CLEOPATRA VICTRIX.
"To my chariot wheels have I bound him,
To bear him in triumph away;
As master and king have I crowned him,
To reign but the length of a day.
I woo but to kiss and betray him,
We meet but a moment to part;
In the hour of his joy will I slay him,
My wheels will go over his heart."
Mrs. Veilsturm's drawing-room was not by any means an artistic
apartment, being full of violent contrasts in the way of decoration
and furniture, yet not without a certain picturesqueness of its own.
It was bizarre, gaudy, fantastic, strange, and a faithful reflection
of the curious mind of its mistress. The European side of her nature
inspired her with a certain amount of artistic taste, while the
African blood in her veins made her delight in brilliant colouring and
barbaric ornamentation. The eyes ached as they rested on the confused
mass of tints, variegated as a flower-garden, and yet there was a
certain design and harmony throughout, something like the tangled
patterns of those Oriental carpets, those Indian shawls, which
represent the cloudy splendours haunting an Eastern mind.
The paper on the walls of this room, oblong and lofty, was of a
dark-red tint, stamped with golden sunflowers rising from their
velvety-green leaves. Delicate lace curtains of milky white,
interwoven with threads of silver, fell before the three long windows,
from under massive gilt cornices. The carpet was of black and yellow
stripes in undulating lines, like the skin of a tiger, and here and
there a rug of silky-white hair contrasted curiously with the
fantastic ground upon which it rested. The furniture was of dark
walnut, upholstered with bright yellow satin, smooth and shining as
the inside of a buttercup.
In the corners of the room stood slender palms with heavily-drooping
leaves, vividly-green ferns with feathery fronds, prickly, fleshy
cactus and spiky, fan-shaped plants, suggestive of tropical
skies--some rising from the porous red jars of Egypt, others springing
from misshapen vases of porcelain, on which, in crimson and green,
sprawled the sacred Chinese dragon, and a few growing in shallow
basins of pale-yellow pottery.
At the end of the room, behind the veil of Indian bead curtains, was a
cool-looking conservatory, skilfully lighted by electric lamps in
globes of pale green, which diffused a kind of fictitious moonlight.
In the drawing-room the mass of colour, strange and incongruous, was
softened, blended, and confused by the tremulous red light that
streamed from the tall brass lamps with their umbrella-like shades of
crimson silk. Add to this fantasy of light and colour, the sickly
odours of the pastilles constantly burning, and it can be imagined how
curiously appropriate this strange room was to the rich Eastern beauty
and oddly barbaric costume of Cleopatra.
On this night, having been down at Hurlingham, she was too tired to go
out, so preferred to remain at home and receive a few friends.
At present, she was lying negligently back in a low chair, arrayed in
her favourite costume of amber and black, but, despite the attentions
of Dolly Thambits, who was talking to her, she seemed to be out of
temper. Mr. Jiddy, seated on the extreme edge of a chair like a white
cat, was listening to the conversation of Major Griff, who, stiff and
grim, was leaning against the mantelpiece. No other people were
present, nor did Mrs. Veilsturm seem very much inclined to receive
company, for she yawned once or twice, and looked at the Major
significantly, as if to hint that he might take away Mr. Thambits and
friend as soon as he liked.
The Major, however, wanted to speak to Mrs. Veilsturm himself, so he
did not take the hint, but resolutely waited on, in the hope that the
two young men would shortly depart and leave him alone with the
charming widow. Meanwhile he chatted about pigeon-shooting to Mr.
Jiddy, who knew nothing about it, and Thambits bored Mrs. Veilsturm to
death by his dreary small talk.
"I say, you know," drawled Dolly, after a pause, during which Mrs.
Veilsturm had been wondering how she could get rid of him, "what about
your fancy-dress ball?"
"Oh, I've put it off," replied Mrs. Veilsturm idly, "a week or two
does not make much difference, and my costume was not ready."
"What are you going to appear as?"
"Ah! that is the question," said Cleopatra smiling. "I'm not going to
tell you. I'm not going to tell anyone. I will appear at my own ball
in the most unexpected fashion."
"Like a surprise packet?"
"Yes! as you elegantly put it--like a surprise packet."
"Oh, that's jolly," observed Mr. Thambits brilliantly, then relapsed
into silence.
"I say, Mrs. Veilsturm!" he said at last.
"Yes."
"Errington's gone to the country again."
Mrs. Veilsturm could not suppress an angry start at this information.
