The week in London had nearly run its course, and Lady Anne’s eyes begged charmingly for a negative. Nick accorded it with a smile.
“I’m never bored with you, madonna; you know that,” he said. “And hotel life is always more or less amusing. One comes across such queer types. There’s one here this evening has been intriguing1 me enormously. At a little table by herself—do you see her? A tall, rather gorgeous-looking being—kind of cross between the Queen of Sheba and Lucretia Borgia.”
Lady Anne threw a veiled glance in the direction indicated.
“Yes, she’s a very handsome woman, obviously not English.” Her eyes travelled onwards towards the door. “I wish Blaise and Jean would hurry up,” she added impatiently. “They’re taking an unconscionable time to dress.”
The two latter had come in late from a sight-seeing expedition undertaken on Jean’s behalf, and had only returned to the hotel just as Lady Anne and Nick were preparing to make their way in to dinner.
“For such a deliberate matchmaker, you’re a lot too impatient, madonna,” commented Nick teasingly. “That they should have stayed out together until the very last moment ought to have pleased you immensely.”
Lady Anne made a small grimace2.
“So it does—theoretically. Only from a practical and purely3 material point of view, everything else sinks into insignificance4 beside the fact that I am literally5 starving. Oh!”—joyfully catching6 sight of Jean and Tormarin making their way up the room—“Here they are at last! Collect our waiter, Nick, and let’s begin.”
Neither of the late-comers appeared in the least embarrassed by the tardiness7 of their arrival, said they responded to tentative enquiries concerning their afternoon’s amusement with a disappointing lack of self-consciousness.
Lady Anne experienced an inward qualm of misgiving8. There seemed too calm and tranquil9 a camaraderie10 between the two to please her altogether. It was as though the last few days had brought about a silent understanding between them—a wordless compact.
She picked up the menu and assumed an absorption in its contents which she was far from feeling.
“What are we all going to eat?” she asked. “I think we must hurry a little, or we shall be late for the play. Then I shall lose the exquisite11 thrill of seeing the curtain go up.” Tormarin looked entertained.
“Does it still thrill you, you absurdly youthful person?”
“Of course it does. I always consider that the quality of the thrill produced by the rise of the curtain is the measure of one’s capacity for enjoyment12. When it no longer thrills me, I shall know that I am getting old and bored, and that I only go to the theatre to kill time and because everyone else goes.”
Dinner proceeded leisurely13 in spite of Lady Anne’s admonition that they should hurry, and presently Nick, who had glanced across the room once or twice as though secretly amused, remarked confidentially14:
“My Lucretia Borgia lady is taking a quite uncommon15 interest in someone of our party. I’m afraid I can’t flatter myself that she’s lost her heart to me, as I’ve only observed this development since Jean and Blaise joined us. Blaise, I believe it’s you who have won her devoted—if, probably, somewhat violent—affections.”
“Your Lucretia Borgia lady? Which is she?” enquired16 Jean.
“You can’t see her, because you are sitting with your back to her,” replied Nick importantly. “And it isn’t manners to screw your head round in a public restaurant—even although the modern reincarnation of an unpleasantly vengeful lady may be sitting just behind you. But if you’ll look into that glass opposite you—a little to the right side of it—you’ll see who I mean. She’s quite unmistakable.”
Jean tilted17 her head a little and peered slantwise into the mirror which faced her. It was precisely18 at the same moment that Nick’s “Lucretia Borgia lady” looked up for the second time from her p锚che Melba, and Jean found herself gazing straight into the dense19 darkness of the eyes of Madame de Varigny.
“Why—why————” she stammered20 in astonishment21. “It is the Comtesse de Varigny!” She turned to Lady Anne, adding explanatorily: “You remember, madonna, I told you about her? She chaperoned me at Montavan, after Glyn had departed.”
The recognition had been mutual22. Madame de Varigny had half-risen from her seat and was poised23 in an attitude of expectancy24, smiling and gesturing with expressive25 hands an invitation to Jean to join her.
“I’ll go across and speak to her,” said Jean. “I can’t imagine what she is doing in London.”
“I suppose you, too, met this rather splendid-looking personage at Montavan?” enquired Nick of his brother, as Jean quitted the table.
Tormarin shook his head.
“I never spoke26 to her. I saw her once, on the night of a fancy-dress ball at the hotel, arrayed as Cleopatra.”
