"Then, subitement, I remember, for m'sieur will require a chef is it not so?"
"Assuredly," said Philip. "But your cousin may not wish to take service with me, in which case I shall seek an English cook."
"An English cook? Ah, bah! Is it that I would permit m'sieur to be so ill served? No! M'sieur shall have a French chef, bien s?r. What does an Englishman know of the cuisine8? Is m'sieur to be insulted by the tasteless, watery9 vegetables of such as the wife of Moggat? No! I go to find my cousin!"
"Very well," said Philip.
"And then we have a household bien tenu. It is our poor Jacques who could not support an Englishman in the house."
"I hope I am not to be excluded?" smiled Philip.
"M'sieur se moque de moi! Is it that m'sieur is English? M'sieur is tout10 comme un Fran?ais." He bustled11 away, full of importance.
The cousin was forthcoming, a stout12, good-tempered soul, who rejoiced in the name of Marie-Guillaume. Fran?ois exhibited him with pride, and he was engaged. That ended all Philip's responsibility. Fran?ois gathered up the reins13 of government, and in a week they were installed in Curzon Street. Philip had done no more than say that he wished to enter his new abode on Thursday. On Thursday he went out to Ranelagh; when he returned to Half-Moon Street he found that his baggage had gone. He took his leave of Tom, and walked up the road and round the corner, into Curzon Street. His house was as neat as a new pin; his baggage was unpacked14; Fran?ois was complacent15. They might have lived in the house for months; there was no disorder16, no fuss, none of the slow settling down. Fran?ois, Jacques and Marie-Guillaume had fitted into their respective niches17 in one short hour. Philip was moved to inform Fran?ois that he was a treasure.
That evening he went to a ball given by the Duchess of Queensberry. And there he met Cleone, for the first time since his return to England.
The Duchess welcomed him effusively18, for already Philip was a persona grata in Society, and much sought after by hostesses. Tom had lost no time in introducing him to the Fashionable World. The ladies were captivated by his French air, and ogled19 him shamelessly. Then men found that he was, for all his graces, singularly modest and unaffected at heart, and they extended the hand of friendship towards him. People began to look for him, and to be disappointed if he were absent.
Until now, however, Philip had seen nothing of Cleone, but on all sides he had heard of her. She was, he learned, London's newest beauty.
She was dancing when Philip saw her first, smiling up at her partner with blue eyes that seemed bluer than ever, and lips that lay in a happy curve. Her golden hair was unpowdered and piled in curls upon the top of her head. Philip thought she was more beautiful than ever.
He stood apart, watching her. She had not seen him; she was not even thinking of him; those eyes were clear and joyous21. Who was her partner? Brainless-looking fool! Simpering ninny! Ay, that was all she cared for! Philip's hand clenched22 slowly on his snuff-box.
Philip turned. Lord Charles Fairfax stood at his elbow.
"Yes," he said.
Philip's mouth lost its hard line.
"So are we all. She is very beautiful, is she not?"
"Ravishing!" agreed Philip. He saw Cleone's partner lead her to a chair. "Will you present me?"
"Against my will, then!" said his lordship roguishly. He walked forward to where Cleone sat.
"Mistress Cleone, have you no smile for the humblest of your admirers?"
Cleone turned her head.
"Oh, Lord Charles! Give you good even, sir! Do you know you have not been near me the whole evening? I am monstrous29 hurt, I assure you!"
"Dear lady, how was I to come near you?" protested Fairfax. "Until this moment you have been surrounded."
Cleone gave a happy little laugh.
"I am sure 'tis untrue, sir! You delight in teasing me!" Her eyes wandered past him to Philip.
Fairfax drew him forward.
"Mistress Cleone, may I present one who is newly come from Paris, and is, he swears, struck dumb by your beauty? Mr. Jettan, of whom we all know some naughty tales!"
The colour drained from Cleone's cheeks. She felt faint all at once, and her fingers gripped together over her fan. For one moment she thought she must be mistaken. This was not Philip, this foppish30 gentleman who stood bowing so profoundly! Heavens, he was speaking! It was Philip! How could she mistake that square chin?
"Mademoiselle, this is a scarce-hoped-for honour," he said. "I have watched and I have hungered. Lord Charles took pity on me, for which I shall never cease to thank him."
Cleone tried to answer, and failed. Dazedly31 she stared at him, from the powdered curls of his wig32 to the diamond buckles33 on his shoes. Philip! Philip! Philip in stiff silks and laces! Philip patched and painted! Philip with jewels scattered34 about his person, and polished nails! Was she dreaming? This foppish gentleman her blunt Philip? It was incredible, impossible! What was he saying now?
"I little thought to find you here, mademoiselle! You are with Madame Charteris, no doubt?"
"No, I—I am with my aunt, Lady Malmerstoke," she answered.
"Lady Malmerstoke?..." Philip raised his quizzing-glass with one delicate white hand, and through it scanned the room. "Ah yes, the lady in the apple-green toilette! I remember her well, that lady."
