THE PRICE OF THINGS BY ELINOR GLYN 1919 FOREWORD I wrote this book in Paris in the winter of 1917-18--in the midst ofbombs, and raids, and death. Everyone was keyed up to a strange pitch, and only primitive instincts seemed to stand out distinctly. Life appeared brutal, and our very fashion of speaking, the words weused, the way we looked at things, was more realistic--coarser--than intimes of peace, when civilization can re-assert itself again. This is whythe story shocks some readers. I quite understand that it might do so;but I deem it the duty of writers to make a faithful picture of eachphase of the era they are living in, that posterity may be correctlyinformed about things, and get the atmosphere of epochs. The story is, so to speak, rough hewn. But it shows the danger ofbreaking laws, and interfering with fate--whether the laws be of Godor of Man. It is also a psychological study of the instincts of two women, which thestrenuous times brought to the surface. "Amaryllis, " with all herbreeding and gentleness, reacting to nature's call in her fierce fidelityto the father of her child--and "Harietta, " becoming in herself theepitome of the age-old prostitute. I advise those who are rebuffed by plain words, and a ruthless analysisof the result of actions, not to read a single page. [Signature: Elinor Glyn] THE PRICE OF THINGS CHAPTER I "If one consciously and deliberately desires happiness on this plane, "said the Russian, "one must have sufficient strength of will to banishall thought. The moment that one begins to probe the meaning of things, one has opened Pandora's box and it may be many lives before onediscovers hope lying at the bottom of it. " "What do you mean by thought? How can one not think?" Amaryllis Ardayre'slarge grey eyes opened in a puzzled way. She was on her honeymoon inParis at a party at the Russian Embassy, and until now had acceptedthings and not speculated about them. She had lived in the country andwas as good as gold. She was accepting her honeymoon with her accustomed calm, although it wasnot causing her any of the thrills which Elsie Goldmore, her schoolfriend, had assured her she should discover therein. Honeymoons! Heavens! But perhaps it was because Sir John was dull. Helooked dull, she thought, as he stood there talking to the Ambassador. Afine figure of an Englishman but--yes--dull. The Russian, on thecontrary, was not dull. He was huge and ugly and rough-hewn--his eyeswere yellowish-green and slanted upwards and his face was franklyCalmuck. But you knew that you were talking to a personality--to one whohad probably a number of unknown possibilities about him tucked awaysomewhere. John had none of these. One could be certain of exactly what he would doon any given occasion--and it would always be his duty. The Russian wasobserving this charming English bride critically; she was such a perfectspecimen of that estimable race--well-shaped, refined and healthy. Chockfull of temperament too, he reflected--when she should discover herself. Temperament and romance and even passion, and there were shrewdness andcommonsense as well. "An agreeable task for a man to undertake her education, " and he wishedthat he had time. Amaryllis Ardayre asked again: "How can one not think? I am always thinking. " He smiled indulgently. "Oh! no, you are not--you only imagine that you are. You have questionednothing--you do right generally because you have a nice character andhave been well brought up, not from any conscious determination to upliftthe soul. Yes--is it not so?" She was startled. "Perhaps. " "Do you ever ask yourself what things mean? What we are--where we aregoing? What is the end of it all? No--you are happy; you live from dayto day--and yet you cannot be a very young ego, your eyes are toowise--you have had many incarnations. It is merely that in this one lifethe note of awakening has not yet been struck. You certainly must haveneeded sleep. " "Many lives? You believe in that theory?" She was not accustomed to discuss unorthodox subjects. She wasinterested. "But of course--how else could there be justice? We draw the reflex ofevery evil action and of every good one, but sometimes not until the nextincarnation, that is why the heedless ones cannot grasp the truth--theysee no visible result of either good or evil--evil, in fact, seemsgenerally to win if there is a balance either way. " "Why are we not allowed memory then, so that we might profit byour lessons?" "We should in that case improve from self-interest and not have ourfaults eliminated by suffering. We are given no conscious memory ofour last life, so we go on fighting for whatever desire still holdsus until its achievement brings such overwhelming pain that thedesire is no more. " "Why do you say that for happiness we must banish thought--that seemsa paradox. " She was a little