical in the practical affairs o f life , in common andessential actions— has ever been able to account forthe vagaries o f the English in a manner satisfactoryto himself. To dismiss the matter, eas ily , by dubbingthem m ad , is contrary to established fact , yet this


action again and again bears witness to a mentaldefect . Why, for example , in this particular instance,should Mr . Theodore Beck, a man o n in years , o f nosmall wealth and position and influence in his o w n

land , travel thus in obvious discomfort, in Tuscanyand in August, to so unimportant a place as Pienza 9It is true that some o f the best examples of the worko f Vignola and Ro sset t ino are t o be seen in this littletown ; but Beck was a lawyer, not an architect, norwas he connected with any museum . It is equallya fact that o ne o f the first half dozen copes in the world— an unique example o f op u s angli c anum — is treasuredin Pienza, but Beck was no authority on embroideryno r himself a worker with the needle , no r even acollector . In brief, t o supplant one mystery byanother a nd deep en o ne , Theodore Beck w as thusj ourneying t o Pienza fo r the wholly illogical reasonthat he had never been ther e before in the month o fAugust , because a series o f comm ittees and comm itm ent s had proscribed his excursion in the springand in this dilapidated barouche, because BenedettoA rap a c c ini , no w nodding sleepily above him , had

bamboozled him into hiring the worst vettu ra inMontepulciano . That he should have been in Montepulciano is no t so o dd a matter, since , in thesummer, it is a not unpleasant spot , placed , as

'

itis , 0 11 the top o f a high hill but it must be admittedthat he had come there fo r the very English andwholly illogical reason , that no Englishmen commonlycame there .

So Theodore Maudsley Beck , a man still o f repute inthe Metrop olis fo r an acumen despite his years , thustravelled, half-asleep , towards the small town ofPienz a . He might , in time, have fallen wholly andcomfortably asleep , had no t the sudden j olt of stopping


both , as yet , quite young , but who already showedsigns o f being clever and beautiful beyond the commonrun o f children . By the time they reached the town ,Beck had so far fallen a victim to Pugh’s charm thathe had accepted his invitation t o stay the night athis house rather than at the inn and the vettura drewup at length before the pillared door o f a large squareedifice , with overhanging c av es, in a side street o ff

the square .

Beck was ushered into a dark , stone-flagged hallvery delightful and cool after the heat o f the road ;and , after the disposal of his hat and bag and arefreshing wash in a pillared basin that might wellhave been designed by the Pisan himself (had heworked in these parts ) , he was led down a long passageand into a tall , airy room , where his host left him alonefor a moment .Beck, accustomed to the t o o much furniture o f the

late Victorian decades , found almost a tonic virtue inthis severity o f decoration . The walls were o f whitedistemper, without dado o r friez e half-a-doz enchairs a large carved table : an ottoman againstthe wall and two wooden bookcases , painted white,were all the furniture in the room . The deep , narrowwindows were open , and Beck, walking over t o o ne

o f them and looking o u t , saw stretched o u t below hima vast panorama o f vineyards and c o rnfields like agreat chessboard , with here and there a black clumpo f cypresses o r the w hite square o f a house , and , 011 thehorizon, the grey and purple hills . A cool wind blewin at the window in spite o f the heat o f the sun, andBeck thought to himself that he had never knowna more pleasant room or o ne better placed , and beganto remember disparagingly his o w n stucco ma nsion inVVl m b ledon.

FINALE IN A MAJOR KEY 257

He had but barely turned from the w mdo w whenthe door opened and a woman came in .

Theodore Beck— although a bachelor, o r, perhaps ,because o f it— had always been , and was still , aworshi ppe r o f beauty in woman , and as he no w lookedup on the woman who came up to him in this so

pleasant room he regretted less than ever that hehad accepted Pugh’s hospitality .

She was tall and very pe rfectly formed clad in aloose white cotton dress , wholly devoid o f ornament .Her mass o f silken hair, unbound by any fillet , sto o dout in a golden halo abo ut her head . She w e re no

j ewellery save a golden slave bangle o n her arm aboveher elbow, and a fine chain o f gold about her neck .

