Reprise Part 14

"I wouldn't be a bit surprised. That, and her begging him. He never can refuse her anything."

"Uncle," she said with a fierce eye, "the necklace Cybele wears in this painting, is it yours?"

"Yes, I talked her into it. She wanted to wear the great one Dammler gave her-earlier on, you know, before he was engaged to you-but it was so gaudy I talked her out of it. She wears it in the Birth of Venus."

This excellent folly gave her no merriment. She was too full of jealousy and fury. "Did you get it back?"

"Not yet. She wore it home, but I'll have Dammler get it for me. He will be seeing her."

"I have no doubt of that!"

"Aye, I'll take a run over to Berkeley Square when he gets back to town. I want to see where he plans to hang the 'Birth of Venus.'"

Prudence hadn't thought it was possible to find one small corner of her heart to hold any more anger; it was full of spleen, but this new outrage must take precedence. "You don't mean to tell me the picture was painted for him!"

"I had planned to give it to Cybele, but Dammler was so eager to have it, I sent it around to Berkeley Square."

"Heasked you for it?"

"He begged for the thing. 'Name your own price,' he said. 'It would mean a great deal to me.' And a lot more in the same vein. I thought then she would pose for me again and let him have it, but once he went away, she only came back the once."

"I see. It is pretty clear what the attraction was at the studio-for both of them." She arose and strode from the room.

How had she been fool enough to trust him? How had she let herself again be talked into thinking he was possible of reformation? He was completely dissolute. He had urged Clarence into setting up a studio and brought actresses to him, knowing her uncle was a fool. Had brought Cybele, the minute her patron's back was turned, and sat in homage at her feet while she was painted, did it to annoy Exxon so he would part with her. And then offered any price for the picture. He had always loved Cybele. He couldn't stay away from her.

She ran to her uncle's room to look around for the golden locket. She found it, tucked up in his box of treasures relating to his late wife. There it was, with the platinum curl resting in its cavity. Poor innocent Clarence had been made a fool of, lost his diamond necklace and had his heart broken because Dammler wanted his mistress back. If he had been there that minute she would have spat on him.

She had three days to let the poison fester before she saw him. She was wary. She had misjudged him once in the matter of the duel. She thought he had stayed away that time from pique, and it was possible she was misjudging him again. The picture, for instance-she couldn't believe he cherished Clarence's likeness of Cybele when he could well afford to have a proper likeness taken. But she could well believe he had asked for it to conceal it from herself. Either way, there was no decent explanation to be put on his latest exploit. At the very best it was ill-judged, and at the worst, it was infamous. For three days she watched Clarence mope around the house dismally, saw her mother worry and grow noticeably weaker, all because of Dammler. There was very little charity in her when finally he came to call.

He had got himself rigged out in his finest jacket, freshly barbered, wore a bright smile and carried a bouquet of flowers. He knew as soon as he saw Prudence that he was in trouble. She had arranged to meet him alone in the saloon.

"What's happened?" he asked.

The very question was incriminating. He knew he had left a powder keg behind him, and had a fair idea it had exploded.

"Nothing for you to worry about, Lord Dammler, Clarence hasn't managed to steal your girl friend from you. But then I imagine you know that. You would have called on Cybele before coming tome."

"You found out about Cybele," he said, nerves stretching.

"Yes, I have-again. Found out all about her. But I would be interested to hearyour version, before I jump to any hasty decisions."

"Your tone tells me you have already decided."

"I keep an open mind."

"Good. Trust me, Prudence, I can explain everything."

"Go ahead."

"Clarence wanted to paint her. He begged me to bring her around, and at last she got after me, too, and I decided to do it."

"When Exxon was out of town."

"Yes, has Exxon found out?"

"You'll have to ask Cybele that."

"I don't plan to see her."

"Are you sure you'll be satisfied with just her picture for company at Berkeley Square?"

"You may imagine why I wanted to be rid of that thing!"

"Would letting my uncle give it to the sitter not have got rid of it equally well? She seems very fond of taking things. Clarence labors under the hopes you will be able to retrieve his diamonds for him. We knowyou can refuseher nothing, and hope there might be some reciprocity in the arrangement!"

"Oh, Lord, did the gudgeon let her get away with his diamonds? When did this happen?"

"During your absence. The gudgeon, well-named I must confess, like you, can refuse her nothing."

"Don't worry about the diamonds. I'll get them back. She's not a thief, you know. Only simpleminded. And is that the whole of it-Cybele got away with the diamonds?" "No, Dammler, that is not even the important part in my view. The important thing is that you got Clarence to set up a studio, took actresses to him, took Cybele to him when you knew her patron would dislike it..." "Now just a minute!" he said, holding up his hands. "I didn'tget him to set up the studio. He did it himself. And I didn't sic Cybele on him, either. Hebegged me to take her."

"But why did you do it?"

"She wanted to go."