"Oh—do you—do you know her?" asked Cleone. She could not drag her eyes from his face.
"I had the felicity of meeting her some nights ago. I forget where."
Philip sat down beside her.
"You have been long in town, mademoiselle? You find all this very fatiguing37, no doubt?" He waved a languid hand.
Indignation was dispersing38 the numbness. How dared Philip drawl at her like this? How dared he behave as though they were strangers?
"I have been in London nigh on a month. I do not find it fatiguing at all. I enjoy it."
Slowly the straight brows rose.
"But how refreshing39!" said Philip. "When everyone is ennuyé à l'agonie, how delightful40 to meet one who frankly41 enjoys." He looked at her admiringly. "And enjoyment42 becomes you better than boredom43 becomes other women."
Cleone felt that she was drifting further and further into the nightmare.
"I am happy to find favour in your eyes, sir. When did you return from Paris?"
"A fortnight since. In a fog which chilled me to the marrow44. Almost I fled back to France. But now"—he bowed gracefully—"I thank a kindly45 Fate which forbade me to retreat thus precipitately46."
"As yet I have not found him," replied Philip. There was a laugh at the back of his eyes. How dared he laugh at her? "I have written to beg him to honour my house with his presence."
"You do not propose to go to him?" Cleone's voice trembled.
Philip started.
"I see," said Cleone, and thought that she spoke49 the truth. Her foot tapped the ground angrily. Philip eyed it through his glass.
"That little foot ..." he said softly. It was withdrawn50. "Ah, cruel! It inspired me with—I think—a madrigal51. Cased in silver satin.... Ah!"
"It pleases you to make merry of my foot, sir?"
"Jamais de ma vie!" Philip threw out his hands. "It is neither food for merriment nor sighs. It is food for pure joy. My eye, chère mademoiselle, is susceptible52 to beauty, be it beauty of face, or beauty of foot; the eye whispers to the brain, and a madrigal blossoms. I dare swear you have listened to an hundred such? Everywhere I have heard tell of your conquests until I am nigh dead with jealousy53."
"How very absurd!" tittered Cleone.
"Absurd? Ah, if I could think that!"
"I do not understand you, sir!"
"I can only beg that I, too, may worship at those little feet."
"Mr. Jettan, I can only beg that you will cease to make yourself ridiculous."
"If it is ridiculous to adore, then must I refuse to obey you, fairest. For the sake of one smile, all would I do, save that which is without my power."
Cleone's eyes glittered.
"But no! Flattery shall never be among my accomplishments55, even were it necessary, which here"—he smiled ardently—"it most assuredly is not."
"You surprise me, sir! I thought Paris to be the home of flattery."
"On l'a diffamée. Paris teaches appreciation56."
"La!" Cleone, too, could be affected20. "You go too deep for me, Mr. Jettan! I fear I am no match for your wit. I am but newly come from the country." The words bit.
"It is almost inconceivable," he said, studying her with the air of a connoisseur57.
"Almost as inconceivable as the fact that little more than six months ago you despised all this!" She made a gesture with her fan towards his shimmering58 coat.
"Was it only six months? It seems to belong to another life. You remember so well, mademoiselle."
"I?" Cleone saw her mistake, and made haste to cover it. "No, sir. It is dear Sir Maurice who remembers." Her eyes sought his face for some change of expression. But not an eyelash flickered59; Mr. Jettan was still smiling.
"Now I am desolated60!" he sighed. "Mademoiselle Cleone does not remember the manner of my going? But I see that it is so. She is blessed with forgetfulness."
"My memory is not of the longest either, mademoiselle, but I am sure that I am indebted to you."
"Really? I think you must be mistaken, sir."
"It is possible," he bowed. "Yet I seem to recollect62 that 'twas you who bade me go—to learn to be a gentleman."
Cleone laughed carelessly.
"Did I?—It is so long ago, I have forgotten. And—and here is Mr. Winton come to claim me!"
Philip glanced round quickly. Young James Winton was threading his way towards them. Philip sprang up.
"James!" He held out his hands to the puzzled youth. "You have forgotten, James? And it is, so Mademoiselle tells me, but six months since I saw you every day."
Winton stared. Then suddenly he grasped Philip's jewelled hand.
"Jettan—Philip! Merciful heavens, man, is it indeed you?"
"He is quite transformed, is he not?" said Cleone lightly. A little barb63 was piercing her heart that Philip should show such pleasure at seeing James, and merely bored affectation with her.
Philip's gay laugh rang out.
"I shall write a sonnet64 in melancholy65 vein," he promised. "A sonnet to "Friends Who Knew Me Not." It will be a chef-d'?uvre, and I shall send it you tied with a sprig of myrtle."
Winton stepped back the better to observe him.
"Thunder and turf, tis marvellous! What's this about a sonnet? Don't tell me ye have turned poet!"
"In Paris they do not love my verses," mourned Philip. "They would say, 'No, le petit Philippe se trompe.' But you shall see! Where are you staying?"
