Chapter 8

"I saw her outside a wine shop once when I got off the tram at Auteuil--She was looking at the bottles of port--and I made so as to pass, and her not see me, but she turned and said friendly like--'Burton, do you suppose this shop would keep really good port--?' I said as how I would go in and see, and she came with me--They had some fairly decent--though too young, Sir Nicholas, and it was thirty-five francs the bottle--I saw she had not an idea it would be as much as that--her face fell--Do you know, Sir, I could see she hadn't that much with her,--it was the day before she's paid you see--her colour came and went--then she said--'I wonder Burton if you could oblige me with paying the ten extra francs until to-morrow--I must have the best!'--You may believe me, Sir Nicholas, I got out my purse quick enough--and then she thanked me so sweet like--'The Doctor has ordered it for my mother, Burton,' she said--'and of course she couldn't drink any but the best!'"

"Who on earth can she be, Burton? It does worry me--can't you possibly find out? I would so like to help them."

"I feel that, Sir--but here's the way I figure it--When gentry lives in foreign towns and don't seem anxious for you to know their address it don't seem right like to pry into it."

"Burton, you dear old brick!--well supposing we don't try to pry, but just try how we can possibly help her--You could certainly be sympathetic about the brother since she has spoken to you--and surely something can be done--? I saw her at the Duchesse's you know--do you suppose she knows her--?"

"I do, Sir Nicholas--I never meant to speak of it, but one day Her Grace came to see you and you were out and she caught sight of Miss Sharp through the half open door--and she jumped like a cat, Her Grace did, 'Halthee'--she cried out--or some name like that,--and Miss Sharp started up and went down the stairs with her--She seemed to be kind of explaining, and I am not sure that Her Grace was too pleased--."

(Burton thinks all Duchesses should be called "Grace" whether they are French or English.)

"Then we should certainly be able to find out from the Duchesse--."

"Well, I would not be so sure of that Sir Nicholas--You see the Duchesse is a very kind lady, but she is a lady of the world, and she may have her reasons."

"Then what do you suggest, Burton?"

"Why, I hardly know--perhaps to wait and see, Sir Nicholas."

"Masterly inactivity!"

"It might be that I could do a bit of finding out if I felt sure no harm could come of it."

I was not quite certain what Burton meant by this--What possible harm could come of it?

"Find out all you can and let me know--."

* * * * *

Suzette opened the door and came in just as I finished dressing--Burton left the room.--She was pouting.

"So the book is not completed, Nicholas?--and the English Mees comes three times a week--_hein_?"

"Yes--does that upset you?"

"I should say!"

"May I not have a secretary?--You will be objecting to my Aunt coming to stay with me, or my dining with my friends--next!"

I was angry--.

"No--_mon ami_--not that--they are not for me--those--but a secretary--a 'Mees'--_tiens_?--for why do you want us two?"

"You _two_! good Lord! Do you think, Suzette--_Mon Dieu!_"--I now became very angry. "My secretary is here to type my book--. Let us understand one another quite--You have overstepped the mark this time, Suzette, and there must be an end. Name whatever sum you want me to settle on you and then I don't ever wish to see you again."

She burst into frantic weeping. She had meant nothing--she was jealous--she loved me--even going to the sea could do nothing for her! I was her _adoré_--her sun, moon and stars--of what matter a leg or an eye--! I was her life--her _Amant_!!

"Nonsense, Suzette!--you have told me often it was only because I was very rich--now be sensible--these things have to have an end some day. I shall be going back to England soon, so just let me make you comfortable and happy and let us part friends--."

She still stormed and raged--'There was someone else--it was the "Mees"--I had been different ever since she had come to the flat--She, Suzette, would be revenged--she would kill her--!'

Then I flew into a rage, and dominated her, and when I had her thoroughly frightened I appealed to the best in her--and when she was sobbing quietly Burton came in to say that dinner was ready--his face was eloquent!

"Don't let the waiters see you like that," I said.