"That's no reason! You must have seen it was an abominable thing to do, and you only did it so Exxon

would turn her off, and you could take up with her again yourself." "Prudence, how can yousay so? Youknow she doesn't mean a thing to me!" "How can I know it? Every time I turn around you're running after her. You took her there, and danced attendance on her the whole time she was there, too."

"I only did it to hold her still so Clarence could get the d.a.m.ned picture done. She hops around like a monkey." "More like a minx! From man to man, from Dammler to Exxon to Clarence to Dammler-always back toyou!" "All right! She likes me. I was kind to her when she was under my protection. When Danfers mistreated her she turned to me, and I gave her a bed for one night. Is that a sin? To be kind?" "Was it kindness to help her act in a way that would lose her her latest patron?" "She was already fed up with Exxon." "Ready for you again." "What happened was that Clarence wanted to paint her, and she wanted to be painted by him. I took her to the studio and stayed by while he worked, so nothing would develop between them."

"Your attention must have been all on the model. You didn't stop Clarence from imagining himself in love with her, and giving her the diamonds." "I didn't know anything about the diamonds. That must have happened after I left. He had finished her portrait, and I thought that was the end of it. I'll get back the diamonds. That's all there is to it." "I would appreciate it if you would do that."

"I'll do it," he said eagerly. "So, are you still mad at me?"

"Yes, to tell the truth, I am about fed up to the gills with you."

"I should have told you at Finefields."

"Why didn't you?"

"I was afraid to."

"You knew perfectly well you had behaved badly, in other words."

"Yes, I knew I had been d.a.m.nably unwise."

"So you had, and so you always are."

"I don't like the sound of this."

"I don't like any of it. I don't like that she can twist you around her thumb, that you're at her beck and

call."

"I'm not. It was an impulsive gesture. If I had considered all the possible consequences I probably

wouldn't have done it."

"You'd stand on your head in the middle of Bond Street if she told you to."

"Don't be so foolish!"

"I don't intent to be. I can't tell you I won't marry you when you haven't asked me recently, but I will

just drop the hint that any offer that spray of flowers might betoken will not be welcome."

"Prudence, you're making a mountain out of a molehill."

"No, I have been making a molehill out of the mountain of your dissolution. I don't honestly think you

know right from wrong. You don't even think you have beenimmoral to get my poor innocent uncle to set himself up as a clown in that studio with the whole city laughing their heads off at him, and to trot actresses around to take his diamonds."

"I'll get the diamonds back." "You won't get back his self respect! So far as I am concerned, you won't retrieve your own, either. You've gone beyond the pale." "You set a pretty narrow pale," he said, his hot temper rising. "We hear a great deal about what is acceptable to the irreproachable Miss Mallow. I never thought I was auditioning for the role of Caesar's wife, only Prudence's husband. It seems the requirements are equally stringent. Not only wrongdoing but the very leastappearance of it must be avoided." "I don't suggest you audition for the role of anyone's husband, Dammler. It is a part that requires at least a modic.u.m of maturity."

"On the part ofboth parties. We don't hear mentioned in this fine tirade that your only concern in the matter is what people willthink. We don't hear that Clarence-or yourself-has had the heart broken. Oh, no, you are unaware of that organ, considered vital in us mere mortals. We don't hear that Miss Mallow is a jealous, narrow-minded, unforgiving woman, always ready to believe the worst of those she claims to love."

"I no longer claim to love you."

"You did when you rang a peal over Cybele's staying with me that night. You didn't wait to hear how or why, but leapt immediately to the worst possible conclusion. The worst inyour righteous eyes, that is. The act of love between two people seems to be considered the worst crime on your list. I consider it one of the lesser ones, one nevertheless of which I have been innocent since being engaged to you. You're not perfect, Prudence. Far from it."

"I never said I was."

"Such swift accusations as you make ought to be rooted in perfection. I think they are rooted in the misconception that you haven't a single flaw. Let me tell you, I would rather have my own dissolute character, capable of imprudent, spontaneous acts of kindness and folly, than your puritanical self-righteousness. There isn't a drop of Christian kindness in your whole body. Notonce did it ever occur to you to inquire of me after the duel."

"I didn't know you had fought it."

"No, but you knew I was ready to, wanted to defend you. You knew I loved you, and wouldn't stay away from you for no reason. If our positions had been reversed, Prudence, I would have put my pride in my pocket and sent a note, or a word with Clarence at least. Pride is a fault too, you know, one you share with lesser mankind."

"You ought to have more pride than to carry on as you do."

"Yes I ought. Whoever would have thought we would find a lack of any of the deadly sins in Lord Dammler? But my pride has been lacking where you are concerned. I have groveled to you, been made a fool of in that book, been called a dog and treated like one, coming back for more with my tail between my legs. No more. I said it before and failed to keep my word. You have played Jehovah with me for the last time. I'm tired of being treated like a schoolboy who must account to his mistress for every move he makes, getting my knuckles regularly rapped for misbehavior. I'm an adult, independent human being. I make mistakes- bad ones-terribleones! But I sin ready to forgive them in myself, as I would be ready to in anyone else. You're not. You are unrelenting. Find yourself a fellow puritan, Prudence. You're too good for me."

