CHAPTER V
Dodo's wedding, which took place at the end of July in WestminsterAbbey, was a very remarkable and characteristic affair. In the firstplace she arrived so late that people began to wonder whether she wasgoing to throw Jack over again, this time at the very last moment. Jackhimself did not share these misgivings and stood at the west door ratherhot and shy but quite serene, waiting till his bride should come.Eventually Nadine who was to have come with her mother appeared in ataxi going miles above the legal limit, with the information that Dodowas in floods of tears because she had been so horrible to Jack before,and wanted to be so nice now. She said she would stop crying as soon asshe possibly could, but would Nadine ask Jack to be a dear and put offthe wedding till to-morrow, since her tears had made her a perfectfright. On which the bridegroom took a card and wrote on it: "I won'tput off the wedding, and if you don't come at once, I shall go away. Dobe quick: there are millions and millions of people all staring."
"Oh, Jack, what a brute you are," said Nadine, as she read it, "I don'tthink I can take it."
"You can and will," said he. "You will also take Dodo by the hand andbring her here. Bring her, do you understand? Tell her that in twentyminutes from now I shall go."
Somehow Dodo's marriage had seized the popular imagination, and theAbbey was crammed, so also for half a mile were the pavements. Thetraffic by the Abbey had been diverted, and all round the windows wereclustered with sight-seers. The choir was reserved for the more intimatefriends, and Bishop Algie who was to perform the ceremony was endorsedby a flock of eminent clergy. The news that Dodo was in tears, but thatNadine had been sent by the bridegroom to fetch her, traveled swiftly upthe Abbey, and a perfect babel of conversation broke out, almostdrowning the rather Debussy-like wedding march which Edith had composedfor the occasion. She had also written an anthem, "Thy wife shall be asthe fruitful vine," a highly original hymn-tune, and two chants for thepsalms written for full orchestra with percussion and an eight-partchoir. She had wanted to conduct the whole herself, and expressed herperfect willingness to wear a surplice and her music-doctor's hood, andkeep on her cap or not, exactly as the dean preferred. But the deanpreferred that she should take no part whatever, beyond contributing thewhole of the music, which annoyed her very much, and several incisiveletters passed between them in which the topics of conventionalism,Pharisees and cant were freely introduced. Edith had to give way, butconsoled herself by arranging that the whole of the "Marriage Suite"should be shortly after performed at the Queen's Hall, where no dean orother unenlightened person could prevent her conducting in any costumeshe chose. But temporarily she had been extremely upset by thisridiculous bigotry.
Dodo arrived before the twenty minutes were over, and she came up thechoir on Jack's arm, looking quite superb and singing Edith's hymn tunevery loud and occasionally incorrectly. She had just come oppositeEdith, who had, in default of conducting, secured a singularly prominentposition, when she sang a long bell-like B flat, and Edith had said "Bnatural, Dodo," in a curdling, sibilant whisper. There were of course nobridesmaids, but Dodo's train was carried by pages, both of whom shekissed when they arrived at the end of their long march up the choir.Mrs. Vivian, who on Dodo's engagement had finally capitulated, was nextto Edith, and Dodo said "Vivy, dear!" into her ear-trumpet, as shepassed up the aisle. Miss Grantham alone among the older friends wasabsent: she had said from the beginning that it was dreadfully common ofDodo to marry Jack, as it was a "lived-happily-ever-afterwards" kind ofending to Dodo's unique experiences. She knew that they would bothbecome stout and serene and commonplace, instead of being wild andunhappy and interesting, and to mark her disapproval, made anappointment with her dentist at the hour at which the voice would bebreathing over Eden in the exceedingly up-to-date music which Edith hadcomposed. But so far from her dentist finding change and decay, hedismissed her five minutes after she had sat down, and seized by asudden ungovernable fit of curiosity she drove straight off to the Abbeyto find that Dodo had not arrived, and it seemed possible that therewas a thrill coming, and everything might not end happily. But when itbecame known that Dodo was only late for sentimental reasons, she leftagain in disgust, and ran into Dodo at the west door, and said, "I amdisappointed, Dodo."
Dodo sang Edith's psalm with equal fervor, but thought it would beegoistic to join in the anthem, since it was about herself. But shewhispered to Jack, "Jack, dear, it's much the most delicious marriage Iever had. Hush, you must be grave because dear Algie is going to addressus. I hope he will give us a nice long sermon."
* * * * *
The register was signed by almost everybody in the world, and there wereso many royalties that it looked at first as if everybody was going toleave out their surnames. But the time of ambassadors and peers came atlast, and then it looked as if the fashion was to discard Christiannames. "In fact," said Dodo, "I suppose if you were much more royal thananybody else, you would lose your Christian name as well, your RoyalHighness, and simply answer to Hie! or to any loud cry--Oh, are we allready again? We've got to go first, Jack. Darling, I hope you won't shyat the cinematographs. I hear the porch is full of them, like Gatlingguns, and to-night you and I will be in all the music-halls of London.Where are my ducks of pages? That's right: one on each side. Now give meyour arm, Jack. Here we go! Listen at Edith's wedding march! I wonder ifit's safe to play as loud as that in anything so old as the Abbey. Ishould really be rather afraid of its falling down if Algie hadn't toldme not to be afraid with any amazement."
