CHAPTER XXX.

CLEOPATRA VICTRIX.

"To my chariot wheels have I bound him, To bear him in triumph away; As master and king have I crowned him, To reign but the length of a day. I woo but to kiss and betray him, We meet but a moment to part; In the hour of his joy will I slay him, My wheels will go over his heart."

Mrs. Veilsturm's drawing-room was not by any means an artistic apartment, being full of violent contrasts in the way of decoration and furniture, yet not without a certain picturesqueness of its own. It was bizarre, gaudy, fantastic, strange, and a faithful reflection of the curious mind of its mistress. The European side of her nature inspired her with a certain amount of artistic taste, while the African blood in her veins made her delight in brilliant colouring and barbaric ornamentation. The eyes ached as they rested on the confused mass of tints, variegated as a flower-garden, and yet there was a certain design and harmony throughout, something like the tangled patterns of those Oriental carpets, those Indian shawls, which represent the cloudy splendours haunting an Eastern mind.

The paper on the walls of this room, oblong and lofty, was of a dark-red tint, stamped with golden sunflowers rising from their velvety-green leaves. Delicate lace curtains of milky white, interwoven with threads of silver, fell before the three long windows, from under massive gilt cornices. The carpet was of black and yellow stripes in undulating lines, like the skin of a tiger, and here and there a rug of silky-white hair contrasted curiously with the fantastic ground upon which it rested. The furniture was of dark walnut, upholstered with bright yellow satin, smooth and shining as the inside of a buttercup.

In the corners of the room stood slender palms with heavily-drooping leaves, vividly-green ferns with feathery fronds, prickly, fleshy cactus and spiky, fan-shaped plants, suggestive of tropical skies--some rising from the porous red jars of Egypt, others springing from misshapen vases of porcelain, on which, in crimson and green, sprawled the sacred Chinese dragon, and a few growing in shallow basins of pale-yellow pottery.

At the end of the room, behind the veil of Indian bead curtains, was a cool-looking conservatory, skilfully lighted by electric lamps in globes of pale green, which diffused a kind of fictitious moonlight. In the drawing-room the mass of colour, strange and incongruous, was softened, blended, and confused by the tremulous red light that streamed from the tall brass lamps with their umbrella-like shades of crimson silk. Add to this fantasy of light and colour, the sickly odours of the pastilles constantly burning, and it can be imagined how curiously appropriate this strange room was to the rich Eastern beauty and oddly barbaric costume of Cleopatra.

On this night, having been down at Hurlingham, she was too tired to go out, so preferred to remain at home and receive a few friends.

At present, she was lying negligently back in a low chair, arrayed in her favourite costume of amber and black, but, despite the attentions of Dolly Thambits, who was talking to her, she seemed to be out of temper. Mr. Jiddy, seated on the extreme edge of a chair like a white cat, was listening to the conversation of Major Griff, who, stiff and grim, was leaning against the mantelpiece. No other people were present, nor did Mrs. Veilsturm seem very much inclined to receive company, for she yawned once or twice, and looked at the Major significantly, as if to hint that he might take away Mr. Thambits and friend as soon as he liked.

The Major, however, wanted to speak to Mrs. Veilsturm himself, so he did not take the hint, but resolutely waited on, in the hope that the two young men would shortly depart and leave him alone with the charming widow. Meanwhile he chatted about pigeon-shooting to Mr. Jiddy, who knew nothing about it, and Thambits bored Mrs. Veilsturm to death by his dreary small talk.

"I say, you know," drawled Dolly, after a pause, during which Mrs. Veilsturm had been wondering how she could get rid of him, "what about your fancy-dress ball?"

"Oh, I've put it off," replied Mrs. Veilsturm idly, "a week or two does not make much difference, and my costume was not ready."

"What are you going to appear as?"

"Ah! that is the question," said Cleopatra smiling. "I'm not going to tell you. I'm not going to tell anyone. I will appear at my own ball in the most unexpected fashion."

"Like a surprise packet?"

"Yes! as you elegantly put it--like a surprise packet."

"Oh, that's jolly," observed Mr. Thambits brilliantly, then relapsed into silence.

"I say, Mrs. Veilsturm!" he said at last.

"Yes."

"Errington's gone to the country again."

