X
It is quite useless for me to comment upon the utterly annoyingcircumstance of that mixup of cheque-books--Such things are fate--andfate I am beginning to believe is nothing but a reflex of our ownactions. If Suzette had not been my little friend, I should not havegiven her eight thousand francs--but as she has been--and I did--I muststand by the consequences.
After all--a man?--Well--what is the use of writing about it. I am soutterly mad and resentful that I have no words.
It is Sunday morning, and this afternoon I shall hire the one motorwhich can be obtained here, at a fabulous price, and go into Paris.There are some books I want to get out of my bookcase--and somehow Ihave lost interest here. But this morning I shall go and sit in theparish church and hear Mass.--I feel so completely wretched, the musicmay comfort me and give me courage to forget all about Miss Sharp. Andin any case there is a soothing atmosphere in a Roman Catholic church,which is agreeable. I love the French people! They are a continualtonic, if one takes them rightly. So filled with common sense, simplyusing sentiment as an ornament, and a relaxation; and never allowing itto interfere with the practical necessities of life. Ignorant people saythey are hysterical, and over passionate--They are nothing of thekind--They believe in material things, and in the "_beau geste_." Wherethey require a religion, they accept a comforting one; and meanwhilethey enjoy whatever comes in their way and get through disagreeablesphilosophically. _Vive la France!_
* * * * *
I am waiting for the motor now--and trying to be resigned.--Mass did megood--I sat in a corner and kept my crutch by me. The Church itself toldme stories, I tried to see it in Louis XV's time--I dare say it lookedmuch the same, only dirtier--And life was made up with etiquette andforms and ceremonies, more exasperating than anything now. But they wereahead of us in manners, and a sense of beauty.
A little child came and sat beside me for about ten minutes, and lookedat me and my crutch sympathetically.
"_Blesse de la guerre_," I heard her whisper to her mother--"_CommeJean_."
The organ was not bad--and before I came out I felt calmer.
After all it is absurd of Miss Sharp to be disgusted about Suzette--Shemust know, at nearly twenty-four, and living in France, that there areSuzettes--and I am sure she is not narrow-minded in any way--What canhave made her so censorious? If she took a personal interest in me itwould be different, but entirely indifferent as she is, how can itmatter to her?--As I write this, that hot sense of anger and rebellionarises in me--I'll have to keep saying to myself that I am in thetrenches again and must not complain.
I'll make Burton find out if Coralie is really staying here, and get herto dine with me to-night--Coralie always pretended to have a _beguin_for me--even when most engaged elsewhere.
* * * * *
_Monday:_
Sunday was a memorable day--.
I went through the _Bois de Marne_ on that bad road because the treeswere so lovely--and then through the _parc de St. Cloud_. Even in wartime this wonderful people can enjoy the open air life!--
I think of Henriette d' Angleterre looking from the terrace of herChateau over the tree tops--The poor Chateau! not a stone of which isstanding to-day--Did she feel sentimental with her friend the Comte deGuiche--as I would like to feel now?--If I had someone to be sentimentalwith. Alas! There was an ominous hot stillness in the air, and the skybeyond the Eiffel tower had a heavy, lurid tone in it.
When we got across the river into the _Bois de Boulogne_ it seemed as ifall Paris was enjoying a holiday. I told the chauffeur to go down a side_allee_ and to go slowly, and presently I made him draw up at the sideof the road. It was so hot, and I wanted to rest for a little, themotion was jarring my leg.
I think I must have been half asleep, when my attention was caught bythree figures coming up another by-path obliquely--the tallest of themwas undoubtedly Miss Sharp--but Miss Sharp as I had never seen herbefore!--
And a boy of thirteen, and a girl of eleven were at either side of her,the boy clinging on to her arm, he was lame and seemed to be adreadfully delicate, rickety person. The little girl was very small andsickly looking too--but Miss Sharp--my secretary!--appeared blooming andyoung and lovely in her inexpensive foulard frock--No glasses hid herblue eyes. Her hair was not torn back and screwed into a knot, but mighthave been dressed by Alice's maid--and her hat, the simplest thingpossible, was most becoming, with the proper modish "look."--
Refinement and perfect taste proclaimed themselves from every inch ofher, even if everything had only cost a small sum.
So that dowdy get-up is for my benefit, and is not habitual to her!--Oris it, that she has only one costume and keeps it for Sundays and daysof _fete_?--
In spite of my determination to put all thought of her from me--a wildemotion arose--a passionate longing to spring from the car and joinher--to talk to her, and tell her how lovely I thought she was looking.
They came nearer and nearer--I could see that her face was rippling withsmiles at something the little brother had said--Its expression wasgentle and sympathetic and it was obvious that fond affection held allthree.
