Herman and Olga occupied one of the finest residences in Park Lane. It
had been built by a wealthy nobleman and completed with a princely
disregard for expenditure. It stood in the center of a considerable
park, surrounded by trees and gardens.
Preparations were already going forward for the ball when Herman and
Olga reached home. Decorators were putting the finishing touches on the
magnificent ballroom. Florists were banking ferns and potted plants
along the stairs and halls. All was bustle and preparation. Herman
delightedly went forward and examined every detail of the work. Olga,
who ordinarily would have taken the same keen interest in the
preparations, turned wearily away and went to her own room. She dined
alone, under the plea of a headache, and did not again appear until the
guests began to arrive in the evening.
"You look very beautiful, my dear," Herman said to her when she entered
the drawing-room.
Her mood had changed. Her eyes seemed unnaturally bright. She herself
could not tell what had caused the change. When she reached home she had
looked forward with shuddering aversion to her second meeting with
Millar. Now she was impatient for him to arrive. She wanted to talk to
him; to hear again the soft, persuasive voice, the insidious harmony of
his words that seemed to frame for her the thoughts she had never dared
express.
She was bright, alive, witty, charming in the beauty of her fresh color,
her glorious hair, her splendid figure set off charmingly in an evening
gown of white satin brocade. She stood at the head of the winding
stairway leading to the drawing-room when Millar came.
The man seemed more suggestive of malignant purpose in his evening
clothes than he had been in the afternoon. Immaculate in every detail
of his dress, his very grooming suggested wickedness. He walked slowly
up the stairs, feasting his eyes on Olga as she stood with hand extended
to meet him.
"Madam, I am charmed to greet you again," he said. "I congratulate you
on the wonderful transformation, and I need not ask in what way it was
effected."
"It may be that I owe it to you, monsieur," Olga replied gayly, her eyes
frankly meeting those of Millar as he looked at her with admiration he
did not attempt to disguise.
"I trust we are soon to have the pleasure of seeing Karl again."
"He will be here--later, I believe," Olga answered. "Meanwhile,
monsieur, I am going to ask you to make yourself agreeable to some of my
guests."
"Madam, I can only make myself disagreeable to them," he replied
cynically. "It is not they whom I came to see and entertain."
"But you must be entertained now," Olga said. "Soon I hope we may
talk."
"We shall talk," Millar assured her, bowing.
He passed on to greet Herman, and was presented to others in the rapidly
growing throng. Wherever he went Olga heard exclamations usually of
surprise or dismay from her women guests, and the number that invariably
gathered around him at first rapidly diminished. He seemed bent on
making himself disagreeable, as he had promised.
One elderly spinster to whom he was presented greeted him with an
affected lisp, drooping eyes and an inane remark about the terrible
cold.
"Yes, mademoiselle, your teeth will chatter to-night--on the dresser."
To another--a portly lady who affected the airs of a girl--he said in
his most silken tones:
"My dear madam, I must tell you of a splendid remedy for getting thin."
"I don't want to get thin," the portly one replied indignantly as she
flounced away from him.
Olga waited impatiently for an opportunity to withdraw with Millar into
a secluded place, where she might listen to him while he told her the
things that she did not dare tell herself. The evening had grown late,
however, and Karl had arrived before she could get away from her guests.
Karl had tried to avoid a tete-a-tete with Olga, and she took the first
opportunity of introducing him to Elsa. She rebelled in her soul now at
the thought of their marriage, but her will drove her to the fulfilment
of her purpose, to that extent at least. But it was with a heart torn
with jealousy that she watched Karl and Elsa move off together, and
turned to meet Millar, standing beside her with his cynical, sinister
smile.
Elsa Berg was a brilliant, vivacious girl, rarely beautiful, with lively
blue eyes, chestnut hair and a tall, slender, willowy figure. The
romance and excitement of her meeting with Karl made her seem doubly
beautiful, and she gladdened the artist in him, but he helplessly
confessed to himself that she made no impression on his heart. His
thoughts were with Olga, and he was abstracted, almost to the point of
rudeness, while Elsa tried to talk with him.