Suzette rushed to the glass and looked at herself, and then began opening her gold chain bag to get out her powder and lip grease--I went on into the salon and left her--.

What an irony everything is--! When I was yearning for tenderness and love--, even Suzette's, I was unable to touch her, and now because I am quite indifferent, both she and Nina, in their separate ways, have begun to find me attractive. So there is nothing in it really, it is only as to whether or no you arouse the hunting instinct!

Suzette wore an air of deep pathos during our repast--. She had put some blue round her eyes to heighten the effect of the red of the real tears, and she appeared very pretty and gentle--It had not the slightest effect upon me--I found myself looking on like a third person. The mole with its three black hairs seemed to be the only salient point about her.

Poor little Suzette!--How glad I felt that I had never even pretended a scrap of love for her!

That astonishing sense of the fitness of things which so many of these women possess, showed itself as the evening wore on--. Finding the situation hopeless, Suzette accepted it, curbed the real emotion in herself and played the game--She tried to amuse me--and then we discussed plans for her future. A villa at Monte Carlo she decided at last--A _bijou_ of a place! which she knew of--. And when we parted at about eleven o'clock everything was arranged satisfactorily. Then she said good-bye to me--She would go back to Paris by the last train--.

"Good-bye, Suzette!"--and I bent down and kissed her forehead--"You have been the jolliest little pal possible--and remember that I have appreciated it,--and you will always have a real friend in me!"

She burst into tears once more--real tears--.

"_Je t'aime bien!_" she whispered--"I shall go to Deauville--_Va!_"

We wrung hands, and she went to the door, but there she turned, and some of her old fire came back to her--.

"Pah! these English Meeses! thin, stiff, _ennuyeuse_!--thou wilt yet regret thy Suzette, Nicholas!" and with this she left me.

* * * * *

So that episode in my life is ended--and I shall never repeat the experiment.

But are not women the most amazing creatures!

You adore them and give them abject devotion and they treat you as dirt--nothing can be so cruel as the tenderest hearted woman is to a male slave--! Another woman appears upon the scene--then the first one begins to treat you with some respect. You grow masterful--love is aroused in her. You become indifferent--and very often it is she who then turns into the slave!--The worst of it is that when you really care you are incapable of playing a game successfully. The woman's subconscious mind _knows_ that it is merely pretense--and so she remains a tyrant.--It is only when she herself has ceased to put forth sufficient attraction to keep you and you are growing numb that you can win out and find your self-respect again.

There was a moment when I was very angry with Suzette and almost shaking her, when I saw in her eyes the first look of real passionate affection--!

Are there any women in the world who could be mates?--who would be able to love one, and hold one at the same time--satisfying one's mind and one's spirit and one's body--?--Could Alathea--?--I do not know.

I had got this far in my speculations when a note was brought to me by a smart French maid--it was now past eleven at night--.

It was from Coralie--.

"I am here, _cher Ami_--I am rather in a difficulty--Can I come to your sitting-room?"

I scribbled "of course"--and in a moment she came--seductive and distressful. Duquesnois had been recalled to the front suddenly--her husband would be back on the morrow--. Might she stay and have some St. Galmier water with me--could we ring the bell and order it, so that the waiter might see her there?--because if the husband asked anything--he could be sure it was only the much wounded Englishman, and he would not mind--!!

I was sympathetic!--the St. Galmier came.

Coralie did not seem in a hurry to drink it, she sat by the fire and talked, and looked at me with her rather small expressive eyes--and suddenly I realized that it was not to save any situation that even a complacent and much-tried war-husband might object to, but just to talk to me alone--!!

She put forth every charm she possessed for half an hour--I led her on--watching each move with interest and playing right cards in return. Coralie is very well born and never could be vulgar or blatant, so it was all entertaining for me. This is the first time she has had the chance of being quite alone. We fenced--I showed enough _empressement_ not to discourage her too soon----and then I allowed myself to be natural, which was being completely indifferent--and it worked its usual charm!

Coralie grew restless--she got up from the sofa she stood by the fire--she came at last quite close up to my chair--.

