One Day Part 16

A moment after, he heard her name, and instantly was all attention. The two men just behind him were discussing her rather freely--far too freely for the time and the place--and the girl, in Paul's estimation.

He listened eagerly.

"Bold little devil, that Ledoux girl!" said one. "G.o.d! how she is playing her little game to-night! They say she is going to marry that old French Count, de Roannes! That's the fellow over there, watching her with the cat's eyes. I guess he thinks she means to have her fling first--and I guess she thinks so too! As usual, it's the spectator who sees the best of the game. What a curious girl she is--a living paradox!"

"How's that?"

"Spanish, you know. Ought to have black hair instead of red--black eyes instead of--well, chestnut about expresses the color of hers. I call them witch's eyes, they're so full of fire and--the devil!"

"She's French, too, isn't she? That accounts for the eyes. The _beaute du diable_, hers is! Couldn't she make a heaven for a man if she would--or a h.e.l.l?"

"Yes, it's in her! She's doomed, you know! Her grandmothers before her were bad women--regular witches, they say, with a good, big streak of yellow. Couldn't keep their heads on their shoulders--couldn't be faithful to any one man. Don't know as they tried!"

"I'll bet they made it interesting for the fellow while it did last, anyway! But this one will never be happy. She has a tragedy in her face, if ever a woman had. But she's a man's woman, all right, and she'd make life worth living if a fellow had any red blood in him. She's one of those women who are born for nothing else in the world but to love, and be loved. Can't you shoot the Count?"

"The Count!--h.e.l.l! He won't be considered at all after a little! She'll find plenty of men glad to wake the devil in her--just to keep her from yawning! But she's not very tractable even now, though her sins all lie ahead of her! She's altogether too cool on the surface for her make-up, but--well, full of suggestion, and one feels a volcano surging and steaming just below the mask she wears, and has an insane desire to wake it up! That kind of woman simply can't help it."

A third voice broke in on the conversation--an older voice--the voice of a man who had lived and observed much.

"I saw her often as a child," he said, "a perilously wilful child, determined upon her own way, and possessed of her own fancies about this, that, and the other, which were seldom, if ever, the ideas of anyone else. There was always plenty of excitement where she was--always that same disturbing air! Even with her pigtails and pinafores, one could see the woman in her eyes. But she was a provoking little creature, always dreaming of impossible romances. Her father had his hands full."

"As her husband will have, poor devil! If he's man enough to hold her, all right. If he is not," with a significant shrug of the shoulders, "it's his own lookout!"

"That old French _roue_ hold her? You're dreaming! She won't be faithful to him a week--if he has a handsome valet, or a half-way manly groom!

How could she?" And they laughed coa.r.s.ely.

The Boy gave them a look that should have annihilated all three, but they weren't noticing the Boy. He could have throttled them! How dared such lips as these pollute his darling's name! And yet these were society men--they could dance with her, clasp her to them, and look into those "witch eyes"--oh, the ignominy of it!

He looked across at Opal. How beautiful she was in her pale green gown, her white shoulders and arms glistening beneath the electric light with the sheen of polished marble, her red-brown hair glowing with its fiery lure, while even across the room her eyes sparkled like diamonds, lighting up her whole face. She was certainly enjoying herself--this Circe who had tempted him across the seas. She seemed possessed of the very spirit of mischief--and Paul forgot himself.

The orchestra was playing a Strauss waltz--it fired his blood. He walked across the room with his masterful, authoritative air--the manner of a man born to command. "Miss Ledoux," he said, and the crowd around her instinctively made way for him, "this is our waltz, I believe!" and whirled her away before she could answer.

Ah! it was delicious, that waltz! In perfect rhythm they clung together, gliding about the polished floor, her bare shoulder pressing his arm, her head with its bewildering perfume so near his lips, their hearts throbbing fiercely in the ecstasy of their nearness--which was Love.

Oh to go on forever! forever!

The sweet cadence of the music died away, and they looked into each other's eyes, startled.

"You seem to be acquiring the habit," she pouted, but her lips quivered, and in response he whispered in her ear, "Whose waltz was it, sweetheart?"

"I don't know, Paul--nor care!"

That was enough.

They left the room together.

CHAPTER XIII

In a secluded corner adjoining the ballroom, Paul and Opal stood hand in hand, conscious only of being together, while their two hearts beat a tumultuous acknowledgment of that =world-old= power whose name, in whatever guise it comes to us, is Love!

"I said I wouldn't, Paul!" at last she said.

"Wouldn't what?"

"See you again--like this!"

Paul smiled tenderly.

"My darling," he whispered, "what enchantment have you cast over me that all my resolutions to give you up fade away at the first glimpse of your face? I resolve to be brave and remember my duty--until I see you--and then I forget everything but you--I want nothing but you!"

"What do you want with me, Paul?"

"Opal!" he cried impetuously. "After seeing these gay Lotharios making eyes at you all the evening, can you ask me that? I want to take you away and hide you from every other man's sight--that's what I want! It drives me crazy to see them look at you that way! But you have such a way of keeping a fellow at arm's length when you want to," he went on, ruefully, "in spite of the magic call of your whole tempting personality. You know '_Die Walkure_,' don't you?--but of course you do.

If I believed in the theory of reincarnation, I should feel sure that you were Brunhilde herself, surrounded by the wall of fire!"

"I wish I were! I wish every woman had some such infallible way of _proving_ every man who seeks her!"

"You have, Opal! You have your own womanly instincts--every woman's impa.s.sable wall of fire, if she will only hide behind them. _You_ could never love unworthily!"

"But, Paul, don't you know? Haven't they told you? I shall probably marry the Count de Roannes!"

Paul was astounded.

"Opal! No! No! Not that, surely not that! I heard it, yes--a moment ago.

But I could not believe it. The idea was too horrible. It could not be true!"

"But it is true, Paul! It is all too true!"

"It is a crime," he fairly groaned.

She shrank from him. "Don't say that, Paul!"

"But you know it is true! Opal, just think! If you give your sweet self to him--and that is all you can give him, as you and I know--if you give yourself to him, I say, I--I shall go mad!"

"Yet women have loved him," she began, bravely, attempting to defend herself. "Women--some kinds of women--really love him now. He has a power of--compelling--love--even yet!"

"And such women," Paul cried hoa.r.s.ely, "are more to be honored than you if you consent to become his property with no love in your heart! Don't plead extenuating circ.u.mstances. There can be no extenuating circ.u.mstances in all the world for such a thing."

She winced as though he had struck her, for she knew in her heart that what he said was true, brutally true. The Boy was only voicing her own sentiments--the theory to which she had always so firmly clung.

As Paul paused, a sudden realization of his own future overwhelmed him and locked his lips. He smiled sadly. Who was he that he should talk like that? Was not he, too, pleading extenuating circ.u.mstances? True, he was a man and she was a woman, and the world has two distinct standards--but--no less than she--he was selling himself for gain.

"Paul, Paul! I'm afraid you don't understand! It isn't _money_. Surely you don't think that! It isn't money--it is honor--_honor_, do you hear?

My dead mother's honor, and my father's breaking heart!"