"Who is that terribly rude person who seems to be frightening every
one?" she asked.
"He? Oh, that is Dr. Millar, a friend of mine," Karl replied.
"Pooh! I don't see why every one seems so afraid of him," Elsa said with
a note of challenge in her tone. "I think I shall meet him just to see
if he will make me run."
"No, no; don't go near him," Karl begged.
"And why not? Has he such a sharp tongue or an evil mind? I can take
care of myself."
"I don't really think you ought to meet him," Karl said, but he spoke
without conviction. He suddenly yielded to a curiosity to see what might
come of a meeting between Elsa and Millar.
"I don't care; I'm going to hunt him up," she cried, jumping up and
scampering off.
Millar had gone into an anteroom leading out into the beautiful gardens.
A number of the company had assembled there as he entered, and it was
obvious from the instant silence which ensued that he had been the
subject of their discussion. This seemed to gratify his cynical humor,
and he looked the assembled men and women--society puppets--over with a
cynical grin. Elsa was among them, and toward her Millar bowed as he
said:
"I never knew this number of ladies could be so silent. I presume during
my absence you have been discussing me kindly."
The others did not speak, but Elsa turned boldly to Millar.
"Don't flatter yourself that I am afraid of you," she said. "I would say
to your face what these people only dare think. Indeed, I was just going
to look for you."
"It is just as well you are here; they might discuss you and your
approaching betrothal with Karl," Millar said.
"You--you know!" Elsa cried in astonishment.
The others seemed tremendously interested at the information Millar had
imparted, and Elsa was embarrassed. She knew the design of her friend
Olga in bringing her and Karl together, but she was not aware that it
was known to any one else. Millar smiled as he replied:
"Of course; they would throw you into his arms."
While the others who overheard laughed at this sally and Elsa blushed
furiously, Millar went close to her and said:
"I must speak to you alone. I will send these people away. Leave it to
me."
Elsa drew away and there was a silence in the room. The others began to
feel uncomfortable as Millar looked slowly from one to the other of
them. One or two essayed conversation, and his cutting, insolent replies
sent them scurrying from the room. In a few moments only he and Elsa
remained in the apartment. From the adjoining ballroom came the strains
of music and the sound of dancing and bright laughter. Millar looked at
Elsa.
"Now they are gone," he said.
"Are you not surprised that I did not go also?" she asked. "You offended
me, you know, but I stayed because I want to talk with you."
"How charming," Millar said with gentle sarcasm.
"Perhaps you know my nickname--Saucy Elsa?" said the girl warningly.
"Oh, yes."
"Then you should know that your Chesterfieldian manners embarrass me,"
Elsa said impatiently as Millar bowed again before her. "I have selected
you to deliver a most impudent message to that crowd in there, because
you are so perfectly impolite."
"I am entirely at your disposal, mademoiselle."
"How can I be impudent, though, when you are so polite to me?" she cried
petulantly.
"Shall we end the conversation, then?"
"Oh, no, not yet," Elsa cried, embarrassed. Then she went on with
determination: "When you came in here you said I was the girl they were
going to throw into Karl's arms."
"I did."
"But you did not say that I am the girl who permits herself to be thrown
into Karl's arms. Am I right?"
"Yes."
"Please sit down," Elsa went on, recovering her self-poise, which the
baffling politeness of Millar had disturbed.
He declined the chair with a gesture, but she insisted.
"I feel much more commanding when I stand, and I want every advantage,"
she said. "I want to set you right, and it will be much easier when you
sit down and I stand."
Smiling, Millar sat down and looked up at her expectantly. Slightly
confused, she went on:
"I don't want people making fun of me before my face. I know everything.
Do I make myself clear? You were kind enough to mention the subject, and
I shall delegate to you the mission of explaining the true facts to
those dummies."
She grew quite vehement, and her cheeks flushed. Millar looked at her
admiringly as he said:
"Your confidence does me great honor."
"As a rule I don't take these people seriously," the girl hurried on. "I
have no more interest in them or their opinions than I have in last
week's newspapers. But I want them all to know that they have not fooled
me into marrying Karl. And you all want me to marry him--you all want to
throw me into his arms."
