The Last Woman

  CHAPTER IV

  THE BOX AT THE OPERA

  Duncan stared helplessly at the spot where the curtains had fallentogether behind the departing figure of Stephen Langdon; then heturned his eyes toward Beatrice, to discover that she was convulsedwith laughter. But whether her demeanor and her quick surrender toexpressions of levity had been excited by the departure of the banker,or by Duncan's attitude of dismay, the young man could not have told.He laughed with her, for there was a distinctly ludicrous side to thesituation, following, as it did, so closely upon the announcement ofhis engagement to Patricia.

  By mutual consent, they withdrew to the rear of the box, and thenBeatrice, with a touch of teasing witchery in her voice and withlaughter still in her eyes, asked him:

  "Don't you think that this is rather a compromising situation,particularly in view of the fact that you have only just becomeengaged to Patricia? Really, you know, it is dreadful; isn't it?"

  "I hadn't thought of that," he replied, quite truthfully. "I wasthinking of what Langdon said, when he left us. It recalledsomething--"

  "About leaving us two 'youngsters' alone together?" she asked him,with a pretense of frightened expression in her eyes.

  "No, that wasn't the last thing he said."

  "What was it? I didn't hear it."

  "He said he was going to see Melvin. I suppose you know who Melvin is,don't you?"

  "Oh, yes, indeed. Mr. Melvin and I are great friends. I think he isabout the nicest old gentleman of my acquaintance; don't you? He iswhat I should call the _arbiter elegantiarum_ of the Langdon court, ifone could imagine Old Steve as a Caesar, and Patricia as--" Beatricepaused, and flushed hotly. She had not considered to what length herwords were reaching. She had almost cast a reflection upon her friend,which would have been as unkind as it was unmerited. She added,quickly: "But why, if I may ask, did the mention of Mr. Melvin's nameinterest you?"

  Duncan gazed at his companion rather stupidly, for a moment, for hismind had suddenly become intent upon the complications of the day, andhe had forgotten for the time being, where he was, and with whom hewas talking. But Beatrice's smile and the mockery in her eyes broughthim back to the present.

  "I remembered that I should have gone, myself, to see Melvin,to-night," he told her, quietly. "It really was quite important. Ishould have sought him, instead of coming here."

  "Indeed?" Beatrice laughed, brightly. "Mr. Melvin seems to be in greatdemand. Are you and Patricia to follow the French fashion of drawingthe marriage-contract? and is Mr. Melvin to act the part of a Frenchnotary?" There was a touch of irony in her question, a little shaft ofsarcasm that brought a quick flush to Duncan's face. He was remindedinstantly of the tentative betrothal with Patricia, and his misgivingsconcerning it. Beside him was seated the one person who might aid themboth; and with sudden resolution, acted upon as quickly as it wasformed, he reached out and took one of Miss Brunswick's hands, holdingit between both his own.

  "Beatrice," he said, with quiet emphasis, "you have always been a goodfellow, if ever there was a girl born in the world who was one. Iwonder if you could be persuaded to give me the benefit of youradvice, and, possibly, your active assistance?"

  She flushed a little under the praise and the intimately personalrequest that came with it, but he did not notice this as he went on:"I've somehow got things into the biggest kind of a muddle to-day, andI have a notion to tell you all about it; I have the impulse to takeyou into my confidence and to ask you to help me out. I know you cando it. By Jove, Beatrice, I think you are the only person in the worldwho can do it! Will you?"

  She shrugged her shoulders ever so little, and the flush left hercheeks, rendering them paler than was their wont. It suddenly camehome to her that he was asking a favor that might prove extremelydifficult to grant.

  "I cannot say as to that until I hear what you wish me to do," shereplied.

  "I want you to help me square myself," he said, quickly.

  "To square yourself?" She raised her brows in assumed surprise. "Withwhom?"

  "Why, with Patricia, of course."

  "Help you to square yourself with Patricia?" She laughed outright, butwithout mirth. "I am afraid I don't at all understand you, Roderick. Isupposed you had already accomplished that much, for you told me--didyou not?--that Patricia has just accepted you?"

  "Yes, and that's the devil of it!" was the unexpected astoundingreply. Beatrice moved farther away from him, and took her hand fromhis grasp, in well-simulated horror of what he had said.