Beck had lived sixty years upon thi s ba ll o f Earth,and for the last forty years he had travelled much andin very strange places (fo r t o wander w as his hobby )everywhere and at all times , he had had an eye fo rbeauty in woman yet he was ready t o confess thathere and no w before him stood o ne more fair than anywoman he had ever seen . In o ne as critical and asexperienced as Beck , this w as a great tribute toYvonne .

“ My wife, murmured Pugh . Yvonne , thi s i sMr . Beck .

”

She greeted Beck in a musical voice , with a slightforeign accent, which he found particularly de lightful .

Do yo u mind a nursery tea 9 she said , after afew commonplace remarks o f greeting and Beck hadassured her (which was very true ) that he lovedchildren and woul d be disappointed not to see them .

The party in the nursery was voted a success by all .John , the younger o f the two chi ldren, w as , perhaps ,t o o young fully to enj oy visitors , but , nevertheless,he chuckled merrily t o himse lf most o f the time,


whilst Neomi , who was three and a half, so fell inlove with Beck that there were tears at parting aftertea, and she would not o r could not sleep until he hadseen her in bed and kissed her goo d -night .Theodore Beck sat at dinner that evening between

his host and hostess and regretted more than he hadever done before that he had never married . To bethe husband o f so lovely and loving a wife to be thefather o f beautiful children to live simply in such aspot as this, should be the whole o f man’s desire . Hewas more silent than was his common habit duringthe meal . Afterwards , he sat with Pugh o u t on thepiaz za . The vineyards lay below them under thecloak o f night . Between them stood a terracottaj ar— an amphora such as had once held the Falernian .

Beck sipped the cool wine in his glass and puffed athis pipe in silence . It was a rough wine, but Pughhad apologised for it he had said that it was home

grown and pressed and no t yet aged , and Beck hadquoted , aptly and sonorously

Caec u bu m e t prelo do m itam Caleno

t u bibas u v am m ea nee Falernae

tem p erant vites neque Fo rm ianip o c u la c olles .

But Pugh protested that he knew no Latin— o r

had, a t least, long ago forgotten the little he hadlearnt at school . So Beck gave him the gist o f it , andhe admitted it suitable to the occasion .

To -morrow,

” he added , I will show yo u my fewvineyards .”But the t w o men did not ta lk much . S ome spell

o u t o f the magic night had , it may be, fallen uponthem , so that t o talk t o o lightly were a sacrilege inthat place . So they stared o u t into the darkness , until

FINALE IN A MINOR KEY

Dic tes m oy on, n’en quel pays ,Est Flora , la belle Ro m m aine

Arc hi p iada , ne Thai s ,Qu i fu t sa cousine germ aineE c ho, parlant quand bruyt on m aineDessus rivi ere ou su s estan,Qu i beau lté o t trop plusqu ’

hum aine 9

Male 0 11 sont les ne iges d’

antanFRANQOI S VILLON .

264 FINALE IN A MINOR KEY

tw o top corners and patting o u t the creases here and

there with the hand .

The wash-hand -stand was o f plain deal , paintedwhite the j ug and basin were no t of a m at c h , and thelatter had been broken and riveted together with ironrivets in three places . A large and rickety wardrobestoo d against the wal l it was the best piece o f

furniture in the room , being a passable imitation o f

mahogany , and it c arried a longmirror still in a serviceable state . But the door lacked a latch , and , as thewardrob e was tilted forward , the door would haveswung open by gravity and was only kept closed witha wedge o f paper and the means o f hanging clotheswithin rested in a row o f enamelled iron hooks ,screwed into the side and back o f the wardrobe . Tw o

c ane-bottomed chairs and a small , yellow-varnishe dtable completed the furniture o f the room : a wornand faded carp et covered half the floor, and a singleelectric lamp hung nakedly withou t a shade from thecentre o f the ceiling.

Paul Bellamy looked about him and sighed . Heremembe red the last time that he had stayed in MonteCarlo— a short five years ago— and he pictured in hismind , with a very pa inful clearness and reality, theb edchamb er that he had sle pt in then .