"Pardon me----" Millar interrupted, but she went on, unheeding.
"Don't you think I can see through your transparent schemes? But I'll
marry him just the same, if he'll have me. Do you understand? I'll marry
him."
"I do not think you will," Millar said quietly.
"I tell you I am going to be Karl's wife," Elsa cried with emphasis.
"Now that you have graced me with your confidence," Millar said, rising,
"I feel that I may be quite frank with you. This marriage cannot take
place."
He pointed to the chair he had vacated and smiled.
"Now, you sit down, because I am going to set you right," he said.
Wonderingly, Elsa obeyed. Millar called a servant who was passing, and
said:
"You will find a small red leather case in my overcoat pocket. Bring it
here."
The servant went out and he continued to Elsa:
"I know the reason of this marriage, but you--you don't know the reason,
or----"
"Or what?"
"Or you don't want to know. Hence you are about to consent."
"Consent to what?" Elsa cried. "Don't beat around the bush. This is what
I am trying to avoid. I am about to consent to become the wife of a man
who loves another woman. And, what is more, I intend to go on my
honeymoon with a man who has another woman in his heart--who leaves with
this other woman everything he should bring to his wife--love, sympathy,
enthusiasm, everything. You see, you did not know me."
Millar was unmoved by her vehement declaration. As the servant
re-entered the room and handed him a small, red leather case, he said:
"I did not think this subject could excite you to such a degree."
"I don't want any one laughing at me," Elsa protested. "I want them all
to understand that I know quite well the way I am going, and that I go
that way proudly, fully conscious of it--that I know everything and yet
I consent to be his wife."
"Why?" Millar asked, opening his little satchel.
"Because--because--I--I love him," the girl answered, and began to sob.
Millar smiled wickedly as he took from the case a dainty lace
handkerchief and held it toward Elsa.
"Pardon me, I always carry this with me," he said. "It is my weeping
bag. In it is everything a woman needs for weeping."
Elsa sobbed and dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief, not noticing
that the man was amused.
"I--I love him," she declared.
"And take this also," Millar said, handing her a little mirror, then a
powder puff and a tiny stick of rouge. Elsa could not help smiling
through her tears at the absurdity of it, as she dabbed and dusted her
tear-stained face, looking at herself in the little mirror, until all
traces of her weeping were removed.
"So this is the far-famed Saucy Elsa," Millar said as he watched her.
"No, it isn't," she said rebelliously. "When I came here to-night I was
a young, saucy girl. Now I am a nervous old woman. What shall I do?"
"Whatever you do, you must not be discouraged. You must fight--attack
the enemy. But first of all you must be pretty."
"I shall try," Elsa said dolefully.
"You must show that woman your teeth. Of course it is hard for a young
girl to fight a woman," Millar went on. "You don't possess so many
weapons as a married woman who knows love already--who--may I say
something improper?"
"Please do," she said, her sauciness returning as she held her hands
before her eyes and looked at him through her fingers.
"A woman who knows all about love that you have yet to learn."
"I understand," she said.
"But don't mind that; listen. There is not much sentiment in me, but I
am a man, and I tell you, little girl, you possess the weapon that will
deal the death blow to the most attractive, the most experienced woman
in the world. That weapon is purity."
"Should I listen to all this?" Elsa asked.
"You should not," Millar replied promptly; "but listen just the same. It
may help you. And now, go dance with Karl. You must conquer. But don't
try to be a woman; be a girl. Don't try to be saucy."
"I don't care to be saucy, but it is so original," Elsa said contritely.
"Don't try to be original," Millar said earnestly. "Be yourself. Be
modest. Be ashamed of your pure white shoulders. Look at Karl as if you
feared he is trying to steal you away from girlhood land and show you
the way to woman's land. And if any one ever dares to call you saucy
again, tell him you once met a gentleman to whom you wanted to give a
piece of your mind and that you left him with a piece of his mind,
feeling very small indeed yourself, and making him feel as if he were
the biggest rascal in the world."
Elsa turned and went toward the other room, meeting Karl at the door as
Millar withdrew behind a curtain of palms.