“She’d look the part all right,” commented Nick. “She gives me the impression of being one of those angel-and-devil-mixed kind of women—the latter flavour preponderating27. I should rather feel the desirability of emulating28 Agag in any dealings I had with her. Good Lord!”—with a lively accession of interest—“Jean’s bringing her over here. By Jove! She really is a beautiful person, isn’t she. Like a sort of Eastern empress.”
“Madame de Varigny wishes to be presented to you, Lady Anne,” said Jean, and proceeded to effect introductions all round.
“I remember seeing you with Mees Peterson at Montavan,” remarked the Countess, as she shook hands with Blaise, her dark eyes resting on him curiously29.
“Join us and finish your dinner at our table,” suggested Lady Anne hospitably30.
But Madame de Varigny protested volubly that she had already finished her meal, though she would sit and talk with them a little if it was agreeable? It was—quite agreeable. She herself saw to that. No one could be more charming than she when she chose, and on this occasion she elected to make herself about as altogether charming as it is possible for a woman to be, entirely31 conquering the hearts of Lady Anne and Kick. Her simple, childlike warm-heartedness of manner was in such almost ludicrous contrast to her majestic32, dark-browed type of beauty that it took them completely by storm.
“This is only just a flying visit that I pay to England,” she explained artlessly. “It is a great good fortune that I should have chanced to encounter ma ch猫re Mees Peterson.”
“It’s certainly an odd chance brought you to the same hotel,” agreed Kick. .
“Is it not?”—delightedly.
And, from the frank wonder and satisfaction she evinced at the coincidence, no one could possibly have surmised33 that the sole cause and origin of her “flying visit” was a short paragraph contained in the Morning Post, a copy of which, by her express order, had been delivered daily at Chateau34 Varigny ever since her return thither35 from the Swiss Alps. The paragraph referred simply to the arrival at Claridge’s of Lady Anne Brennan, accompanied by her two sons and Miss Jean Peterson.
“And are you making a long stay in London?” enquired Madame de Varigny.
Lady Anne shook her head.
“No. We go back to Staple36 to-morrow.”
The other’s face fell.
“But how unfortunate! I shall then see nothing of my dear Mees Peterson.”
She seemed so distressed37 that Lady Anne’s kind heart melted within her, albeit38 it accorded ill with her plans to increase the number of her party.
“We are going on to the theatre,” she said impulsively39. “If you have no other engagement, why not come with us? There will be plenty of room in our box.”
Madame de Varigny professed40 herself enchanted41. Curiously enough, she seemed to have no particular wish to draw Jean into anything in the nature of a private talk, but appeared quite content just to take part in the general conversation, while her eyes rested speculatively42 now upon Jean, now upon Tormarin, as though they afforded her an abstract interest of some kind.
Even at the theatre, where from her corner seat she was able to envisage43 the other occupants of the box, she seemed almost as much interested in them as in the play that was being performed on the stage. Once, as Tormarin leaned forward and made some comment to Jean, their two pairs of eyes meeting in a look of mutual understanding of some small joke or other, the quiet watcher smiled contentedly44, as though the little byplay satisfied some inner questioning.
With the fall of the curtain at the end of the first act, she turned to Lady Anne, politely enthusiastic.
“But it is a charming play,” she said. “It is no wonder the house is so full.”
Her glance strayed carelessly over the body of the auditorium45, then was suddenly caught and held. A minute later she touched Jean’s arm.
“I think there is someone in the stalls trying to attract your attention,” she observed quietly.
Even as she spoke, Nick, too, became aware of the same fact.
“Hullo!” he exclaimed. “There’s Geoffrey Burke down below. I didn’t know he was in town.”
Madame de Varigny found the effect upon her companions of this apparently46 innocent announcement distinctly interesting. It was as though a thrill of disconcerting consciousness ran through the other occupants of the box. Jean flushed suddenly and uncomfortably, and the dark, keen eyes that were watching from behind the fringe of dusky lashes47 noted48 an almost imperceptible change of expression flit across the faces of both Lady Anne and Tormarin. In neither case was the change altogether indicative of pleasure. Then, following quickly upon a bow of mutual recognition, the music of the orchestra suddenly ceased and the curtain went up for the second act.
Once more the curtain had fallen, and, to the hum of conversation suddenly released, the lights flashed up into being again over the auditorium. Simultaneously49 the door of Lady Anne’s box was opened from the corridor outside.
“May I come in?” said a voice—a pleasant voice with a gay inflection of laughter running through it as though its owner were quite sure of his welcome—and Burke, big and striking-looking in his immaculate evening kit50, his ruddy hair flaming wickedly under the electric lights, strolled into the box.