It had b een a large , and very pleasant room lightedwi th three windows tw o of w hich opened o n to t hesea , o f which o ne was a deep bay window with a broadsettee pi led with multicoloured cushi ons and bigenough for tw o t o coil themselves up on it . Thewardrobes had been o f m ahogany, inlaid with a lighterwood , and fitted with p olished brass . The dressingtable was a large oval upon four slender and taperinglegs , and carried a centre and two side mirrors , allturning easily upon their swivels and cap able o f being

FINALE IN A MINOR KEY 265

fixed at any required angle . There had been nowash-hand- stand , but instead a bathroom , openingout from the bedroom not a mere cabinet o f a room ,

but a room half the size of the bedroom itself, in whichthe bath (though broad and deep beyond the commonrun of baths ) looked small in a corner . And the bathhad been no cheap o ne , but very finely enamelled andfitted with nickel fittings of the latest pattern and aperforated tray for soaps and sponges and a therm o m et er in a wooden case and a long-handled woodenbrush for scrubbing one’s back and there had been ashower bath in the room , apart from the simple bath ,with a marble base to stand in and a mackintoshcurtain to drape around one , whilst the shower was o n.

There were hollow rails , with the hot water circulatingthrough them , upon which to warm the towels andperforated cork mats and woolly bath mats and a scoreo f usefu l and elegant aids to keeping clean . There hadbeen the bed . A great bed , built in solid mahogany .

A bed , canopied in rose-coloured silk , with brocadedsilk curtains on either side o f the head , caught backto the bedpost with crimson sashes . The counterpanehad been o f shell pink , with a white , net bedspreadabove it . The pillows were so soft that t o rest one’shead upon them was already to be asleep and thesheets were o f the finest linen and very smooth andcool to the touch . Furs and costly raiment had filledthe wardrobes silks and cambrics had loaded thedrawers . Gold and silver and ivory grotesquevessels in glass and alabaster had crowded the dressingtables . And in the great bed itself had lain the mostbeautiful possessor o f all these so many beautifulthings— Yvonne herself.Only five years agoPaul sighed heavily, and throwing himself yet8


further back in his chair, shifted the leg without acastor off its wad o f paper, so that the chair no wwobbled upon three legs and beat a tattoo upo n thefloor with every movement that Paul made .At length , throwing o ff his depression with an effort ,

Paul jumped up and began to unpack his bag . H e

laid a suit o f dress clothes out upo n the bed with carefor , although they were no longer new , yet they wereall he had , nor could he well afford twenty guineas fornew ones . He laid a dress shirt (that had been wornonce ) beside the coat and trousers . He laid o u t hissoap and sponge and flannel , poured himself o u t somecold water into the cracked basin , and began to wash .

Half an hour later he walked o u t o f the Hotel Beau rin a slightly better spirit than when he had entered it .To be in dress improves the morale o f the most poorin spirit , and , although Paul ’s clothes were darned inplaces and glossy in others : although his shirt hadbeen ill-laundered although his patent-leather b o otswere cracked and dull although he wore but a softhat and a light grey overcoat with his evening clothes ,yet he made his way dow n tow ards the Casino withsomething o f an air .When , five years ago from now , Paul had first come

to the Principality, he had been shaved upon hisarrival by the barber attached to his hotel . Whilehe was being shaved he had chatted with the barber,telling him , amongst other things , that he had butjust been demobilised . The barbe r had paused , razorin air, and had made a remark which Paul remembe redever afterwards , and which , indeed , deserved to beremembe red . He had said , with all the sorrow anddisillusion o f the Latin philosopher in his voice

A h, M onsi eur : ap res la dem obi li sati on c om m enc e

la la tte .

”


to Monte Carlo : once again to put his money o n anumber : t o meet , maybe , yet another Yvonne , andt o attempt his fortune— and hers . But upon thisoccasion he could not afford his o ld hotel : already ,although he had travelled third-class in crowded discom fort , his j ou rney hither had eaten up moneyhe needed all the balance for the tables . So he p u tup in a mean hotel in a back street , and sighed at thememories o f happier days .But as he walked down through the gardens and

reached the square before the Casino his spirits rosehe even swung his cane jauntily, and he turned intothe Café de Rome with a fair assumption of his wartime manner .A waiter bustled forward as he entered the roomWas Monsieu r alone 9 Paul said that he was , andwas led to a table by the wall . It was not so good atable as the o ne at which he had been used to sitbefore , but he yet had from it a view of the room . Heordered hors d

’

oeu vre and a bottle o f S au terne and

began t o look about h im .

