Lucian came down to breakfast next morning equipped for his journey to
Simonstower. He was in good spirits: the day was bright and frosty, and
he was already dreaming of the village and the snow-capped hills beyond
it. In dressing he had thought over his plans, and had decided that he
was now quite reconciled to the drastic measures which Sprats had
proposed. He would clear off all his indebtedness to Darlington, pay
whatever bills might be owing, and make a fresh start, this time on the
lines of strict economy, forethought, and prudence. He had very little
conception of the real meaning of these important qualities, but he had
always admired them in the abstract, and he now intended to form an
intimate acquaintance with them.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said, as he faced Haidee at the breakfast-table
and spread out the _Morning Post_, ‘that when I have readjusted
everything we shall be much better off than I thought. Those diamonds
make a big difference, Haidee. In fact we shall have, or we ought to
have, quite a decent little capital, and we’ll invest it in something
absolutely safe and sound. I’ll ask Darlington’s advice about that, and
we’ll never touch it. The interest and the royalties will yield an
income which will be quite sufficient for our needs--you can live very
cheaply in Italy.’
‘Then you are still bent on going to Italy--to Florence?’ she asked
calmly.
‘Certainly,’ he replied. ‘It’s the best thing we can do. I’m looking
forward to it. After all, why should we be encumbered as we are at
present with an expensive house, a troop of servants, and all the rest
of it? We don’t really want them. Has it never occurred to you that all
these things are something like the shell which the snail has to carry
on his back and can’t get away from? Why should a man carry a big shell
on his back? It’s all very well talking about the advantages and
comforts of having a house of one’s own, but it’s neither an advantage
nor a comfort to be tied to a house nor to anything that clogs one’s
action.’
Haidee made no reply to those philosophic observations.
‘How long do you propose to stay in Italy?’ she asked. ‘Simply for the
winter? I suppose we should return here for the season next year?’
‘I don’t think so,’ answered Lucian. ‘We might go into Switzerland
during the very hot months--we couldn’t stand Florence in July and
August. But I don’t intend returning to London for some time. I don’t
think I shall ever settle here again. After all, I am Italian.’
Then, finding that it was time he set out for King’s Cross, he kissed
his wife’s cheek, bade her amuse and take care of herself during his
absence, and went away, still in good spirits. For some time after he
had gone Haidee remained where he had left her. She ate and drank
mechanically, and she looked straight before her in the blank,
purposeless fashion which often denotes intense concentration of
thought. When she rose from the table she walked about the room with
aimless, uncertain movements, touching this and that object without any
reason for doing so. She picked up the _Morning Post_, glanced at it,
and saw nothing; she fingered two or three letters which Lucian had left
lying about on the breakfast-table, and laid them down again. They
reminded her, quite suddenly, of a letter from Eustace Darlington which
she had in her pocket, a trivial note, newly arrived, which informed her
that he had made some purchase or other for her in Paris, whither he had
gone for a week on business, and that she would shortly receive a parcel
containing it. There was nothing of special interest or moment in the
letter; she referred to it merely to ascertain Darlington’s address.
After a time Haidee went into the study and sought out a railway guide.
She had already made up her mind to join Eustace Darlington, and she now
decided to travel by a train which would enable her to reach Paris at
nine o’clock that evening. She began to make her preparations at once,
and instructed her maid to pack two large portmanteaus. Her jewels she
packed herself, taking them out of a safe in which they were usually
deposited, and after she had bestowed them in a small handbag she kept
the latter within sight until her departure. Everything was carried out
with coolness and thoughtfulness. The maid was told that her mistress
was going to Paris for a few days and that she was to accompany her; the
butler received his orders as to what was to be done until Mrs.
Damerel’s return the next day or the day following. There was nothing to
surprise the servants, and nothing to make them talk, in Haidee’s
proceedings. She lunched at an earlier hour than usual, drove to the
station with her maid, dropped a letter, addressed to Lucian at
Simonstower vicarage, into the pillar-box on the platform, and departed
for Paris with an admirable unconcern. There was a choppy sea in the
Channel, and the maid was ill, but Haidee acquired a hearty appetite,
and satisfied it in the dining-car of the French train. She was one of
those happily constituted people who can eat at the greatest moments of
life.
She drove from the Gare du Nord to the Hôtel Bristol, and engaged rooms
immediately on her arrival. A little later she inquired for Darlington,
and then discovered that he had that day journeyed to Dijon, and was not
expected to return until two days later. Haidee, in nowise disconcerted
by this news, settled down to await his reappearance.