ANNE EXHIBITS THE PRINCE
Prince Koltsoff had enjoyed his luncheon, as only an exacting gourmet
whose every canon of taste has been satisfied, can. His appetite was a
many-stringed instrument upon which only the most gifted culinary
artist could play. Now as he sat dallying daintily with his _compote_
of pears it was patent that Rambon, the Wellington chef, had achieved a
dietary symphony.
"Mrs. Wellington," he said at length, "you have a _saucier par
excellence_. That _sauce de cavitar_! If I may say so, it lingers.
Who is he? It seems almost--yet it cannot be true--that I recognize
the genius of Jules Rambon."
"Very well done, Prince Koltsoff," replied Mrs. Wellington, employing
phraseology more noncommittal than Koltsoff realized.
Anne, who had been gazing languidly out a window giving on Brenton's
Reef lightship, where several black torpedo boats and destroyers were
manoeuvring, smiled and glanced at the Prince.
"You have the instincts of a virtuoso. That was really clever of you.
The Duchess d'Izes sent him to mother two years ago. You must speak to
him. I 'm afraid he feels he is not altogether appreciated here."
The Prince raised his hands.
"What a fate!" he exclaimed. "When Rambon was _chef_ for President
Carnot, kings and emperors bestowed upon him decorations. I recall
that when he created the _Parfait Rambon_--ah!--the governor of his
Province set aside a day of celebration. Rambon unappreciated--it is
to say that genius is unappreciated!" He turned apologetically to Mrs.
Wellington. "America--what would you?"
Mrs. Wellington sniffed ever so slightly. She had become a bit weary
of the Russian's assumption of European superiority. She recognized
that in Prince Koltsoff she had a guest, her possession of whom had
excited among the cottage colony the envy of all those whose envy she
desired. So far as she was concerned, that was all she wanted. Now
that Anne and the Prince appeared to be hitting it off, she was content
to let that matter take its course as might be, with, however, a pretty
well defined conviction that her daughter was thoroughly alive to the
desirability, not to say convenience, of such an alliance. In her
secret heart, however, she rather marvelled at Anne's open interest in
the Koltsoff. To be frank, the Prince was boring her and she had come
to admit that she, personally, had far rather contemplate the noble
guest as a far-distant son-in-law, than as a husband, assuming that her
age and position were eligible.
So--she sniffed.
"My dear Prince," she said, "I will take you to a hundred tables in
Newport and--I was going to say ten thousand--a thousand in New York,
where the food is better cooked than in any private house in Europe."
Touched upon a spot peculiarly tender, Koltsoff all but exploded.
"_Pouf_!" he cried. Then he laughed heartily. "You jest, surely, my
dear madame."
"No, I fancy not," replied Mrs. Wellington placidly.
"Oh, but how can you know! Where is it that the writings of Careme are
studied and known? Where is it that the memory of Beauvilliers and the
reputations of Ranhofer and Casimir and Mollard are preserved? In
Europe--"
"In Paris," corrected Mrs. Wellington.
"Well. And from Paris disseminated glowingly throughout Europe--'"
"And the United States."
Koltsoff struggled with himself for a moment.
"Pardon," he said, "but, bah! It cannot be."
"Naturally, you are at the disadvantage of not having had the
experience at American tables that I have had abroad," observed Mrs.
Wellington rising. "But we shall hope to correct that while you are
here. . . . As for the sauce you praised, it was not by Rambon--who is
out to-day--but by Takakika, his assistant, a Japanese whom Mr.
Wellington brought on from the Bohemian Club, I think, in San
Francisco."
If Koltsoff did not catch Mrs. Wellington's intimation that he must
have learned of the presence of Rambon in her kitchen,--which might
have been more accurately described as a laboratory,--Anne Wellington
did, and she hastened to intervene.
"Oh, Prince Koltsoff," she said, "I have been so interested in those
torpedo boats out there. They 've been dashing about the lightship all
through lunch. What is the idea, do you know?"