The café was m oderately full , but the table by thepillar, at which Paul had first spoken with Yvonne

,

was still empty. It fascinated him it held h is

regard beyond all the other tables in the room hecould not take his eyes o ff it .lThe waiter carried away the many dishes o f hers

d’

ce uvre and brought the om elette which Paul hadordered and the o m elette had given place to ato urnedo s before Paul ’s watch upon the empty tablewas rewarded . A slight figure had appeared suddenlyfrom around the column and had sat down at theempty table .Paul gaz ed at her with wide-open eyes . A strange

thri ll of delight ran through his body : a sense of


adventure overwhelmed him . He felt once again ashe had not felt fo r five long years— as o ne with worldsto conquer as o ne upon the threshold o f adventureas o ne with the will to live . He continued to gazeearnestly at the girl o f the table by the pillar .Her slender form was draped in the palest yellow .

Her black hair was parted in the middle and broughtdown upon either side low over her ears , and coiledin a great knot upon the nape o f her neck . Had herhair been loosened and allowed to fall freely it wouldhave covered her as in a mantle and might well havefallen below the knee . A bracelet o f dark green j adeencircled her left wrist and a necklace o f j ade beadswas looped around her throat : but save for these ,and an opal ring , she wore no j ewellery . Her facewas small and e lfish her grey eyes filled withmystery her skin was alabaster and her small redlips were as twin red rosebuds laid upon the petal o f awater-lily .

Paul caught the eye o f a waiter .Yes , sare 9Le m ai tre d

’

hé tel.

M ai s o u i , M onsi eu r .

The head waiter stood at Paul ’s table, bending alittle stiffly towards him .

You asked for me , sare 9 There was a certaincoldness , almost o f reproof, in the head waiter’s toneof voice, which may have been due to the modestnature o f Paul’s dinner o r the shabbiness o f his dressclothes , o r to both these together .The head waiter had not changed percep tibly five

years in the fifties makes but little difference in theappearance o f a man . Perhaps his hair was a littlemore grizzled the lines around the mouth and eyesa little more deeply marked the waist a few inches


more in circumference : the skin a shade , o r half ashade , darker in tint . But he still looked , as he hadlooked for the past ten years , very hierarchical .

Yo u wish something, sare he asked .

The lady in yellow , there , by the pillar isshe and Paul shrugged his shoulders in aquestion .

The face of the head waiter brightened pe rceptibly .

It was a question to which he knew the appropriateanswer . He used a phrase which had become familiarto him through the use o f many years . He alwaysconsidered it a very happy phrase .

M ai s o u i , M onsi eur elle c her c he se fortune .

I sincerely hope she finds it,” murmured Paul tohimself, and aloud to the head waiter : Will youthen kindly ask her if she will do me the pleasure o fdining with me For I see she has only just sat down .

”

The head waiter beamed quite amicably upon Paul .He saw a demand fo r champagne and an extendedmenu in this invitation . He did no t remember Paulin any way— even in this repeated accident . Al thoughthese fiv e years had made more difference in Paul thanin him , so that Paul was altogether stouter andcoarser looking, and most o f the gloss had gone fromhis hair, and his skin had lost its freshness , and therewere wrinkles about the eyes , yet he might well haverecognised him , had no t the number o f folk passingthrough the Café de Rome in five years been so greatand so varied as eas ily t o cloud the memory . Or

perhaps , he had remembered, but had been to o tactfulto show any sign o f itShe will be charmed , Monsieur, surely, he

murmured , and he bowed and turning round, beganto thread his way between the tables towards the girlin the yellow dress . Paul poured o u t the remainder


things were comfortably settled and the staff haddepar ted .

Mais ou i : je l’

adore .

Nou s i rons la ensem ble, ap res diner, said Paul,s ipping at his champagne and devouring Luciennew ith his eyes over the rim o f his glass .Lucienne let her hand fall t o her side and across

towards Paul upon her left . Her fingers closedtightly upon his .

Cheri ! she murmured, ecstatically .

Paul sat beside Lucienne at the end o f the table .A long rake lay at her left hand , and , at her right, asmal l pile o f counters , the change o f a thousand francnote which had once been Paul ’s .