disturbed. "I said if one _consciously_ and deliberately desired happiness, one mustbanish thought to bring oneself back to the condition of hundreds ofpeople who are happy; many of them are even elementals without souls atall. They are permitted happiness so that they may become so attached tothe earth plane that they willingly return and gradually obtain a soul. But no one who is allowed to think is allowed any continued happiness;there would be no progress. If so, we should remain as brutes. " "Then how cruel of you to suggest to me to think. I want to behappy--perhaps I do not want to obtain a soul. " "That was born long ago--my words may have awakened it once more, but thesleep was not deep. " Amaryllis Ardayre looked at the crowds passing and re-passing in thosestately rooms. "Tell me, who is that woman over there?" she asked. "The very pretty onewith the fair hair in jade green--she looks radiantly happy. " "And is--she is frankly an animal--exquisitely preserved, damnablyselfish, completely devoid of intellect, sugar manners, the senses of aharem houri--and the tenacity of a rat. " "You are severe. " "Not at all. Harietta Boleski is a product of that most astonishingnation across the Atlantic--none other could produce her. It is thehothouse of the world as regards remarkable types. Here for immediateancestry we have a mother, from heaven knows what European refuse heap, arrived in an immigrant ship--father of the 'pore white trash' of thesouth--result: Harietta, fine points, beautiful, quite a lady forordinary purposes. The absence of soul is strikingly apparent to anyordinary observer, but one only discovers the vulgarity of spirit if oneis a student of evolution--or chances to catch her when irritated withher modiste or her maid. Other nations cannot produce such beings. Womenwith the attributes of Harietta, were they European, would have surfacevulgarity showing--and so be out of the running, or they would have realpassion which would be their undoing--passion is glorious--it is arousedby something beyond the physical. Observe her nostril! There is simple, delightful animal sensuality for you! Look also at the convex curve belowthe underlip--she will bite off the cherry whether it is hers by right oranother's, and devour it without a backward thought. " "Boleski--that is a Russian name, is it not?" "No, Polish--she secured our Stanislass, a great man in hiscountry--last year in Berlin, having divorced a no longer required, but worthy German husband who had held some post in the AmericanConsulate there. " "Is that old man standing obediently beside her your Stanislass?--helooks quite cowed. " "A sad sight, is it not? Stanislass, though, is not old, barely forty. Hehad a _béguin_ for her. She put his intelligence to sleep and bamboozledhis judgment with a continuous appeal to the senses; she has vampired himnow. Cloying all his will with her sugared caprices, she makes him scenesand so keeps him in subjection. He was one of the Council de l'Empire forPoland; the aims of his country were his earnest work, but now ambitionis no more. He is tired, he has ceased to struggle; she rules and eatshis soul as she has eaten the souls of others. Shall I present her toyou? As a type, she is worthy of your attention. " "It sounds as if she had the evil eye, as the Italians say, " Amaryllisshuddered. "Only for men. She is really an amiable creature--women like her. Sheis so frankly simple, since for her there are never two issues--only tobe allowed her own desires--a riot of extravagance, the firstplace--and some one to gratify certain instincts without too manyrefinements when the mood takes her. For the rest, she is kind andgood-natured and 'jolly, ' as you English say, and has no notion thatshe is a road to hell. But they are mostly dead, her other spidermates, and cannot tell of it. " "I am much interested. I should like to talk to her. You say that sheis happy?" "Obviously--she is an elemental--she never thinks at all, except to plansome further benefit for herself. I do not believe in this life that shecan obtain a soul--her only force is her tenacious will. " "Such force is good, though?" "Certainly. Even bad force is better than negative Good. One must firstbe strong before one can be serene. " "You are strong. " "Yes, but not good. Hardly a fit companion for sweet little Englishbrides with excellent husbands awaiting them. " "I shall judge of that. " "_Tiens!