THE ADVOCATE'S WIFE INSISTS UPON HAVING HER WAY
Their arrival was expected. The moment they were shown into a private
room the proprietor of the hotel waited upon them, and with obsequious
bows welcomed them to Geneva.
"A letter has been awaiting my lord," said this magnate, the whiteness
of whose linen was dazzling; he had been considering all the morning
whether he should address the great Advocate as "your lordship," or
"your eminence," or "your highness," and had decided upon the first,
"since yesterday evening."
The Advocate in silence received the letter, in silence read it, then
handed it to his wife, who also read it, with a careless and
supercilious air which deeply impressed the landlord.
"Will my lord and my lady," said this official, "honour us by
remaining long in our town? The best rooms in the establishment are at
their disposal."
The Advocate glanced at his wife, who answered for him:
"We shall remain for a few hours only."
Despair was expressed in the landlord's face as he left the room,
overwhelmed with the desolation caused by this announcement.
The letter which he had delivered to the Advocate ran as follows:
"Comrade, whom I have never seen, but intimately know, Welcome.
Were it not that I am a cripple, and physically but half a
man--represented, fortunately, by the upper moiety of my body--I
should come in person to shake you by the hand. As it is, I must wait
till you take up your quarters in Christian Almer's villa in our quiet
village, where I spend my days and nights, extracting what amusement I
can from the foibles and weaknesses of my neighbours. My father was
steward to Christian Almer's father, and I succeeded him, for the
reason that the office, during the latter years and after the death of
the elder Almer, was a sinecure. Otherwise, another steward would have
had to be found, for my labours lay elsewhere. But since the day on
which I became a mere bit of animated lumber, unable of my own will to
move about, and confined within the narrow limits of this sleepy
valley, I have regarded the sinecure as an important slice of good
fortune, albeit there was nothing whatever to do except to cause
myself to be wheeled past Christian Almer's villa on fine days, for
the purpose of satisfying myself that no thief had run away with its
rusty gates. Then came an urgent letter from young Almer, whom I have
not beheld since he was a lad of nine or ten, begging of me to put the
house in order for you and your lady, to whom I, as an old gallant, am
already in spirit devoted. And when I heard that it was for you the
work was to be done, doubly did I deem myself fortunate in not having
thrown up the stewardship in my years of active life. All, then, is
ready in the old house, which will be the more interesting to you from
the fact of its not having been inhabited for nearly a generation.
Comedies and tragedies have been enacted within its walls, as you
doubtless know. Does Christian Almer come with you, and has he grown
into the likeness of his father?--Your servant and brother,
"Pierre Lamont."
"Who is this Pierre Lamont?" asked his wife.
"Once a famous lawyer," replied the Advocate; "compelled some years
ago to relinquish the pursuit of his profession by reason of an
accident which crippled him for life. You do not wish to stop in
Geneva, then?"
"No," said the beautiful woman who stood before him, his junior by
five-and-twenty years; "there is nothing new to be seen here, and I am
dying with impatience to take possession of Mr. Almer's villa. I have
been thinking of nothing else for the last week."
"Captivated by the name it bears."
"Perhaps. The House of White Shadows! Could anything be more enticing?
Why was it so called?"
"I cannot tell you. Until lately, indeed when this holiday was decided
upon"--he sighed as he uttered the word "holiday"; an indication that
he was not accepting it in a glad spirit--"I was not aware that Almer
owned a villa hereabouts. Do not forget, Adelaide, that he cautioned
you against accepting an offer made in a rash moment."
"What more was needed to set me longing for it? 'Here is a very
beautiful book,' said Mr. Almer, 'full of wonderful pictures; it is
yours, if you like--but, beware, you must not open it.' Think of
saying that to a woman!"
"You are a true daughter of Eve. Almer's offer was unwise; his caution
still more unwise."
"The moment he warned me against the villa, I fell in love with it. I
shall discover a romance there."
"I, too, would warn you against it----"
"You are but whetting my curiosity," she interrupted playfully.
"Seriously, though. Master Lamont, in his letter, says that the house
has not been inhabited for nearly a generation----"
"There must be ghosts there," she said, again interrupting him. "It
will be delightful."
"And Master Lamont's remark," continued the Advocate, "that there have
been comedies and tragedies enacted within its walls is not a
recommendation."
