54-40 or Fight Part 19

"Believe me, Madam," I answered hotly, "you have courage, at least. Let me match it. Nor do I deny that this asks courage on my part too. If you please, in these circ.u.mstances, _I shall remain_."

"You are armed?" she asked simply.

I inserted a finger in each waistcoat pocket and showed her the b.u.t.ts of two derringers; and at the back of my neck--to her smiling amus.e.m.e.nt at our heathen fashion--I displayed just the tip of the haft of a short bowie-knife, which went into a leather case under the collar of my coat.

And again I drew around the belt which I wore so that she could see the barrel of a good pistol, which had been suspended under cover of the bell skirt of my coat.

She laughed. I saw that she was not unused to weapons. I should have guessed her the daughter of a soldier or acquainted with arms in some way. "Of course," she said, "there might be need of these, although I think not. And in any case, if trouble can be deferred until to-morrow, why concern oneself over it? You interest me. I begin yet more to approve of you."

"Then, as to that breakfast _a la fourchette_ with Madam; if I remain, will you agree to tell me what is your business here?"

She laughed at me gaily. "I might," she said, "provided that meantime I had learned whether or not you were married that night."

I do not profess that I read all that was in her face as she stepped back toward the satin curtains and swept me the most graceful curtsey I had ever seen in all my life. I felt like reaching out a hand to restrain her. I felt like following her. She was a.s.suredly bewildering, a.s.suredly as puzzling as she was fascinating. I only felt that she was mocking me. Ah, she was a woman!

I felt something swiftly flame within me. There arose about me that net of amber-hued perfume, soft, enthralling, difficult of evasion.... Then I recalled my mission; and I remembered what Mr. Calhoun and Doctor Ward had said. I was not a man; I was a government agent. She was not a woman; she was my opponent. Yes, but then--

Slowly I turned to the opposite side of this long central room. There were curtains here also. I drew them, but as I did so I glanced back.

Again, as on that earlier night, I saw her face framed in the amber folds--a face laughing, mocking. With an exclamation of discontent, I threw down my heavy pistol on the floor, cast my coat across the foot of the bed to prevent the delicate covering from being soiled by my boots, and so rested without further disrobing.

In the opposite apartment I could hear her moving about, humming to herself some air as unconcernedly as though no such being as myself existed in the world. I heard her presently accost her servant, who entered through some pa.s.sage not visible from the central apartments.

Then without concealment there seemed to go forward the ordinary routine of madam's toilet for the evening.

"No, I think the pink one," I heard her say, "and please--the bath, Threlka, just a trifle more warm." She spoke in French, her ancient serving-woman, as I took it, not understanding the English language.

They both spoke also in a tongue I did not know. I heard the rattling of toilet articles, certain sighs of content, faint splashings beyond. I could not escape from all this. Then I imagined that perhaps madam was having her heavy locks combed by the serving-woman. In spite of myself, I pictured her thus, even more beautiful than before.

For a long time I concluded that my presence was to be dismissed as a thing which was of no importance, or which was to be regarded as not having happened. At length, however, after what seemed at least half an hour of these mysterious ceremonies, I heard certain sighings, long breaths, as though madam were taking calisthenic movements, some gymnastic training--I knew not what. She paused for breath, apparently very well content with herself.

Shame on me! I fancied perhaps she stood before a mirror. Shame on me again! I fancied she sat, glowing, beautiful, at the edge of the amber couch.

At last she called out to me: "Monsieur!"

I was at my own curtains at once, but hers remained tight folded, although I heard her voice close behind them. "_Eh bien?_" I answered.

"It is nothing, except I would say that if Monsieur feels especially grave and reverent, he will find a very comfortable _prie-dieu_ at the foot of the bed."

"I thank you," I replied, gravely as I could.

"And there is a very excellent rosary and crucifix on the table just beyond!"

"I thank you," I replied, steadily as I could.

"And there is an English Book of Common Prayer upon the stand not far from the head of the bed, upon this side!"

"A thousand thanks, my very good friend."

I heard a smothered laugh beyond the amber curtains. Presently she spoke again, yawning, as I fancied, rather contentedly.

"_A la bonne heure, Monsieur!_"

"_A la bonne heure, Madame!_"

CHAPTER XVI

DeJEuNER a LA FOURCHETTE

Woman is a creature between man and the angels.

