Sir Horace, followed by his nephew, made his way briskly to the well,
and having cast one searching glance among the crowd, immediately
descended the steps, where in a few moments, he and Captain Haig found
themselves wedged in closest proximity to Madame de Godez. On nearer
inspection, she really proved to be one of the ugliest old women in
Homburg, in spite of her costly clothes, elaborate black wig, and
brilliant earrings: but it was a shrewd--nay, a clever face; and the
countenance expressed not only determination, but animation. Madame
instantly accosted her neighbour in a sort of bleating foreign key,
each syllable most distinctly articulated.
"Oh ho, my friend! so here you are! Just get my glass filled, will you?
it is my own propertee," and as she spoke Madame handed Sir Horace a
gorgeous red and gold tumbler. "This ees your nephew, ees it not?" and
she looked up at Malcolm, with an eager twinkling gaze, and nodded her
head with an air of affable encouragement.
"Good Lord!" he said to himself, "why the old woman talks the purest
Chi-Chi!"
Meanwhile the old woman was inspecting him with her quick black eyes,
and as he swept off his Homburg hat, and stood momentarily bare-headed,
she was aware of his shining locks, deep blue eyes and winning smile
(oh, the hypocrite!). Here was a young man, with the face of the hero
in a picture-book. Between two sips of water she remarked:
"Your nephew is not one beet like you, Sir Horace. He is quite
nice-looking."
"Oh, but, dear lady, you should have seen _me_ at his age," protested
the Baronet, with a ludicrous effort to look languishing, but the
beetling brows frustrated the attempt.
"Now do not pretend that you were handsome," she retorted, giving him a
playful poke, "for I will nott believe eet."
"How cruel of you, madame," he rejoined, as he took her tumbler and
held it, whilst he gazed down into her swarthy, wrinkled face with an
air of melancholy reproach, "when I am prepared to believe anything you
tell me, and to swear that you were the belle of--was it Lisbon?"
"Verona," screeched the quondam beauty, ignoring Sir Horace and his
tender question--"where is Dog Darling? Do take care that he is not
trampled on."
"He is all right, auntie," replied her niece, "I left him with the
Prince."
"Ah," with a gasp of relief, "then thatt is arl-right. This is Sir
Horace's nephew, Verona--my niece, Miss Chandos."
The young lady looked at Malcolm gravely, and inclined her head
an inch or two. Unlike her aunt, her appearance challenged the
most critical inspection, and bore, triumphantly, the ordeal of a
searching gaze. The shape of her face was perfect, her beautiful
dark eyes were merry and intelligent, but the short upper lip was
slightly--slightly--supercilious.
"A frightful crowd, is it not?" she observed.
"Yes, and getting worse every moment," declared Sir Horace, taking the
remark entirely to himself; "allow me to pilot you out of it," and to
the amusement and admiration of his companion, he proceeded to manœuvre
madame and her niece far away from their own party. Giving the former
his arm up the steps, he said:
"Malcolm, I will leave you to look after Miss Chandos."
"Who is very well able to take care of herself, thank you," she
answered. Then, turning to Malcolm as they strolled along in the wake
of their elders, she continued:
"Have you come to do the cure?"
"Well, no, I'm merely an outsider--a spectator," he confessed, "but
I suppose I must drink something to give me the run of the place.
Something to talk about, and to establish a common interest with other
people."
"Very well, then," she rejoined with equal gravity, "between seven and
eight o'clock, you take three glasses of the Elisabeth Brunnen--with a
promenade of fifteen minutes between each. This, with a salt bath at
eleven, and a couple of tumblers of the Staal Brunnen at three o'clock,
will instantly place you on a proper footing in society. Now"--and she
came to a standstill--"where _is_ that dog?"
"Are you his keeper?" he asked in a bantering tone.
"Not exactly; I left him in charge of Prince Allessandro when we went
down to the well."
"Proud animal!" ejaculated Captain Haig, "it is not every terrier who
has a Prince for dog boy!"
"Dog _boy_," she echoed, "what do you mean?"
"It is an Indian term. All Europe dogs there keep their servant body to
look after them, and accompany them out walking."
"Oh, I see, and the Prince is doing dog boy for _me_. Well, he is quite
devoted to Dog Darling. You were going to say something?" and she
looked at her companion interrogatively.
"I was," he admitted, with a laugh, "but second thoughts are best."
"But I should like to hear your first thought. I insist on your telling
me; it is sure to be far more entertaining than its successor."
"Oh, well, I was merely going to quote an old saw!"
"Yes?"
"Love me, love my dog!"
"A decrepit saying, and entirely out of fashion. Love me, and loathe
my dog, is far more up to date, especially since these lap dogs are
the rage. Then why not hate me, and love my dog! There are one or two
people--whose _dogs_ I adore. Oh, dear me! just look at auntie! who
cannot be trusted out of my sight. She is eating peaches. That is Sir
Horace's doing! He has offered them to her, and she cannot resist,
although she is strictly forbidden to touch raw fruit!"
"Would you imply that my respectable uncle is playing the part of the
serpent?"