"I know I am!" she answered hotly.

"Of course you know it. Your pride tells you so. But it will be cold consolation when I am gone."

"I won't need any consolation when you're gone."

"I think you will. I think somewhere underneath all those wads of misdirected religiosity there is a very nice girl, trying to get out. I see tantalizing glimpses of her at times, when her humor betrays her into humanity. We should have suited very well, Prudence. I never met any girl I liked half so well as you, but I don't intend to be measured for a new straitjacket every quarter."

"Any more insults to hurl at my head before you leave?"

"The truth hurts, does it? I didn't take it so much amiss when you used to hint me to a more proper course, but then my pride was deficient. I have no more to say. I hope we aren't enemies. I don't consider you an enemy, but a misguided friend."

"It seems to me your misguided friends were always your favorites."

"Youmost of all, Prudence," he said, his voice pitched low, but not unsteady. There was no rancor in the speech, only regret. He looked at her for a long moment with unblinking eyes, as if he were looking at her for the last time. "I guess this is goodbye." Then he turned and left the room.

Chapter 18.

Clarence got back his diamonds.They came in a plain brown wrapper with a footman wearing Lord Dammler's livery. There was no note enclosed. Clarence's spirits gradually restored. He first finished Cybele's picture, then was beguiled by its beauty into making a copy, for Sir Alfred wanted one as well. He could not speak of "commissions" for a painting, which made him feel very professional and businesslike, though no money actually changed hands. Cybele became bored with the play after a while, and went back to Exxon when he dangled a rope of diamonds before her eyes. She dropped out of Shilla just as he wanted, and also dropped pretty well out of all minds but Clarence's.

It seemed Dammler, too, had endured the break between Prudence and himself. She read in the papers that he was doing something in Parliament, had made a speech that was praised for its lucid logic, which surprised her. She had thought it would be the pa.s.sionate delivery and eloquence that would be mentioned. She even met him occasionally. He had taken up f.a.n.n.y Burney, and it was there that Prudence met him at tea one afternoon about ten days after the break. He was friendly, not at all angry or standoffish, as she had feared. He treated her exactly as he treated Miss Burney, as an old friend, and she was desolate. He called her Prudence, laughed and joked and argued with both of them, just as though his feelings for both were identical. She was distinguished in no small way, from the other writer in her sixties.

She still thought after the meeting that he might call one day at Grosvenor Square, but he never came. There were no scandals involving him. He was living a decent, useful life without her. It was more than she did herself. She was dully decent, but of no use to man nor beast. She couldn't believe this was to be the end of it. She was ready to forgive him again, but he didn't come for remission. After a month, she was even ready to get down to the hard ch.o.r.e of admitting there was some justice in his attack. She had judged too quickly, was too unforgiving. What did all his crimes amount to, in the end? He didn't lie or cheat or steal, was not avaricious, greedy, proud. He had only a hot temper, and of course a fondness for women. It was a fault of loving, at least, not hating. Who was she to sit in judgment on anyone? Hadn't she in effect lied about not having seen her book when he asked her? She had poked fun at all his friends and most of all himself inBabe. Even while condemning him, she had jumped at every chance to get him back, and would do it again. What a low opinion he must hold of her.

She became a perfect pattern-card of Christian forgiveness and kindness. Was never sharp with the servants or Clarence, and how she wanted to be! Really she was very hard on people. Clarence couldn't help being a fool; the servants wouldn't be servants if they were wise or clever people. Naturally one had to overlook their faults. Dammler wouldn't be Dammler if he weren't impulsive and generous and sometimes unwise. Oh, but never so unwise as herself, to have lost him! The worm of discontent gnawed away at her.

In December, Dammler patched it up with Murray and the sonnets were circulated, causing a stir around him again, but there was no outrageous behavior on his part. No private indication either that she was involved in them in any way. She heard at one of the literary do's she still attended that Dammler was "seeing" a Lady Catherine somebody or other. A girl who had lately been jilted by some fellow. That would appeal to him. An announcement, they said, was imminent. Mercifully, no announcement came.

"What is he writing these days? Does anyone know?" she asked, with just the right shade of interest to indicate that they were old friends, and nothing more.

"He has done some critical essays on drama, but he spends very little time on literature nowadays," Tom Moore told her. "They are to be run inBlackwood's Review starting in March."

"I look forward to reading them," she said, with only mild enthusiasm.

"They are excellent," Moore went on. "Not gay ribald tales like his Cantos,of course. He matures in style. I must own I liked the old Dammler better. He has grown a little too staid to suit me."

"Whoever would have thought it?" she asked lightly, hiding a heavy heart.