"No indeed, that is over long ago, but I do believe she thinks it is
not. You see the person in question comes to see a relative who has
married an _antiquaire_ on the floor above me, and Alathea has seen her
on the stairs and imagines she comes to see me!"
"And you cannot tell her?"
"I am not supposed to know it would matter to her!"
"_Bon_. Do you really love the child, Nicholas?"
"_Chère Amie_, with my whole heart. I only want her in all the world."
"And she is being impossible for you surely! I know her character--if
she thinks you have a mistress--her pride is of _le diable_!"
"It is indeed."
The Duchesse laughed.
"We must see what can be done, dear boy. Imagine though what I have
discovered! That infamous father took that money that you gave, when the
affair had already been settled by _le Colonel_ Harcourt with your
money! A relation of mine attested at the investigation and had to know
the facts. Nicholas, you _preux chevalier_! You paid twice, and never
said a word! You are of a devotion! It was splendid of you, but my poor
Hilda is heartbroken that you have been so pillaged."
At that moment the crowd returned from the other room and the Duchesse
rose and left me.
Coralie now sat with me.
"_Mes compliments_, Nicholas! She is lovely! But what a fox,--thou!"
"Am I not? It is so delicious to find things out for oneself!"
Coralie laughed; she has a philosophic spirit, as I have found always
those much love-battered ones possess. She accepts my defection and
again looks to the main chance to see how she can benefit by it.
At last the whole thing was over, and Maurice and I had a cigarette
together in the tea room.
People would be crazy, "simply crazy, my dear chap," about Alathea, he
told me. She was "_séduisante_," how right I had been! How fortunate I
was! When was I going to England?
He said farewells after this, and once more _my wife_ and I were alone
in the brougham.
Alathea wore her mask. Having been received now as my wife, and by the
Duchesse whom she loves and respects, she knows she cannot go on
suggesting she will not live in the flat with me. She cannot bring
herself to speak about Suzette, because the inference would be that she
objects. I wondered if the Duchesse had been able to say anything to
her.
She did not speak at all and went straight to her room when we arrived.
It was five minutes past eight when she came in to the sitting-room.
"I am sorry if I have kept you waiting," were her first words.
At dinner we spoke ceremoniously of the party. And when we went back to
the salon she went straight to the piano and played divinely for an
hour.
The music soothed me. I felt less angry and disturbed.
"Won't you come over and speak now?" I called in a pause, and she came
over and sat down.
"Don't let us talk to-night," she said. "I am trying to adjust things in
my mind. I want to go to my mother to-morrow, if you will agree. She is
ill again, and has not been able to start. From there I will tell you if
I can force myself to keep on with it, or no."
"I cannot understand why it should be so difficult, the idea did not
affright you when we first talked of it. You voluntarily accepted the
proposal, made your bargain, promised to stick to it, and here after
three days you are trying to break out, and are insinuating that the
circumstances are too horrible for you to continue bearing it. Surely
your reason and common sense must tell you that your behaviour is
grotesque."
The same agitation which always shows when we talk thus overcame her
again. She did not speak.
"I could understand it better if you were a hysterical character. You
did not seem to be so, but now no ridiculous school miss of romance
could be more given to the vapours. You will absolutely destroy the
remaining respect I have for you, unless you tell me the truth, and what
is underneath in your mind influencing you to behave so childishly."
This stung her to the quick, as I had meant that it should. She bounded
up.
"Well,--I will then. I hate being in the house--with your mistress!"
She was trembling all over, and as white as marble.
I leaned back and laughed softly. My joy was so immense I could not help
it.
"To begin with, I have no mistress, but if I had how can it possibly
matter to you, since you hate me, and yourself arranged to be only my
secretary."
"You have no mistress!" I could see she thought I was lying ignobly.
"I had one, as of course you know, but the moment I began to think that
you might be an agreeable companion, I parted from her, at the time when
you saw the counterfoils in the cheque-book, and changed to me from
that moment."
"Then--?" she still looked incredulous.
"She has a cousin living in the flat above, married to an _anticaire_.
She comes to see her. You have no doubt met on the stairs. And on our
wedding day she came in here, not knowing, to thank me for a villa I had
given her at Monte Carlo as a good-bye present. I am very angry that she
intruded, and it shall never happen again."
"Is this true?" She was breathless.
That made me angry.
"I am not in the habit of lying," I said haughtily.
"_Mademoiselle la Blonde_," and her lips curled. "She came in while you
were at St. Malo. She inferred you had not parted then!"
"That was because she was jealous, and is very temperamental. I had
thought that quality was confined to her class."