"What is there about you, Nicholas," she cooed, "which makes one forget that you are wounded--. When I saw you even in the _parc_--with that _demoiselle_ I felt--that--"--She looked down with a sigh--.

"How hard upon Duquesnois, Coralie! a good-looking, whole man!"

"I have tired of him, _Mon ami_--he loves me too much--the affair has become tame--."

"And I am wild, is that it?"

"A savage--yes--One feels that you would break one's bones if you were angry--and would mock most of the time,--but if you loved. _Mon Dieu!_--it would be worth while!"

"You have had immense experience of love Coralie, haven't you?"

She shrugged her shoulders--.

"I am not sure that it has been love--."

"Neither am I."

"They say that you have given millions to the little _demi-mondaine_ Suzette la Blonde----and that you are crazy about her, Nicholas--Did I see her on the stairs just now?"--

I frowned--. She saw in a moment it was not the right line--. "For that! it is nothing, Nicholas--they are very attractive, those ladies--one understands--but--your book and your secretary?--_hein?_--"

I lit a cigarette with supreme calm, and did not answer, so that she was obliged to go on--.

"Her face is pretty in spite of those glasses, Nicholas--and one saw that she walked well as she went on."

"May not a secretary have a decent appearance then?"

"When they have they do not remain secretaries long."

"You had better ask Miss Sharp if she means to stay when next you chance upon her then--I don't exchange much conversation with her myself."

There is no exact English word which would describe Coralie's face--She was longing to believe me--but felt she could not--quite--! She knew it was foolish to bait me, and yet the female in her was too strong for any common sense to win--Her personality had to express herself just as strongly about her jealousy of my secretary, as mine had to express itself about not telling Maurice, Alathea's name,--in both cases we cut off our noses to spite our faces. I was aware of my folly, I do not know if Coralie was aware of hers. Her exasperation so increased in a few moments that she could not control herself--and she spoke right out--.

"When we have all been so kind to you, Nicholas, it is too bad for you to waste your time upon that--!"

I became stern, then, as I had earlier become with Suzette, and made Coralie understand that I would have no interference from anyone. I frightened her--and presently she left me more attracted than she has ever been--. As I said before, women are amazing creatures.

XII

On Wednesday morning I received a reply from Maurice at Deauville--he hastened to answer he said--He had heard of Miss Sharp through a man in the American Red Cross, where Miss Sharp had been employed. He knew nothing more about her, he had seen her once when he was interviewing her, and Miss whatever the other woman's name was, he had forgotten now--and he had thought her suitable and plain and capable, that is all.

I had tried to word my letter not to give the impression of peculiar interest, but no doubt Coralie, who had returned to the band on Monday, had given him her view of the case, for he added that these people were often designing although they looked simple--and in my loneliness he felt sure I would be happier and better at the sea with my friends--!

I would have been angry, only there was something humorous in the way everyone seems to think I am incapable of managing my own affairs!--What is it they all want of me--? Not that I should be happy in my own way, but that I should contribute to their happiness--they want to participate in what my money is able to procure--and they do not want interference from outside. Every one of my friends--and relations--would be hostile if I were to announce that I was in love with Miss Sharp, and wanted to marry her--Even though it was proved to them that she was pretty--a perfect lady--intelligent--virtuous--clever! She is not of their set and might, and probably would, be a stumbling block in their path when they wished to make use of me!--so she would be taboo! None of them would put it in that way of course, their opposition would be (and they might even think they were sincere) because they were thinking of _my_ happiness!

Burton is the only person whose sympathy I could count upon!

How about the Duchesse?--that is the deepest mystery of all--I must find out from Burton what was the date about when she came to my _appartement_ and found Alathea. Was it before that time when she asked me if I were in love--and I saw that dear little figure in the passage?--Could she have been thinking of her--?

By Thursday when there was no further news I began to feel so restless that I determined to go back to Paris the following week. It was all very well to be out in the _parc_ at Versailles with a mind at ease, but it feels too far away when I am so troubled.