It took the procession a considerable time to get down the choir, sinceDodo had to kiss her bouquet (not having a hand to spare) to such anextraordinary number of people. But in course of time they got out,faced the battery of cameras and cinematograph machines, and got intotheir car. Jack effaced himself in a corner, but Dodo bowed and smiledwith wonderful assiduity to the crowds.
"They have come to see us," she explained. "So it is essential that weshould look pleased to see them. I should so like to be the Queen, sayon Saturdays only, like the train you always want to go by on other daysin the week. Darling, can't you smile at them? Or put out your tongue,and make a face. They would enjoy it hugely."
Eventually, as they got further away from the Abbey, it became clear toDodo that the people in the street were concerned with their ownbusinesses, and not hers, and she leaned back in the carriage.
"Oh, Jack," she said, "it is you and I at last. But I can't help talkingnonsense, dear. I only do it because I'm so happy. I am indeed. Andyou?"
"It is morning with me," he said.
They left town that afternoon, though Dodo rather regretted that theywould not see themselves in the cinematograph to make sure that she hadsmiled and that Jack's hair was tidy, and went down to Winston, Jack'scountry place, where so many years ago Dodo had arrived before as thebride of his cousin. He had wondered whether, for her sake, anotherplace would not be more suitable as a honeymoon resort, but she thoughtthe plan quite ideal.
"It will be like the renewal of one's youth," she said, "and I am goingto be so happy there now. Jack, we were neither of us happy when youused to come to stay there before, and to go back like this will wipeout all that is painful in those old memories, and keep all that isn't.Is it much changed? I should so like my old sitting-room again if youhaven't made it something else."
"It is exactly as you left it," said he. "I couldn't alter anything."
Dodo slipped her hand into his.
"Did you try to, Jack?" she asked.
"Yes. I meant to alter it entirely: I meant to put away all that couldremind me of you. In fact, I went down there on purpose to do it. Butwhen I saw it, I couldn't. I sat down there, and--"
"Cried?" said Dodo softly, sympathetically.
"No, I didn't cry. I smoked a cigarette and looked round in a stupidmanner. Then I took out of its frame a big photograph of myself that Ihad given you, in order to tear it up. But I put it back in its frameagain, and put the frame exactly where it was before
."
Dodo gave a little moan.
"Oh, Jack, how you must have hated me!" she said.
"I hated what you had done: I hated that you could do it. But the other,never. And, Dodo, let us never talk about all those things again, don'tlet us even think of them. It is finished, and what is real is justbeginning."
"It was real all along," she said, "and I knew it was real allalong--you and me, that is to say--but I chose to tell myself that itwasn't. I have been like the people who when they hear the scream ofsomebody being murdered say it is only the cat. I have been a littlebrute all my life, and in all probability it is past half-time for mealready; in fact it certainly is unless I am going to live to be ninety.I'm not sure that I want to, and yet I don't want to die one bit."
"I should be very much annoyed if you ventured to do anything of thesort," remarked Jack.
"Yes, and that is so wonderful of you. You ought to have wished me deada hundred times. What's the phrase? 'Yes, she would be better dead.'Just now I want to be better without being dead. I often think we allhave a sort of half-time in our lives, like people in foot-ball matches,when they stop playing and eat lemons. The lemons, you understand, arerather sour reflections that we are no better than we might be, but agreat deal worse. And somehow that gives one a sort of a fresh start,and we begin playing again."
* * * * *
They arrived at Winston late in the afternoon; the village had turnedout to greet them, flags and arches made rainbow of the gray street withits thatched houses and air of protected stability, and from thechurch-tower the bells pealed welcome. Dodo, always impressionable andimpulsive, was tremendously moved, and with eyes brimming over, leanedout of one side of the carriage and then the other to acknowledge thesesalutations.
"Oh, Jack, isn't it dear of them?" she said. "Of course I know it's allfor you really, but you've endowed me with everything, and so this ismine too. Look at that little duck whom that nice-faced woman is holdingup, waving a flag! Hark to the bells! Do you remember the poem byBrowning, 'The air broke into a mist with bells'? This is a positiveLondon fog of bells; can't you taste it? Is it the foghorns, in thatcase, that make the fogs? And here we are at the lodge and there's thelake, and the house! Ah, what a gracious thing a summer evening is. Buthow fragile, Jack, and how soon over."