The children might have been drawn by Du Maurier in Punch long ago, toexpress a family who were overbred. Race run to seed expressed itself inevery line of them. The boy wore an Eton jacket and collar and a tallhat--and it looked quite strange in this place.
As they got close to me I could hear him cough in the hollow way whichtells its own story--.
I cowered down behind the hood of the motor, and they passed withoutseeing me--or perhaps Miss Sharp did see me but was determined not tolook--. I felt utterly alone and deserted by all the world--and the samenervous trembling came over me which once before made me suffer so, andagain I was conscious that my cheek was wet with a tear.
The humiliation of it! the disgrace of such feebleness!--
When they had gone by, I started forward again to watch them--I couldhear the little girl cry, "Oh! look Alathea!" as she pointed to the sky,and then all three began to quicken their pace down another _allee_, inthe direction of Auteuil, and were soon out of sight.
Then, still quivering with emotion, I too glanced heavenward--Ye Gods!what a storm was coming on--!
Where were they going? there into the deep wood?--it was a good mile ortwo from the Auteuil gate--They would be soaked to the skin when therain did commence to fall--and there was a thunder storm beginningalso--were they quite safe?
All these thoughts tormented me, and I gave the chauffeur orders to takea road I thought might cut across the path they had followed, and whenwe reached the spot, I made him wait.
The livid lightning rent the sky and the thunder roared like guns, andthe few people in sight rushed, panic-stricken, in a hopeless search forshelter--far greater fear on their faces than they show at German bombs.
My chauffeur complained audibly, as he got down to shut the car--DidMonsieur wish to be struck by lightning? he demanded, very enraged.
Still I waited--but no Sharp family appeared--and at last I knew I hadmissed them somehow--a very easy thing in that path-bisected wood. So Itold him he could drive like hell to my _appartement_ in the _Place desEtats Unis_--and off we rushed in the now torrential rain--It was one ofthe worst thunder storms I have ever seen in my life.
I was horribly worried as to what could have happened to that littleparty, for that _allee_ where I had seen them, was in the very middle ofthe _Bois_, and far from any gate or shelter. They must have got soakingwet if nothing worse had happened to them. And how could I hear anythingabout them?--What should I do? Was the Duchesse in Paris?--Could I findthe address possibly from her? But would she be likely to know it? justbecause Miss Sharp--"Alathea"--(what a lovely Greek name!) broughtbandages to the hospital?
However, this was worth trying, and I could hardly wait to get out ofthe motor, and get to the telephone. The _concierge_ came out with anumbrella in great concern and took me up in the lift herself--and th
erewas Burton waiting for me, he had come in by train to take me backsafely later on.
How I cursed my folly in not having asked Miss Sharp herself for heraddress! Could Burton possibly know it?--How silly of me not to havethought of that before!
"Burton, I saw Miss Sharp and her family in the _Bois_--do you knowtheir address by chance?--I want to ring up and find out if they gothome all right."
Burton could see my anxiety--and actually hurried in his reply!
"They live in Auteuil, Sir Nicholas, but I can't exactly say where--theyoung lady never seems very particular to give me the address. She saidI should not be needing it, and that they were likely to move."
"Get on to the Duchesse de Courville-Hautevine as quickly as you can--."
Burton did so at once, but it seemed a long time.
--No, Madame la Duchesse was down at Hautevine taking some freshconvalescents, and would not return until the middle of the week--ifthen!
I nearly swore aloud--.
"Are they talking from the _concierge's_ lodge or the hotel?--Burton askat both if they know the address of a Miss Sharp who brings bandages tothe hospital!"
Of course by this time the connection had been cut off, and it tookquite ten minutes to get on again, and by that time I could have yelledaloud with the feverish fret of it all, and the pain!
No one knew anything of a "Mees Shearp."
"Mees Shearp--_Mais non_!"
Many ladies brought bandages, _hein_?!
I mastered myself as well as I could and got into my chair--.
And in a few moments Burton brought me a brandy and soda, and put itinto my hand.
"It won't be cleared up enough to go back to Versailles before dinner,Sir Nicholas," he said--and coughed--"I was just thinking maybe--you'dbe liking some friends to come in and dine--Pierre can get something infrom the restaurant, if you'd feel inclined."
The cough meant that Burton knows I am dreadfully upset, and that underthe circumstances anything to distract me is the lesser of two evils--!
"Ask whom you please," I answered and drank the brandy and soda down.
Presently, after half an hour, Burton came back to me, beaming--I hadbeen sitting in my chair too exhausted even to feel pain meanwhile--.
He had telephoned everywhere, and no one was in town, but at last, atthe Ritz, where the _concierge_ knows all my friends, he had beeninformed that Mrs. Bruce (Nina) had arrived the night before, alone--hehad got connected up at her _appartement_, and she would be ''round ateight o'clock, very pleased to dine!'
Nina!--A pleasant thrill ran through me--Nina, and without Jim--!
