She spoke1 from the doorway2 between her bedroom and the salon3, where Miss Marks, her secretary, was taking off gloves and hat before getting to work; and she had on the boudoir gown of mousseline de soie and swansdown sent by the Great Unknown a week ago. This was the first time she had worn it, and Miss Marks's eyes sent forth4 a flash which might mean admiration5 or jealousy6, or both. Marise diagnosed the emotion as jealousy. If she were right, she was sorry for the girl, who, though handsome, could not compare with her, and who, though very intelligent, was only a stenographer7, at about twenty-five: two years older than she, who was already a brilliant star!
This thought was but a flash, brief as the flash in the secretary's eyes, for instantly the mind of Marise turned to the letters. Thank goodness she was in time! Another three minutes, and she might have been too late. Miss Marks would by then have begun her first task of the day: opening letters and sorting them, placing requests for autographs and photos in one pile, pleas for money in a second, demands for advice or help about going on the stage in a third, and so on. Who could tell if the one envelope whose contents no eye but Marise Sorel's should see mightn't lie at the very top?
As a matter of fact, it did not lie at the top. It was nearer the bottom, and long before she found it Marise had begun to fear that it didn't exist.
The trying part was that the envelopes told her nothing. She had to cut or tear open each one, unless she recognised the handwriting of the address, and could then throw it aside till later. She went through the business curled up on a sofa, sitting on one foot, which showed among snowdrifts of swansdown. It was a stockingless foot, thrust into a silver mule8 lined with blue velvet9; and her skin was satin smooth and creamy pink as the inside of a conch shell. Miss Marks noticed this, and noticed also how long and thick was the plait of yellow-brown hair that dangled10 over the sofa-back, its curling end within a few inches of the floor. She smiled faintly as she saw how fast her employer worked, and how she tossed the letters aside after a fevered glance at each. Marise was quite right. Miss Marks was very intelligent! She knew, almost as well as if she had been told the whole story, just why Miss Sorel had got up at so "unearthly an hour" this morning.
"Ah, now she's found the one she didn't want me to see!" the dark girl said to herself, as the face of Marise turned suddenly pink, and bent11 over a letter which she read through twice from beginning to end. Then, lest she should be caught staring, Miss Marks began to arrange her newly-sharpened pencils and the writing-pad on which she would take down, in shorthand, letters dictated12 by Miss Sorel.
She need not, however, have troubled herself with these elaborate precautions. Miss Sorel was interested in and puzzled by this handsome young Jewess with the burning eyes and wet-coral lips; but for the moment Miss Marks's very existence was forgotten.
The letter had come, as Marise hoped it might, on this the second day of her advertisement; but the mystery remained unsolved. Indeed, it was purposely kept up, for the thick parchment paper had neither initial nor address. The few words on the first page were unsigned, and only one secret was given away: but to Marise this was of great importance. The strong, black handwriting was certainly that of a man. She would have turned sick with chagrin14 at sight of a woman's penmanship.
"It is I who have to thank you, not you me," she read. "You are very kind to invite me to call, and say I must come soon. I will take you at your word. Unless I hear to the contrary through a second 'personal' in the New York Record, I will ask for you at the Plaza15 Hotel at three o'clock next Sunday afternoon."
This was all, and Marise hardly knew whether to be pleased or disappointed with the brief simplicity16 of her anonymous17 admirer. He, whose original ideas in presents had made her imagine him the most modern and mundane18 of men, expressed himself on paper rather like a shy, old-fashioned schoolboy. A dampening doubt oozed19 into the girl's mind. What if he hadn't picked out those wonderful things himself? What if he had got some woman to choose them? But even a doubt—a piercing, new doubt—had its fascination20. And after Sunday it would be gone for ever. She would know the worst—or best—of her Mystery Man.
On Sunday afternoons she and her mother were "at home" to their friends, from four to six; He proposed coming at three, however, and he was sure to be prompt to the moment. That ought to give an hour before extraneous21 people began to pour in. But—what about Mums? Marise concentrated her mind upon that pressing problem.
Mums was as curious as she concerning the unknown. But Mums, though an absolute trump22 and a darling, was the most conventional woman on earth. Just because she and Marise were not born to the high sphere they now adorned23, Mums was determined24 that neither should be guilty of the smallest act unworthy of—at least—a countess. Naturally, as Mums herself would admit, if you were already a countess, you could perhaps afford to do what you pleased: and to judge from "smart society" columns many countesses availed themselves to the full of their prerogatives25. Marise might soon be a countess; and if so, Mums would cease to dictate13 from the rules of an etiquette26 book; but until that day those keen brown eyes needed no lorgnettes to watch a daughter's doings.
After a few minutes' reflection, the girl decided27 that she would not confess to Mums what she had done. It would mean a scolding as a first instalment, and a serial28 continued day by day of gentle, motherly nagging29. Marise loved her parent, but she hated to be nagged30. No. Mums must somehow be whisked out of the way before three o'clock next Sunday, and kept out of it long enough for an understanding to be reached with Him.
Of course, Marise said to herself, she wouldn't tell a fib. She would just explain frankly31 (she could see how she would look, her eyes very blue and big, being frank with Him!) that she hadn't dared tell anyone, even her mother, about the advertisement. And she would beg him to "help her out" when she—er—made it seem as if he'd merely written to say he would call unless he heard to the contrary. By that time she would know his name, so the thing could be managed easily, and Mums never suspect to what lengths she had gone. As for Severance32, the coast would be clear of him on Sunday till long after three. Dunstan Belloc was giving a "stag" luncheon33 that day, at one-thirty, and she had persuaded Tony against his will to accept. But Mums? How dispose of her? Suddenly a bright idea swam to the rescue.