That wistful, underlying tenderness in her nature, almost melancholy butwholly womanly, rose for the moment to the surface. It was not the lesssincere because it was seldom in evidence. It was as truly part of her(and a growing part of her) as her brilliant enjoyment and_insouciance_. And the expression of it gleamed darkly in her soft browneyes, as she leaned back in the carriage and took his hand.
"I will try to make you happy," she said.
He bent over her.
"Don't try to do anything, Dodo," he said. "Just--just be."
For a moment a queer little qualm came over her. Had she followed herimmediate impulse, she would have said, "I don't know how to love likethat. I have to try: I want to learn." But that would have done nogood, and in her most introspective moments Dodo was always practical.The qualm lasted but a moment, as the door was opened, when they drewup. But it lasted long enough to cause her to wonder whether it would bethe past that would be entered again instead of the future, entered,too, not by another door, but by the same.
On the doorstep she paused.
"Lift me over the threshold, Jack," she said; "it is such bad luck for abride to stumble when she enters her home."
"My dear, what nonsense."
"Very likely, but let's be nonsensical. Let us propitiate all the godsand demons. Lift me, Jack."
He yielded to her whim.
"That is dear of you," she said. "That was a perfect entry. Aren't Isilly? But no Austrian would ever dream of letting his wife walk overthe threshold for the first time. And--and that's all about Austria,"she added rather hastily.
Dodo looked swiftly round the old, remembered hall. Opposite was the bigopen fireplace round which they so often had sat, preferring itswide-flaring homely comfort to the more formal drawing-rooms. To-day, nofire burned there, for it was midsummer weather; but as in old times abig yellow collie sprawled in front of it, grandson perhaps, so shortare the generations of dogs, to the yellow collies of the time when shewas here last. He, too, gave good omen, for he rose and stretched andwaved a banner of a tail, and came stately towards them with athrusting nose of welcome. The same pictures hung on the walls; high upthere ran round the palisade of stags' heads and Dodo (with a conscioussense of most creditable memory) recognized the butler as having beenher first husband's valet. She also remembered his name.
"Why, Vincent," she said, holding out her hand, "It is nice to seeanother old face. And you don't look one day older, any more than hislordship does. Tea? Yes, let us have tea at once, Jack. I am so hungry:happiness is frightfully exhausting, and I don't mind how exhausted Iam."
Suddenly Dodo caught sight of the portrait of herself which had beenpainted when this house was for the first time her home.
"Oh, Jack, look at that little brute smiling there!" she said. "I wasrather pretty, though, but I don't think I like myself at all. Dear me,I hope I'm not just the same now, with all the prettiness and youthremoved. I don't think I am quite, and oh, Jack, there's poor dear oldChesterford. Ah, that hurts me; it gives me a bitter little heart-ache.Would you mind, Jack, if--"
Jack felt horribly annoyed with himself in not having seen to this.
"My dear," he said, "it was awfully thoughtless of me. Of course, itshall go. It was stupid, but, Dodo, I was so happy all this last month,that I have thought of nothing except myself."
Dodo turned away from the picture to him.
"And all the time I thought you were thinking about me!" she said."Jack, what a deceiver!"
He shook his head.
"No: it is that you don't understand. You _are_ me.
"Am I? I should be a much nicer fellow if I was. Jack, don't have thatpicture moved. It only hurt for a moment: it was a ghost that startledme merely because I did not expect it. It is a dear ghost: it is notjealous, it will not spoil things or come between us. It--it wants us tobe happy, for he told me, you know, it was the last thing he said--thatI was to marry you. It is a long time ago, oh, how long ago, though Isay it to my shame. Besides, if you are to pull down or put away allthat reminds me of that dreadful young woman"--Dodo put out her tongueand made a face at her own picture--"you will have to pull down thehouse and drink up the lake and cut down the trees. Ah, how lovely thegarden looks! I was never here in the summer before: we only came forthe shooting and hunting and the garden invariably consisted of rows ofblackened salvias and decaying dahlias. But it is summer now, Jack."
There was no mistaking the figurative sense in which she meant him tounderstand the word "summer." It had been winter, winter ofdiscontent--so the glance she gave him inevitably implied--when she washere before, and she rejoiced in and admired this excellent glory ofsummer-time. And yet but a moment before the picture in the hall had"hurt" her, until she remembered that even on his death-bed her firsthusband had bidden her marry the man who had brought her back hereto-day. She had neglected to do as she was told for about a quarter of acentury, and had married somebody else instead, and yet this amazingvariety of topics that concerned her heart, any one of which, you wouldhave expected, was of sufficient import to fill her mind to theexclusion of all else, but bowled across it, as the shadows of cloudsbowl across the fields on a day of spring winds, leaving the untarnishedsunshine after their passage. It was not because she was heartless thatshe touched on this series of somewhat tremendous topics: it was ratherthat her vitality instantly reasserted itself: it was undeterred,impervious to discouraging or disturbing reflections.
Dodo ate what may be termed a good tea, and smoked several cigarettes.Then noticing that a small golf links had been laid out in the fieldsbelow the garden, she rushed indoors to change her dress, and play agame with her husband.