  "Let us, at least, confine ourselves to the usages and language ofpolite society;" she said, with mock severity. "We will leave thedevil out of it, if you please. Besides, you amaze me! Patricia hasjust accepted you, and that is 'the devil of it.' Really, I can'tguess what you mean by such a paradoxical statement as that."

  "Forgive me. I am so wrought up that I scarcely know what I am talkingabout, or what I am doing. As I said before, I have managed to getthings into a terrible mess, and I believe that you, Beatrice, are theonly person alive who can unravel the tangle for me. Will you help meout? Will you?"

  "You must tell me what it is, before I commit myself. You are so veryaggravating, in words and manner, that I cannot even attempt tounderstand you."

  For just a few moments, he hesitated. There was within him thefeeling that he would outrage Patricia's ideas of the fitness ofthings, if he should take Beatrice Brunswick into his confidence andrelate to her all that had occurred this afternoon and evening. But,on the other hand, he saw in this beautiful girl a personification ofthe straw at which a drowning man grasps. He knew that she was,personally, closer to Patricia than any other friend had been, andthat she understood Patricia better than did anyone else, save StephenLangdon, perhaps. He knew, also, that he could trust her, and that hecould rely, implicitly, upon her loyalty. He knew that she would neverbetray the secrets he would be obliged to tell concerning StephenLangdon's affairs. He had tried her often, and he had never found herwanting. Therefore, he felt that the greatest secret of all,concerning the financial extremity in which Stephen Langdon had becomeinvolved, would be safe with Beatrice Brunswick. Manlike, he beganvery stupidly and very strangely.

  "By Jove, Beatrice!" he exclaimed. "I wish I might have fallen in lovewith you, instead of with Patricia! You would never have seen thingsin the light she does!"

  Beatrice's eyes widened and deepened; then, they narrowed so that shealmost frowned. She bit her lips with vexation, and for an instantwas angry. At last, she laughed. She did not wish him to know howdeeply he had wounded her by that careless statement, so she uttered acare-free ripple of laughter.

  "I don't quite know whether I should take that as a compliment ornot," she replied. "It is more than likely that I would have conductedmyself very much worse than Patricia has done in this affair which youhave not as yet explained to me. Perhaps, it is a fortunate thing forboth of us that you did not fall in love with me, instead of her. I'msure I don't know what I should have done with you, in such a case.But I will help you if I can; only, understand in the beginning thatif you tell me the story at all, you must tell me all of it. I don'twant any half-confidences, Roderick."

  Duncan did tell her all of it then, leaving nothing to be added, whenhe had finished; and she listened to the end of his tale in uttersilence, with her head half-turned away and her chin supported by thepalm of one of her jeweled hands. They did not move to the front ofthe box again, nor give any heed to the rise of the curtain or to whatwas taking place on the stage, during the ensuing act. Duncan talkedstraight on, through it all; and Beatrice listened with closeattention. One might have supposed that the music and the singing didnot reach the ears of either of them, and one would not have been verywrong in that surmise. The tragic fate of John, the Baptist; theunholy, unnatural passion of a depraved soul for the dead lips of aman who had spurned her while he lived; the exquisite music ofStrauss; the superb scenery and stage-setting; the rich and gorgeouscostumes--all remained unseen and unheard by these two, one intentu
pon reestablishing himself in the esteem of Patricia Langdon, theother disturbed by emotions she could not have named, which she wouldhave declined to recognize, even had they presented themselves franklyto her. She had known, of course, of Duncan's love for her friend, butuntil this hour there had always existed an unformed, unrecognizeddoubt in the mind of Beatrice that it would ever be requited.

  When he had finished, she was still silent, and for so long a timethat at last, with some impatience, he bent nearer to her, andexclaimed:

  "Well, Beatrice? What do you think of it all?"

  She shuddered a little. There was still another interval before shespoke, and then, with calm directness, she replied:

  "I think you are both exceedingly brave to be willing to face thesituation that exists."

  "Eh?" he asked her, not comprehending.

  "Why, if you carry out this compact that you have made, if PatriciaLangdon becomes your wife according to the terms she has dictated toMelvin--for I can guess, now, what they are--you will both be castingyourselves straight down into hell. I speak metaphorically, ofcourse," she added, with a whimsical smile. "I have been told thatthere isn't any hell, really. But I mean it, Roderick. If there isn'ta hell, you two seem to be bent upon the arrangement of a correctimitation of one."

