CARRIES ME ON BOARD THE "VISPERA"
Faces, even expressions, may lie, but eyes never learn the knack of
falsehood. A man may commit follies; but once cured, those follies
expand his nature. With a woman, sad to tell, follies are always
debasing. It was, I knew, a folly to love Ernest Cameron.
Life is always disappointing. The shattering of our idols, the
revelation of the shallowness of friendship, the losing faith in
those we love, and the witnessing of their fall from that pedestal
whereon we placed them in our own exalted idealisation--all is
disappointing.
I stood gazing after him as he strode down the great room with its
bejewelled and excited crowd, in which the _chevalier d'industrie_
and the _déclassée_ woman jostled against pickpockets and the men who
gamble at Aix, Ostend, Namur or Spa, as the seasons come and go--that
strange assembly of courteous Italians, bearded Russians,
well-groomed Englishmen, and women painted, powdered and perfumed.
I held my breath; my heart beat so violently that I could hear it
above the babel of voices about me. I suffered the most acute agony.
Of late I had been always thinking of him--asleep, dreaming--always
dreaming of him. Always the same pang of regret was within my
heart--regret that I had allowed him to go away without a word,
without telling him how madly, how despairingly I loved him.
Life without him was a hopeless blank, yet it was all through my
vanity, my wretched pride, my invincible self-love. I was now
careless, indifferent, inconsequential, my only thought being of him.
His coldness, his disdain was killing me. When his eyes had met mine
in surprise, they were strange, Sphinx-like, and mysterious.
Yet at that moment I did not care what he might say to me. I only
wished to hear him speaking to me; to hear the sound of his voice,
and to know that he cared enough for me to treat me as a human being.
Ah! I trembled when I realised how madly I loved him, and how fierce
was my hatred of that woman who issued her orders and whom he obeyed.
I turned away with the Allens, and Ulrica cried delightedly that she
had won on 16, her favourite number. But I did not answer. My heart
had grown sick, and I went forth into the healing night air and down
the steps towards the _ascenseurs_.
On the steps a well-dressed young Frenchman was lounging, and as I
passed down I heard him humming to himself that catchy _chanson_ so
popular at the café-concert:
"_A bas la romance et l'idylle,
Lea oiseaux, la forêt, le buisson
Des marlous, de la grande ville,
Nous allons chanter la chanson!
V'la les dos, viv'nt les dos!
C'est les dos les gros,
Les beaux,
A nous les marmites!
Grandes ou petites;
V'la les dos, viv'nt les dos;
C'est les dos les gros,
Les beaux,
A nous les marmit' et vivent les los!_"
I closed my ears to shut out the sound of those words. I remembered
Ernest--that look in his eyes, that scorn in his face, that disdain
in his bearing.
The truth was only too plain. His love for me was dead. I was the
most wretched of women, of all God's creatures.
I prayed that I might regard him--that I might regard the world--with
indifference. And yet I was sufficiently acquainted with the world
and its ways to know that to a woman the word indifference is the
most evil word in the language; that it bears upon the most fatal of
all sentiments; that it brings about the most deadly of all mental
attitudes.
But Ernest, the man whose slave I was, despised me. He commanded my
love; why could not I command his? Ah, because I was a woman--and my
face had ceased to interest him!
Bitter tears sprang to my eyes, but I managed to preserve my
self-control and enter the station-lift, making an inward vow that
never again, in my whole life, would I set foot in that hated hell
within a paradise called Monte Carlo.
True, I was a woman who, abandoned by the man she loved, amused
herself wherever amusement could be procured; but I still remained an
honest woman, as I had always been ever since those sweet and
well-remembered days spent in the grey old convent outside Florence.
At Monte Carlo the scum of the earth enjoy the flowers of the earth.
I detested its crowds; I held in abhorrence that turbulent avarice,
and felt stifled in that atmosphere of gilded sin. No! I would
never enter there again. The bitter remembrance of that night would,
I knew, be too painful.