"It won't be much fun for you, darling," she said, "because my golf is aspecies of landscape gardening, and I dig immense hollows with my cluband alter the lie of the country generally. Also I sometimes cheat, ifnobody is looking, so admire the beauties of nature if you hear me saythat I have a bad lie, because if you looked you would see me pushingthe ball into a pleasanter place, and that would give you a low opinionof me. But a little exercise would be so good for us both after beingmarried: the Abbey was terribly stuffy."
The fifth hole brought them near the memorial chapel in the Park, whereher first husband was buried.
"Darling, that puts you five up," she said, "and would you mind waitinghere a minute, while I go in alone? I don't want even you with me: Iwant to go alone and kneel for a minute by his grave, and say myprayers, and tell him I have come back again with you. Will you wait fora minute, Jack? I shan't be long."
Dodo wasn't long: she said her prayers with remarkable celerity, andcame out again wiping her eyes.
"Oh, Jack," she said, "what a beautiful monument: it wasn't finished,you know, when I went away and I hadn't seen it. And it's so touching tohave just those three words, 'Lead, kindly Light': the dear old boy wasso fond of that hymn. It's all so lovely and peaceful, and if ever therewas a saint in the nineteenth century, it was he. Somehow I felt as ifhe knew about us and approved, and I remember we had 'Lead, kindlyLight' on the very last Sunday evening of all. I am so glad I went in."
Dodo gave a little sigh.
"Where are we?" she said. "Am I one hole up or two? Two, isn't it? Dolet it be two. And what a lovely piece of marble. It looks like the mostwonderful cold cream turned to stone. It must be Carrara. Oh, Jack, whata beautiful drive! It went much faster than the legal limit."
* * * * *
The flames of the summer-sunset were beginning to fade in the sky whenthey got back to the house, and it was near dinner-time. Dodo's spiritsand appetite were both of the most excellent order, and all thememories that this house brought back to her, so far from causing anyaching resuscitation of past years, were, owing to the incomparablealchemy of her mind, but transformed into a soft and suitable backgroundfor the present. Afterwards, they sat on the terrace in the warm dusk.
"I must telegraph to Nadine to-morrow," she said, "and tell her howhappy I am. Jack, sometimes Nadine seems to me exactly what I shouldexpect a very attractive aunt to be. Do you know what I mean? I feel shecould have warned me of all the mistakes I have made in my life, beforethey happened, if she had been born. And she approves of you and me;isn't it lucky? I wonder why I feel so young on the very day on which Ishould most naturally be thinking what a lot of life has passed. Jack, Idon't want any more events. Some people reckon life by events, and thatis so unreasonable. Events are thrust upon you; what counts is what youfeel."
He moved his chair a little nearer to hers.
"I am satisfied with what I feel," he said. "And though I have felt itfor very many years, it has never lost its freshness. I have alwayswanted, and now I have got."
Suddenly Dodo's mood changed.
"Oh, you take a great risk," she said. "Who is to assure you that Ishan't disappoint you, disappoint you horribly? I can't assure you ofthat, Jack. It is easy to understand other people, but the sillyproverb that tells you to know yourself, makes a far more difficultdemand. If I disappoint you, what are we to do?"
"You can't disappoint me if you are yourself," he said.
"You say that! To me, too, who have outraged every sort of decency withregard to you?"
He was silent a moment.
"Yes, I say that to you," he said.
Dodo gave a little bubbling laugh.
"You are not very polite," she said. "I say that I have outraged everysort of decency and you don't even contradict me."
"No. What you say is--is perfectly true. But the comment of you and mesitting here on our bridal night is sufficient, is it not? Dodo, thereis no use in your calling yourself names. Leave it all alone: we arehere, you and I. And it is getting late, my darling."
* * * * *
The same night Lady Ayr was giving one of her awful dinner-parties. Herfamily, John, Esther and Seymour were always bidden to them, and went into dinner in exactly their proper places as sons and daughters of amarquis. Before now it had happened that Seymour had to take Esther into dinner, and it was so to-night. But in the general way they saw solittle of each other, that they did not very much object. They usuallyquarreled before long, but made their differences up again by theirunanimity of opinion about their mother. That had already happened thisevening.
"Mother is bursting with curiosity about Aunt Dodo's wedding," saidEsther. "She wasn't asked. I told her it was a very pretty wedding."
"I went," said Seymour, "and I am going to write an account of it for_The Lady_. If you will tell me how you were dressed, I will put it in,that is supposing you were decently dressed. Mother asked me about it,too, and I think I said the bridesmaids looked lovely."
"But there weren't any," said Esther.