  "How is that?" he demanded, frowning. "I don't know what you mean."

  "Our friend has not been named 'Juno' for nothing. She is a strangegirl; but I love her, almost as much as you do," Beatrice continued,as if she had not heard his question. "She possesses characteristics,the depth of which I have never been able to sound, and I am her bestand closest friend. If you two live up to this agreement, in thespirit in which it was made, and conclude it in the spirit in whichshe has dictated her conditions to Melvin, I tremble for theconsequences that will ensue, for I can almost foresee them. Patriciais not one who forgives easily, and she will resent a hurt to herpride with all the force there is in her."

  Beatrice rose to her feet, standing before him, and he, also, stoodup, facing her. She reached out both her hands toward him, and he tookthem; and there were tears in her big blue eyes, when she added, witha depth of feeling that he did not understand:

  "Roderick Duncan, it would be better for you, and for Patricia aswell, if you never saw each other again. You might far better, andwith much greater hope of happiness, cast your future lot with someother woman whom you have never thought of as a wife, than marryPatricia Langdon upon such terms as you have outlined. Have you knownher so intimately all your life without understanding her at all? Shemight have forgiven disloyalty, or unfaithfulness, or at least havecondoned such--but an offense against her pride? Never! You would beundergoing much less risk if you should select an utterly unknownwoman from one of these boxes, and should take her out of this theatrenow, and marry her instead!"

  Having delivered this remarkable statement, Beatrice burst intolaughter. Duncan, suddenly alive to her beauty and her nearness,deeply impressed by what she had said, and fully alive to the truth ofher utterances, retained the grasp he had upon her hands, and drew hertoward him, quickly.

  "Why not?" he demanded, hotly. "I'll do it if you say the word! Butnot a strange woman. You, Beatrice--you!! I'll dare you!!! We'll go tothe 'Little Church Around the Corner.' I dare you! I dare you,Beatrice! They always have a wedding ceremony on tap, there; if you'vegot the sand, come on. It offers a solution of everything. Come on,Bee--marry me!"

  She raised her eyes to his, and he understood, instantly, how he hadwounded her; he saw that her laughter had not been real, and that shewas very near to tears. But the fact that she shrank away from hisimpetuous words and manner, only spurred him on anew. He caught herhands again.

  "Let's do it, Beatrice," he said rapidly, bending forward with suddeneagerness. "I hate all this mess and muddle of affairs. I hate it! Sayyes, Bee."

  He stood with his back toward the curtains at the rear of the box; shewas facing them. He saw her eyes dilate suddenly, and he had thesensation that she had discovered another person near them, or in theact of entering the box; and then, with more astonishment than hewould have believed himself capable of feeling, he realized thatBeatrice Brunswick had thrown herself forward and that her white armswere wound clingingly about his neck; at the same time, with evidentdesign, she turned him still more, so that he could not see thecurtains which screened the entrance to the box.

  The last and final shock of that eventful day, came to him then, forhe did turn, in spite of Beatrice's restraining arms--he turned tofind that the curtains were drawn apart, and in the opening thuscreated stood Patricia Langdon. Duncan knew that she had both seen andheard.

  He could not have moved, had he attempted to do so, although somewheredeep down inside of him he felt that it was his duty to untwine thoseclinging arms and somehow to account for the appalling situation.Beyond where Patricia stood, he saw and recognized two other figuresthat were moving steadily forward toward them, but he had thesubconscious assurance in his soul that neither Stephen Langdon norhis lawyer, Melvin, had noticed the scene which Patricia haddiscovered. He could not guess that it had been the consequence ofsudden inspiration on the part of Beatrice, who had thrown her armsaround his neck at the very instant when she had intended toadminister a rebuff.

  He did not imagine that she had discovered the approach of Patriciabefore she made this outward demonstration in acceptance of his madproposal. Duncan felt very guilty indeed, in that trying moment;nevertheless, he was not one to attempt an ignominious escape from apredicament in which he believed himself to be wholly at fault. ButBeatrice was not yet through with acting a part. She drew away fromDuncan quickly, with an exclamation of mingled disappointment,pleasure and alarm. She cried out the single ejaculation, "Oh!" anddropped backward upon the chair she had recently occupied. But therewas a gleam of mischief in her eyes, which belied the confusionotherwise expressed upon her face.