_ So emancipated!" "If you are bad, how does your theory work that we pay for each action?Since by that you must know that it cannot be worth while to be bad. " "It is not--I am aware of it, but when I am bad I am bad deliberately, knowing that I must pay. " "That seems stupid of you. " He shrugged his shoulders. "I take very severe exercise when I begin to think of things I should notand I become savage when I require happiness--now is our chance formaking you acquainted with Harietta, she is moving our way. " Madame Boleski swept towards them on the arm of an Austrian Prince andthe Russian Verisschenzko said, with suave politeness: "Madame, let me present you to Lady Ardayre. With me she has beenadmiring you from afar. " The two women bowed, and with cheery, disarming simplicity, the Americanmade some gracious remarks in a voice which sounded as if she smoked toomuch; it was not disagreeable in tone, nor had she a pronouncedAmerican accent. Amaryllis Ardayre found herself interested. She admired the superbattention to detail shown in Madame Boleski's whole person. Her face wastouched up with the lightest art, not overdone in any way. Her hair, ofthat very light tone bordering on gold, which sometimes goes with hazeleyes, was quite natural and wonderfully done. Her dress wasperfection--so were her jewels. One saw that her corsetière was anartist, and that everything had cost a great deal of money. She had takenoff one glove and Amaryllis saw her bare hand--it was well-shaped, savethat the thumb turned back in a remarkable degree. "So delighted to meet you, " Madame Boleski said. "We are going over toLondon next month and I am just crazy to know more of you deliciousEnglish people. " They chatted for a few moments and then Madame Boleski swept onwards. Shewas quite stately and graceful and had a well-poised head. Amaryllisturned to the Russian and was startled by the expression of fierce, sardonic amusement in his yellow-green eyes. "But surely, she can see that you are laughing at her?" she exclaimed, astonished. "It would convey nothing to her if she did. " "But you looked positively wicked. " "Possibly--I feel it sometimes when I think of Stanislass; he was a verygood friend of mine. " Sir John Ardayre joined them at this moment and the three walked towardsthe supper room and the Russian said good-night. "It is not good-bye, Madame. I, too, shall be in your country soon and Ialso hope that I may see you again before you leave Paris. " They arranged a dinner for the following night but one, and saidau revoir. An hour later the Russian was seated in a huge English leather chair inthe little salon of his apartment in the rue Cambon, when Madame Boleskivery softly entered the room and sat down upon his knee. "I had to come, darling Brute, " she said. "I was jealous of the Englishgirl, " and she fitted her delicately painted lips to his. "Stanislasswanted to talk over his new scheme for Poland, too, and as you know thatalways gets on my nerves. " But Verisschenzko threw his head back impatiently, while heanswered roughly. "I am not in the mood for your chastisement to-night. Go back as youcame, I am thinking of something real, something which makes yourbody of no use to me--it wearies me and I do not even desire yourpresence. Begone!" Then he kissed her neck insolently and pushed her off his knee. She pouted resentfully. But suddenly her eyes caught a small case lyingon a table near--and an eager gleam came into their hazel depths. "Oh, Stépan! Is it the ruby thing! Oh! You beloved angel, you are goingto give it to me after all! Oh! I'll rush off at once and leave you, ifyou wish it! Good-night!" And when she was gone Verisschenzko threw some incense into a silverburner and as the clouds of perfume rose into the air: "Wough!" he said. CHAPTER II "What are you doing in Paris, Denzil?" "I came over for a bit of racing. Awfully glad to see you. Can't we dinetogether? I go back to-morrow. " Verisschenzko put his arm through DenzilArdayre's and drew him in to the Café de Paris, at the door of which theyhad chanced to meet. "I had another guest, but she can be consoled with some of Midas' food, and I want to talk to you; were you going to eat alone?" "A fellow threw me over; I meant to have just a snack and go on to atheatre. It is good running across you--I thought you were miles away!" Verisschenzko spoke to the head waiter, and gave him directions as to thedisposal of the lovely lady who would presently arrive, and then he wenton to his table, rather at the top, in a fairly secluded corner. The few people who were already dining--it was early on this Maynight--looked at Denzil Ardayre--he was such a refreshing sight of healthand youth, so tall and fit and English, with his brown smooth head andfearless blue eyes, gay and debonnaire. One could see that he playedcricket and polo, and any other game that came along, and that not amuscle of his frame was out of condition. He had "soldier" written uponhim--young, gallant, cavalry soldier. Verisschenzko appreciated him;nothing complete, human or inanimate, left him unconscious of itsmeaning. They knew one another very well--they had been at Oxford andlater had shot bears together in the Russian's far-off home. They talked for a while of casual