Thus I returned to Nice with a feeling that for me, now that Ernest
had drifted away from my side to become a placid gambler, and to live
careless of my love, life had no further charm. The recollection of
the days that followed can never be torn from my memory, my brain, my
soul. I smiled, though I was wearing out my heart; I laughed, even
though bitter tears were ready to start into my eyes, and I made
pretence of being interested in things to which I was at heart
supremely indifferent. I courted forgetfulness, but the oblivion of
my love would not come. I never knew till then how great was the
passion a woman could conceive for a man, or how his memory could
continually arise as a ghost from the past to terrify the present.
That night, as we drove from the station to the hotel, Ulrica
accidentally touched my hand.
"How cold you are, dear!" she cried in surprise.
"Yes," I answered, shivering.
I was cold; it was the truth. At thought of the man who had forsaken
me an icy chill had struck my heart--the chill of unsatisfied love,
of desolation, of blank, unutterable despair.
In due course our yachting gowns came home from the
dressmaker's--accompanied by terrifying bills, of course--and a few
days later we sailed out of Villefranche Harbour on board the
_Vispera_. The party was a well-chosen one, consisting mostly of
youngish people, several of whom we knew quite well, and before the
second day was over we had all settled down to the usual routine of
life on board a yacht. There was no sensation of being cramped up,
but on the contrary the decks were broad and spacious, and the cabins
perfect nests of luxury. The vessel had been built on the Clyde in
accordance with its owner's designs, and it certainly was an Atlantic
liner in miniature.
Our plans had been slightly altered, for since the majority of the
guests had never been to Algiers, it was resolved to make a run over
there, and then coast along Algeria and Tunis, and so on to
Alexandria. As we steamed away from Villefranche, the receding
panorama of the Littoral, with its olive-covered slopes and great
purple snow-capped Alps spread out before us, presenting a perfectly
enchanting picture. We all stood grouped on deck watching it slowly
sink below the horizon. From the first moment that we went on board,
indeed, all was gay, all luxurious; for were we not guests of a man
who, although absurdly economical himself, was always lavish when he
entertained? Everyone was loud in praise of the magnificent
appointments of the vessel; and the dinner at which its owner
presided was a meal sparkling with merriment.
I was placed next Lord Eldersfield, a pleasant, middle-aged,
grey-eyed man, who had recently left the Army on succeeding to the
title. He was, I found, quite an entertaining companion, full of
droll stories and clever witticisms; indeed, he shone at once as the
chief conversationalist of the table.
"Have I been in Algiers before?" he repeated, in answer to a question
from me. "Oh, yes. It's a place where one half the people don't
know the other half."
I smiled and wondered. Yet his brief description was, I afterwards
discovered, very true. The Arabs and the Europeans live apart, and
are like oil and water; they never mix.
The day passed merrily, and had it not been for constant thoughts of
the man who had loved me and forgotten, I should have enjoyed myself.
Save for one day of mistral, the trip across the Mediterranean proved
delightful; and for six days we remained in the white old City of the
Corsairs, where we went on excursions, and had a most pleasant time.
We visited the Kasbah, drove to the Jardin d'Essai and to the pretty
village of St. Eugène, while several of the party went to visit
friends who were staying at the big hotels up at Mustapha.
Life in Algiers was, I found, most interesting after the Parisian
artificiality and the glitter of Nice and Monte Carlo; and with Lord
Eldersfield as my cavalier, I saw all that was worth seeing. We
lounged in those gay French cafés under the date-palms in the Place
du Gouvernement, strolled up those narrow, ladder-like streets in the
old city, and mingled with those crowds of mysterious-looking veiled
Arab women who were bargaining for their purchases in the market.
All was fresh; all was diverting.
As for Ulrica, she entered thoroughly into the spirit of the new
sensation, as she always did, and, with Gerald usually as her escort,
went hither and thither with her true tourist habit of poking about
everywhere, regardless of contagious diseases or the remarkable
variety of bad smells which invariably exist in an Oriental town.
Although each day the party went ashore and enjoyed themselves, old
Mr. Keppel never accompanied them. He knew the place, he said, and
he had some business affairs to attend to in the deck-house, which he
kept secret to himself. Therefore he was excused.
"No, Miss Rosselli," he had explained to me in confidence, "I'm no
sight-seer. If my guests enjoy seeing a few of the towns on the
Mediterranean I am quite contented; but I prefer to remain quiet
here, rather than drive about in brakes and revisit places that I
have already visited long ago."
