"How I wish that atrocious woman over there with the paradise plume
would keep her hat out of the way. Ah, that is better! How lovely she
looks to-night! What an exquisite pose of head! And what are those two
damned foreigners saying to her, I wonder. Underbred brute, the
American, Herryman Hoggenwater! What a name! She is laughing--she
evidently finds him amusing. Abominably cattish of the widow not to ask
me. I wonder if she has seen me yet. I want to make her bow to me. Ah!"
For just then magnetism was too strong for Theodora, and, in spite of
her determination, their eyes met.
A thrill, little short of passion, ran through Lord Bracondale as he saw
the wild roses flushing her white cheeks--the exquisite flattery to his
vanity. Yes, she had seen him, and it already meant something to her.
He raised his champagne glass and sipped a sip, while his eyes, more
ardent than they had ever been, sought her face.
And Theodora, for her part, felt a flutter too. She was angry with
herself for blushing, such a school-girlish thing to do, Sarah had
always told her. She hoped he had not noticed it at that
distance--probably not. And what did he mean by drinking her health
like that? He--oh, he was--
"Now, truly, Mrs. Brown, you are cruel," Mr. Herryman Hoggenwater said,
pathetically, interrupting her thoughts. "I tell you I am simply longing
to know if you will come for a drive in my automobile, and you do not
answer, but stare into space."
Theodora turned, and then the young American understood that for all her
gentle looks it would be wiser not to take this tone with her.
He admired her frantically, he was just "crazy" about her, he told Mrs.
McBride later. And so now he exerted himself to please and amuse her
with all the vivacity of his brilliant nation.
Theodora was enjoying herself. Environment and atmosphere affected her
strongly. The bright pink lights, the sense of night and the soft moon
beyond the wide open balcony windows, the scents of flowers, the gayety,
and, above all, the knowledge that Lord Bracondale was there, gazing at
her whenever opportunity offered, with eyes in which she, unlearned as
she was in such things, could read plainly admiration and unrest.
It all went to her head a little, and she became quite animated and full
of repartee and sparkle, so that Josiah Brown could hardly believe his
eyes and ears when he glanced across at her. This his meek and quiet
mouse!
His heart swelled with pride when Mrs. McBride leaned over and said to
him:
"You know, Mr. Brown, you have got the most beautiful wife in the world,
and I hope you value her properly."
It was this daring quality in his hostess Josiah appreciated so much.
"She's not afraid to say anything, 'pon my soul," he said to himself. "I
rather think I know my own possession's value!" he answered aloud, with
a pompous puffing out of chest, and a cough to clear the throat.
The Austrian Prince on Theodora's right hand pleased her. He had a quiet
manner, and the freemasonry of breeding in two people, even of different
nations, drew her to talk naturally to him in a friendly way.
He was a fatalist, he told her; what would be would be, and mortals like
himself and herself were just scattered leaves, like barks floating down
a current where were mostly rocks ahead.
"Then must we strike the rocks whether we wish it or no?" asked
Theodora. "Cannot we help ourselves?"
"Ah, madame, for that," he said, "we can strive a little and avoid this
one and that, but if it is our fate we will crash against them in the
end."
"What a sad philosophy!" said Theodora. "I would rather believe that if
one does one's best some kind angel will guide one's bark past the rocks
and safely into the smooth waters of the pool beyond."
"You are young," he said, "and I hope you will find it so, but I fear
you will have to try very hard, and circumstances may even then be too
strong for you."
"In that case I must go under altogether," said Theodora; but her eyes
smiled, and that night at least such a possibility seemed far enough
away from her.
The Austrian looked across at her husband. Such marriages were rare in
his country, and he had thought so too in England. He wondered what
their story could be. He wondered how soon she would take a lover--and
he realized how infinitely worth while that lover would find his
situation.
He wished he were not so old. If she must break up her bark on the
rocks, he could take the place of steersman with pleasure. But he was a
courteous gentleman and he said none of these things aloud.
Meanwhile, Lord Bracondale was not enjoying his dinner. For the first
time for several years he found himself jealous! He, unlike Theodora,
knew the meaning of every one of his sensations.