Mrs. Veilsturm could not suppress an angry start at this information. She had missed Guy for the last three or four days, and, having heard nothing from him since she received his note excusing himself from coming to the Marlowe Theatre, was considerably enraged at this neglect. She was too clever, however, to betray herself to Dolly Thambits, who was jealously vigilant, so she asked quietly:

"Indeed! who told you so?"

"Gartney! He went about four days ago. Got tired of Town, I suppose."

"No doubt! Town does get wearisome at times."

"I don't think so while you are here," said Mr. Thambits tenderly.

"What a charming compliment," answered Mrs. Veilsturm with a forced laugh, shutting her fan savagely, for when Dolly was amorous he was simply detestable.

"Not to you," he murmured softly.

"More compliments," she said coolly. "You must pass your days making them up. By-the-way, would you mind telling me the time?"

"Certainly. It is now a few minutes past nine."

"Oh, I say, is it?" cried Mr. Jiddy, jumping up from his chair. "I say, Dolly, we've got to go to Lady Kalsmith's you know."

"I thought you were coming also, Mrs. Veilsturm?" said Dolly, rising reluctantly.

"I! No," she answered, lifting her eyebrows. "Would I be dressed like this if I were going?"

"Mrs. Veilsturm," explained Major Griff, graciously, "is too tired to go out to-night, and thinks a rest will do her good."

"I'm afraid we've tired you," said Thambits, looking at his divinity.

"Oh dear, not at all," responded Mrs. Veilsturm, lying with the utmost dexterity. "So glad to see you. _Au revoir_ at present."

"I'll call and see if you are better to-morrow," said Dolly, making his adieux with manifest reluctance.

"Delighted! goodbye, Mr. Jiddy! Major?"

Grill took the hint, and ushered Dolly and his friend out of the room before they had time to change their minds, and having seen them safely bestowed in a hansom, returned to Mrs. Veilsturm, whom he found sitting in her old place, frowning savagely at the fireplace. The Major resumed his lounging attitude on the hearthrug, and lighted a cigarette.

"Don't smoke," said Mrs. Veilsturm sharply. "I don't want my drawing-room to smell like a bar."

"There's not much chance of that," retorted the Major coolly, throwing the match into the fireplace, and blowing a cloud of smoke. "No one will come to-night, and those abominable pastilles you are so fond of burning will dissipate the smoke by to-morrow."

Mrs. Veilsturm offered no further remonstrance, but tapped her fan thoughtfully in the palm of her hand. Major Griff watched her in silence for a moment, and then made a polite remark.

"You're a fool, Maraquita."

"And why?"

"Because you're thinking about that young Errington. He's no good to us."

"Us! Us!" she reiterated savagely, "always us! Do you think I've nothing else to do but to think of you?"

"At present, No," replied Griff coolly. "Now don't get in a rage, my dear. It doesn't improve your looks, and certainly does not carry any weight with me. I tell you again you're a fool for thinking about Errington. He's gone back to his wife in spite of your cleverness. Didn't you hear that idiot say so?"

"Yes!"

"Well?"

"Well!" she echoed scornfully, raising her eyes to his face, "what of that? Do you think I'm going to let him go so easily?"

"I don't see you've much option in the matter," said Griff grimly.

"You see nothing except what suits your own ends."

"Very likely. That's the way to succeed in the world."

"You don't seem to have made much headway yet," replied Cleopatra with a sneer.

"Oh, pretty well--pretty well," said the Major airily. "I think this room--this house--your dress--your diamonds--your position--are all evidences of success. And we'll do better if you only keep your head clear, and not sacrifice everything for this Errington."

"I don't intend to sacrifice anything for Sir Guy Errington," she replied viciously, "but I intend he shall sacrifice all for me; his wife! his home! his honour! all he holds dearest in the world."

"And then?"

"And then he can go his own way. I have done with him," said Mrs. Veilsturm calmly.

"I wouldn't talk in such a melodramatic fashion if I were you," observed Griff leisurely, "revenge is all very well on the stage, but it's silly in real life. You stand to gain nothing, and lose a good deal."

"Do you think I can forget the insult his wife put upon me?"

"Well then punish the wife."

"I intend to--through the husband."

"Now look here, Maraquita," said her partner earnestly, emphasizing his remarks with his finger. "You take care what you're about. We've had a good time in London, but the game is pretty well played out. It's always advisable to leave a place with flying colours, so that one can come back again. People are talking about you already, don't let them talk any more, or you'll find all your lady friends give you the cold shoulder, and if they do, you may rest assured they won't be satisfied till they induce their husbands, fathers, and brothers to follow their example. I don't see the fun of such a scandal, especially as there's nothing to be got out of Errington. He's as poor as a church mouse. So leave him alone, and after the ball, we can go for America in good odour with everyone, and after a year or two in the States, we can come back here when a new generation arises that don't know Joseph. My advice is sound, Maraquita, and you know it."