The wood fire was burning brightly, and the curtains were drawn whenNina, fresh as a rose, came in--.
"Nicholas!" she cried delightedly--and held out both hands.
"Nina!--this is a pleasure, you old dear!--now let me look at you andsee what marriage has done--."
Nina drew back and laughed!
"Everything, Nicholas!" she said--.
A feeling of envy came over me--Jim's ankle is stiff for life--it seemshard that an eye can make such a difference!--Nina is in love with Jim,but no woman can be in love with me.
Her face is much softer, she is more attractive altogether.
"You look splendid, Nina," I told her--"I want to hear all about it."
"So you shall when we have finished dinner," and she handed me my crutchas I got up from my chair.
Pierre had secured some quite respectable food, and during dinner andafterwards when we were cosily smoking our cigarettes in thesitting-room, Nina gave me all the news of our friends at home.--Everysingle one of them was still working, she said.
"It is marvelous how they have stuck it," I responded--.
"Oh no, not at all," Nina answered. "We as a nation are people ofhabit--the war is a habit to us now--heaps of us work from a sense ofduty and patriotism, others because they are afraid what would be saidof them if they did not--others because they are thankful to have somesteady job to get off their superfluous energy on--So it ends byeveryone being roped in--and you can't think, Nicholas, how divine it isto get home after long hours of drudgery, to find the person you lovewaiting for you, and to know you are going to have all the rest of thetime together, until next day!"
"No, I can't imagine the bliss of that, Nina--."
She looked at me suddenly--.
"Well, why don't you marry then, dear boy?"
"I would, if I thought I could secure bliss--but you forget, it would befrom pity and not love that a woman would be kind to me."
"I am--not quite sure of that, Nicholas"--and she looked at mesearchingly--"You are changed since last time--you are not so bitter andsardonic--and you, always have that--oh! you know what Elinor Glynwrites of in her books--that "it."--Some kind of attraction that has noname--but I am sure has a lot to do with love--."
"So you think I have got 'it,' Nina?"
"Yes, your clothes fit so well--and you say rather whimsicalthings--Yes, decidedly, Nicholas, now that you are not so bitter--I amsure--."
"What a pity you did not find that out before you took Jim, Nina!"
"Oh! Jim! that is different--You have much more brain than Jim, andwould not have been nearly so easy to live with!"
"Is it going well, Nina?"
"Yes--perfectly--that is why I came to Paris alone--I knew it would begood for him--besides I wanted a rest, Nicholas."
"I thought you had married for a rest!"
"Well, if a man 'in love' is what you really want,--and not his just'loving' you--you have to use your wits; it can't be a rest, not if hehas made you care too.--When I was just tossing up between Jim andRochester, then I had not to bother about how I behaved to them. You seeI was the, as yet, unattained desired thing--but having accepted one ofthem, he has time to think of things, not having to fight to get me, andso I have to keep him thinking of things which have still speculation inthem--don't you see?"
"You have to keep the hunting instinct alive, in fact."
"Yes--"
"You don't think it would be possible to find someone who was just one'smate so that no game of any sort would be necessary?"
She thought hard for a moment.
"That, of course, would be heaven--" then she sighed--"I am afraid it isno use in hoping for that, Nicholas!"
"Someone who would understand so well that silence was eloquent--someonewho would read books with one, and think thoughts with one. Someone whowould lie in one's arms and respond to caresses--and not be counting thedollars--or--doing her knitting--. Someone who was tender and kind andtrue--Oh! Nina!"
I suppose my voice had taken on a tone of emotion--I was thinking ofMiss Sharp--Alathea--that shall be her name always for me now--.
"Nicholas!" Nina exclaimed--"My dear boy, of course you are in love!"
"And if so?"
Instantly I became of more value to Nina--she realized that she had lostme, and that some other woman drew me and not herself--and although Ninais the best sort in the world and more or less really in love with Jim,I knew that a new note could grow in our friendship if I wished toencourage it--Nina's fighting instinct had been aroused to try to get meback!
"Who with?" she demanded laconically.
"With a dream--."
"Nonsense! you are much too cynical--Is it anyone I know?"
"I should not think so--she has not materialised yet."
"This is frightfully interesting, my dear old boy!"
"So you think I'll have a chance then?"
"Certainly when you are all finished."
"My new eye is to be in before Christmas, and my new leg after the newyear, and my shoulder gets straighter every day!"
Nina laughed--.
"Real love would be--I suppose--if you could make her adore you beforeyou looked any handsomer!"
And this sentence of Nina's rang in my ears long after she had gone, andoften in the night. I could not sleep, I felt something had happened andthat fate might be going to take Miss Sharp--Al
athea--from me--.
* * * * *
And then before morning in fretful dreams I seemed to be obsessed by thecooing of love words between a woman and a child--.