"A pound to a penny," he said, "that friend Verbier means to make up to
Mlle. Jeanne. Well, I wish him luck! But that young lady is not very
easy to tame!"
"You didn't succeed," M. Muller replied unkindly, "but it doesn't follow
that nobody else will!"
* * * * *
M. Louis was not deceived: Henri Verbier evidently did think his
neighbour at table a very charming young woman.
Mlle. Jeanne had hardly reached her room on the fifth floor of the
hotel, and flung open her window to gaze over the magnificent panorama
spread out below her and inhale the still night air, when a gentle tap
fell upon the door and, complying with her summons to come in, Henri
Verbier entered the room.
"My room is next to yours," he said, "and as I saw you were standing
dreaming at your window I thought perhaps you would condescend to smoke
an Egyptian cigarette. I have brought some back from Cairo: it is very
mild tobacco--real ladies' tobacco."
The girl laughed and took a dainty cigarette from the case that Henri
Verbier offered her.
"It's very kind of you to think of me," she said. "I don't make a habit
of smoking, but I let myself be tempted sometimes."
"If I have been kind, you can show your gratitude very easily," Henri
Verbier replied: "by allowing me to stay here a few minutes and smoke a
cigarette with you."
"By all means," said Mlle. Jeanne. "I love to spend a little time at my
window at night, to get the air before going to bed. You will prevent me
from getting tired of my own company, and can tell me all about Cairo."
"I'm afraid I know very little about Cairo," Henri Verbier replied; "you
see I spent almost the whole of my time in the hotel. But as you seem so
kind and so friendly disposed I wish you would tell me things."
"But I am a very ignorant young woman."
"You are a woman, and that's enough. Listen: I am a new-comer here, and
I am quite aware that my arrival, and my position, will make me some
enemies. Now, whom ought I to be on my guard against? Who is there,
among the staff, of whom I ought to be careful as doubtful associates? I
ask with all the more concern because I will tell you frankly that I had
no personal introduction to the Board: I have not got the same chance
that you have."
"How do you know I had any introduction?" the girl enquired.
"Gad, I'm sure of it," Henri Verbier answered: he was leaning his elbows
on the window-sill and gradually drawing closer to the young cashier. "I
don't suppose that an important position like the one you hold,
requiring absolute integrity and competence, is given without fullest
investigation. Your work is not tiring, but that does not mean it would
be entrusted to anybody."
"You are quite right, M. Verbier: I did have an introduction to the
Board: and I had first-rate testimonials too."
"Have you been in business long? Two years--three years?"
"Yes," Mlle. Jeanne replied, purposely refraining from being explicit.
"I only asked because I fancy I have seen you before somewhere. I
recognise your eyes!" Henri Verbier smiled, and looked meaningly at the
girl. "Mlle. Jeanne, on summer nights like this, when you are looking at
a lovely view like this, don't you have a funny sort of feeling?"
"No. What do you mean?"
"Oh, I don't know. But you see, I'm a sentimental chap unfortunately,
and I really suffer a lot from always living in lonely isolation,
without any affection: there are times when I feel as if love were an
absolute necessity."
The cashier looked at him ironically.
"That's all foolishness. Love is only stupid, and ought to be guarded
against as the worst possible mistake. Love always means misery for
working people like us."
"It is you who are foolish," Henri Verbier protested gently, "or else
you are mischievous. No: love is not stupid for working people like us;
on the contrary, it is the only means we have of attaining perfect
happiness. Lovers are rich!"
"In wealth that lets them die of hunger," she scoffed.
"No, no," he answered: "no. Look here: all to-day you and I have been
working hard, earning our living; well, suppose you were not laughing at
me but we were really lovers, would not this be the time to enjoy the
living we have earned?" and as the girl did not reply, Henri Verbier,
who like an experienced wooer had been drawing closer to her all the
time, until now his shoulder was touching hers, took her hand. "Would
not this be sweet?" he said. "I should take your little fingers into
mine--like this; I should look at them so tenderly, and raise them to my
lips----"
But the girl wrested herself away.
"Let me go! I won't have it! Do you understand?" And then, to mitigate
the sharpness of her rebuke, and also to change the conversation, she
said: "It is beginning to turn cold. I will put a cloak over my
shoulders," and she moved away from the window to unhook a cloak from a
peg on the wall.
Henri Verbier watched her without moving.
"How unkind you are!" he said reproachfully, disregarding the angry
gleam in her eyes. "Can it really be wrong to enjoy a kiss, on a lovely
night like this? If you are cold, Mademoiselle Jeanne, there is a better
way of getting warm than by putting a wrap over one's shoulders: and
that is by resting in someone else's arms."
He put out his arms as he spoke, ready to catch the girl as she came
across the room, and was on the very point of taking her into his arms
as he had suggested, when she broke from his grasp with a sudden turn
and, furious with rage, dealt him a tremendous blow right on the
temple. With a stifled groan, Henri Verbier dropped unconscious to the
floor.
Mlle. Jeanne stared at him for a moment, as if dumbfounded. Then with
quite amazing rapidity the young cashier sprang to the window and
hurriedly closed it. She took down her hat from a hook on the wall, and
put it on with a single gesture, opened a drawer and took out a little
bag, and then, after listening for a minute to make sure that there was
nobody in the passage outside her room, she opened her door, went out,
rapidly turned the key behind her and ran down the stairs.
Two minutes later Mlle. Jeanne smilingly passed the porter on duty and
wished him good night.
"Bye-bye," she said. "I'm going out to get a little fresh air!"
* * * * *
Slowly, as if emerging from some extraordinary dream, Henri Verbier
began to recover from his brief unconsciousness: he could not understand
at first what had happened to him, why he was lying on the floor, why
his head ached so much, or why his blood-shot eyes saw everything
through a mist. He gradually struggled into a sitting posture and looked
around the room.
"Nobody here!" he muttered. Then as if the sound of his own voice had
brought him back to life, he got up and hurried to the door and shook it
furiously. "Locked!" he growled angrily. "And I can call till I'm black
in the face! No one has come upstairs yet. I'm trapped!" He turned
towards the window, with some idea of calling for help, but as he passed
the mirror over the mantelpiece he caught sight of his own reflection
and saw the bruise on his forehead, with a tiny stream of blood
beginning to trickle from a cut in the skin. He went close to the glass
and looked at himself in dismay. "Juve though I am," he murmured, "I've
let myself be knocked out by a woman!" And then Juve, for Juve it was,
cleverly disguised, uttered a sudden oath, clenching his fists and
grinding his teeth in rage. "Confound it all, I'll take my oath that
blow was never dealt by any woman!"