"She is certainly interested in Prince Carolstein," he thought, as he
watched her; "he has a European reputation for fascination. She has not
looked this way once since the entrées. I wish I could hear what they
are talking about. As for that young puppy Hoggenwater, I would like to
kick him round the room! Lord, look how he is leaning over her! It
sickens me! The young fool!"
Mrs. Ellerwood turned round in her seat and surveyed the room. They had
almost come to the end of dinner, and could move their chairs a little.
She had the true Englishwoman's feeling when among foreigners--that they
were all there as puppets for her entertainment.
"Look, Hector," she said--they were cousins--"did you ever see such a
lovely woman as that one over there among the large party, in the black
chiffon dress?"
Then Hector committed a _bêtise_.
"Where?" said he, his eyes persistently fixed in another direction.
"There; you can't mistake her, she looks so pure white, and fair, among
all these Frenchwomen The one with the blue eyes and the lovely hat
with those sweeping feathers. She is exquisitely dressed, and both those
men look fearfully devoted to her. Can't you see? Oh, you are stupid!"
"My dear Monica," said Jack Ellerwood, who joined rarely in the
conversation, "Hector has been sitting facing this way all through
dinner. He is a man who can appreciate what he sees, and I do not fancy
has missed much--have you, Hector?" and he smiled a quiet smile.
Mrs. Ellerwood looked at Lord Bracondale and laughed.
"It is I who am stupid," she said. "Naturally you have seen her all the
time, and know her probably. Are they cocottes, or Americans, or Russian
princesses, or what?--the whole collection?"
"If you mean that large party in the corner, they are most of them
friends and acquaintances of mine," he said, rather icily--she had
annoyed him--"and they belong to the aristocracies of various nations.
Does that satisfy you? I am afraid they are none of them demimondaines,
so you will be disappointed this time!"
Mrs. Ellerwood looked at him; she understood now.
"He is in love with the white woman," she thought; "that is why he was
so anxious to dine here to-night, when Jack suggested Madrid; that is
why he stays in Paris. It is not Esclarmonde de Chartres after all! How
excited Aunt Milly will be! I must find out her name."
"She is a beautiful creature," said Jack Ellerwood, as if to himself,
while he carefully surveyed Theodora from his position at the side of
the table.
Hector Bracondale's irritation rose. Relations were tactless, and he
felt sorry he had asked them.
"You must tell me her name, Hector," pleaded Mrs. Ellerwood; "the very
white, pretty one I mean."
"Now just to punish your curiosity I shall do no such thing."
"Hector, you are a pig."
"Probably."
"And so selfish."
"Possibly."
"Why mayn't I know? You set a light to all sorts of suspicions."
"Doubly interesting for you, then."
"Provoking wretch!"
"Don't you think you would like some coffee? The waiter is trying to
hand you a cup."
Mrs. Ellerwood laughed. She knew there was no use teasing him further;
but there were other means, and she must employ them. Theodora had
become the pivot upon which some of her world might turn.
The object of this solicitude was quite unconscious of the interest she
had created. She did not naturally think she could be of importance to
any one. Had she not been the youngest and snubbed always?
The same thought came to her that was conjuring the brain of Lord
Bracondale: would there be a chance to speak to-night, or must they each
go their way in silence? He meant to assist fate if he could, but having
Monica Ellerwood there was a considerable drawback.
Mrs. McBride's party were to take their coffee in one of the _bosquets_
outside, and all got up from their table in a few minutes to go out.
They would have to pass the _partie à trois_, who were nearer the door.
Monica would take her most searching look at them, Lord Bracondale
thought; now was the time for action. So as Mrs. McBride came past with
Captain Fitzgerald, he rose from his seat and greeted her.
"You have been exceedingly mean," he whispered. "What are you going to
do for me to make up for it?"
The widow had a very soft spot in her heart for "Ce beau Bracondale," as
she called him, and when he pleaded like that she found him hard to
resist.
"Come and see me to-morrow at twelve, and we will talk about it," she
said.
"To-morrow!" exclaimed Lord Bracondale; "but I want to talk to her
to-night!"
"Get rid of your party, then, and join us for coffee," and the widow
smiled archly as she passed on.