The Prince glanced out of the window.
"I cannot imagine." He gazed over the ocean in silence for several
minutes. "Have you a telescope?" he said at length.
Anne nodded.
"The large glass is on that veranda. And you 'll excuse me until half
after three, won't you?"
"Until half after three," said the Prince, still rather ruffled as the
result of his duel with the mother.
Then he went out on the porch and for an hour had the torpedo boats
under his almost continuous gaze.
"Nothing but hide and seek," he muttered as he finally snapped the
shutter of the glass and went to his room to dress.
He had quite recovered his spirits when he handed Anne Wellington into
the motor car. Armitage had half turned and she caught his eyes. Just
the faintest suspicion of a smile appeared on her face as she leaned
forward.
"Along the Ocean Drive, McCall, down Bellevue Avenue, past Easton's
Beach, and out through Paradise. Drive slowly, please."
Armitage touched his cap and the car was soon rolling along the Ocean
Drive. They had not turned Bateman's Point when Anne had proof of the
interest which the advent of the Prince had excited among her set. The
Wadsworth girls with young Pembroke, Delaney Drew on horseback, and
several others were gathered on the grass of the Point, watching the
finish of the race for the Astor cups off Brenton's Reef. As the
Wellington car rolled slowly by, every one withdrew attention from the
exciting finish which three of the yachts were making, and gazed so
hard at the Prince that some of them forgot to return Anne's nod. But
the girl understood and smiled inwardly, not altogether without pride.
On Bellevue Avenue old Mrs. Cunningham-Jones all but fell out of her
carriage, while Minnie Rensselaer, who had been cool lately, was all
smiles. And the entrance to the Casino, as Miss Wellington afterward
described it, might have been pictured as one great staring eye.
She did not attempt to deny to herself that she was enjoying all this.
She was a normal girl with a normal girl's love of distinction and of
things that thrill pleasurably. She left nothing undone to heighten
the effect she and the Prince, or the Prince and she, were creating.
Mrs. Rensselaer saw her gazing into the face of her guest with kindling
eyes. "Old Lady" Cunningham-Jones saw her touch his arm to emphasize a
remark.
Whatever may have been the exact degree of Koltsoff's attractions for
Anne, it was certain that in the course of the drive, thus far, the
situation and not the Russian's personality constituted the strong
appeal. The girl was far from a snob and yet this--yes, public
parading--of a man whose prospective sojourn in Newport had excited so
many tea tables for the past fortnight, had furnished so much pabulum
for the digestion of society journalists, involved many elements that
appealed to her. Chiefly, it must be confessed, she saw the humor of
it; otherwise pride might have obtained mastery--there was pride, of
course. There was a whirl of things, in fact, and all enjoyable; also,
perhaps, a trifle upsetting, inasmuch as her assumption of more than
friendly interest in her guest was not altogether the part of wisdom.
The Prince was elated, exalted. It would not have taken a close
observer to decide that in his devotion there was no element of the
spurious and in his happiness, no flaw. As for Armitage, unseeing, but
sensing clearly the drift of things, his eyes were grimly fixed ahead,
the muscles of his jaws bulging in knots on either side. This
chauffeur business, he felt, was fast becoming a bore.
As he started to turn the corner of the Casino block, Anne, seized by a
sudden inspiration, ordered him to back around to the entrance.
"Would n't you like to stop in the Casino for a few minutes and meet a
few people?" she asked, smiling at Koltsoff.
The Prince would be only too happy to do anything that Miss Wellington
suggested, and so with a warning _honk! honk!_ Armitage ran his car up
to the curb. At their side the tide of motor cars, broughams,
victorias, coaches, jaunting cars and what not swept unceasingly by.
Three sight-seeing barges had paused in their "twelve miles for fifty
cents" journey around the island. As the Prince and Anne alighted, a
small body of curious loiterers moved forward, among them several
photographers, seeing which, Anne lowered an opaque veil over her face,
a precaution which the beautiful or famous or notorious of the Newport
colony invariably find necessary when abroad.