Mrs. Veilsturm sat perfectly still during this speech, with her eyes cast down on the closed fan lying on her lap, but when the Major ended, she looked up suddenly with a sombre frown on her face.

"I've made up my mind what to do, and neither you nor anyone else will turn me from my purpose."

Major Griff shrugged his shoulders and walked slowly to the other end of the room. He was a man who never wasted words, and seeing from the set expression of Mrs. Veilsturm's face that she was determined to carry out her purpose, he judged it useless to argue about the matter. Yet, although he kept his temper well under control, he could not help saying something disagreeable to this woman who was sacrificing everything for the sake of revenge.

"In spite of your cleverness, my dear Maraquita, I shrewdly suspect that Sir Guy sees through your little game, he has placed himself beyond the reach of temptation."

"He will come back," she said curtly.

"I doubt it. The moth does not come back to the flame that has once singed its wings. The fly doesn't trust itself in the spider's web a second time."

"He will come back."

The Major returned to the fireplace, produced his pocketbook in the most leisurely manner, and took a gold pencil case hanging at the end of his chain in his fingers.

"I'll bet you the worth of that diamond star in your hair he does not."

"Don't be rash, the star cost two hundred pounds."

"So. I'll lay you two hundred pounds to the promise that you'll behave decently, that Errington does not come back."

Mrs. Veilsturm opened her fan with a grand wave, and looked at him serenely.

"Book it," she said curtly.

Major Griff did so, and restored the book to his pocket. "Well, I must be off," he said, stretching himself. "I want to see Dolser about putting a paragraph in his paper concerning the ball. Can I do anything for you?"

"Nothing, thank you. Good-night."

"Good-night."

He went towards the door, and without vouchsafing a glance at her, left the room.

If Mrs. Veilsturm was tired, she did not make any attempt to go to bed, but remained seated in her chair pondering over the position of affairs.

She was not by any means as confident over Errington's return as she pretended to be, for she was far too clever a woman to misjudge the impression she had made. Guy had gone away from Town without a word of farewell; therefore she was easily satisfied that he was still heart-whole. As he had acted thus, she could do absolutely nothing, for he certainly would not come back to a woman about whom he did not care. And yet she had done everything in her power to entangle him in her nets. The fool, to leave a woman like her for a pale, sickly wife. Were her charms fading, that he had treated her so scornfully? Was the prize not worth the winning? Was there really a man in the world who could turn coldly away from her beauty when she smiled invitation?

As these thoughts passed through her mind, she arose from her chair rapidly, and leaning her arms on the white marble mantelpiece, examined her face carefully in the glass. The rich, dusky skin, through which flushed redly the hot blood, the delicately drawn eyebrows, arched over the liquid eyes, the shining coils of hair above the low forehead, the full, red lips, the shell-like ears, tinged with pink, the slender neck; she examined them all in a severely critical fashion, and saw that there was no flaw anywhere. A slow smile of triumph curved the corners of her mouth as she looked at her beautiful face in the mirror, and she turned away exulting in her physical perfection.

"Can he resist me?" she whispered to her heart, and her heart answered, "No."

At this moment a servant entered the room with a magnificent bouquet of white lilies, which he presented to his mistress, and then retired. She held them in her hands, inhaling their faint perfume, and admiring the stainless purity of their deep cups; then, catching sight of a card thrust into the centre of the flowers, she took it out to read the name.

"Sir Guy Errington."

With a low laugh of triumph she tossed the flowers on the table, and, with the card still in her hand, swept across the room to a desk of rosewood near the window. Sitting down she wrote a note to Major Griff:

"DEAR MAJOR,

"Kindly bring with you to-morrow your cheque for £200. He has come back.

"MARAQUITA VEILSTURM."

Placing this in an envelope, she directed it to Major Griff, at the Globetrotters' Club, then ringing the bell, gave it to the servant, with instructions that it was to be delivered at once.

When she was once more alone, she picked up Sir Guy's card, and smiled cruelly as she looked at the name.

"You fool," she whispered softly. "Oh, you fool."