You may go to Flanders then, thought Cassy, but, with that look which
she could summon and which was tolerably blighting, she said, "Ah! The
drill sergeant!"
"Yes, and here is the goose-step. The drill sergeant orders that you
must always have your own way in everything."
Considerably relaxed by that, Cassy laughed. "You are very rigorous. But
don't you think it is rather beside the mark?"
"Beside it!" Paliser exclaimed. "It tops it, goes all over it, covers
it, covers the grass, covers everything--except a fair field, a free
rein and every favour."
Cassy was gazing beyond where the squirrel had been. A limousine passed.
A surviving victoria followed. Both were superior. So also were the
occupants. They were very smart people. You could tell it from the way
they looked. They had an air contemptuous and sullen. The world is not
good enough for them, Cassy thought. In an hour, car and carriage would
stop. The agreeable occupants would alight. They would enter fastidious
homes. Costly costumes they would exchange for costumes that were
costlier. They would sit at luxurious boards, lead the luxurious life
and continue to, until they died of obesity of the mind.
None of that! Cassy decided. But already the picture was fading,
replaced by another that showed a broken old man, without a penny to his
name, or a hope save in her.
From the screen, she turned to Paliser, who, aware of her absence, had
omitted to recall her. Now, though, that she again condescended to be
present, he addressed her in his Oxford voice.
"But what was I saying? Yes, I remember, something that somebody said
before me. Nowadays every one marries except a few stupid women and a
few very wise men. Yet, then, as I told you, I have no pretensions to
wisdom."
"Nor I to stupidity," Cassy thoughtlessly retorted. Yet at once,
realising not merely the vanity of the boast but what was far worse, the
construction that it invited, she tried to recall it, tangled her
tongue, got suddenly red and turned away.
"You do me infinite honour then," said Paliser, who spoke better than he
knew. But her visible discomfort delighted him. He saw that she wanted
to wriggle out of it and, like a true sportsman, he gave her an opening
in which she would trip.
"Matrimony is temporary insanity with permanent results. You must not
incur them blindfolded. Do me the favour to look this way. Before you
sits a pauper."
In the surprise of that, Cassy did look and walked straight into it.
"What?"
"Precisely." In sheer enjoyment he began lying frankly and freely. He
lied because lying is a part of the game, because it is an agreeable
pastime and because, too, if she swallowed it--and why shouldn't
she?--it might put a spoke in such wheels as she might otherwise and
subsequently set going.
"Precisely," he repeated. "It is different with my father. My father has
what is called a regular income. One of these days I shall inherit it.
It will keep us out of the poorhouse. But meanwhile I have only the
pittance that he allows me."
Yes, Cassy sagaciously reflected. What with Paliser Place, its upkeep
and the rest of it, it must be a pittance. But the lie behind it, which
she mistook for honesty, tripped her as it was intended to do. A moment
before she might have backed out. Now, in view of the lie that she
thought was truth, how could she? It would be tantamount to
acknowledging she was for sale but that he hadn't the price. Red
already, at the potential shame of that she got redder.
Paliser, who saw everything, saw the heightening flush, knew what it
meant, knew that he was landing her, but knew, too, that he must bear
the honours modestly.
"Bread and cheese in a cottage and with you!" he exclaimed. "But,
forgive me, I am becoming lyrical." He turned, summoned the waiter, paid
for the water, paid for the service and took from the man his stick.
Cassy went with him to the car. She had made no reply. If she were to
take the plunge, there was no use shivering on the brink. But what would
her father say? He would be furious of course, though how his fury would
change into benedictions when he found himself transported from the
walk-up, lifted from Harlem and cold veal! Presently there would be a
flower in his button-hole and everything that went with the flower.
Moreover, if the poor dear wanted to be absurd, she would let him parade
his marquisate; while, as for herself, she would have to say good-bye to
so much that had been so little. Good-bye! Addio per sempre! The phrase
from La Tosca came to her. It told of kisses and caresses that she had
never had. Yet, beneath her breath, she repeated it. Addio per sempre!
Then suddenly, without transition, she felt extraordinarily at peace
with herself, with everybody, with everything. After all, she did not
know, stranger things had happened, she might even learn to care for him
and to care greatly. But whether she did or she did not, she would be
true as steel--truer! He had been so nice about it! Yes, she might,
particularly since she had made a clean breast of it and he knew she was
marrying him for what it pleased him to describe as his pittance.
The car now was flying up the Riverside. An omnibus passed. From the
roof, a country couple spotted the handsome girl and the handsome young
man who were lolling back so sumptuously, and the lady stranger,
pointing, said to her gentleman: "Vanderbilt folk, I guess, ain't they
dandy!" Behind the lady sat a novelist who was less enthusiastic.
Another girl gone gay, was his mental comment. Well, why not? he
reflected, for Jones' prejudices were few and far between. Besides, he
added: Les Portugais sont toujours gais. But he had other things to
think about and he dismissed the incident, which, in less than a week,
he had occasion to recall.
Cassy, meanwhile, after serenading a fat woman's door and looking from a
palatial window at the moving-pictures of her thoughts, at last heard
Paliser, who, already, had twice addressed her.
"It won't take over an hour or so."
But now the Tamburini, ceremoniously attired in a wrapper, strode in and
Paliser, who had been straddling the music-bench, stood up.
The fact that they had come together and were together, had already
darkly enlightened the fallen star and as she strode in she exclaimed
with poetry and fervour: "Two souls with but a single thought!"
Paliser took his hat. "We are a trifle better provided. I have as many
as three or four thoughts and one of them concerns a license. I am going
to get it."
His face was turned from Cassy and his eyes, which he had fastened on
his hostess, held caveats, commands, rewards.