I sent Burton in on Friday to Auteuil--.

"Just walk about near the wine shop, Burton, and try to find out by every clue your not unintelligent old pate can invent, where Miss Sharp lives, and what is happening? Then go to the Hotel de Courville and chat with the concierge--or whatever you think best--I simply can't stand hearing nothing!"

Burton pulled in his lips.

"Very good, Sir Nicholas."

I tried to correct my book in the afternoon. I really am trying to do the things I feel she thinks would improve my character--But I am one gnawing ache for news--Underneath is the fear that some complication may occur which will prevent her returning to me. I find myself listening to every footstep in the passage in case it might be a telegram, so of course quite a number of messages and things were bound to come from utterly uninteresting sources, to fill me with hope and then disappoint me--It is always like that. I really was wild on Friday afternoon, and if George Harcourt had not turned up--he is at the Trianon Palace now with the Supreme War Council--I don't know what I should have done with myself. Lots of those fellows would come and dine with me if I wanted them--some are even old pals--but I am out of tune with my kind.

George was very amusing.

"My dear boy," he said, "Violetta is upsetting all my calculations--she has refused everything I have offered her--But I fear she is beginning to show me too much devotion!"

This seemed a great calamity to him.

"It is terribly dangerous that, Nicholas!--because you know, my dear boy, when a woman shows absolute devotion, a man is irresistibly impelled to offer her a back seat--it is when she appeals to his senses, shows him caprice, and remains an insecure possession, that he will offer her the place his mother held of highest honour."

"George, you impossible cynic!"

"Not at all--I am merely a student of human instincts and characteristics--Half a cynic is a poor creature--A complete one has almost reached the mercy and tolerance of Christ."

This was quite a new view of the subject--!

He went on--.

"You see, when men philosophize about women, they are generally unjust, taking the subject from the standpoint that whatever frailties they have, the male is at all events exempt from them. Now that is nonsense--Neither sex is exempt--and neither sex as a rule will contemplate or admit its failings.--For instance, the sense of abstract truth in the noblest woman never prevents her lying _for_ her lover or her child, yet she thinks herself quite honest--In the noblest man the sense is so strong that it enables him to make only the one exception, that of invariably lying _to_ the woman!"

I laughed--he puffed one of my pre-war cigars--.

"Women have no natural sense of truth--they only rise to it through sublime effort,"--

"And men?"

"It is ingrained in them, they only sink from it to cover their natural instincts of infidelity."

His voice was contemplative now--.

"How we lie to the little darlings, Nicholas! How we tell them we have no time to write--when of course we have always time if we really want to--we never are at a loss for the moments before the creatures are a secure possession!"

"The whole thing gets back to the hunting instinct, my dear George--I can't see that one can be blamed for it--."

"I am not blaming, I am merely analysing. Have you remarked that when a man feels perfectly secure about the woman he will give his hours of duty to his country, his hours of leisure to his friends who flatter him, and the crumbs snatched from either to the poor lady of his heart! But if she excites his senses, and remains problematic, he will skimp his duty, neglect his friends, and snatch even hours from sleep to spend them in her company!"

"You don't think then that there is something higher and beyond all this in love, George?--something which you and I have never come across perhaps?"

"If one met a woman who was all man in mind, all woman in body, and all child in soul--it is possible--but where are these phoenixes to be discovered, my son?--It is wiser not to dissatisfy oneself by thinking of them--but just go on accepting that which is always accorded to the very rich!--By the way, I saw Suzette la Blonde dining last night with old Solly Jesse--_Monsieur le Comte Jessé!_--She had a new string of pearls on and was stroking his fat hand, while her lips curled with love--I thought--??"

I lay back in my chair and laughed and laughed--And I had imagined that Suzette really felt for me, and would grieve for at least a week or two--but I am replaced in four days--!

I do not think I even felt bitter--all those things seem so far away now.

