The Mischief-Maker Part 46

"How long is it since you have seen my mother?"

He did not at once reply. She raised her head and looked at him. Then she knew the truth. She set her teeth and fought. A little sob was strangled in her throat.

"I left your mother a few minutes ago," he told her. "She arrived in Paris this morning and sent for me."

Lady Anne worked for a time in silence. Then she laid the bow, which she had finished, upon the table, and leaned back in her chair, clasping her right knee with her hands.

"You really are the queerest person, Julien," she declared. "How you were ever a success as a diplomatist I can't imagine! You came in with the air of one charged with a high and holy mission. It was so obvious and yet for a moment it puzzled me. How I would love to have been with you this morning--with you and my mother, I mean--somewhere behind a curtain! Never mind, you've done the really right and honorable thing--you have given me my chance. I am very grateful, Julien."

She looked frankly enough into his face now and laughed. Julien remained silent.

"Can't you see, both of you," Anne went on, "you silly people, that something quite alien to us and our set has found its way into my life--a sort of middle-cla.s.s complaint--Heaven knows what you would call it!--but it came just in time to place me in a most awkward position. I still haven't any doubt that marriage is a very respectable and desirable inst.i.tution, but to me the idea of it as a matter of convenience has suddenly become--well, a little worse than the thing which we all shudder at so righteously when we pa.s.s along the streets of Paris. Of course, I know," she added, "that's a shocking point of view. My mother would hold, and you, too, that a legalized sale is no sale at all, that matrimony is a perfectly hallowed inst.i.tution, a perfectly moral state, and all the rest of it. You see, I very nearly admitted it myself--I very nearly sold myself!"

She shuddered. Then she rose to her feet, straight and splendid, with all the grace of her beautiful young womanhood.

"Men don't think just as we do about this," she continued. "You are all much too Oriental. But a woman has at least a right to keep what she doesn't choose to sell, even if in the end she chooses to give it."

Julien moved a step nearer to her.

"Anne," he said, "supposing one cared?"

Every fibre of her body was set in an effort of resistance. The mocking laugh rose readily enough to her lips, the words were crushed back in her throat. Only the faintest shadow shone for a moment in her eyes.

"Ah, Julien," she murmured lightly, "if one cared! But does that really come, I wonder? Not to such men as you. Not often, I am afraid, to such women as I."

The door was suddenly opened. Little Mademoiselle Rignaut was covered with confusion.

"But, miladi," she exclaimed, "a thousand pardons--"

"Janette," Anne interrupted, "if I hear that once more I leave--I seek another situation."

"But, mademoiselle, then," Mademoiselle Rignaut corrected, "a thousand pardons indeed! I had no idea--"

"My dear Janette," Lady Anne protested, "why do you apologize for entering your own workshop? It is foolish, this. I go now, dear Julien, to put on my hat. You shall drive me to where my mother is staying--the Ritz, I suppose? Afterwards you shall leave us. Wait in the street below. I shall be less than two minutes."

Mademoiselle Rignaut was still apologetic as she conducted Julien down the narrow stairs.

"But indeed," she declared, "there never was a young lady so strange, with such charming manners, so sweet, as dear Miladi Anne. All the time she smiles, inconveniences are nothing, one would imagine that she were happy. And yet at night--"

"At night what?" Julien asked.

Mademoiselle shook her head.

"Miladi Anne is not quite so cheerful as she seems. At night I fancy that she does not sleep too well. One hears her, and, alas! Monsieur Sir Julien, last night I heard her sobbing quietly."

"Lady Anne sobbing?" Julien exclaimed. "It seems impossible."

"Indeed, but women are strange!" Mademoiselle Rignaut sighed.

CHAPTER VIII

A DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE

Lady Anne came gayly down to the street a few minutes later. She was still wearing the plain black gown and the simplest of hats.

Nevertheless, she looked charming. Her fresh complexion with its slight touch of sunburn, her wealth of brown hair, and the distinction of her carriage, made her everywhere an object of admiration in a city where the prevailing type of beauty was so different.

"Poor mother!" she exclaimed, as they crossed the Place de l'Opera.

"Tell me, was she very theatrical this morning, Julien?"

Julien smiled.

"I am afraid I must admit that she was," he declared. "I found her very interesting."

"I hate to talk about her," Anne continued, "it makes one feel so unfilial, but really she is the most wonderful marionette that ever lived the perfect life. You see, I have been behind the scenes so long.

Every now and then a little of the woman's nature crops up. Her cut to Mrs. Carraby, for instance, was quite one of the events of the season.

It was so perfectly administered, so utterly scathing. I hear that the poor creature went to bed for a fortnight afterwards. Gracious, I hope I am not distressing you, Julien!" she added hastily.

"Not in the least," Julien a.s.sured her grimly. "I have no interest in Mrs. Carraby."

Lady Anne sighed.

"That's how you men talk when your little feeling has evaporated.

Julien, you're a selfish crowd! You make the world a very difficult place for a woman."

"I think," he said, "that your s.e.x avenges itself.'

"I am not sure," she replied. "Men so often place the burden of their own follies upon a woman's shoulders."

"You rebuke me rightly," Julien declared bitterly.

"I was not thinking of you," she told him reproachfully. "I am sorry, Julien. I should not have said that."

"It was the truth," he confessed, "absolutely the truth. Still, I have never blamed Mrs. Carraby for my disasters. It was my own asinine simplicity. Tell me, when shall I see you again? I think I ought to leave you here."

She laughed.

"You want to know about my interview with mother? Well, you shall know all about that, I promise you, because I have changed my mind. I intend to make you an auditor. Don't desert me, Julien, please. Remember, this is really a trying moment for me. I have to face an irate and obstinate parent. If friendship is worth anything, come and help me."

"I can't help thinking," he objected, "that your mother would rather talk to you alone."

"Then you will please to consider me and not my mother," Anne insisted, as they drew up before the door of the hotel. "I wish you to remain."

The d.u.c.h.ess received them perfectly. She did not attempt anything emotional. She simply held out both her hands a little apart.