things, and then Verisschenzko said: "Some relations of yours are here--Sir John Ardayre and his particularlyattractive bride. Shall we eat what I had ordered for Collette, or haveyou other fancies after the soup?" Denzil paid only attention to the first part of the speech--he lookedsurprised and interested. "John Ardayre here! Of course, he married about ten days ago--he is thehead of the family as you are aware, but I hardly even know him by sight. He is quite ten years older than I am and does not trouble about us, thepoor younger branch--" and he smiled, showing such good teeth. "Besides, as you know, I have been for such a long time in India, and the leaveswere for sport, not for hunting up relations. " Verisschenzko did not press the matter of his guest's fancies in food, and they continued the menu ordered for Collette without further delay. "I want to hear all that you know about them, the girl is an exquisitething with immense possibilities. Sir John looks--dull. " "He is really a splendid character though, " Denzil hastened to assurehim. "Do you know the family history? But no, of course not, we were toobusy in the old days enjoying life to trouble to talk of such things!Well, it is rather strange in the last generation--things very nearlycame to an end and John has built it all up again. You are interested inheredity?" "Naturally--what is the story?" "Our mutual great-grandfather was a tremendous personage in NorthSomerset--the place Ardayre is there. My father was the son of theyounger son, who had just enough to do him decently at Eton, and enablehim to scrape along in the old regiment with a pony or two to play with. My mother was a Willowbrook, as you know, and a considerable heiress, that is how I come out all right, but until John's father, Sir James, squandered things, the head of the family was always very rich and fullof land--and awfully set on the dignity of his race. They had turned thecult of it into regular religion. " "The father of this man made a _gaspillage_, then--well?" "Yes, he was a rotter--a hark-back to his mother's relations; she was aCranmote--they ruin any blood they mix with. I am glad that I come fromthe generation before. " Denzil helped himself to a Russian salad, and went on leisurely. "Hefortunately married Lady Mary de la Paule--who was a saint, and so Johnseems to have righted, and takes after her. She died quite early, she hadhad enough of Sir James, I expect, he had gambled away everything hecould lay hands upon. Poor John was brought up with a tutor at home, forsome reason--hard luck on a man. He was only about thirteen when she diedand at seventeen went straight into the city. He was determined to make afortune, it has always been said, and redeem the mortgages onArdayre--very splendid of him, wasn't it?" "Yes--well all this is not out of the ordinary line--what comes next?" Denzil laughed--he was not a good raconteur. "The poor lady was no sooner dead than the old boy married a Bulgariansnake charmer, whom he had picked up in Constantinople! You may wellsmile"--for Verisschenzko had raised his eyebrows in a whimsicalway--this did sound such a highly coloured incident! "It was an unusual sort of thing to do, I admit, but the tale grows morelurid still, when I tell you that five months after the wedding sheproduced a son by the Lord knows who, one of her own tribe probably, andold Sir James was so infatuated with her that he never protested, andpresently when he and John quarrelled like hell he pretended the littlebrute was his own child--just to spite John. " Verisschenzko's Calmuck eyes narrowed. "And does this result of the fusion of snake charmers figure in thefamily history? I believe I have met him--his name is Ferdinand, is itnot, and he is, or was, in some business in Constantinople?" "That is the creature--he was brought up at Ardayre as though he were theheir, and poor John turned out of things. He came to Eton three yearsbefore I left, but even there they could not turn him into the outsidesemblance of a gentleman. I loathed the little toad, and he loathedme--and the sickening part of the thing is that if John does not have ason, by the English law of entail Ferdinand comes into Ardayre, and willbe the head of the family. Old Sir James died about five years ago, always protesting this bastard was his own child, though every one knewit was a lie. However, by that time John had made enough in the city toredeem Ardayre twice over. He had tremendous luck after the South AfricanWar, so he came into possession and lives there now in great state--I doreally hope that he will have a son. " "You, too, have the instinct of the family, then--this pride init--since it cannot benefit you either way. " "I believe it is born in us, and though I have never seen Ardayre, Ishould hate this mongrel to have it. I was brought up