"Oh, no; heaven forbid! Mrs. Marvell hasn't been long married; and it
was a love-match of the good old kind."
"Ah--and the husband? Which is he?"
"He's not here--he's in New York."
"Feverishly adding to a fortune already monstrous?"
"No; not precisely monstrous. The Marvells are not well off," said
Bowen, amused by his friend's interrogations.
"And he allows an exquisite being like that to come to Paris without
him--and in company with the red-faced gentleman who seems so alive to
his advantages?"
"We don't 'allow' our women this or that; I don't think we set much
store by the compulsory virtues."
His companion received this with amusement. "If: you're as detached as
that, why does the obsolete institution of marriage survive with you?"
"Oh, it still has its uses. One couldn't be divorced without it."
Chelles laughed again; but his straying eye still followed the same
direction, and Bowen noticed that the fact was not unremarked by the
object of his contemplation. Undine's party was one of the liveliest in
the room: the American laugh rose above the din of the orchestra as the
American toilets dominated the less daring effects at the other
tables. Undine, on entering, had seemed to be in the same mood as her
companions; but Bowen saw that, as she became conscious of his friend's
observation, she isolated herself in a kind of soft abstraction; and
he admired the adaptability which enabled her to draw from such
surroundings the contrasting graces of reserve.
They had greeted each other with all the outer signs of cordiality,
but Bowen fancied she would not care to have him speak to her. She was
evidently dining with Van Degen, and Van Degen's proximity was the last
fact she would wish to have transmitted to the critics in Washington
Square. Bowen was therefore surprised when, as he rose to leave the
restaurant, he heard himself hailed by Peter.
"Hallo--hold on! When did you come over? Mrs. Marvell's dying for the
last news about the old homestead."
Undine's smile confirmed the appeal. She wanted to know how lately Bowen
had left New York, and pressed him to tell her when he had last seen her
boy, how he was looking, and whether Ralph had been persuaded to go down
to Clare's on Saturdays and get a little riding and tennis? And dear
Laura--was she well too, and was Paul with her, or still with his
grandmother? They were all dreadfully bad correspondents, and so was
she. Undine laughingly admitted; and when Ralph had last written her
these questions had still been undecided.
As she smiled up at Bowen he saw her glance stray to the spot where his
companion hovered; and when the diners rose to move toward the garden
for coffee she said, with a sweet note and a detaining smile: "Do come
with us--I haven't half finished."
Van Degen echoed the request, and Bowen, amused by Undine's arts, was
presently introducing Chelles, and joining with him in the party's
transit to the terrace. The rain had ceased, and under the clear evening
sky the restaurant garden opened green depths that skilfully hid its
narrow boundaries. Van Degen's company was large enough to surround
two of the tables on the terrace, and Bowen noted the skill with which
Undine, leaving him to Mrs. Shallum's care, contrived to draw Raymond de
Chelles to the other table. Still more noticeable was the effect of
this stratagem on Van Degen, who also found himself relegated to Mrs.
Shallum's group. Poor Peter's state was betrayed by the irascibility
which wreaked itself on a jostling waiter, and found cause for loud
remonstrance in the coldness of the coffee and the badness of the
cigars; and Bowen, with something more than the curiosity of the
looker-on, wondered whether this were the real clue to Undine's conduct.
He had always smiled at Mrs. Fairford's fears for Ralph's domestic
peace. He thought Undine too clear-headed to forfeit the advantages of
her marriage; but it now struck him that she might have had a glimpse
of larger opportunities. Bowen, at the thought, felt the pang of
the sociologist over the individual havoc wrought by every social
readjustment: it had so long been clear to him that poor Ralph was a
survival, and destined, as such, to go down in any conflict with the
rising forces.