He shook hands all round, his glance slightly quizzical as it met Jean’s, and then Lady Anne presented him to the Comtesse de Varigny.
It almost seemed as though something, some mutual recognition of a kindred spirit, flashed from the warm southern-dark eyes to the fiery51 red-brown ones, and when, a minute or two later, Burke established himself in the seat next Jean, vacated by Nick, he murmured in a low tone:
“Where did you find that Eastern-looking charmer? I feel convinced I could lose my heart to her without any effort.”
Jean could hardly refrain from smiling. This was her first meeting with Burke since the occasion of the scene which had occurred between them in the little parlour at the “honeymooners’ inn,” and now he met her with as much composure and arrogant53 assurance as though nothing in the world, other than of a mutually pleasing and amicable54 nature, had taken place. It was so exactly like Burke, she reflected helplessly.
“Then you had better go and make love to her,” she suggested. “There happens to be a husband in the background—a little hypochondriac with quite charming manners—but I don’t suppose you would consider that any obstacle.”
“None,” retorted Burke placidly55. “I’m quite certain she can’t be in love with him. Her taste would be more—robust, I should say. Where is she stopping?”
“At Claridge’s. We met her there this evening. I knew her in Switzerland.”
“Well, you shall all come out to supper with me to-morrow:—-the Countess included.”
Jean shook her head demurely56.
“We shall all be back at Staple to-morrow—the Countess excepted. You can take her.”
“Then the supper must be to-night,” replied Burke serenely57.
“What are you doing in town, anyway?” asked Jean. “Is Judith with you?”
“No. Came up to see my tailor”—laconically.
He crossed the box to arrange matters with Lady Anne, and before the curtain rose on the last act it was settled that they should all have supper together after the play.
Later, when Burke had once more resumed his seat next
Jean, Madame de Varigny, whose hearing, like her other senses, was preternaturally acute, caught a whispered plaint breathed into Nick’s ear by Lady Anne.
“Now isn’t that provoking, Nick, darling? Why on earth need Geoffrey Burke have turned up in town on our last evening? I was hoping, later on—if you and I were very discreet58 and effaced59 ourselves—that Blaise and Jean might settle things.”
Madame de Varigny’s eyes remained fixed60 upon the stage. There was no change in their expression to indicate that Lady Anne’s plaintive61 murmur52 had at that moment supplied her with the key of the whole situation as it lay between Jean and the two men who were sitting one each side of her.
But the following evening, when, the Staple party having left town, she and Burke were dining alone together at a little restaurant in Soho, the knowledge she had gleaned62 bore fruit.
Burke never quite knew what impulse it was that had prompted him, as he made his farewells after the supper-party, to murmur in Madame de Varigny’s ear, “Dine with me to-morrow night.” It was as though the dark, mysterious eyes had spoken to him, compelling him to some sort of friendly overture63 which the shortness of his acquaintance with their owner would not normally have inspired.
It was not until the coffee and cigarette stage of the little dinner had been reached that Madame de Varigny suddenly shot her dart64.
“So you come all the way up from this place, Coombe—Coombe Eavie?—to see Mees Peterson, and hey, presto65! She vanish the next morning!”
Burke stared at her almost rudely. The woman’s perspicacity66 annoyed him.
“I came up to see my tailor,” he replied curtly67.
“Mais parfaitement!” she laughed—low, melodious68 laughter, tinged69 with a frank friendliness70 of amusement which somehow smoothed away Burke’s annoyance71 at her shrewd summing up of the situation. “To see your tailor. Naturellement! But you were not sorry to encounter Mees Peterson also, hein? You enjoyed that?”
Burke’s eyes gleamed at her.
“Do you think a dog enjoys looking at the bone that’s out of reach?” he said bluntly.
“And is Mees Peterson, then, out of your reach? Me, I do not think so.”
Burke was moved to sudden candour.
“She might not be, if it were not that there is another man——”
“Ce Monsieur Tor-ma-rin?”
“Yes, confound him!”
“We-ell”—with a long-drawn inflection compact of gentle irony72. “You should be able to win against this Monsieur Tor-ma-rin. I think”—regarding him intently—“I think you will win.”
Burke shook his head gloomily.
“He had first innings. He met her abroad somewhere—rescued her in the snow or something. That rescuing stunt73 always pays with a woman. All I did”—with a short, harsh laugh—“was nearly to break her neck for her out driving one day recently!”