with a tremendousreverence for it, even as a second cousin. " "Well, the new Lady Ardayre looks young enough and of a health to haveten sons!" "Y-es, " Denzil acquiesced in a tentative tone. "Not so?" Verisschenzko glanced up surprised, and then gave his attentionto the waiter who had brought some Burgundy and was pouring it out intohis glass. "Not so you would say?" "I don't know, I have never seen her--but in the family it is whisperedthat John--poor devil--he had an accident hunting two or three yearsago. However, it may not any of it be true--here, let us drink to theArdayre son!" "To the Ardayre son!" and Verisschenzko filled his friend's glass withthe decanted wine and they both drank together. "Your cousin is like you, " he said presently. "A fatiguing likeness, butthe same height and make--and voice--strange things these familyreproductions of an exact type. I have no family, as you know--we are ofthe people, arisen by trade to riches. Could I go beyond my immediateparents, could I know cousins and uncles and brothers, should I find thissame peculiar stamp of family among us all? Who knows? I think not. " "I suppose there is something in it. My father has told me that inthe picture gallery at Ardayre they are as like as two pins the wholeway down. " "The concentration upon the idea causes it. In people risen like myfather and myself, we only resemble a group--a nation; if I have childrenthey will resemble me. It is strength in the beginning when an individualrises beyond the group, which produces a type. One says 'English' to lookat you, and then, if one knows, one says 'Ardayre' at once; one gets asfar as 'Calmuck' with me, that is all, but in years to come it will havedeveloped into 'Verisschenzko. '" "How you study things, Stépan; you are always putting new ideas into myhead whenever I see you. Life would be just a routine, for all the joy ofsport, if one did not think. I am going to finish my soldiering thisautumn and stand for Parliament. It seems waste of time now, with no warsin prospect, sticking to it; I want a vaster field. " "You think there can be no wars in prospect--no? Well, who can prophesy?There are clouds in the Southeast, but for the moment we will notspeculate about them--and they may affect my country and not yours. Andso you will settle down and become a reputable member of Parliament?"Then, as Denzil would have spoken perhaps upon the subject of war clouds, Verisschenzko hastily continued: "Will you dine to-morrow night at the Ritz to meet your cousin and hiswife? They are honouring me. " "I wish I could, but I am off in the morning. What is she like?" Verisschenzko paid particular attention to the selection of a quail, andthen he answered: "She is of the same type as the family, Denzil, --that is, a goodskeleton--bones in the right place, firm white flesh, colouring asyours--well bred, balanced, unawakened as yet. Was she a relation?" "Yes, I believe so--a cousin of a generation even before mine. I wish Icould have dined, I would awfully like to have met them; I shall haveto make a chance in England. It is stupid not to know one's own family, but our fathers quarrelled and we have never had a chance of mendingthe break. " "They were at the Russian Embassy last night; the throng admired LadyArdayre very much. " "And what are you doing in Paris, Stépan? The last I heard of you, youwere on your yacht in the Black Sea. " "I was cruising near countries whose internal affairs interest me for themoment. I returned to my _appartement_ in Paris to see a friend of mine, Stanislass Boleski--he also has a lovely wife. Look, she has just comein with him. She is in the devil of a temper--observe her. If I sit back, the pillar hides me--I do not wish them to see me yet. " Denzil glanced down the room; two people were taking their seats by thewall. The mask was off Harietta Boleski's face for the moment; it lookedsilly with its raised eyebrows and was full of ill temper and spite. Thehusband had an air of extreme worry on his clever, intellectual face, butthat he was solicitous to gratify his wife's caprices, any casualobserver could have perceived. "You mean the woman with the wonderful _cigrettes_--she is good-looking, isn't she? I wonder who it is she has caught sight of now, though? Lookat the eagerness which has come into her eyes--you can see her in themirror if you want to. " But Verisschenzko had missed nothing, and he bent forward to endeavourto identify the person upon whom Madame Boleski's gaze had turned. Therewas nothing to distinguish any individual--the company were of severalnations--German and Austrian and Balkan and Russian scattered about hereand there among the French and American _habitués_. The only plan wouldbe to continue to watch Harietta--but although he did this throughout thedinner, not a flicker of her eyelids gave him any