The Gay Lord Quex Part 40

d.u.c.h.eSS.

[_Going to the writing-table and taking up a book._] No. I will do it.

The exertion of brushing my hair, I often find, encourages sleep. I'll put myself to bed. Run away. Don't let me see or hear anything of you till the morning. Eight o'clock. [_She reclines upon the settee and opens her book._ SOPHY, _eyeing her keenly, is about to withdraw._]

Oh--Sophy! [SOPHY _returns._] Do you--believe in Mr. Valma?

SOPHY.

Believe in him, your Grace?

d.u.c.h.eSS.

Believe that when he reads a woman's hand he has really the power of divination--the power he professes?

SOPHY.

Oh, yes.

d.u.c.h.eSS.

[_Looking away._] Then if he tells a woman that a great many men are deeply in love with her, you--you--?

SOPHY.

I'm sure he knows what he's talking about.

d.u.c.h.eSS.

[_With a little purr of contentment._] Ah! [_a.s.suming indifference._] I heard recently of an instance of his having conjectured such a state of affairs from the lines of a woman's hand. [_Severely._] I could only hope that his surmise was an incorrect one.

SOPHY.

[_Her eyes flashing scornfully._] You see, your Grace, if a woman is pretty, and Valma finds Venus's girdle well marked in her palm; and if he concludes from other signs that she's vain and light and loose; it isn't much to suppose that there are a few horrid men licking their lips at the thought of her.

d.u.c.h.eSS.

[_Shocked._] My good girl! what curious expressions you make use of!

[_Resuming her reading._] That's all.

[SOPHY _goes to the door and opens it._

SOPHY.

I wish your Grace good-night.

d.u.c.h.eSS.

[_Raising her head for a moment._] Good-night. You are not taking your robe.

[SOPHY _looks at the robe and hesitates; in the end she gathers it up uneasily._

SOPHY.

I--I am very much obliged to your Grace--

d.u.c.h.eSS.

Yes, you have thanked me enough. Turn out the lamp in that pa.s.sage.

SOPHY.

Certainly, your Grace.

[SOPHY _disappears, shutting the door after her. The_ d.u.c.h.eSS _remains quite still for a moment, then rises promptly, replaces her book, and--seating herself at the dressing-table--puts her hair in order. This done, she takes up the hand-mirror and smiles, frowns, and looks caressingly at herself. Then she lays the hand-mirror aside, blows out the candles upon the dressing-table, and poses before the cheval-gla.s.s.

Ultimately, completely a.s.sured as to her appearance, she cautiously opens the door at which_ SOPHY _has departed, and, going a few steps along the pa.s.sage, listens with strained ears. The pa.s.sage is now in darkness. Apparently satisfied, the_ d.u.c.h.eSS _returns, and, closing the door gently, turns the key in the lock. Her next proceeding is to attempt to tear one of the ribbons from her tea-gown. Failing in this, she detaches it with the aid of a pair of scissors, and, opening the door leading from the corridor, ties the ribbon to the outer door-handle. Whereupon she closes the door and walks about the room contentedly. Suddenly she pauses, and, going to the cabinet, produces a small tray on which are a bottle of champagne and a champagne gla.s.s.

Placing the tray on the circular table, she regards the single gla.s.s thoughtfully. Then, as if struck by an idea, she disappears into the bedroom. After a brief interval, the door opens softly and_ QUEX _enters, carrying a lighted wax match. Being in, he shuts the door silently and looks about the room. Hearing the_ d.u.c.h.eSS _in the adjoining apartment, he frowns and blows out the match. Coming to the circular table, he contemplates the preparation for his reception with distaste; then, flinging the match into the ash-tray, he sits, with a set, determined look upon his face. After another short pause, the_ d.u.c.h.eSS _returns, polishing a tumbler with a cambric handkerchief._ QUEX _rises._

d.u.c.h.eSS.

[_Under her breath._] Ah! [_He bows stiffly. She places the tumbler on the tray, tosses the handkerchief aside, and--first motioning him to stand away from the line of the door--opens the door, removes the ribbon from the handle, closes and locks it. Then she turns to him with a long-drawn sigh._] Ah--h--h!

QUEX.

[_Coming down gloomily._] Is it all right?

d.u.c.h.eSS.

Quite. [_Advancing to him with outstretched hands._] Welcome, Harry! oh, welcome!

QUEX.

[_Retreating a few steps--firmly._] One moment. I have something to ask of you, Sidonia. [_Looking round._] You are sure--?

d.u.c.h.eSS.

Yes, yes. Only don't raise your voice; [_glancing towards the door_] my maid sleeps in a room at the end of that pa.s.sage. [_Gracefully seating herself upon the settee and motioning him to sit beside her._] Sit down.

Oh, the woe of this final meeting! the pathos of it!

QUEX.

[_Bitterly, withdrawing the chair a little further from the table._]

Yes, I agree with you--there is an element of wofulness in this meeting; it is not altogether without pathos.

d.u.c.h.eSS.

Not altogether!

QUEX.