"With Darchit—in Jermyn Street. I came to London in my lady's train." He bowed to Cleone.
Philip's eyes narrowed.
"Aha! James, you will come to a card-party that I am giving to-morrow? I am at 14 Curzon Street."
"Thank you very much, I shall be delighted. Have you set up a house of your own?"
"Sir Humphrey Grandcourt has hired his house to me for a month or so. My ménage will amuse you. I am ruled by my valet, the redoubtable66 Fran?ois."
"A French valet!"
"But yes! He would allow no English servant to insult me with his boorishness67, so I have his cousin for chef." He threw a laughing glance at Cleone. "You would smile, Mademoiselle, could you but hear his so fierce denunciation of the English race."
Cleone forced a laugh.
"I suppose he does not regard you as English, Mr. Jettan?"
"If I suggest such a thing he accuses me of mocking him. Ah, there is Miss Florence who beckons68 me! Mademoiselle will excuse me?" He bowed with a great flourish. "I shall hope to be allowed to wait on madame, your aunt. James, do not forget! To-morrow at 14 Curzon Street!" He swept round on his heel and went quickly to where Mistress Florence Farmer was seated. Cleone watched him kiss the lady's plump hand, and saw the ogling69 glances that Florence sent him. Desperately70 she sought to swallow the lump in her throat. She started to flirt71 with the adoring James. Out of the corner of his eye Philip watched her.
Scalding tears dropped on to Cleone's pillow that night. Philip had returned, indifferent, blasé, even scornful! Philip who had once loved her so dearly, Philip who had once been so strong and masterful, was now a dainty, affected Court gallant72. Why, why had she sent him away? And, oh, how dared he treat her with that mocking admiration73? Suddenly Cleone sat up.
"I hate him!" she told the bed-post. "I hate him, and hate him, and hate him."
Philip was smiling when Fran?ois disrobed him, a smile that held much of tenderness.
"Cela marche," decided Fran?ois. "I go to have a mistress."
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1
prospective
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| adj.预期的，未来的，前瞻性的 | |
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abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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waive
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| vt.放弃，不坚持(规定、要求、权力等) | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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waggish
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| adj.诙谐的，滑稽的 | |
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cuisine
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| n.烹调，烹饪法 | |
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watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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tout
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| v.推销，招徕；兜售；吹捧，劝诱 | |
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bustled
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| 闹哄哄地忙乱，奔忙( bustle的过去式和过去分词 )； 催促 | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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14
unpacked
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| v.从（包裹等）中取出（所装的东西），打开行李取出( unpack的过去式和过去分词 )；拆包；解除…的负担；吐露（心事等） | |
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15
complacent
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| adj.自满的；自鸣得意的 | |
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disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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17
niches
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| 壁龛( niche的名词复数 )； 合适的位置[工作等]； （产品的）商机； 生态位（一个生物所占据的生境的最小单位） | |
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effusively
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| adv.变溢地，热情洋溢地 | |
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19
ogled
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| v.（向…）抛媚眼，送秋波( ogle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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espied
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| v.看到( espy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ails
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| v.生病( ail的第三人称单数 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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maligned
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| vt.污蔑，诽谤（malign的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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implore
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| vt.乞求，恳求，哀求 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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foppish
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| adj.矫饰的，浮华的 | |
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dazedly
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| 头昏眼花地，眼花缭乱地，茫然地 | |
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wig
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| n.假发 | |
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buckles
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| 搭扣，扣环( buckle的名词复数 ) | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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numbness
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| n.无感觉，麻木，惊呆 | |
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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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fatiguing
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| a.使人劳累的 | |
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dispersing
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| adj. 分散的 动词disperse的现在分词形式 | |
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refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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boredom
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| n.厌烦，厌倦，乏味，无聊 | |
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marrow
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| n.骨髓；精华；活力 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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precipitately
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| adv.猛进地 | |
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tartly
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| adv.辛辣地，刻薄地 | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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49
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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50
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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51
madrigal
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| n.牧歌；（流行于16和17世纪无乐器伴奏的）合唱歌曲 | |
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susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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adept
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| adj.老练的，精通的 | |
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accomplishments
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| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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57
connoisseur
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| n.鉴赏家，行家，内行 | |
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58
shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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59
flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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desolated
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| adj.荒凉的，荒废的 | |
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61
pique
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| v.伤害…的自尊心，使生气 n.不满，生气 | |
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62
recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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barb
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| n.（鱼钩等的）倒钩，倒刺 | |
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64
sonnet
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| n.十四行诗 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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66
redoubtable
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| adj.可敬的；可怕的 | |
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boorishness
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beckons
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的第三人称单数 ) | |
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69
ogling
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| v.（向…）抛媚眼，送秋波( ogle的现在分词 ) | |
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70
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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71
flirt
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| v.调情，挑逗，调戏；n.调情者，卖俏者 | |
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72
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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