further clue. Denzil was interested--he felt something beyond what appeared on thesurface was taking place, so he waited for his friend to speak. Verisschenzko was silent for a little, and then he casually gave a résuméof the character and place of Madame Boleski and her husband, a good dealmore baldly expressed, but in substance much the same as he had given toAmaryllis at the Russian Embassy the night before. He spoke lightly, but his yellow green eyes were keen. "Look at her well--she is capable of mischief. Her extremestupidity--only the brain of a rodent or a goat--makes her moredifficult to manipulate than the cleverest diplomat, because you cannever be sure whether the blank want of understanding which she displaysis real or simulated. She is a perfect actress, but very often is quitenatural. Most women are either posing all the time, or not at all. Harietta's miming only comes into action for self-preservation, orpersonal gain, and then it is of such a superb quality that she leaveseven me--I, who am no poor diviner--confused as to whether she istelling a lie or the truth. " "What an exceptional character!" Denzil was thrilled. "An absence of all moral sense is her great power, " Verisschenzkocontinued, while he watched her narrowly, "because she never has any ofthe prickings of conscience which even most rogues experience at times, and so draws no demagnetising nervous uncertain currents. If it were notfor an insatiable extravagance, and a capricious fancy for differentjewels, she would be impossible to deal with. She has information, obtained from what source I do not as yet know, which is of vitalimportance to me. Were it not for that, one could simply enjoy her as amistress and take delight in studying her idiosyncrasies. " "She has lovers?" "Has had many; her rôle now is that of a great lady and so all is of arespectability! She is so stupid that if that instinct ofself-preservation were not so complete as to be like a divine guide, shewould commit bêtises all the time. As it is, when she takes a lover it ishidden with the cunning of a fox. " "Who did you say the first husband was--?" "A German of the name of Von Wendel--he used to beat her with a stick, itis said--so naturally such a nature adored him. I did not meet her untilshe had got rid of him and he had disappeared. She would sacrifice anyone who stood in her way. " "Your friend, the present husband, looks pretty épuisé--one feels sorryfor the poor man. " Then, as ever, at the mention of the débacle of Stanislass, Verisschenzko's eyes filled with a fierce light. "She has crushed the hope of Poland--for that, indeed, one day shemust pay. " "But I thought you Russians did not greatly love the Poles?"Denzil remarked. "Enlightened Russians can see beyond their old prejudices--andStanislass was a lifetime friend. One day a new dawn will come for ourNorthern world. " His eyes grew dreamy for an instant, and then resumed their watch ofHarietta. Denzil looked at him and did not speak for a while. He hadalways been drawn to Stépan, from a couple of terms at Oxford before theRussian was sent down for a mad freak, and did not return. He was such amixture of idealism and brutal commonsense, a brain so alert and the warmheart of a generous child--capable of every frenzy and of everysacrifice. They had planned great things for their afterlives before theone joined his regiment, and learned discipline, and the other wanderedover many lands--and as they sat there in the Café de Paris, the thoughtsof both wandered back to old days gapping the encounters for sport inRussia and in India between. "They were glorious times, Denzil, weren't they?" Verisschenzko saidpresently, aware by that wonderfully delicately attuned faculty of his ofwhat his friend was thinking. "We had thought to conquer the sun, moonand stars--and who knows, perhaps we will yet!" "Who knows? I feel my real life is only just beginning. How old are we, Stépan? Twenty-nine years old!" Afterwards, as they went out, they passed the Boleskis close, and thetwo rose and spoke to Verisschenzko, with empressement. He introducedCaptain Ardayre and they talked for a few minutes, Harietta Boleskiall smiles and flattering cajoleries now--and then they saidgood-night and went out. But as Stépan passed, a man half hidden behind a pillar leanedforward and looked at him, and in his light blue eyes there burned ajealous hate. "Ah, Gott in Himmel!" he growled to himself. "It is he whom sheloves--not the pig-fool who we gave her to--one day I shall kill him--"and he raised his glass of Rhine wine and murmured "Der Tag!" That evening Sir John Ardayre had taken his bride to dine in the Bois, and they were sitting listening to the Tziganes at Arménonville. Amaryllis was conscious that the evening lacked something. Thecircumstances were interesting--a bride of ten days, and the environmentso illuminating--and yet there was John smoking an expensive cigar andnot saying _anything!