--_Honore de Balzac_.

A government agent, it seems, may also in part be little more than a man, after all. In these singular surroundings I found myself not wholly tranquil.... At last toward morning, I must have slept. It was some time after daybreak when I felt a hand upon my shoulder as I lay still partly clad. Awakened suddenly, I arose and almost overthrew old Threlka, who stood regarding me with no expression whatever upon her brown and wrinkled countenance. She did no more than point the way to a door, where presently I found a bath-room, and so refreshed myself and made the best toilet possible under the circ.u.mstances.

My hostess I found awaiting me in the central room of the apartments.

She was clad now in a girdled peignoir of rich rose-color, the sleeves, wide and full, falling hack from her round arms. Her dark hair was coiled and piled high on her head this morning, regardless of current mode, and confined in a heavy twist by a tall golden comb; so that her white neck was left uncovered. She wore no jewelry, and as she stood, simple and free from any trickery of the coquette, I thought that few women ever were more fair. That infinite witchery not given to many women was hers, yet dignity as well. She was, I swear, _grande dame_, though young and beautiful as a G.o.ddess. Her brow was thoughtful now, her air more demure. Faint blue shadows lay beneath her eyes. A certain hauteur, it seemed to me, was visible in her mien, yet she was the soul of graciousness, and, I must admit, as charming a hostess as ever invited one to usual or unusual repast.

The little table in the center of the room was already spread. Madam filled my cup from the steaming urn with not the slightest awkwardness, as she nodded for me to be seated. We looked at each other, and, as I may swear, we both broke into saving laughter.

So we sat, easier now, as I admit, and, with small concern for the affairs of the world outside at the time, discussed the very excellent omelet, which certainly did not allow the reputation of Threlka to suffer; the delicately grilled bones, the crisp toasted rye bread, the firm yellow b.u.t.ter, the pungent early cress, which made up a meal sufficiently dainty even for her who presided over it.

Even that pitiless light of early morning, the merciless cross-light of opposing windows, was gentle with her. Yes, she was young! Moreover, she ate as a person of breeding, and seemed thoroughbred in all ways, if one might use a term so hackneyed. Rank and breeding had been hers; she needed not to claim them, for they told their own story. I wondered what extraordinary history of hers remained untold--what history of hers and mine and of others she might yet a.s.sist in making!

"I was saying," she remarked presently, "that I would not have you think that I do not appreciate the suffering in which you were plunged by the haste you found necessary in the wedding of your _jeune fille_."

But I was on my guard. "At least, I may thank you for your sympathy, Madam!" I replied.

"Yet in time," she went on, gone reflective the next instant, "you will see how very unimportant is all this turmoil of love and marriage."

"Indeed, there is, as you say, something of a turmoil regarding them in our inst.i.tutions as they are at present formed."

"Because the average of humanity thinks so little. Most of us judge life from its emotions. We do not search the depths."

"If I could oblige Madam by abolishing society and home and humanity, I should be very glad--because, of course, that is what Madam means!"

"At any cost," she mused, "that torture of life must be pa.s.sed on to coming generations for their unhappiness, their grief, their misery. I presume it was necessary that there should be this plan of the general blindness and intensity of pa.s.sion."

"Yes, if, indeed, it be not the most important thing in the world for us to marry, at least it is important that we should think so. Madam is philosopher this morning," I said, smiling.

She hardly heard me. "To continue the crucifixion of the soul, to continue the misapprehensions, the debasings of contact with human life--yes, I suppose one must pay all that for the sake of the gaining of a purpose. Yet there are those who would endure much for the sake of principle, Monsieur. Some such souls are born, do you not think?"

"Yes, Sphinx souls, extraordinary, impossible for the average of us to understand."

"That torch of _life_!" she mused. "See! It was only _that_ which you were so eager to pa.s.s on to another generation! That was why you were so mad to hasten to the side of that woman. Whereas," she mused still, "it were so much grander and so much n.o.bler to pa.s.s on the torch of a _principle_ as well!"

"I do not understand."

"The general business of offspring goes on unceasingly in all the nations," she resumed frankly. "There will be children, whether or not you and I ever find some one wherewith to mate in the compromise which folk call wedlock. But _principles_--ah! my friend, who is to give those to others who follow us? What rare and splendid wedlock brings forth _that_ manner of offspring?"