The sight-seeing drivers, with whips poised eagerly, viewed the
alighting couple and then turning to their convoy, announced in voices
not too subdued:
"Miss Anne Wellington, daughter of Ronald Wellington, the great
railroad magnate, and the Prince of Rooshia are just gettin' out,"
indicating the car with their whips. "They say they 're engaged to be
married--so far only a rumor. Miss Wellington is the one who put
little pinchin' crabs in Mrs. Minnie Rensselaer's finger bowls last
year and made a coolness between these two great families."
Miss Wellington, whose cheeks felt as though they would burn her veil,
saw Armitage's shoulders quivering with some emotion, as she hurried
from the sidewalk into the doorway of the low, dark-shingled building
and out into the circle of trim lawn and garden.
There were groups around a few of the tables in the two tiers of the
encircling promenade, but Anne did not know any of them. They strolled
on to a passageway under the structure leading to several acres of
impeccable lawn, with seats under spreading trees and tennis courts on
all sides. An orchestra was playing Handel's "Largo." The low hanging
branches sheltered many groups, dotting the green with vivid color
notes. A woman with gray veil thrown back and with a wonderful white
gown held court under a spreading maple, half a dozen gallants in white
flannels paying homage. All about were gowns of white, of pink, of
blue, of light green, Dresden colors, tones of rare delicacy mingling
with the emerald turf and the deeper green of the foliage. The spell
of mid-summer was everywhere present. To Anne it seemed as if the
Summer would last for always and that the Casino would never be
deserted again, the grass sere and brown or piled with drifts of snow.
"Isn't it beautiful!" she exclaimed, as the Prince shook his head
negatively at a red-coated page with an armful of camp chairs.
"The women," smiled the Prince, "they are superb! I concede freely the
supremacy of the American girl." He paused, "It _is_ beautiful. Yet
certainly, what place would not be beautiful where you are, Miss
Wellington! Do I say too much? Ah, how can I say less!" His eyes
were suffused with his emotions.
"Don't, please, Prince Koltsoff," she said, lowering her eyes to the
turf. "Not here--oh, I mean not--"
"Here! I would willingly kneel here and kiss the hem of your skirt. I
should be proud that all should see, Anne. . . . Ah, let us not
dissemble--"
Anne, thoroughly agitated, suddenly faced the Prince.
"Stop! I want you to," she interrupted. "You must. You must not say
such things--" she paused, conscious that the eyes of many to whom she
had purposed presenting the Prince were turned curiously upon them,
although fortunately, from distances comparatively remote. She forced
a vivacious smile for the benefit of observers and continued, "You must
not say these things until I tell you you may. . . . Now, please!" as
the Prince showed indications of disobeying her wishes.
He kept silence and as some manifestations of sulkiness, not inclined
to encourage Anne in her intentions of introducing him generally,
revealed themselves, she turned and led the way back to the car, where
Armitage sat hunched, in no blithe mood himself.
In plying him with questions as to himself and his deeds, which
developed a mood ardently vainglorious, Anne skilfully led Koltsoff's
trend of thought from amatory channels. They stopped at Paradise and
Anne and the Prince walked from the roadside across a stretch of gorse
to a great crevice in the cliffs, known as the "Lover's Leap."
"Here," said the girl, imitating the manner of a guide, "legend says an
Indian maiden, very beautiful, was walking with one of her suitors,
when a rival accosted them. They drew their knives and were about to
fight, when the girl interposed. Pointing to the chasm she declared
she would marry the man who first jumped across it."
"Ah, the time-worn lover's leap! They have them in England, Russia,
Germany--everywhere. America not to be behind--" the Prince wrinkled
his brows. "Let me see how closely the Indians followed their European
originals. Did they leap?"
"They did," smiled the girl. "Both, I believe, were killed." She
peered into the dark fissure where the waters wound among the crags
fifty feet below. "Ugh! What a fall! Their love must have been
wonderfully compelling."