Theodora bowed with grave sweetness as she also went by, and most of the
others greeted Hector, while one woman stopped and told him she was
going to have an automobile party in a day or two, and she hoped he
would come.
When they had all gone on Mrs. Ellerwood said:
"I wonder why Americans are so much smarter than we poor English? I
can't bear them as a nation though, can you?"
"Yes," said Lord Bracondale. "I think the best friends I have in the
world are American. The women particularly are perfectly charming. You
feel all the time you are playing a game with really experienced
adversaries, and it makes it interesting. They are full of resource,
and you know underneath you could never break their hearts. I am not
sure if they have any in their own country, but if so they turn into the
most wonderful and exquisite bits of mechanism when they come to
Europe."
"And you admire that."
"Certainly--hearts are a great bore."
"You were always a cynic, Hector; that is perhaps what makes you so
attractive."
"Am I attractive?"
"I can't judge," said Mrs. Ellerwood, nettled for a moment. "I have
known you too long, but I hear other women saying so."
"That is comforting, at all events," said Lord Bracondale. "I always
have adored women."
"No, you never have, that is just it. You have let them adore you, and
utterly spoil you; so now sometimes, Hector, you are insupportable."
"You just said I was attractive."
"I shall not argue further with you," said Mrs. Ellerwood, pettishly.
"And I think we ought to be saying good-night, Hector," interrupted the
silent Jack. "We are making an early start for Fontainebleau to-morrow,
and Monica likes any amount of sleep."
This did not suit Mrs. Ellerwood at all; but if Jack spoke seldom he
spoke to some purpose when he did, and she knew there was no use
arguing.
So with a heart full of ungratified curiosity, she at last allowed
herself to be packed into Hector's automobile and driven away.
"Of course he'll go and join that other party now, Jack! What _did_ you
make me come away for, you tiresome thing!" she said to her husband.
"He has done me many a turn in the past," said Jack, laconically.
"Then you think--?"
But Jack refused to think.
V
Theodora was sitting rather on the outskirts of the party in the
_bosquet_, her two devoted admirers still on either side of her. All the
chairs were arranged informally, and hers was against the opening, so
that it proved easy for Lord Bracondale to come up behind her
unperceived.
She believed he had gone. She could not see distinctly from where she
was, but she had thought she saw the automobile whizzing by. She
recognized Mrs. Ellerwood's hat. An unconscious feeling of blankness
came over her. She grew more silent.
A lady beyond the Prince spoke to him, and at that moment Mr.
Hoggenwater rose to put down her coffee-cup, and in this second of
loneliness a deep voice said in her ear:
"I could not go--I wanted to say good-night to you!"
Then Theodora experienced a new emotion; she could not have told herself
what it was, but suddenly a gladness spread through her spirit; the
moon looked more softly bright, and her sweet eyes dilated and glowed,
while that voice, gentle as a dove's, trembled a little as she said:
"Lord Bracondale! Oh, you startled me!"
He drew a chair and sat down behind her.
"How shall we get rid of your Hogginheimer millionaire?" he whispered.
"I feel as if I wanted to kill every one who speaks to you to-night."
The half light, the moon, Paris, and the spring-time! Theodora spent the
next hour in a dream--a dream of bliss.
Mrs. McBride, with her all-seeing eye, perceived the turn events had
taken. She was full of enjoyment herself; she had quite--almost
quite--decided to listen to the addresses of Captain Fitzgerald,
therefore her heart, not her common-sense, was uppermost this night.
It could not hurt Theodora to have one evening of agreeable
conversation, and it would do Herryman Hoggenwater a great deal of good
to be obstacled; thus she expressed it to herself. That last success
with Princess Waldersheim had turned his empty head. So she called him
and planted him in a safe place by an American girl, who would know how
to keep him, and then turned to her own affairs again.
The Prince was a man of the world, and understood life. So Theodora and
Lord Bracondale were left in peace.
The latter soon moved his chair to a position where he could see her
face, rather behind her still, which entailed a slightly leaning over
attitude. They were beyond the radius of the lights in the _bosquet_.
Lord Bracondale was perfectly conversant with all moves in the game; he
knew how to talk to a woman so that she alone could feel the strength of
his devotion, while his demeanor to the world seemed the least
compromising.
