Presently the door opened, and Alfred stood on the threshold.
"Two gentlemen have called to see you, miss," he said.
"Ah, the two Du Buits," cried Germaine.
"They didn't give their names, miss."
"A gentleman in the prime of life and a younger one?" said Germaine.
"Yes, miss."
"I thought so. Show them in."
"Yes, miss. And have you any orders for me to give Victoire when we get to Paris?" said Alfred.
"No. Are you starting soon?"
"Yes, miss. We're all going by the seven o'clock train. It's a long way from here to Paris; we shall only reach it at nine in the morning. That will give us just time to get the house ready for you by the time you get there to-morrow evening," said Alfred.
"Is everything packed?"
"Yes, miss—everything. The cart has already taken the heavy luggage to the station. All you'll have to do is to see after your bags."
"That's all right. Show M. du Buit and his brother in," said Germaine.
She moved to a chair near the window, and disposed herself in an attitude of studied, and obviously studied, grace.
As she leant her head at a charming angle back against the tall back of the chair, her eyes fell on the window, and they opened wide.
"Why, whatever's this?" she cried, pointing to it.
"Whatever's what?" said Sonia, without raising her eyes from the envelope she was addressing.
"So it has—just at the level of the fastening," said Sonia. And the two girls stared at the gap.
"Haven't you noticed it before?" said Germaine.
"No; the broken glass must have fallen outside," said Sonia.
The noise of the opening of the door drew their attention from the window. Two figures were advancing towards them—a short, round, tubby man of fifty-five, red-faced, bald, with bright grey eyes, which seemed to be continually dancing away from meeting the eyes of any other human being. Behind him came a slim young man, dark and grave. For all the difference in their colouring, it was clear that they were father and son: their eyes were set so close together. The son seemed to have inherited, along with her black eyes, his mother's nose, thin and aquiline6; the nose of the father started thin from the brow, but ended in a scarlet7 bulb eloquent8 of an exhaustive acquaintance with the vintages of the world.
Germaine rose, looking at them with an air of some surprise and uncertainty9: these were not her friends, the Du Buits.
The elder man, advancing with a smiling bonhomie, bowed, and said in an adenoid voice, ingratiating of tone: "I'm M. Charolais, young ladies—M. Charolais—retired brewer—chevalier of the Legion of Honour—landowner at Rennes. Let me introduce my son." The young man bowed awkwardly. "We came from Rennes this morning, and we lunched at Kerlor's farm."
"Shall I order tea for them?" whispered Sonia.
"Gracious, no!" said Germaine sharply under her breath; then, louder, she said to M. Charolais, "And what is your object in calling?"
"We asked to see your father," said M. Charolais, smiling with broad amiability10, while his eyes danced across her face, avoiding any meeting with hers. "The footman told us that M. Gournay-Martin was out, but that his daughter was at home. And we were unable, quite unable, to deny ourselves the pleasure of meeting you." With that he sat down; and his son followed his example.
Sonia and Germaine, taken aback, looked at one another in some perplexity.
"Yes, my boy; it's a very fine chateau," said M. Charolais, looking round the hall with appreciative12 but greedy eyes.
There was a pause.
"It's a very fine chateau, young ladies," said M. Charolais.
"Yes; but excuse me, what is it you have called about?" said Germaine.
M. Charolais crossed his legs, leant back in his chair, thrust his thumbs into the arm-holes of his waistcoat, and said: "Well, we've come about the advertisement we saw in the RENNES ADVERTISER, that M. Gournay-Martin wanted to get rid of a motor-car; and my son is always saying to me, 'I should like a motor-car which rushes the hills, papa.' He means a sixty horse-power."
"We've got a sixty horse-power; but it's not for sale. My father is even using it himself to-day," said Germaine.
"Perhaps it's the car we saw in the stable-yard," said M. Charolais.
"No; that's a thirty to forty horse-power. It belongs to me. But if your son really loves rushing hills, as you say, we have a hundred horse-power car which my father wants to get rid of. Wait; where's the photograph of it, Sonia? It ought to be here somewhere."
The two girls rose, went to a table set against the wall beyond the window, and began turning over the papers with which it was loaded in the search for the photograph. They had barely turned their backs, when the hand of young Charolais shot out as swiftly as the tongue of a lizard13 catching14 a fly, closed round the silver statuette on the top of the cabinet beside him, and flashed it into his jacket pocket.
Charolais was watching the two girls; one would have said that he had eyes for nothing else, yet, without moving a muscle of his face, set in its perpetual beaming smile, he hissed15 in an angry whisper, "drop it, you idiot! Put it back!"
"Curse you! Put it back!" hissed Charolais.
The young man's arm shot out with the same quickness, and the statuette stood in its place.
There was just the faintest sigh of relief from Charolais, as Germaine turned and came to him with the photograph in her hand. She gave it to him.
"Ah, here we are," he said, putting on a pair of gold-rimmed pince-nez. "A hundred horse-power car. Well, well, this is something to talk over. What's the least you'll take for it?"
"I have nothing to do with this kind of thing," cried Germaine. "You must see my father. He will be back from Rennes soon. Then you can settle the matter with him."
M. Charolais rose, and said: "Very good. We will go now, and come back presently. I'm sorry to have intruded17 on you, young ladies—taking up your time like this—"
"Not at all—not at all," murmured Germaine politely.
"Good-bye—good-bye," said M. Charolais; and he and his son went to the door, and bowed themselves out.