"Certainly," I said. "You are under no obligation to these people.
They accept your kind hospitality, and the least they can do is to
allow you to remain in peace where you wish."
"Yes," he sighed. "I leave them in Gerald's charge. He knows how to
look after them."
And his face seemed sad and anxious, as though he were utterly
forlorn.
Indeed, after a week at sea we saw but very little of him. He
lunched and dined with us in the saloon each day, but never joined
our musical parties after dinner, and seldom, if ever, entered the
smoking-room. Because all knew him to be eccentric, this apparent
disregard of our presence was looked upon as one of his peculiar
habits. Upon Gerald devolved the duty of acting as entertainer, and,
assisted by Ulrica, old Miss Keppel and myself, he endeavoured to
make everyone happy and comfortable. Fortunately, the ubiquitous
Barnes had, by Gerald's desire, been left behind at the Villa Fabron.
As day by day we steamed up that tranquil sea in brilliant weather,
with our bows ever thrusting themselves toward the dawn, life was one
continual round of merriment from three bells, when we breakfasted,
until eight bells sounded for turning in. A yachting cruise is very
apt to become monotonous, but on the _Vispera_ one had no time for
_ennui_. After Algiers, we put in for a day at Cagliari, then
visited Tunis, the Greek Islands, Athens, Smyrna, and Constantinople.
We had already been a month cruising--and a month in the
Mediterranean in spring is delightful--when one night an incident
occurred which was both mysterious and disconcerting. We were on our
way from Constantinople, and in the first dog-watch had sighted one
of the rocky headlands of Corsica. That evening dinner had been
followed by an impromptu dance, which had proved a most successful
affair. The men were mostly dancers, except Lord Stoneborough, who
was inclined to obesity, and what with the piano and a couple of
violins, played by a pair of rather insipid sisters, the dance was
quite a jolly one. We persuaded even old Mr. Keppel to dance, and
although his was a not very graceful feat, nevertheless his
participation in our fun put everyone in an exceedingly good humour.
Of course, the month had not passed without the usual gossip and
tittle-tattle inseparable from a yachting cruise. On board a yacht
people quickly become inventive, and the most astounding fictions
about one's neighbours are whispered behind fans and books. I had
heard whispers regarding Ulrica and Gerald Keppel. Rumour had it
that the old gentleman had actually given his consent to their
marriage, and as soon as they returned to England the engagement
would be announced.
Certain of the guests, with an air of extreme confidence, took me
aside, and questioned me regarding it; but I merely responded that I
knew nothing, and greatly doubted the accuracy of the rumour. More
than once that evening I had been asked whether it were true, and so
persistent seemed the rumour that I took Ulrica into my cabin, and
asked her point-blank.
"My dear!" she cried, "have you really taken leave of your senses?
How absurd! Of course, there's nothing whatever between Gerald and
myself. He is amusing--that's all."
"You might do worse than marry him," I laughed. "Remember, you've
known him a long time--four years, isn't it?"
"Marry him? Never! Go and tell these prying persons, whoever they
are, that when I'm engaged I'll put a paragraph in the papers all in
good time."
"But don't you think, Ulrica," I suggested--"don't you think that if
such is the case, Gerald is rather too much in your society?"
"I can't help him hanging around me, poor boy," she laughed. "I
can't be rude to him."
"Of course not, but you might possibly give him a hint."
"Ah! now, my dear Carmela," she cried impatiently, "you want to
lecture me, eh? You know how I hate being lectured. Let's end the
discussion before we become bad friends."
And so, with a light laugh, she rearranged her hair and left my cabin
to return on deck, where dancing was still proceeding beneath the
great electric lights. Four bells had rung out sharply, showing it
to be two o'clock, before I went down to my cabin, attended by
Felicita. Very soon, however, I sent her to bed and lay down to rest
myself.
Somehow, I could not sleep that night. The monotonous whirr and
throbbing of the engines sounded like continual thunder in my ears,
and even the swish of the long waves as they rose and fell at the
port-hole irritated me. Of late I had developed insomnia to an
alarming extent, but whether it was due to the noise of the
machinery, or to nervousness, I know not.