Theodora had not spoken for a moment after his first speech. It made her
heart beat too fast.
"I have been watching you all through dinner," he continued, with only a
little pause. "You look immensely beautiful to-night, and those two told
you so, I suppose."
"Perhaps they did!" she said. This was her first gentle essay at
fencing. She would try to be as the rest were, gay and full of badinage.
"And you liked it?" with resentment.
"Of course I did; you see, I never have heard any of these nice things
much. Josiah has always been too ill to go out, and when I was a girl I
never saw any people who knew how to say them."
She had turned to look at him as she said this, and his eyes spoke a
number of things to her. They were passionate, and resentful, and
jealous, and full of something disturbing. Thrills ran through poor
Theodora.
His eyes had been capable of looking most of these things before to
other women, when he had not meant any of them, but she did not know
that.
"Well," he said, "they had better not return or recommence their
compliments, because I am not in the mood to be polite to them
to-night."
"What is your mood?" asked Theodora, and then felt a little frightened
at her own daring.
"My mood is one of unrest--I would like to be away alone with you, where
we could talk in peace," and he leaned over her so that his lips were
fairly close to her ear. "These people jar upon me. I would like to be
sitting in the garden at Amalfi, or in a gondola in Venice, and I want
to talk about all your beautiful thoughts. You are a new white flower
for me, as different as an angel from the other women in the world."
"Am I?" said she, in her tender tones. "I would wish that you should
always keep that good thought of me. We shall soon go our different
ways. Josiah has decided to leave next week, and we are not likely to
meet in England."
"Yes, we are likely to meet--I will arrange it," he said.
There was nothing hesitating about Hector Bracondale--his way with women
had always been masterful--and this quality, when mixed with a sudden
bending to their desires, was peculiarly attractive. To-night he was
drifting--drifting into a current which might carry him beyond his
control.
It was now several years since he had been in love even slightly. His
position, his appearance, his personal charm, had all combined to spoil
a nature capable of great things. Life had always been too smooth. His
mother adored him. He had an ample fortune. Every marriageable girl in
his world almost had been flung at his head. Women of all classes with
one consent had done their best to turn him into a coxcomb and a beast.
But he continued to be a man for all that, and went his own way; only as
no one can remain stationary, the crust of selfishness and cynicism was
perhaps thickening with years, and his soul was growing hidden still
deeper beneath it all. From the beginning something in Theodora had
spoken to the best in him. He was conscious of feelings of
dissatisfaction with himself when he left her, of disgust with the days
of unmeaning aims.
He had begun out of idle admiration; he had continued from inclination;
but to-night it was _plus fort que lui_, and he knew he was in love.
The habit of indulging any emotion which gave him pleasure was still
strong upon him; it was not yet he would begin to analyze where this
passion might lead him--might lead them both.
It was too deliciously sweet to sit there and whisper to her sophistries
and reasonings, to take her sensitive fancy into new worlds, to play
upon her feelings--those feelings which he realized were as fine and as
full of tone as the sounds which could be drawn from a Stradivarius
violin.
It was a night of new worlds for them both, for if Theodora had never
looked into any world at all, he also had never even imagined one which
could be so quite divine as this--this shared with her in the moonlight,
with the magic of the Tzigane music and the soft spring night.
He had just sufficient mastery over himself left not to overstep the
bounds of respectful and deep interest in her. He did not speak a word
of love. There was no actual sentence which Theodora felt obliged to
resent--and yet through it all was the subtle insinuation that they were
more than friends--or would be more than friends.
And when it was all over, and Theodora's pulses were calmer as she lay
alone on her pillow, she had a sudden thrill of fear. But she put it
aside--it was not her nature to think herself the object of passions. "I
would be a very silly woman to flatter myself so," she said to herself,
and then she went to sleep.
Lord Bracondale stayed awake for hours, but he did not sup with
Esclarmonde de Chartres or Marion de Beauvoison. And the Café de
Paris--and Maxims--and the afterwards--saw him no more.
Once again these houris asked each other, "Mais qu'est-ce qu'il a! Ce
bel Hector? Oú se cache-t-il?"