DIANA
Diana Von Taer can not be called a type. She was individual.
Aristocratic to her finger tips, she was unlike all other aristocrats.
An admitted queen of society, her subjects were few and indifferent. She
possessed ancient lineage, was highly accomplished, had been born to the
purple, as the saying is; but none of these things conspired to make her
the curious creature she was.
As we make her acquaintance she is twenty-three years of age--and looks
eighteen. She is tall and slender and carries her handsome form with
exquisite grace. Diana is never abrupt; her voice is ever modulated to
soft, even tones; she rises from a chair or couch with the lithe,
sinuous motion of a serpent uncoiling.
Her face, critically regarded, is not so admirable as her form. The
features are a trifle too elongated, and their delicacy is marred by a
nose a bit broad and unshapely and a mouth with thin lips primly set.
Her dark eyes might be magnificent if wide open: but through the narrow
slits of their lids, half hidden by long curling lashes, the eyes peer
at you with a cold, watchful, intent gaze that carries a certain uncanny
and disconcerting fascination.
Yet the girl is essentially feminine. If you refrain from meeting that
discomfiting gaze--and her familiars have learned to avoid it--Diana
impresses you as being graceful, dainty and possessed of charming
manners. Her taste in dress is perfect. She converses fluently on many
topics. It is her custom to rise at ten o'clock, whatever time she may
have retired the night before; to read until luncheon; to devote the
remainder of her day to the requirements of society.
Eligible young men of admitted social standing call upon Diana at such
intervals as the proprieties require. They chatter "small talk" and are
careful to address her with deference. With an exception to be referred
to later these young men have no more thought of "flirting" with Miss
Von Taer than they would with the statue of the goddess, her namesake.
Her dinner parties and entertainments are very successful. She is
greatly admired, _per se_, but has no intimate friends.
When her mother died, some years before, an aunt had come to live with
Diana, and now posed as her chaperon. Mrs. Cameron was a stolid,
corpulent lady, with a countenance perpetually placid and an habitual
aversion to displaying intellect. Her presence in the establishment,
although necessary, was frankly ignored. Fortunately she never obtruded
herself.
Hedrik Von Taer was passionately devoted to his daughter. He alone,
perhaps, of all the world, thoroughly understood her and appreciated her
talents. She may have frightened him at times, but that only added to
his admiration. In return Diana displayed a calm, but affectionate
regard for her father.
Often after dinner these two would pass an hour together in a corner of
the drawing-room, where the cold gray eyes of the man met the intent,
half-veiled glance of the girl with perfect understanding. They talked
of many things, including business. Hedrik had no secrets from his
daughter. The desperate condition of his finances, when he had been
caught in a "corner" on wheat and nearly crushed, had not dismayed her
in the least. It was she who had counseled him to appeal to John
Merrick, since the name and fame of the eccentric millionaire were
familiar to her as to him.
He related to Diana his interview with Mr. Merrick on his return home.
He was saved. The three hundred thousand were now in the bank to his
credit and he could weather the coming storm easily--perhaps with
profit. In a tone half amused, half serious, he told her of the little
millionaire's desire to secure _entrée_ into good society for his three
nieces.
Diana laughed with her lips; her eyes never laughed. Then she took in
her hand the paper containing the addresses of the three girls and
regarded it thoughtfully.
"It is a curious request, _mon pere_," she said, in her soft, even
tones; "but one we cannot diplomatically disregard. Provided, however--"
"Yes, Diana;" as she paused.
"Provided these prospective _debutantes_ are not wholly impossible."
"I realize that," returned her father. "John Merrick is a great power in
the city. He has been useful to me, and may be again. I have this chance
to win him. But the man is very common clay, despite his wealth, and his
three nieces are likely to be made of the same material. Should they
prove impossible you cannot well descend to introducing them to our
set."
"I am not certain of that, sir," said the girl, with a pretty shrug. "My
position is too secure to be jeopardized by any error of this sort. I
believe I may introduce these girls without risk. I shall not vouch for
them too strongly, and after their debut they must stand or fall on
their own merits."
"It is something a Von Taer has never yet done," remarked the man,
gravely.
"To commercialize his social position? But, father dear, the age is fast
commercializing everything. I think our especial set is as yet
comparatively free from contamination by the 'lately rich'; but even
among us money has glossed many offenses that a generation ago would
have meant social ostracism."
He nodded.
"That is true, Diana."
"Life with me is a bit dull, as well. Everlasting routine, however
admirable, is tiresome. I scent amusement in this adventure, which I
have decided to undertake. With your permission I will see these girls
and quickly decide their fate. Should they prove not too dreadfully
_outré_ you may look to see them my especial _protégés_."
"I leave all to your discretion, Diana," returned Von Taer, with a sigh.
"If, in the end, some of the more particular venture to reproach them."
"It will not matter," interrupted the daughter, lightly, as her dark
eyes narrowed to a hair's breadth. "Any who dares reproach Diana Von
Taer will afford her interesting occupation. And to offset that remote
contingency we shall permanently enslave the powerful John Merrick. I
understand he is hard as nails in financial matters; but to us the man
has disclosed his one weakness--ambition to promote his three nieces.
Since we have discovered this vulnerable point, let us take advantage of
it. I am satisfied the loan of three hundred thousand was but a
lure--and how cleverly the man gauged us!"
Von Taer scowled.
"Get your wraps, Diana. The carriage is waiting, and we are due at Mrs.
Doldringham's crush."