"It is highly unnatural," said I.
"No, monsieur; it is far from being unnatural, and I will tell you why
--he is the only man I have ever known, in all my vagabond life, who
realised that a struggling actress might have the soul of a
gentlewoman. Before I met him, I had never heard a man speak to me with
courtesy, excepting on the stage; I had never known a man to take my
hand respectfully when he was not performing behind the footlights....
I met him first in the country; I was playing the Queen in _Ruy
Blas_, and the manager brought him to me in the wings. In everything
he said and did he was different from others. We were friends for
months before he told me that he loved me. His friendship has been the
gift of God, to brighten my miserable lot. Never to see him any more
would be awful to me!"
I perceived that if she was not in love with him she was so dangerously
near to it that a trifle might turn the scale. De Lavardens had the
same thought. His glance at me was apprehensive.
"However, you acknowledge that you are behaving badly!" I exclaimed.
"It is all right for _you_, friendship is enough for you, and you
pursue your career. But for _him_, it is different; he seeks your
love, and he neglects his duties. For him to spend his life sighing for
you would be monstrous, and for him to marry you would be fatal. If you
like him so much, be just to him, set him free! Tell him that he is not
to visit you any more."
"He does not visit me; he has never been inside my lodging."
"Well, that he is not to write there--that there are to be no more
dinners, drives, bouquets!"
"And I do not let him squander money on me. I am not that kind of
woman."
"We do not accuse you, mademoiselle. On the contrary, we appeal to your
good heart. Be considerate, be brave! Say good-bye to him!"
"You are asking me to suffer cruelly," she moaned.
"It is for your friend's benefit. Also, the more you suffer, the better
you will act. Every actress should suffer."
"Monsieur, I have served my apprenticeship to pain."
"There are other things than friendship--you have your prospects to
think about."
"What prospects?" she flashed back.
"Well, I cannot speak definitely to-day, as you know; but you would not
find me unappreciative."
De Lavardens grunted again--emotionally, this time. I checked him with
a frown.
"What use would it be for me to refuse to see him?" she objected
chokily. "When I am playing anywhere, _he_ can always see
_me_. I cannot kill his love by denying myself his companionship.
Besides, he would not accept the dismissal. One night, when I left the
theatre, I should find him waiting there again."
This was unpalatably true.
"If a clever woman desires to dismiss a man, she can dismiss him
thoroughly, especially a clever actress," I said. "You could talk to
him in such a fashion that he would have no wish to meet you again.
Such things have been done."
"What? You want me to teach him to despise me?"
"Much better if he did!"
"To turn his esteem to scorn, hein?"
"It would be a generous action."
"To falsify and degrade myself?"
"For your hero's good!"
"I will not do it!" she flamed. "You demand too much. What have
_you_ done for _me_ that I should sacrifice myself to please
you? I entreat your help, and you give me empty phrases; I cry that I
despair this morning, and you answer that by-and-by, some time, in the
vague future, you will remember that I exist. I shall not do this for
you--I keep my friend!"
"Your rhetoric has no weight with me," I said. "I do not pretend that I
have a claim on you. In such circumstances a noble woman would take the
course I suggest, not for my sake, not for the sake of General de
Lavardens, but for the sake of the man himself. You will 'keep your
friend'? Bien! But you will do so because you are indifferent to his
welfare and too selfish to release him."
She covered her face. There were tears on it. The General and I
exchanged glances again.