Marise slipped the Unknown's letter into a pocket disguised as a bunch of silver thistles. Then, with large, innocent eyes, she turned to her secretary, "Oh, Miss Marks!" she exclaimed. And being an actress, it occurred to her that the young woman addressed was surprisingly absorbed in removing lead-pencil dust from her manicured fingers. If she—Marise—had been secretly studying Miss Marks's profile or back hair, she would have been equally absent-minded if addressed! She wondered for the fiftieth time whether it was a coincidence that Miss Marks had called on the manager of the Plaza the very day after the Sorels had asked him to find a private secretary.
At first, when Marise saw how handsome the girl was, and heard that she'd "hoped Miss Sorel might want someone," the wary34 young actress feared that Miss Marks wished to go on the stage. But now the stenographer had been coming to the Plaza each morning for a week, and had not thrown out such a hint. She was, indeed, entirely35 business-like, and possessed36 of good references. Still, the fact remained that she had never before applied37 to the manager of this hotel; and her appearance had been apropos38 as that of the sacrificial sheep caught in the bushes. Besides, Marise had often observed that odd, appreciative39 flame in the black eyes, as if Miss Marks were more interested than a secretary need be in her employer.
"Yes, Miss Sorel?" the dark girl responded. "Would you like me to take dictation?"
"Not yet, thanks," said Marise. "I haven't had my bath or breakfast, and I'm hungry. But I've thought of something. Mother and I were so excited about that Polish boy-dressmaker genius you were talking of yesterday. He sounds wonderful; and, as he's only beginning, I suppose he's not choked with orders. He might do some work for me in a hurry?"
"I think he'd sit up at night and go without meals by day to work for you," replied Miss Marks. "It would be such an advertisement. And he loves working for pretty people."
"Well, I love helping40 geniuses." Marise modestly accepted the compliment. "Didn't you say his flat is on your floor?"
Miss Marks answered that this was the case. Valinski would move to a fashionable neighbourhood some day. At present his talent budded in 85th Street.
"I wish I could go to him myself," sighed Marise. "I can't now, for I'm so hard-worked and tired. But I thought mother might take a taxi after lunch next Sunday and choose a design for a tea-gown—his specialty41, you said. Would he see her on Sunday—about a quarter to three, so she could get back for her friends?"
Miss Marks was certain of Valinski's consent. She would come for Mrs. Sorel, if that would suit, and take her to the dressmaker. Marise thought it would suit: and Mums, arriving at that moment dressed for the day, an appointment was made.
The life of Marise Sorel was so full, the pattern of each day so gaily42 embroidered43 with emotions and incidents, that she was surprised at her own excitement. She did not, however, try to quench44 it. She loved to feel that, in spite of the adulation she received, one side of her nature was as fresh, as unspoiled, as a child's. And she was as guiltily pleased as a child when, at twenty minutes before three on Sunday afternoon, her mother went down to a waiting taxi with Zélie Marks. Patronising the Pole and choosing a design would eat up an hour, Marise had calculated.
She had put on a white dress of the simplicity whose price is beyond rubies45. Her hair was in a great gleaming knot of gold at the nape of her neck. She looked about sixteen, and felt it. When the bell of the telephone rang at three minutes before three, she thrilled all over.
"A gentleman asking for Mademoiselle. He says he has an appointment," announced Céline at the 'phone.
"Any name?" Marise inquired.
Céline put her lips to the instrument, the receiver to her ear. "The gentleman has given no name, because he is expected. But if Mademoiselle wishes that I insist——?"
"No. Tell them he's to come up at once. And, Céline, be ready to open the door of the suite46."
The Frenchwoman went out noiselessly: Marise rushed to the long mirror, in front of which tall, scented47 roses were banked. Her cheeks were very pink. She was like a rose herself. But hastily she rubbed her little nose with powder from a vanity box. The gold case was only just snapped shut, and Marise seated with a book, when she heard a sound in the vestibule. He had come!
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1
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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salon
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| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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stenographer
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| n.速记员 | |
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8
mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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10
dangled
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| 悬吊着( dangle的过去式和过去分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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11
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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12
dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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13
dictate
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| v.口授；(使)听写；指令，指示，命令 | |
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14
chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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15
plaza
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| n.广场，市场 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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18
mundane
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| adj.平凡的；尘世的；宇宙的 | |
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19
oozed
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| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的过去式和过去分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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21
extraneous
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| adj.体外的；外来的；外部的 | |
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22
trump
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| n.王牌，法宝；v.打出王牌，吹喇叭 | |
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23
adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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prerogatives
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| n.权利( prerogative的名词复数 )；特权；大主教法庭；总督委任组成的法庭 | |
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etiquette
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| n.礼仪，礼节；规矩 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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serial
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| n.连本影片，连本电视节目；adj.连续的 | |
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29
nagging
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| adj.唠叨的，挑剔的；使人不得安宁的v.不断地挑剔或批评（某人）( nag的现在分词 )；不断地烦扰或伤害（某人）；无休止地抱怨；不断指责 | |
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30
nagged
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| adj.经常遭责怪的；被压制的；感到厌烦的；被激怒的v.不断地挑剔或批评（某人）( nag的过去式和过去分词 )；不断地烦扰或伤害（某人）；无休止地抱怨；不断指责 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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32
severance
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| n.离职金；切断 | |
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33
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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34
wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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35
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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37
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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38
apropos
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| adv.恰好地；adj.恰当的；关于 | |
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39
appreciative
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| adj.有鉴赏力的，有眼力的；感激的 | |
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40
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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41
specialty
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| n.(speciality)特性，特质；专业，专长 | |
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42
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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43
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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44
quench
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| vt.熄灭，扑灭；压制 | |
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45
rubies
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| 红宝石( ruby的名词复数 )； 红宝石色，深红色 | |
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46
suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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47
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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