"So," replied the Prince, gallantly, "and yet I should do it for a
smile from you or at most for a--" he bowed low, seized her hand, and
deftly bore it to his lips.
She drew it away hastily, a wave of irritation flushing her face, and a
powerful revulsion from her former mood of exaltation took possession
of her whole being.
"You have improved upon knights errant of old," she said slowly. "You
seize your guerdon before paying your devoir." She pointed to the
chasm, which was about eight feet across at the spot where they were
standing. "Your lady waits, Sir Knight."
The Prince pushed his hand through his hair and laughed.
"Miss Wellington--indeed, indeed, I appreciate your humor. It is well
caught. That is to say--ha, ha! Your father will enjoy your wit."
"I am waiting," said the girl, as though she had not heard.
"Knights--and gentlemen do not take from women that which they are not
willing to pay for."
"But--" the Prince glanced at the yawning hole. "You surely jest.
Why, my dear lady!" The Prince involuntarily stepped backward.
Anne smiled maliciously. Her meaning was clear and the Prince flushed.
"What man would attempt it!" he exclaimed. "What man indeed," he
added, "save one who would throw away his life to no purpose. Come,
Miss Wellington, I am sure you do not seek my life."
"By no means," said the girl beginning to relent, but still enjoying
the success of her _coup_. "But really that is a small leap for a man.
My driver, I believe--" Her face suddenly lighted with a new
inspiration. Hastily she walked to the top of the bluff. "McCall,"
she cried. "Will you come here a minute?"
As the two arrived at the chasm, she nodded to the opposite side.
"If you cleared that would it be a remarkable leap?"
Armitage surveyed the gap with his eye, looked behind him and studied
the ground.
"Not especially, Miss Wellington, so far as distance is concerned." He
had done his nineteen feet in the running broad jump.
"Ah, just so," broke in the Prince. "It is the condition which would
follow a slip or mistake in judgment."
Anne shook her head impatiently at Koltsoff's obvious eagerness.
"I do not believe McCall thought of that; nervous systems vary in their
intensity."
Some part of the situation Armitage grasped. It was clear that for
some reason she had dared the Prince to make the jump and that he had
declined. The ground upon which they were standing was a few feet
above the rocks on the other side of the chasm and the three stood
about a dozen feet from the mouth.
She turned to Armitage.
"Am I right, or do you share Prince Koltsoff's psychological views?"
Koltsoff, who from the beginning had chafed at the position in which
she had placed him, pitting him against a servant, walked to one side
with a low sibilant exclamation.
"Not at all," said Armitage, and without further words he drew back a
few feet and started swiftly for the fissure. Anne, who had not
intended that the incident should thus get away from her, acted upon
flashing instinct, before the situation could formulate itself in her
mind. She sprang at Armitage as he passed her, her hands tightly
clasping about his neck, and pulled him backward with all her strength.
Armitage half stumbling, stopped, and the girl, releasing her hands,
stepped back with a sob of nervous anger.
"You--you--oh, you idiot!" she exclaimed. "How dare you frighten me
so! Now--go back to the car!"
"I did not mean to frighten you, Miss Wellington," he replied, not
altogether in the mild, impersonal tone of a servant. "It was a
perfectly easy jump. I thought you--"
"Go to your car, please," interrupted the girl sternly.
As for Koltsoff, rankling with the knowledge that if he had taken her
at her word and essayed to make the leap, she would have prevented him
as she had her chauffeur, his mood was no enviable one. Lost
opportunities of any sort are not conducive to mental equanimity. He
maintained extreme taciturnity throughout the remainder of the drive
and Miss Wellington, whose thoughts seemed also absorbing, made no
attempt to restore his ardent spirits. When they entered the
Wellington driveway, she glanced at Armitage's well-set back and
shoulders and smiled.
"McCall," she said, as she stood on the veranda, "I want you to go to
Mrs. Van Valkenberg's--where you were this morning--and bring her here.
You may have to wait."