  "So sorry to have interrupted you at such a critical moment," saidPatricia coolly, at once master of herself and of the situation."Good-evening, Beatrice. I hope you have enjoyed the opera. I decidedto come at the last moment, and met my father at the door of thetheatre, as I was entering. He insisted on seeing Mr. Melvin to-night,so we drove to his house together and brought him here. I thought Iwould enjoy the last act."

  One might have thought that Roderick Duncan did not exist. Patriciadid not so much as glance in his direction, but she moved forward tothe front of the box and took her accustomed seat, just as StephenLangdon and the lawyer, Melvin, entered it.

  All this had passed so quickly that the interval it occupied could bereckoned only by seconds. Beatrice Brunswick's face was flushed, andher eyes were alight with mischief, or with something deeper, as shegreeted the two gentlemen. Duncan's countenance was like marble; herealized that the mess was bigger now, by far, than it had beenbefore.

  Langdon and his lawyer perceived nothing unusual in the attitude ofany person in the box; both were preoccupied with the discussion uponwhich they had just been engaged. Patricia's eyes were already fixedon the stage, and evidently her entire attention was devoted to it.She appeared to have forgotten the propinquity of other persons.

  There was a vacant chair beside her which Duncan should have taken,and, doubtless, he would have done so, had not the lawyer stupidlypreempted it for his own use. The banker occupied the middle chair,and the consequence was that Duncan was given no choice, but wasliterally forced into the one next to Beatrice. Not that he wouldhave preferred it otherwise, at the moment. Not he. He was angered byPatricia's conduct toward him; he resented the whole circumstance--andpossibly, too, he still felt something of the thrill induced by theclinging arms of Beatrice Brunswick. He stared silently toward thestage, seeing nothing upon it. He was endeavoring to arrange, in somecomprehensive form, the combination of circumstances and scenes whichit had been his misfortune to encounter, and in part enact, since noonthat day. But the more he tried, the more difficult became the task.The whole thing was as exasperating as an attempt to put
together,within an alloted time, a puzzle-picture which has been cut into allsorts of sizes and shapes. It was not a panorama of events, as herecounted them in his own mind; it was a kaleidoscope, a jumble ofcolors and figures, of angles and spaces--or to put it in his ownwords, it was literally a mess.

  He turned toward Beatrice, whose right hand was negligently waving afan. He reached out and claimed it, and she did not resent the act. Hedrew it toward him, and she looked up and smiled into his eyes with anexpression he did not understand. She made no effort to withdraw herhand, nor any attempt to resist his advances. He bent nearer.

  "Will you do it?" he asked her, whispering. "Will you do it,Beatrice?"

  She made no reply, and he bent still nearer, seizing her hand in bothhis own, now.

  "Will you do it, dear?" he repeated, a third time. "I'm game, if youare. It is a solution of the whole beastly muddle. Come on. I'll stumpyou! That is what we used to say, when we were kids. By Jove, girl,you're in as deep as I am, now; and, besides, you gave me your wordthat you'd help me, didn't you? Turn your eyes toward me. Tell meyou'll do it. Say yes. Come on, Bee. I'll dare you. We can slip awayfrom here while their backs are turned. What do you say? Will youmarry me?"

  "Yes," she replied, without moving or withdrawing her gaze from thestage, and she repeated: "yes, if you wish it." He could not see herface.

  "Will you do it now?" Duncan demanded, half-startled by her readyacquiescence.

  "Yes."

  "Good! I knew you were game!"

  He left his chair quickly and secured her wraps and his own coat andhat. Then, he stepped to the opening between the curtains and turnedexpectantly toward her.

  She had not moved; but now, as if she had seen his every act withoutlooking toward him, she turned her head slowly, observing him coolly,and she gave a little nod of comprehension and assent. He returned thenod, touched his fingers to his lips to enjoin silence, and passedoutside. In another moment, she had glided softly but swiftly from herseat, and, unnoticed by the other occupants of the box, followed him,dropping the curtains silently after her.

  He put her opera-cloak about her shoulders, and swiftly donned his owncoat and hat, and so without as much as "by your leave," they left thetheatre together and waited in the foyer while the special officer ingray called a taxicab for their use.

  Duncan led her across the pavement to the cab, and assisted herinside.

  "Do you know where the Church of the Transfiguration is located?" heasked the chauffeur.

  "I do, sir," was the reply.

  "Drive us there, and be quick about it," said Duncan, and he spranginside and banged the door shut after him.