"What creatures!" said Germaine, going to the window, as the door closed behind the two visitors. "All the same, if they do buy the hundred horse-power, papa will be awfully18 pleased. It is odd about that pane5. I wonder how it happened. It's odd too that Jacques hasn't come back yet. He told me that he would be here between half-past four and five."
"And the Du Buits have not come either," said Sonia. "But it's hardly five yet."
"Yes; that's so. The Du Buits have not come either. What on earth are you wasting your time for?" she added sharply, raising her voice. "Just finish addressing those letters while you're waiting."
"They're nearly finished," said Sonia.
"Nearly isn't quite. Get on with them, can't you!" snapped Germaine.
Sonia went back to the writing-table; just the slightest deepening of the faint pink roses in her cheeks marked her sense of Germaine's rudeness. After three years as companion to Germaine Gournay-Martin, she was well inured19 to millionaire manners; they had almost lost the power to move her.
Germaine dropped into a chair for twenty seconds; then flung out of it.
"Ten minutes to five!" she cried. "Jacques is late. It's the first time I've ever known him late."
She went to the window, and looked across the wide stretch of meadow-land and woodland on which the chateau, set on the very crown of the ridge20, looked down. The road, running with the irritating straightness of so many of the roads of France, was visible for a full three miles. It was empty.
"Perhaps the Duke went to the Chateau de Relzieres to see his cousin—though I fancy that at bottom the Duke does not care very much for the Baron21 de Relzieres. They always look as though they detested22 one another," said Sonia, without raising her eyes from the letter she was addressing.
"You've noticed that, have you?" said Germaine. "Now, as far as Jacques is concerned—he's—he's so indifferent. None the less, when we were at the Relzieres on Thursday, I caught him quarrelling with Paul de Relzieres."
"Quarrelling?" said Sonia sharply, with a sudden uneasiness in air and eyes and voice.
"Yes; quarrelling. And they said good-bye to one another in the oddest way."
"But surely they shook hands?" said Sonia.
"Why—then—then—" said Sonia, starting up with a frightened air; and her voice stuck in her throat.
"Then what?" said Germaine, a little startled by her panic-stricken face.
"What? You don't think it was with Jacques?"
"I don't know—but this quarrel—the Duke's manner this morning—the Du Buits' drive—" said Sonia.
"Of course—of course! It's quite possible—in fact it's certain!" cried Germaine.
"It's horrible!" gasped25 Sonia. "Consider—just consider! Suppose something happened to him. Suppose the Duke—"
"It's me the Duke's fighting about!" cried Germaine proudly, with a little skipping jump of triumphant26 joy.
Sonia stared through her without seeing her. Her face was a dead white—fear had chilled the lustre27 from her skin; her breath panted through her parted lips; and her dilated28 eyes seemed to look on some dreadful picture.
Germaine pirouetted about the hall at the very height of triumph. To have a Duke fighting a duel about her was far beyond the wildest dreams of snobbishness29. She chuckled30 again and again, and once she clapped her hands and laughed aloud.
"He's fighting a swordsman of the first class—an invincible31 swordsman—you said so yourself," Sonia muttered in a tone of anguish32. "And there's nothing to be done—nothing."
Sonia tottered35 to the window and stared down at the road along which must come the tidings of weal or irremediable woe36. She kept passing her hand over her eyes as if to clear their vision.
Then she cried: "Mademoiselle Germaine! Look! Look!"
"What is it?" said Germaine, coming to her side.
"A horseman! Look! There!" said Sonia, waving a hand towards the road.
"It's he! It's the Duke!" cried Sonia.
"Do you think so?" said Germaine doubtfully.
"I'm sure of it—sure!"
"Well, he gets here just in time for tea," said Germaine in a tone of extreme satisfaction. "He knows that I hate to be kept waiting. He said to me, 'I shall be back by five at the latest.' And here he is."
"It's impossible," said Sonia. "He has to go all the way round the park. There's no direct road; the brook40 is between us."
"All the same, he's coming in a straight line," said Germaine.
It was true. The horseman had left the road and was galloping across the meadows straight for the brook. In twenty seconds he reached its treacherous41 bank, and as he set his horse at it, Sonia covered her eyes.
"He's over!" said Germaine. "My father gave three hundred guineas for that horse."
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1
exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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heliotrope
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| n.天芥菜；淡紫色 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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pane
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| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
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aquiline
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| adj.钩状的，鹰的 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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8
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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9
uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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amiability
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| n.和蔼可亲的，亲切的，友善的 | |
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chateau
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| n.城堡，别墅 | |
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appreciative
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| adj.有鉴赏力的，有眼力的；感激的 | |
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lizard
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| n.蜥蜴，壁虎 | |
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14
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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15
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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16
scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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17
intruded
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| n.侵入的，推进的v.侵入，侵扰，打扰( intrude的过去式和过去分词 )；把…强加于 | |
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18
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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inured
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| adj.坚强的，习惯的 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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detested
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| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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24
duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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lustre
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| n.光亮，光泽；荣誉 | |
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dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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29
snobbishness
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| 势利； 势利眼 | |
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30
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31
invincible
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| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
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32
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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bridling
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| 给…套龙头( bridle的现在分词 )； 控制； 昂首表示轻蔑（或怨忿等）； 动怒，生气 | |
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35
tottered
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| v.走得或动得不稳( totter的过去式和过去分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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36
woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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39
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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40
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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41
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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