Yo u do no t play ‘

2 Lucienne had asked . AndPaul had assured her that he but wished her t o playthat his money was hers to play with and that if shew o n, she would surely be generous .The ball spun around its allotted path . The

monotonous voice o f the croupier prayed the playerst o make their stakes .

Que l num éro whispered Lucienne t o Paul .Ce que vou s v ou lez , muttered Paul .The ball began to travel perceptibly more slowly,

but before the croupier closed the putting o n o fmoney,Lucienne had pushed with her rake a hundred franccounter over upon six : t w o hundred francs o n the

first doz en three hundred francs o n m anque and theremaining four hundred francs o n p ai r . Ri en ne

o u p lus , cried the croupier, and the ball began t omove slowly and yet more slowly, but still within thegroove above the numbers . Suddenly, with a spasmodic leap o u t o f the groove and across half o f thewheel, the ball fell into twenty-nine without anattempt at any other number.


Vingt-neu ! gagne , said the croupier, dispassion

ately,thrusting o u t his rake and collecting the counters

spread about the board .

Ah ,but I ’

av e z e bad luck , murmured Lucienne .Paul slipped a thousand franc note from his pocketbook and pushed it over t o the croupier .

Change-

9a he cried , hoarsely . Once more theball was in motion .

Lucienne took up the counters in her slender fingers .She eyed the numbers on the board , hesitant .

Diaz-sep t,” whi spered Paul . His hand shook

beads o f sweat glistened o n his forehead .

B i en, m on am i ,” murmured Lucienne , gaily .

She put a hundred francs o n seventeen t w o

hundred francs en c heval o n sixteen and seventeen andthe rest upon m anqu e and i m p ai r .

Paul sat rigidly, with wide eyes staring at thespinning ball , as though he had been turned by someMedusa into stone .The ball thi s time showed a more catholic humour

it coquetted with almost every number upon theboard . Twice it fell in and o u t o f seventeen

,whilst

Paul ’s nails bit deep into the palm o f his tightlyclenched hand . Then , at last , it rolled lazily , asthough tired o u t with so many vici ssitudes

,into

thirty-six .

Enc o re, la m au vai se fo rtune laughed Lucienne,

with a shrug o f her ivory shoulders .

Paul said nothing . He sat very still and his facewas whi te . At last , he took hi s pocket-book andcounted o u t seven hundred-franc notes o n to thetable .

Vo i la c’

est to u t c c qu e j’ai , he muttered , as heput the empty pocket-book back into his pocket .


Co henst e in spread out the clothes upon his counter .The shop was in deep gloom . He switched o n anelectric lamp which hung low above the board , so asto examine closely the things placed there . Therewas a suit o f dress clothes , very shabby and shinya tw eed suit in a somewhat better state : a pair o fpatent leather boots , cracked at the toe a not tooclean panama hat and a silver mounted cane . In alittle heap by themselves lay a silver wrist watch ,a cigarette case and a signet ring .

How much will yo u give ?” demanded Paul .

Co henst e in shru gged his shoulders , spread o u t hishands and sniffed disparagement .

Z e clothes— they are no value von hundredfrancs z e stick , twenty z e watch , fifty z e cigarettecase , thirty and z e ring, seventy . A lo rs , two hundredand seventy francs , z c lot .”It’s a damned swindle , growled Paul .

Co h enst e in shrugged his shoulders t o an even greaterelevation . E c t i s a fair price ; if Monsieur is no tsatisfied , ’

e can go otherwhere .

”

I suppose I ’ve got to be thankful that I bought areturn ticket ,” he muttered to himself. Very well ,I suppose I must take your price .”

Bet is a good price ,” murmured Co henste in,

blandly .

Paul stuffed the notes into his pocket and walkedgloomily out of the shop . Across the road stood asmall café . He went in , and , sitting down at an irontable with an imitation marble top , ordered a gin andvermouth . He felt in need of a stimulant .While he sipped at his drink , he glanced idly through

the pages o f the Continental edition of the Dai ly M ai l,which lay upon the table . A headline caught hiseye

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THE CONFES S ION

URS ULA TRENT

W. L. GEORGE

A utho r of A Bed of Roses,”

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Guinea Girl a Melodrama in Three Acts - Forgotten Books

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