“Is she engaged to Monsieur Tormarin?” asked Madame do Varigny quickly.
“No. Luckily, there’s some old affair in the past holds him back.”
She nodded.
“You shall marry her,” she declared with conviction. “See, Monsieur Bewrke—a茂e, a茂e, quel nom! I am clairvoyante, proph茅tesse, and I tell you that you weel marry zis leetle brown Jean.”
Her foreign accent strengthened with her increasing emphasis.
Burke looked dubious74.
“I’m afraid your clairvoyance75 will fail this journey madame. She’ll probably marry Tormarin—unless”—his eyes glinting—“I carry her off by force.”
Madame de Varigny shook her head emphatically.
“But no! I do not see it like that. Eh bien! If she become fianc茅e—engaged to him—you shall come to me, and I will tell you how to make sure that she shall not marry him.”
“Tell me now!”
“Non, non! Win her your own way. Only, if you do not succeed, if Monsieur Tormarin wins her—why, then, come to visit me at Ch芒teau Varigny.”
That night a letter written in the Comtesse de Varigny’s flowing foreign handwriting sped on its way to France.
“Matters work towards completion,” it ran. “My visit here has chanced bien 脿 propos. There is another would-be-lover besides Blaise Tormarin. I have urged him on to win her if he can, for if I have not wrongly estimated Monsieur Tormarin—and I do not think I have—he is of the type to become more deeply in love and less able to master his feelings if he realises that he has a rival. At present he refrains from declaring himself. The opposition76 of a rival will probably drive him into a declaration very speedily. When the dog sees the bone about to be taken from him—he snaps! So I encourage this red-headed lion of a man, Monsieur Burke, to pursue his affaire du cour with vigour77. For if Blaise Tormarin becomes actually betrothed78 to Mademoiselle Peterson, it will make his punishment the more complete. I pray the God of Justice that it may not now; be long delayed!”
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1
intriguing
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| adj.有趣的；迷人的v.搞阴谋诡计(intrigue的现在分词)；激起…的好奇心 | |
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grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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insignificance
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| n.不重要；无价值；无意义 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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tardiness
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| n.缓慢；迟延；拖拉 | |
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misgiving
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕 | |
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tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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camaraderie
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| n.同志之爱，友情 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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confidentially
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| ad.秘密地，悄悄地 | |
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uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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enquired
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| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
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tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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expectancy
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| n.期望，预期，（根据概率统计求得）预期数额 | |
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expressive
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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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preponderating
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| v.超过，胜过( preponderate的现在分词 ) | |
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emulating
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| v.与…竞争( emulate的现在分词 )；努力赶上；计算机程序等仿真；模仿 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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hospitably
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| 亲切地，招待周到地，善于款待地 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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surmised
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的过去式和过去分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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chateau
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| n.城堡，别墅 | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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staple
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| n.主要产物，常用品，主要要素，原料，订书钉，钩环；adj.主要的，重要的；vt.分类 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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albeit
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| conj.即使；纵使；虽然 | |
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impulsively
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| adv.冲动地 | |
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professed
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| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
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enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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speculatively
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| adv.思考地，思索地；投机地 | |
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envisage
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| v.想象，设想，展望，正视 | |
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contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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auditorium
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| n.观众席，听众席；会堂，礼堂 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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52
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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arrogant
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
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54
amicable
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| adj.和平的，友好的；友善的 | |
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placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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56
demurely
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| adv.装成端庄地，认真地 | |
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serenely
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| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
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58
discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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59
effaced
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| v.擦掉( efface的过去式和过去分词 )；抹去；超越；使黯然失色 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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gleaned
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| v.一点点地收集（资料、事实）( glean的过去式和过去分词 )；（收割后）拾穗 | |
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overture
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| n.前奏曲、序曲，提议，提案，初步交涉 | |
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64
dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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65
presto
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| adv.急速地；n.急板乐段；adj.急板的 | |
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66
perspicacity
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| n. 敏锐, 聪明, 洞察力 | |
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67
curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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68
melodious
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| adj.旋律美妙的，调子优美的，音乐性的 | |
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69
tinged
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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71
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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72
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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73
stunt
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| n.惊人表演，绝技，特技；vt.阻碍...发育，妨碍...生长 | |
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74
dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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75
clairvoyance
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| n.超人的洞察力 | |
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76
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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77
vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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78
betrothed
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| n. 已订婚者 动词betroth的过去式和过去分词 | |
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