The Title Market Part 21

Nina's lips broke into a smile, as she answered, "No. Did you?"

"Yes. I studied that, and palmistry, and graphology, too. Look at John--he has a remarkably interesting head and hand. You are quite wrong," he answered an interjection of Nina's, "his hands are far from ugly! Spatulate fingers show invention and energy. Just look at his thumb! Did you ever see such cool-headed logic or a better balanced will? Why, all in all, I consider him the best-looking man I know! There are plenty with better features, no doubt, but if I'd had my choice as to looks, I should have been his twin."

Nina laughed joyously. "Do you mean it?" It sounded incredible to her, yet she felt strangely pleased--she looked at John from a new point of view. "I think he has a great many good points; there is something strong and admirable about him, but good-looking--never! His features are too uneven, too big-boned."

"Just like a woman!" exclaimed Porter testily. "I suppose you think that apology on your other side a beau ideal!"

Nina glanced critically toward the small features and blond curls of Allegro. "No," she said, "he is much too effeminate."

"Then who is your Adonis?"

"The best-looking man I have ever seen? Well--I think I'd choose the Marchese di Valdo." The pink mounted over her cheeks into her hair, for she thought Porter was going to deride. To her surprise he agreed with her.

"Of his type, yes, he certainly is good; but I prefer John's. I can see how di Valdo would appeal to a girl, though personally I should ask more masculinity, more bone and sinew."

Nina remembered how Giovanni had nearly choked the Great Dane, and she shuddered slightly. "Oh, but he is strong," she exclaimed; "he is strong as a panther! He always makes me think of Bagheera in the Jungle Book."

"Bagheera was warm-blooded; there was truth and affection in him--for Mowgli, at all events. Your friend di Valdo is as cold a proposition as you could find."

Nina thought this last characterization absurd, and said so.

"All right!" Porter answered. "You mark my word. He is a man swayed by the emotions of the moment. He has feeling, yes--but no heart; he has certain inborn principles, but they are racial rather than ethical. His is the code of _n.o.blesse oblige_, not of the Golden Rule. In a point of honor he is irreproachable, but it is he, himself, who defines the boundaries of his code."

He paused a moment and continued in a more personal tone: "I don't know you very well, Miss Randolph, but you are a girl from home. And--excuse my frankness--you are one of our great heiresses. I am a stranger to you, and that is why I am going to say something--perhaps all the more forcefully because I have only a racial and not a personal interest: but between marrying Giovanni Sansevero--or that Austrian over yonder--or the golden-headed ornament on your right, and such a man as John Derby, no woman with an ounce of sense could for one minute hesitate. The first, by the gift of kings, are n.o.blemen, but John over there, by the grace of G.o.d, is a _man_!"

Nina was so deeply stirred by his words that she sat for a little while quite motionless, looking down at her hands, which were clasped in her lap. Then, before she either looked up or answered, the women left the table.

In the drawing-room, as the other women lighted their cigarettes, Nina stood leaning her cheek on her hand as it rested against the mantel--and for some time she gazed down into the fire, while Porter's words echoed and reechoed through her mind. When she turned away from the fire her attention was caught by an Englishwoman who had thrown herself full length on the sofa. Her person was a curious mixture of cleanliness and untidiness, her face was even polished by soap and scrubbing, but her frock, although probably quite clean, looked anything but fresh, and lying down among the cushions had not improved her hair, which had been frowzily frizzed anyway. Nina would have thought Lady Dorothy an impossible person were it not for the "Lady" which, as Carpazzi put it, "was pushed before the name."

In the meanwhile Lady Dorothy went off into a long disquisition upon the advisability of having couches at formal banquets as in the old Roman days. The ill.u.s.tration which she was at the moment affording was scarcely, to Nina's mind, encouraging to her proposition. She smoked rapidly and let the cigarette ashes spill all down the side of her neck.

"Isn't it funny what a little place the world is?" babbled the late Miss t.i.therington, cutting short Lady Dorothy's discourse. "Here we are, you and I and John--just the same as though we were back in Bar Harbor! What a lamb of a child you used to be! Only do you remember the day you nearly drowned me? And he had to rescue us both!"

"Just fancy that!" said the Lady Dorothy from her corner of the sofa.

"However did it happen?"

"The water in Maine is so cold one dare hardly go in. Nina was a little girl, she got a cramp, and clutched me around the neck."

"The water cold! How very odd! I had a friend in St. Augustine, who said the water was positively hot. I am sure it must have been, as my friend has rheumatism and could never have ventured into a cold bath."

Lady Dorothy lighted a fresh cigarette and waved the old one helplessly around in her fingers. Nina, afraid that she would let it fall upon the trail of ashes down the front of her dress, went to take it from her.

"Oh, thanks." She threw herself even further back into the cushions and now addressed her remarks to the Countess Kate. She was glad to get away from home. She declared London was overrun this season with enormously, disgustingly, rich Americans. No offense to her hostess was meant, but it was really quite shameful whom one got down to a.s.sociating with, and yet they were so overloaded with dollars that one might as well, she supposed, gather in some of the surplus! Then she coolly asked Nina's name, which she had not caught. Its announcement had the effect of an electric battery. She raised herself on her elbows.