"I have heard you say, Edward, that they are enacted within the walls
of the commonest houses."
"But this particular house has been for so long a time deserted! I am
in ignorance of the stories attached to it; that they are in some
sense unpleasant is proved by Almer's avoidance of the place. What
occurs to me is that, were it entirely desirable, Almer would not have
made it a point to shun it."
"Christian Almer is different from other men; that is your own opinion
of him."
"True; he is a man dominated by sentiment; yet there appears to be
something deeper than mere sentiment in his consistent avoidance of
the singularly named House of White Shadows."
"According to Master Lamont's letter he has been to some trouble to
make it agreeable to us. Indeed, Edward, you cannot argue me out of
having my own way."
"If the house is gloomy, Adelaide----"
"I will brighten it. Can I not?" she asked in a tone so winning that
it brought a light into his grave face.
"You can, for me, Adelaide," he replied; "but I am not thinking of
myself. I would not willingly sadden a heart as joyous as yours. You
must promise, if you are not happy there, to seek with me a more
cheerful retreat."
"You can dismiss your fears, Edward. I shall be happy there. All last
night I was dreaming of white shadows. Did they sadden me? No. I woke
up this morning in delightful spirits. Is that an answer to your
forebodings?"
"When did you not contrive to have your own way? I have some banking
business to do in Geneva, and I must leave you for an hour." She
nodded and smiled at him. Before he reached the door he turned and
said: "Are you still resolved to send your maid away? She knows your
wants so well, and you are so accustomed to her, that her absence
might put you to inconvenience. Had you not better keep her with you
till you see whether you are likely to be suited at Almer's house?"
"Edward," she said gaily, "have I not told you a hundred times, and
have you not found out for yourself a hundred and a hundred times
again, that your wife is a very wilful woman? I shall love to be
inconvenienced; it will set my wits to work. But indeed I happen to
know that there is a pretty girl in the villa, the old housekeeper's
granddaughter, who was born to do everything I wish done in just the
way I wish it done."
"Child of impulse and fancy," he said, kissing her hand, and then her
lips, in response to a pouting invitation, "it is well for you that
you have a husband as serious as myself to keep guard and watch over
you. What is the thought that has suddenly entered your head?"
"Can you read a woman's thoughts?" she asked in her lightest manner.
"I can judge by signs. What was your thought, Adelaide?"
"A foolish thought. To keep guard and watch over me, you said. The
things are so different. The first is a proof of love, the second of
suspicion."
"A logician, too," he said with a pleased smile; "the air here agrees
with you." So saying he left her, and the moment he was beyond the
reach of her personal influence his native manner asserted itself, and
his features assumed their usual grave expression. As he was
descending the stairs of the hotel he was accosted by a woman, the
maid he had advised his wife to keep.
"I beg your pardon, sir," she said; "but may I ask why I am
discharged?"
"Certainly not of me," he replied stiffly; "you are my wife's servant.
She has her reasons."
"She has not made me acquainted with them," said the woman
discontentedly. "Will you?"
He saw that she was in an ill-temper, and although he was not a man to
tolerate insolence, he was attentive to trifles.
"I do not interfere with my wife's domestics. She engages whom she
pleases, and discharges whom she pleases."
"But to do right, sir, that is everyone's affair. I am discharged
suddenly, without notice, and without having committed a fault. Until
this morning I am perfection; no one can dress my lady like me, no one
can arrange her hair so admirably. That is what she says to me
continually. Why, then, am I discharged? I ask my lady why, and she
says, for her convenience."
"She has paid you, has she not?"
"Oh yes, and has given me money to return home. But it is not that. It
is that it hurts me to be suddenly discharged. It is to my injury when
I seek another situation. I shall be asked why I left my last. To
speak the truth, I must say that I did not leave, that I was
discharged. I shall be asked why, and I shall not be able to say."
"Has she not given you a character?"
"Yes; it is not that I complain of; it is being suddenly discharged."
"I cannot interfere, mistress. You have no reasonable cause for
complaint. You have a character, and you are well paid; that should
content you."
He turned from her, and she sent her parting words after him:
"My lady has her reasons! I hope they will be found to be good ones,
and that you will find them so. Do you hear?--that you will find them
so!"
He paid no further heed to her, and entering his carriage drove to the
Rue de la Corraterie, to the business house of Jacob Hartrich, and was
at once admitted to the banker's private room.