"Of course there weren't, but it enraged her. By the way, there is someawful stained glass put up in the staircase since I was here last. Aruby crown has apparently had twins, one of which is a sapphire crownand the other a diamond crown. I shouldn't mind that sort of thinghappening, if it wasn't so badly done. I shall try to break it byaccident after dinner. Did you design it? My dear, I forgot: we hadfinished quarreling. Let us talk about something else. Nadine came tosee me the other day, and if you will not tell anybody, I think it quitelikely that I shall marry her. She likes jade. And she looks quitepretty to-night, doesn't she?"
Esther had already alluded to Nadine, who was sitting opposite, as thedream of dreams, and further appreciation was unnecessary.
"You don't happen to have asked her yet?" she said, with markedneutrality.
"No, one doesn't ask that sort of thing until one knows the answer,"said he. "That is, unless you are one of the ridiculous people who askfor information. I hate the information I get by asking, unless I knowit already."
"And then you don't get it."
"No. Esther, that is a charming emerald you are wearing but it isatrociously set. If you will send it round to-morrow, I will draw adecent setting for it. Do look at Mother. She has got the family laceon, which is made of string. I think it is Saxon. Oh, of course thecoronets are about her. How foolish of me not to have guessed."
"It is more foolish of you to think that Nadine would look at you," saidEsther.
"I didn't ask her to look at me, and I shan't ask her to look at me. Ishall recommend her not to look at me. But I shall marry her orAntoinette. I don't see why you are so stuffy about it. Or perhaps youwould prefer Antoinette for a sister-in-law."
"If she is to be your wife, dear, I think I should," said Esther.
Seymour laid his hand on hers. His smelt vaguely of wall-flowers.
"How disagreeable you are," he said. "I don't think I shall say anythingabout your dress in _The Lady_. I shall simply say that Lady EstherSturgis was there looking very plain and tired. I shall describe my owndress instead. I had an emerald pin, properly set, instead of its beingset like that sort of cheese cake you are wearing. No, it's not exactlya cheese cake: it is as if you had spilt some _creme-de-menthe_ and puta little palisade of broken glass round it to prevent it spreading. Whata disgusting dinner we are having, aren't we? I never know what to dobefore I dine with Mama, whether to eat so much lunch that I don't wantany dinner, or to eat none at all so that I can manage to swallow thissort of garbage. To-night I am rather hungry: won't you come away earlywith me and have some supper at home? Perhaps Nadine will come too."
"If Nadine will come, I will," said Esther. "I suppose we can chaperoneeach other."
"Certainly, if it amuses you. Shall we ask anybody else? I see hardlyanybody here whom I know by sight. I think they must all be earls andcountesses. It's funny how few of one's own class are worth speaking to.Look at Mama! I know I keep
telling you to look at Mama, but she is soremarkable. She said 'sir' just now to the man next her. He must be aSaxon king. I wish she was responsible for the wine instead of father:teetotalers usually give one excellent wine, because they don't imaginethey know anything about it, and tell the wine merchants just to sendround some champagne and hock. So of course they send the mostexpensive."
"I think we ought to talk to our neighbors," said Esther. "Mama ismaking faces."
"That is because she has eaten some of this _entree_, I expect. I makeno face because I haven't. But I can't talk to my neighbor. I tried, butshe is unspeakable-to. I wish my nose would bleed, because then I shouldgo away."
One of the frequent pauses that occurred at Lady Ayr's dinners wastaking place at the moment, and Seymour's rather shrill voice was widelyaudible. A buzz of vacant conversation succeeded, and he continued.
"That was heard," he said, "and really I didn't mean it to be heard. Iam sorry. I shall make myself agreeable. But tell Nadine we shall goaway soon after dinner. If you will be ready, I shall not go up into thedrawing-room at all."
Seymour turned brightly to the woman seated on his right.
"Have you been to 'The Follies'?" he asked. "I hope you haven't, becausethen we can't talk about them, since I haven't either. There are enoughfollies going about, without going to them."
"How amusin' you are," said his neighbor.
Seymour felt exasperated.
"I know I am," he said. "Do be amusing too; then we shall be delightedwith each other."
"But I don't know who you are," said his neighbor.
"Well, that is the case with me," said he. "But my mother--"
His neighbor's face instantly changed from a chilly neutrality to awelcoming warmth.
"Oh, are you Lord Seymour?" she asked.
"I should find it very uncomfortable to be anybody else," said he. "Ishould not know what to do."
"Then _do_ tell me, because of course you know all about these things:Are we all going to wear slabs of jade next year? And did you see me atPrincess Waldenech's wedding this morning? And who manicures you? I hearyou have got a marvelous person." Seymour really wished to atone for theunfortunate remark that had broken the silence and exerted himself.
"But of course," he said. "It is Antoinette. She cooks for me and callsme: she dusts my rooms, and brushes my boots. She stirs the soup withone hand and manicures me with the other. Fancy not knowing Antoinette!She is fifty-two: by the time you are fifty-two you ought to be knownanywhere. If she marries I shall die: if I marry, she will still live Ihope. Now do tell me: do you recommend me to marry?"