She had missed Guy for the last three or four days, and, having heard
nothing from him since she received his note excusing himself from
coming to the Marlowe Theatre, was considerably enraged at this
neglect. She was too clever, however, to betray herself to Dolly
Thambits, who was jealously vigilant, so she asked quietly:
"Indeed! who told you so?"
"Gartney! He went about four days ago. Got tired of Town, I suppose."
"No doubt! Town does get wearisome at times."
"I don't think so while you are here," said Mr. Thambits tenderly.
"What a charming compliment," answered Mrs. Veilsturm with a forced
laugh, shutting her fan savagely, for when Dolly was amorous he was
simply detestable.
"Not to you," he murmured softly.
"More compliments," she said coolly. "You must pass your days making
them up. By-the-way, would you mind telling me the time?"
"Certainly. It is now a few minutes past nine."
"Oh, I say, is it?" cried Mr. Jiddy, jumping up from his chair. "I
say, Dolly, we've got to go to Lady Kalsmith's you know."
"I thought you were coming also, Mrs. Veilsturm?" said Dolly, rising
reluctantly.
"I! No," she answered, lifting her eyebrows. "Would I be dressed like
this if I were going?"
"Mrs. Veilsturm," explained Major Griff, graciously, "is too tired to
go out to-night, and thinks a rest will do her good."
"I'm afraid we've tired you," said Thambits, looking at his divinity.
"Oh dear, not at all," responded Mrs. Veilsturm, lying with the utmost
dexterity. "So glad to see you. _Au revoir_ at present."
"I'll call and see if you are better to-morrow," said Dolly, making
his adieux with manifest reluctance.
"Delighted! goodbye, Mr. Jiddy! Major?"
Grill took the hint, and ushered Dolly and his friend out of the room
before they had time to change their minds, and having seen them
safely bestowed in a hansom, returned to Mrs. Veilsturm, whom he found
sitting in her old place, frowning savagely at the fireplace. The
Major resumed his lounging attitude on the hearthrug, and lighted a
cigarette.
"Don't smoke," said Mrs. Veilsturm sharply. "I don't want my
drawing-room to smell like a bar."
"There's not much chance of that," retorted the Major coolly, throwing
the match into the fireplace, and blowing a cloud of smoke. "No one
will come to-night, and those abominable pastilles you are so fond of
burning will dissipate the smoke by to-morrow."
Mrs. Veilsturm offered no further remonstrance, but tapped her fan
thoughtfully in the palm of her hand. Major Griff watched her in
silence for a moment, and then made a polite remark.
"You're a fool, Maraquita."
"And why?"
"Because you're thinking about that young Errington. He's no good to
us."
"Us! Us!" she reiterated savagely, "always us! Do you think I've
nothing else to do but to think of you?"
"At present, No," replied Griff coolly. "Now don't get in a rage, my
dear. It doesn't improve your looks, and certainly does not carry any
weight with me. I tell you again you're a fool for thinking about
Errington. He's gone back to his wife in spite of your cleverness.
Didn't you hear that idiot say so?"
"Yes!"
"Well?"
"Well!" she echoed scornfully, raising her eyes to his face, "what of
that? Do you think I'm going to let him go so easily?"
"I don't see you've much option in the matter," said Griff grimly.
"You see nothing except what suits your own ends."
"Very likely. That's the way to succeed in the world."
"You don't seem to have made much headway yet," replied Cleopatra with
a sneer.
"Oh, pretty well--pretty well," said the Major airily. "I think this
room--this house--your dress--your diamonds--your position--are all
evidences of success. And we'll do better if you only keep your head
clear, and not sacrifice everything for this Errington."
"I don't intend to sacrifice anything for Sir Guy Errington," she
replied viciously, "but I intend he shall sacrifice all for me; his
wife! his home! his honour! all he holds dearest in the world."
"And then?"
"And then he can go his own way. I have done with him," said Mrs.
Veilsturm calmly.
"I wouldn't talk in such a melodramatic fashion if I were you,"
observed Griff leisurely, "revenge is all very well on the stage, but
it's silly in real life. You stand to gain nothing, and lose a good
deal."
"Do you think I can forget the insult his wife put upon me?"
"Well then punish the wife."
"I intend to--through the husband."
"Now look here, Maraquita," said her partner earnestly, emphasizing
his remarks with his finger. "You take care what you're about. We've
had a good time in London, but the game is pretty well played out.