"The Earl of Eagon is looking for a wife," she announced, and then as though the idea of Nina's wealth were still more felt, she continued almost with enthusiasm, "And there is the Duke of Norchester--his estates need a fortune to keep up, but there are none finer in England."

Nina's expression had a curious little note in it that made the Countess Zoya cross the room and sit on the arm of her chair. Her slim fingers ran lightly over Nina's hair, "You poor child!" she said. "Ah, I am glad I was never so rich. If I were so rich I should be dreadful! I would never believe in any one's caring for me. I should doubt even my Carlo!

I could not help it!"

"Don't," Nina said, as though in pain. Zoya impulsively put her arms about her and quickly changed the subject.

"I want to tell you," she said, "I like your friend the engineer--is that what he is? He is very clever, is he not? I am told he is going to relieve the sufferings of the poor Sicilian miners--is he?"

"Suffering?" Nina repeated, wondering. "I don't know. But it is only a business venture, his mining--not a philanthropic one. At least I have not heard about any poor people who are to be relieved."

Zoya put her hands over her eyes and then her ears as though to shut out both sight and sound. "Oh, it is horrible--horrible in the sulphur mines! You have no idea! Nowhere in all the world is life so dreadful."

She shuddered, "But I feel sure, somehow, that your friend the American will be able to do something."

They went on talking until their _tete-a-tete_ was interrupted by the men coming in from the dining-room. The servants brought in a big card table.

"Are you going to play bridge?" Nina asked, feeling that the answer was obvious.

But the Contessa Masco, taking her cognac at a swallow, glanced at Tornik with a laugh. "Oh, lord, no! Nothing so dull, I hope, in this house!"

Derby joined Nina, and she looked up at him with pride. "I am glad you are here to-night; I seem to be especially glad----" She broke off, but her intonation conveyed unspoken thoughts.

Derby's eyes kindled. "Why especially? Have you a particular reason, really?" His heart beat so hard, because of the sweetness in her expression, that it seemed to him she must hear it pounding, that she must look through the mask he wore, and read his love for her.

But his mask was impenetrable, and Nina answered lightly: "I wonder which reason you would like me to give? I wonder if it would make any real difference to you whether I said just _glad_--or glad because of something?"

He forced himself to speak with a stolidity that walled in securely his threatening emotions. "I am not a bit good at guessing the meaning of sentences that have no direct statement in them. You see, they are not the kind my grammar book taught me!"

Nina smiled. "You like a regular, straight-out, simple sentence with one subject and one predicate, don't you?"

"That's it! And as few qualifying clauses as possible."

"And as your speech is, so are your actions. No time for trivialities.

Big, serious things!" To her surprise she felt a sharp pain in her throat.

"What an old bear I must seem to you----" His sentence broke off as the Countess Masco interrupted them.

"Come along, John--you'll play, won't you? We are waiting!" Count Rosso had already deserted Zoya for the green table.

"Do you need me?" Derby asked.

"Of course we do! The more the jollier; it is dreadfully dull without a lot."

Nina and the Countess Zoya sat apart talking together until nearly midnight. Finally, with a yawn, Zoya suggested that they try to break up the party. For a little while they looked on. Not understanding the game of baccarat, Nina watched the faces of the players.

Suddenly she felt uneasy about her uncle, who had taken a place at the table. Knowing no reason why he should not play, she had thought nothing of that. But now he was flushed, and seemed very excited. Unconsciously taking a leaf out of her aunt's book, she laid her hand on his shoulder.

Her touch was, in fact, so like that of his wife that the prince started violently, and a short while later relinquished his place.

After the prince dropped out of the game Nina still stood watching. The Countess Kate played as placidly as though she were dealing cards for "old maid," while her husband reminded Nina of a squirrel sitting up and nibbling at a nut. Carlo Olisco was excited but not unnatural. Porter looked gloomy and taciturn. Minotti and Allegro were both tense and keen, the former arrogant, the latter flushed and excited. John Derby, like the Countess Kate, played exactly as he used to play Jack Straws or _besique_, on rainy days in the country.

From where she had been standing Nina could see only the top of Tornik's head and, obeying an idle impulse of curiosity, she crossed to the opposite side of the table. But no sooner had she caught sight of his face than she started as though some one had dashed cold water over her.

Tornik! It was unbelievable! His eyes glowed like coals; his lips, half opened, looked dry and burnt, as with that drawing-in motion of the confirmed gambler he stretched out his trembling fingers to grasp the last of the evening's winnings.

Nina was not in love with him--she had never even for a moment fancied that she was. But nevertheless the revelation of his greed struck at her pride, and she seemed to see herself, or rather her own fortune, being grasped with precisely that avidity by those same long, eager fingers.

"He, too!" were the words that framed themselves in her thoughts.