"Doesn't it depend upon whom you marry?"
"Not much, do you think? But perhaps you are married, and so know. Areyou married? And would you mind telling me who you are, as I have toldyou?"
"You never told me: I guessed. Guess who I am."
Seymour looked at her attentively. She was a woman of about fifty, witha shrewd face, like a handsome monkey, and his millinerish eyes saw thatshe was dressed without the slightest regard to expense.
"I haven't the slightest idea," he said. "But please don't tell me, ifyou have any private reason for not wishing it to be known. I canreadily understand you would not like people to be able to say that youwere seen dining with Mama. Of course you are not English."
"Why do you think that?"
"Because you talk it so well. English people always talk it abominably.But--"
He looked at her again, and a vague resemblance both in speech and inthe shape of her head struck him.
"I will guess," he said, "you are a relation of Nadine's."
"Quite right: go on."
Seymour was suddenly agitated and upset a glass of champagne that hadjust been filled. He took not the slightest notice of this.
"Is it too much to hope that you are the aunt who--who had so manysnuff-boxes?" he asked. "I mean the one to whom the Emperor gave allthose lovely snuff-boxes? Or is it too good to be true?"
"Just good enough," she said.
"How wildly exciting! Will you come back to my flat as soon as we canescape from this purgatory and Antoinette shall manicure you. Do tell meabout the snuff-boxes; I am sure they were beauties, or you would not--Imean the Emperor would not have given you them."
"Of course not. But I am afraid I can't come to your flat to-night, as Iam going to a dance. Ask me another day. I hear you have got some lovelyjade and are going to make it the fashion. Then I suppose you will sellit."
Seymour determined to insure his jade before Countess Eleanor enteredhis rooms, for fear of its subsequently appearing that the AustrianEmperor had followed up his present of snuff-boxes with a present ofjade. But he let no suspicion mar the cordiality of his tone.
"Yes, that's the idea," he said. "You see no younger son can possiblylive in the way he has been brought up unless he has done somethinghonest and commercial like that, or cheats at bridge. But that is sodifficult I am told. You have to learn bridge first, and then go to aconjurer, during which time you probably forget bridge again. Butotherwise you can't live at all unless you marry and the only thing leftto do is to take to drink and die."
"My brother took to it and lives," said she.
"I know, but you are a very remarkable family."
A footman had wiped up the greater part of the champagne Seymour hadspilt and now stood waiting till he could speak to him.
"Her ladyship told me to tell you that you seemed to have had enoughchampagne, my lord," he said.
Seymour paused for a moment, and his face turned white with indignation.
"Tell her ladyship she is quite right," he said, "and that the first sipI took of it was more than enough."
"Very good, my lord."
"And tell her that the fish was stale," said Seymour shrilly.
"Yes, my lord."
"And tell her--" began Seymour again.
Countess Eleanor interrupted him.
"You have sent enough pleasant messages for one time," she said. "Youcan talk to your mother afterwards: at present talk to me. Did you go tothe wedding this morning?"
"Yes."
Seymour rather frequently allowed himself to be ruffled, but he alwayscalmed down again quickly. "It is so like Mama to send a servant in themiddle of dinner to say I am drunk," he said, "but she will be sorrynow. Look, she is receiving my message, and is turning purple. That issatisfactory. She looks unusually plain when she is purple. Yes: I amdescribing the wedding for a lady's paper. I shall get four guineas forit."
"You do not look as if that would do you much good."
"If you take four guineas often enough they--they purify the blood,"said he, "though certainly the dose is homeopathic. It is called thegold cure. About the wedding. I thought it was very vulgar. And it wasfrightfully _bourgeois_ in spirit. It is very early Victorian to marry aman who has waited for you since about 1820."
"But they will be very happy."
"So are the _bourgeoisie_ who change hats. At least I should have to befrightfully happy to think of putting on anybody else's hat. I recommendyou not to eat that savory unless you have a bad cold that prevents yourtasting anything. Shall I send another message to Mama about it?"
"Ah, my dear young man," said Countess Eleanor, "we are all common whenwe fall in love. You will find yourself being common too, some day. Andthe people who are least _bourgeois_ become the most common of all.Nadine, for instance: there is no one less _bourgeoise_ than Nadine, butif she ever falls in love she will be so common that she will beperfectly sublime. She will be the embodiment of humanity. But she isnot in love with that great boy next her, who is so clearly in love withher. Dear me, what beautiful Sevres dessert plates. I once collectedSevres as well as snuff-boxes."
"Did you--did you get together a fine collection?" asked Seymour.
"Pretty well. It is easier to get snuff-boxes. My brother has some thatused to be mine.--Ah, they are all getting up. Let me come to see yourjade some other day."
* *
* * *
Nadine and Esther escaped very soon after dinner from this dreadfulparty, and went to Seymour's flat where he had preceded them and wasbusy cooking with Antoinette in the kitchen when they arrived. He openedthe door for them himself with his shirt sleeves rolled up above hiselbows, showing an extremely white and delicate skin. Round one wrist hewore a gold bangle.