"No, but auntie is here for the cure, in order to get thin, and she
won't give herself a chance. She promises and vows all manner of things
to her doctor, and breaks her word as soon as she is out of his sight.
She sits up late, she eats creams and rich dishes, takes no exercise,
and is full of stern resolutions for to-morrow--it is always to-morrow!"
"I gather that between your aunt and the dog your responsibilities are
serious."
"Yes, very serious," she answered with a gay little nod.
As they loitered along together, Captain Haig was sensible of the many
admiring eyes which were turned towards his companion, and of certain
envious scowls which fell to him. Half glances, whole stares, beaming
smiles, and impressive salutes attended the lady's progress. Yes, for
sheer, blazing, aggressive admiration Miss Chandos received the palm.
After all, he asked himself, what was she to be thus acclaimed? A tall
girl, with a pair of wonderful dark eyes, a brilliant complexion, a
radiant smile!
"I suppose you come abroad every year?" he questioned, after a pause.
"Oh, no," she replied, "we live abroad. And you?"
"Yes; but my abroad is Asia; yours, I conclude, is Europe. My abroad
spells duty, and yours pleasure."
"Not altogether," rejoined Miss Chandos. "We live out of England as a
duty to an animal. We roam the continent because of the dog!"
Captain Haig looked at her with a puzzled air, then gave a short
incredulous laugh.
"But, I assure you that it is quite true," she continued, "Auntie is
devoted to Dog Darling, and owing to these dreadful new regulations
he would have to go into quarantine in England for six months; either
that, or be left at Calais. Such a separation would break his dear
heart--and be the death of auntie."
"And so you remain an exile as long as he lives."
"Yes."
"Is he old?"
"About nine; but he comes of a long-lived family, and has a fine
constitution."
"If I were you, I should administer some of the waters," suggested
Captain Haig.
"If you mean with felonious intent, I repudiate your heartless advice.
I am sincerely attached to Toby."
"But are you not also attached to home?"
"Well, you see, we have no home. When we were in England we lived at
hotels--and I am thoroughly at home on the Continent."
"And know it well?"
"Yes, some places, such as Paris, the Riviera, and Aix. I've also been
to Rome and Venice. We always winter in the South."
"Possibly on account of Toby," suggested the young man. "I absolutely
decline to call him Darling."
"You have made a sort of half-guess," she answered with a smile.
"I will not conceal from you that a certain chemist at Nice is a
celebrated dog doctor, and once, when Darling had bronchitis, auntie
stayed on a month longer, on purpose to be near him, although we had
taken our rooms at Venice. Is this your first visit to Germany?"
"Yes, I only arrived yesterday. I had no idea Homburg was such a
charming place--partly garden, park and forest. My uncle never prepared
me."
"I don't fancy the beauties of nature would appeal to Sir Horace."
"No, he is a practical man. If he were shown the mountains of the moon
in a strong telescope, he would immediately wonder if there was grouse
on them!"
"Then he and auntie would thoroughly agree. Are you remaining long?"
"I'm on my way back to India, worse luck, and sail from Marseilles in
ten days."
"Ah, so you don't like the East?"
"No, I suppose because I'm nailed out there by duty. Just as you
are held fast by the dog. Of course, it's the best country for
soldiering--lots of room to manœuvre and turn round."
"I've always cherished a wild wish to see India," she said. "Auntie
lived there for years, but she abhors it, and has not one single good
word for the country. Other people rave in its praise. What do you say,
Captain Haig--speaking unofficially?"
"Well"--and he took a long breath--"I admit that, like the curate's
egg, parts of it are good. But where I am stationed it is all cotton
soil, sugar cane, and sun."
"No antiquities?"
"Nothing more venerable than the oldest resident! Of course, your aunt
was born out there?" he rashly ventured, then could have bitten his
tongue in two. He glanced at his companion, but she appeared to be
serenely unconscious of any _faux pas_, the exquisite pink in her fair
cheek had not deepened in shade, as she answered with an air of cool
reflection.
"I'm not sure. I don't think so. But I know that she was married out
there!"
"Ah!" he ejaculated, "then, perhaps, that is why she dislikes the
country?"
Miss Chandos gave him a quick look and made no reply. Captain Haig
again regretted having spoken unadvisedly, and on this occasion he felt
distinctly snubbed.
"Do you play golf?" asked the lady abruptly.
"No, I cannot say that I play," he stammered, "but my uncle does."
"That sounds exactly like a sentence from Ollendorf. 'I do not ride on
horseback, but the sister of our neighbour does.' You really must take
to golf!"
"Verona, child," screamed her aunt, "what are you loitering for?
Come along, this sun is too hot for Dog Darling. We must be going.
Captain Haig," turning to Malcolm, "your uncle has promised to
bring you to dine with me to-night, at Ritter's. I have engaged
a table--seven o'clock is the hour. So mind you are not late!
Good-bye--good-bye--good-bye!"
As she made her adieux, madame--who was decidedly solid in figure--was
respectfully hoisted into a smart victoria. Verona took a place beside
her. Dog Darling nimbly accepted the front seat, and in another moment
a pair of smart bay steppers had borne the trio out of sight.