I turned and turned in my narrow berth, but could not sleep. The
atmosphere seemed stifling, in spite of the ventilators; and I dared
not open the port-hole, fearing a sudden douche, for a wind had
sprung up and we were rolling heavily. The jingle of the glasses on
the toilet-stand, the vibration, the tramping of the sailors
overhead, the roar of the funnels, all rendered sleep utterly
impossible.
At last I could stand it no longer. I rose and dressed, putting on a
big driving-coat. Then, with a thick shawl about my head, I went up
on deck. The fresh air might perhaps do me good, I thought. At any
rate, it was a remedy worth trying.
The night, so brilliant a couple of hours before, had become dark and
stormy; the wind was so boisterous that I walked with difficulty; and
the fact that the awnings had been reefed showed that Davis, the
skipper, anticipated a squall.
The deck was deserted. Only on the bridge could I see, above the
strip of sheltering canvas, two shadowy figures in oilskins, keeping
watch. Save for those figures, I was utterly alone. On my way
towards the stern I passed the small deck-house, which old Mr. Keppel
had reserved as his own den.
The green silk blinds were always drawn across the port-holes, and
the door always remained locked. No one ever entered there, although
many had been the speculations regarding the private cabin when we
had first sailed.
The millionaire himself had, however, given an explanation one day at
luncheon.
"I always reserve, both in my houses and here, on board the
_Vispera_, one room as my own. I hope all of you will excuse me
this. As you know, I have a good many affairs to attend to, and I
hate to have my papers thrown into disorder."
Personally, I suspected him of having a lathe there, so that he might
pursue his hobby of ivory-turning, but the majority of the guests
accepted his explanation that this deck-house was his study, and that
he did not wish them to pry there.
More than once Ulrica had expressed to me wonder regarding the reason
the cabin remained always closed, and its curtains always drawn.
Every woman dearly loves a mystery, and, like myself, Ulrica, when
she discovered anything suspicious, never rested until she had found
some theory or other.
She had one day mentioned the fact to Gerald, who, in my presence,
had given what appeared to me the true explanation.
"It's merely one of the guv'nor's eccentricities. The fact is, that
on the outward voyage from Portsmouth he bought some antique Moorish
furniture and ivory carvings in Tangier, and has stored all his
purchases in there until we return. I've seen them myself--beautiful
things. He says he intends to sell them at a profit to a dealer in
London," whereat we laughed.
Knowing how the old gentleman practised economy sometimes, I had
accepted this as the truth.
But as, gripping the rail to prevent myself being thrown down by the
rolling of the ship, I passed along the side of the deck-house, I was
surprised to see a light within. The curtains of green silk were
still drawn, but the light could nevertheless be seen through them,
and it occurred to me strange that anyone should be there at that
hour of the night. I placed my face close to the screwed-down
port-hole, but the curtain had been so well drawn that it was
impossible to see within. Then, moving quietly, I examined the other
three round brass-bound windows, but all were as closely curtained as
the first.
I fancied I heard voices as I stood there, and I confess that I
attempted to distinguish the words, but the roar of the funnels and
howlings of the wind drowned every other sound.
What if my host caught me prying? His private affairs were surely no
business of mine. Remembering this, I was about to turn away, when
suddenly I experienced an extraordinary desire to peep inside that
forbidden chamber. I walked round it again, stealthily, for, as luck
would have it, I was in thin slippers.
While standing there in hesitation, I noticed that upon the low roof
was a small ventilator which had been raised to admit air. What if I
could get a peep down there! It was an adventurous climb for a woman
hampered by skirts. But I searched for means to mount, and found
them in a low iron staple, to which some cords of the rigging were
attached, and a brass rail which afforded rather insecure foothold.
After some effort, I succeeded in scrambling to the top, but not
before I found myself rather too much exposed to the eye of the
officer on the bridge. Fortunately, I was behind him, but if he had
occasion to turn round he would be sure to discover me.
Having risked so much, however, I was determined to make further
endeavour. I leaned across the small roof, placed my face close to
the open ventilator, and peered down into the locked cabin.
Next second I drew back with a start, holding my breath. A loud
exclamation of dismay escaped me, but the sound was swallowed up in
the noises of the boisterous night. The sight I witnessed below me
in that small deck-house held me as rigid as if I had been petrified.