It's always advisable to leave a place with flying colours, so that
one can come back again. People are talking about you already, don't
let them talk any more, or you'll find all your lady friends give you
the cold shoulder, and if they do, you may rest assured they won't be
satisfied till they induce their husbands, fathers, and brothers to
follow their example. I don't see the fun of such a scandal,
especially as there's nothing to be got out of Errington. He's as poor
as a church mouse. So leave him alone, and after the ball, we can go
for America in good odour with everyone, and after a year or two in
the States, we can come back here when a new generation arises that
don't know Joseph. My advice is sound, Maraquita, and you know it."
Mrs. Veilsturm sat perfectly still during this speech, with her eyes
cast down on the closed fan lying on her lap, but when the Major
ended, she looked up suddenly with a sombre frown on her face.
"I've made up my mind what to do, and neither you nor anyone else will
turn me from my purpose."
Major Griff shrugged his shoulders and walked slowly to the other end
of the room. He was a man who never wasted words, and seeing from the
set expression of Mrs. Veilsturm's face that she was determined to
carry out her purpose, he judged it useless to argue about the matter.
Yet, although he kept his temper well under control, he could not help
saying something disagreeable to this woman who was sacrificing
everything for the sake of revenge.
"In spite of your cleverness, my dear Maraquita, I shrewdly suspect
that Sir Guy sees through your little game, he has placed himself
beyond the reach of temptation."
"He will come back," she said curtly.
"I doubt it. The moth does not come back to the flame that has once
singed its wings. The fly doesn't trust itself in the spider's web a
second time."
"He will come back."
The Major returned to the fireplace, produced his pocketbook in the
most leisurely manner, and took a gold pencil case hanging at the end
of his chain in his fingers.
"I'll bet you the worth of that diamond star in your hair he does
not."
"Don't be rash, the star cost two hundred pounds."
"So. I'll lay you two hundred pounds to the promise that you'll behave
decently, that Errington does not come back."
Mrs. Veilsturm opened her fan with a grand wave, and looked at him
serenely.
"Book it," she said curtly.
Major Griff did so, and restored the book to his pocket. "Well, I must
be off," he said, stretching himself. "I want to see Dolser about
putting a paragraph in his paper concerning the ball. Can I do
anything for you?"
"Nothing, thank you. Good-night."
"Good-night."
He went towards the door, and without vouchsafing a glance at her,
left the room.
If Mrs. Veilsturm was tired, she did not make any attempt to go to
bed, but remained seated in her chair pondering over the position of
affairs.
She was not by any means as confident over Errington's return as she
pretended to be, for she was far too clever a woman to misjudge the
impression she had made. Guy had gone away from Town without a word of
farewell; therefore she was easily satisfied that he was still
heart-whole. As he had acted thus, she could do absolutely nothing,
for he certainly would not come back to a woman about whom he did not
care. And yet she had done everything in her power to entangle him in
her nets. The fool, to leave a woman like her for a pale, sickly wife.
Were her charms fading, that he had treated her so scornfully? Was the
prize not worth the winning? Was there really a man in the world who
could turn coldly away from her beauty when she smiled invitation?
As these thoughts passed through her mind, she arose from her chair
rapidly, and leaning her arms on the white marble mantelpiece,
examined her face carefully in the glass. The rich, dusky skin,
through which flushed redly the hot blood, the delicately drawn
eyebrows, arched over the liquid eyes, the shining coils of hair above
the low forehead, the full, red lips, the shell-like ears, tinged with
pink, the slender neck; she examined them all in a severely critical
fashion, and saw that there was no flaw anywhere. A slow smile of
triumph curved the corners of her mouth as she looked at her beautiful
face in the mirror, and she turned away exulting in her physical
perfection.
"Can he resist me?" she whispered to her heart, and her heart
answered, "No."
At this moment a servant entered the room with a magnificent bouquet
of white lilies, which he presented to his mistress, and then retired.
She held them in her hands, inhaling their faint perfume, and admiring
the stainless purity of their deep cups; then, catching sight of a
card thrust into the centre of the flowers, she took it out to read
the name.
"Sir Guy Errington."
With a low laugh of triumph she tossed the flowers on the table, and,
with the card still in her hand, swept across the room to a desk of
rosewood near the window. Sitting down she wrote a note to Major
Griff:
"DEAR MAJOR,
"Kindly bring with you to-morrow your cheque for £200. He has come
back.
"MARAQUITA VEILSTURM."
Placing this in an envelope, she directed it to Major Griff, at the
Globetrotters' Club, then ringing the bell, gave it to the servant,
with instructions that it was to be delivered at once.
When she was once more alone, she picked up Sir Guy's card, and smiled
cruelly as she looked at the name.
"You fool," she whispered softly. "Oh, you fool."