When George had gone, I said to myself--"All man in mind"--yes I am sure she is--"All woman in body"--Certainly that--"All child in soul"--I want to know about her soul--if we have souls, as Nina says--by the way, I will send a messenger into the Ritz with a note to ask Nina to spend the day with me to-morrow. We have got accustomed to the impossible difficulty of telephoning to Paris, and waiting hours for telegrams--a messenger is the quickest in the end.

How the war drags on--! Will it really finish this year after all--people are very depressed these last days--I do not write of any of this in my journal--others will chronicle every shade--When I let myself think of it I grow too wild. I become feverish with longing to be up and with the old regiment--When I read of their deeds--then I grow rebellious.

* * * * *

_Monday:_

No news--yet--It is unbearable--Burton returned from Auteuil with no clue whatsoever--except that the _concierge_ at the Hotel de Courville had never heard of the name of Sharp! That proves to me that "Sharp" is not Alathea's name at all. He was a newcomer--and there were so many young ladies who came and went to see Madame la Duchesse that he could not identify anyone in particular by description.

Nina turned up early on Saturday in time for lunch--She was looking ravishing in entirely new clothes--like Suzette, she has found that the "_geste_" is altering--Germans may be attacking Paris--Friends and relations may be dying in heaps, but women must have new clothes and fashion must have her say as to their shapes--And what a mercy it is so! If there was nothing to relieve war and seriousness--all the nations would be raving lunatics by now.

"Jim will be crazy about you, Nina, when he sees you in that hat!"

"Yes, won't he! I put it on to make you crazy now!"

"Of course I always am!"

"No, Nicholas--you were once--but you are altered, some quite new influence has come into your life--you don't say half such horrid things."

We lunched in the restaurant. Some of the Supreme War Council were about at the different tables, and we exchanged a few words--Nina preferred it to my sitting-room.

"Englishmen do look attractive in uniform, Nicholas, don't they," she said--. "I wonder if I had seen Jim in ordinary things if I would have been so drawn to him?"

"Who knows? Do you remember how sensible you were about him and Rochester!--it is splendid that it has turned out so well."

" ... Where is happiness, Nicholas?" and her eyes became dreamy,--"I have a well balanced nature, and am grateful for what has been given me in Jim, but I can't pretend that I have found perfect content--because some part of me is always hungry--. I believe really that you were the only person who could have fulfilled all I wanted in a man!"

"Nina, you had not the least feeling for me when you first saw me after I was wounded, do you remember you felt like a sister--a mother--and a family friend!"

"Yes, was not that odd!--because of course the things which used to attract me in you and which could again now, were there all the time."

"At that moment you were so occupied with 'Jim's blue eyes,' and his 'white nice teeth,' and 'how his hair was brushed,' and 'how well his uniform fitted'--to say nothing of his D.S.O. and his M.C. that you could not appreciate anything else."

"You have a V.C., your teeth are divine, and you too have blue eyes, Nicholas--."

"Eye--please,--the singular or plural in this case makes all the difference, but I shall have my new one in fairly soon now and then illusion will help me!"

Nina sighed--.

"Illusion! I am just not going to think of what perhaps might have happened if I had not been surrounded with illusion, last February--."

"Well, you can always have the satisfaction of knowing that as your interest in Jim diminishes, so his will increase--George Harcourt and I thrashed it all out the other day--and you yourself admitted it, when we dined. To keep the hunting instinct alive is the thing--You will have the fondest lover when you go back to Queen Street, Nina!"

"I--suppose so--. But would it not be wonderful if one had not to play any game, but could just love and be so satisfied with each other that there would not be any fear--."

Nina's eyes were sad--Did she remember my words at our last meeting?

"Yes that would be heaven!"

"Is that what you are dreaming about, Nicholas?"

"Perhaps."

"What a fortunate woman she will be!--And of yourself, what shall you give her?"

"I shall give her passion--and tenderness, and protection, and devotion--she shall share the thoughts of my mind and the aspirations of my soul--."

"Nicholas!--you talking in this romantic way--she must be a miracle!"

"No--she is just a little girl."

"And it is she who has made you think about souls?"

"I expect so--."