"I've left the kitchen door open," he said, "so that the whole flatshall smell as strong as possible of cooking. There is nothing sodelicious when you are hungry. We will open the windows afterwards. Youand Esther must amuse yourselves for ten minutes, and then supper willbe ready."
"Oh, may I come and cook too, Seymour?" asked Nadine.
"Certainly not. Antoinette is the only woman in the world who knows howto cook. You would make everything messy. Go and rock the cradle or rulethe world, or whatever you consider to be a woman's sphere, until we areready."
Seymour disappeared again into the kitchen from which came richcracklings and odors of frying, and Nadine turned to Esther with a sigh.
"My dear, I have got remorse and world yearnings to-night," she said. "Iattribute it to your mother's awful party. But I daresay we shall all bebetter soon. You know, if I had asked Hugh to let me come and cook, hewould have given me a golden spoon to stir with, and eaten till he burstbecause I cooked it. And I don't care! He was so dear and so utterlyimpossible this evening. I told him I wasn't going to the dance at theEmbassy, and he said he should go in case I changed my mind. And if ithad been Hugh cooking in there, I should have gone and cooked too, evenif he hadn't wanted me to. It's no use, Esther: I can't marry Hugh.There's the end of it. Up till to-night I have always wondered if Icould. Now I know I can't. I think I shan't see so much of him. I shallmiss him, don't think I shan't miss him, but I want to be fair to him.As it is now, whenever I am nice to him, which I always am, he thinks itmeans that I am beginning to love him. Whereas it doesn't mean anythingwhatever. I wish people hadn't got into the habit of marrying eachother, but bought their babies at a shop instead. And kissing is sodisgusting. The only person I ever like kissing is Mama, because herskin is so delicious and smells very faintly of raspberries. Hugh smellsof cigarettes and soap--"
"Darling Nadine, you haven't been kissing Hugh, have you?" asked Esther.
"Yes, I kissed him this evening, when he was putting my cloak on, butthere were ninety-five footmen there so it wasn't compromising: we wereheavily chaperoned. And I would just as soon have kissed any of theother ninety-five. But he wanted me to, and so I did, and then suddenlyI saw how unfair it was for me. It didn't mean anything: I kissed himjust as I kiss my dog, because he is such a duck. Also because he wantedme to, which Tobias never does: he always cleans his face on the rugafter I have kissed him, and sneezes."
"Did he ask you to?" said Esther,--"not Toby, Hugh!"
"No, but I can see by a man's face when he wants. I saw one of thefootmen wanted, too, and perhaps I ought to have kissed him as well, toshow Hugh it did not mean anything."
Nadine sat down and spread her hands wide with a surprisingly dramaticgesture of innocence and despair.
"It isn't my fault," she said; "it's me. _C'est moi: son' io!_ I wouldtranslate it into all the languages of the world, like the Bible, ifthat would make Hugh understand. People can't be different from whatthey are. It's a grand mistake to suppose otherwise. They can act andtalk in accordance with what they are, or they can act and talkotherwise, but they, the personalities, are unchangeable except bymiracles. I could act contrary to my own self and marry Hugh, but itwould be no particle of good. I want him to understand that I can't lovehim, and I am too fond of him to marry him without. I wish to heaven hewould marry somebody else."
"He won't do that," said Esther.
"I am afraid not. I think it is rather selfish. It is putting it all onme. I shall have to marry somebody else, I suppose, and that will bevery unselfish of me, because I don't want to marry. Of course one hasto: I don't want to grow old, but I shall have to grow old. They areboth laws of nature, and perhaps neither the one nor the other is sodisagreeable really."
Esther gave her long, appreciative sigh.
"It would be too wonderful of you to marry somebody else, in order tomake it clear to Hugh that you couldn't marry him," she said. "It wouldbe the most illustrious thing to do and it shows that really you aredevoted to Hugh. But you really think that people don't change, Nadine?"
"Not unless a moral earthquake happens and earthquakes are not to beexpected. Only an upheaval of that kind makes any difference in theessential things. Their tastes change, as their noses and hair change,but the thing that sits behind like some beastly idol in a temple nevermoves and looks on at all that changes round it with the same woodeneyes. Oh, dear, I am so tired of myself, and I can't get out of sight ofmyself."
Nadine looked at herself in a Louis Seize mirror that hung above thefireplace and pointed a contemplative finger at the reflection of herpale loveliness.
"I wish I was anything in the world except that thing," she said. "I amgenuine when I say that, but having said that there is nothing elseabout me but what is intolerable. But I am aware that I don't reallycare about anybody in the world. The only thing that can be said for meis that I detest myself. I wish I was like you, Esther, because you carefor me: I wish I was like Aunt Eleanor because she cares for stealing. Iwish I was like Daddy because he cares for old brandy. You are allbetter off than I. I envy anybody and everybody who cares for anybodywith her heart. No doubt having a heart is often a very great nuisance,and often leads you to make a dreadful fool of yourself, but it getstedious to be wise and cool all the time like me."
Seymour entered at this moment carrying a little silver censer withincense in it.
"The smell of food is sufficiently strong," he said. "And supper isready. Also the smell of incense reminds one of stepping out of theblazing sunlight into St. Mark's at Venice. Nadine, you look tooexquisite, but depressed. Has not the effect of Mama worn off yet?"
"Oh, it's not your mother, it's me," said she.
"You think about yourself too much," observed Seymour. "I know thetemptation so well, and generally yield to it. It is a great mistake:one occasionally has doubts whether one is the nicest person in theworld and whether it is worth while doing anything, even collectingjade. But such doubts never last long with me."
"Don't you ever wish you had a heart, Seymour?" she asked. "You and Ihave neither of us got hearts."
"I know, and I am so exceedingly comfortable without one, that I shouldbe sorry to get one. If you have a heart, sooner or later you get into astate of drivel about somebody, who probably doesn't drivel about you.That must be so mortifying. Even if two people drivel mutually they aredeplorable objects, but a solitary driveler is like a lonely cat on thetiles, and is a positive nuisance. Poor Hugh! Nadine, you suit mywall-paper quite exquisitely. Also it suits you. Don't let any of us goto bed to-night, but see the morning come. The early morning is thecolor of a wood-pigeon's breast, and looks frightfully tired, as if ithad sat up all night too. Most people look perfectly hideous at thatmoment, but I really don't believe you would. Do sit up and let me see.
"I look the color of an oyster at dawn," said Esther, "it is just as ifI had gone bad."
Her brother looked at her thoughtfully.
"Yes, my dear, I can imagine your looking quite ghastly," he said. "Youhad better go away before dawn. It might make me seriously unwell."
"I shall. I shall go to the dance at the Embassy, I think. Madame Tavitais so hideous that she makes me feel good-looking for a week."
"You always behave as if you were pretty, which matters far more thanbeing pretty," said Seymour. "It matters very little what people looklike, if they only behave as if they were Venuses, just as it does notmatter how tall you are if you consistently look at a point rather abovethe head of the person you are talking to."
Nadine was recovering a little under the influence of food.
"That is quite true," she said. "And i
f you want to look really rich,you must be shabby, or not wash your face. Seymour, let us try and writea little book together, 'Fifty ways of appearing enviable.' You shouldeat a great deal in order to make it appear you have a good digestion,although you may be quite sick afterwards, and refuse a great manyinvitations to show what a wild social success you are, even though youdine all by yourself at home. My dear, what delicious food; did you cookit, or Antoinette?"
"Both. We each threw in what we thought would be good, and stirred ittogether. I am sorry for people who are not greedy. I am told that whenyou are old, food and saving money are the only pursuits that don'tpall. At present food and spending money are particularly attractive,and a piquancy is added if you haven't got any money. And now we allfeel better."
* * * * *
Seymour had a piece of needlework which he often produced when he wasstaying with friends, in order to irritate them. He seldom worked at itwhen at home, but to-night he got it out, in order to irritate hissister into going to the ball without delay, for Esther was alwaysexasperated to a point almost beyond her control by the sight of herbrother with his thimble and needle. So before long she took herdeparture, leaving Nadine to follow (which was Seymour's design), and heput the needlework back into its embroidered bag again.
"I am afraid my methods are a little obvious," he said, "but poor Esthersees nothing but the most obvious hints. You have to say things veryloud and clear to her, like the man in 'Alice in Wonderland.'"
"Who was that?" asked Nadine absently. "And what did you want Esther todo?"
"To go away, of course. I wanted to talk to you, Nadine. I have neverknown you look so beautiful as to-night. You look troubled too. Troublesmake people feel plain but look beautiful."
Nadine shifted her position, so that she faced him.
"Yes, do talk to me," she said. "See if you can distract me a littlefrom myself. My mind hurts me, Seymour. I wish I had a hard bright mindas some people have. Their minds are like ... I don't know what they arelike: I can't trouble to think to-night. How stupid are all the jinkingsand monkey-tricks we go through! I have worn an inane smile all day,and when I tried to read my Plato, it merely bored me. Nothing seemsworth while. And don't be commonplace, and say that it is liver. It isnothing of the sort. Would you be surprised if I burst into tears?"
"You have been thinking of the old 'un," remarked Seymour.
"Whom do you mean?"
"Hugh, of course. Do you know you are rather like a boy watching thestruggle of a butterfly he has impaled? You are sorry for it, but youdon't let it go.
"He impaled himself," said Nadine.
"Well, you gave him the pin. But as you don't mean to marry him, makethat quite clear to him."
"But how?"
"Marry me," said Seymour.