_ She did not like people who chattered--and shecould even imagine a delicious silence wrought with meaning. But a stolidrespectable silence with Tziganes playing moving airs and the romanticbackground of this Paris out-of-door joyous night life, surely demandedsome show of emotion! John loved her she supposed--of course he did--or he never would haveasked her to marry him, rich as he was and poor as she had been. Shecould not help going over all their acquaintance; the date of itsbeginning was only three months back! They had met at a country house and had played golf together, and thenthey had met again a month later at another house, in March, but shecould not remember any love-making--she could not remember any of thosewarm looks and those surreptitious hand-clasps when occasion waspropitious, which Elsie Goldmore had told her men were so prodigal of indemonstrating when they fell in love. Indeed, she had seen emotion uponthe faces of quite two or three young men, for all her secluded life andrestricted means, since she had left the school in Dresden, where aworldly maiden aunt had pinched to send her, German officers had lookedat her there with interest in the street, and the clergyman's three sonsand the Squire's two, when she returned home. Indeed, Tom Clarke had gonefurther than this! He had kissed her cheek coming out of the door in thedark one evening, and had received a severe rebuff for his pains. She had read quantities of novels, ancient and modern. She knew that lovewas a wonderful thing; she knew also that modern life and its exigencieshad created a new and far more matter-of-fact point of view about it thanthat which was obtained in most books. She did not expect much, and hadindulged in none of those visions of romantic bliss which girls were oncesupposed to spend their time in constructing. But she did expect_something_, and here was nothing--just nothing! The day John had asked her to marry him he had not been much moved. Hehad put the question to her simply and calmly, and she had not dreamed ofrefusing him. It was obviously her duty, and it had always been herintention to marry well, if the chance came her way, and so leave a nottoo congenial home. She had been to a few London balls with the maiden aunt, a personage ofsome prestige and character. But invitations do not flow to a pennilessyoung woman from the country, nor do partners flock to be presented tostrangers in those days, and Amaryllis had spent many humiliating hoursas a wall-flower and had grown to hate balls. She was not expansive inherself and did not make friends easily, and pretty as she was, as agirl, luck did not come her way. When she had said "Yes" in as matter-of-fact a voice as the proposal ofmarriage had been made to her, Sir John had replied: "You are a dear, "and that had seemed to her a most ordinary remark. He had leanedover--they were climbing a steep pitch in search of a fugitive golfball--and had taken her hand respectfully, and then he had kissed herforehead--or her ear--she forgot which--nothing which mattered much, orgave her any thrill! "I hope I shall make you happy, " he had added. "I am a dull sort of afellow, but I will try. " Then they had talked of the usual things that they talked about, the mostevery-day, --and they had returned to the house, and by the evening everyone knew of the engagement, and she was congratulated on all sides, andpetted by the hostess, and she and John were left ostentatiously alone ina smaller drawing-room after dinner, and there was not a grain ofexcitement in the whole conventional thing! There was always a shadow, too, in John's blue eyes. He was the mostreserved creature in this world, she supposed. That might be all verywell, but what was the good of being so reserved with the woman you likedwell enough to make your wife, if it made you never able to get beyondtalking on general subjects! This she had asked herself many times and had determined to break downthe reserve. But John never changed and he was always considerate andpolite and perfectly at ease. He would talk quietly and with commonsenseto whoever he was placed next, and very seldom a look of interestflickered in his eyes. Indeed, Amaryllis had never seen him reallyinterested until he spoke of Ardayre--then his very voice altered. He spoke of his home often to her during their engagement, and she grewto know that it was something sacred to him, and that the Family and itshonour, and its traditions, meant more to him than any individual personcould ever do. She almost became jealous of it all. Her trousseau was quite nice--the maiden aunt had seen to that. Her niecehad done well and she did not grudge her pinchings. Amaryllis felt triumphant as she walked up the aisle of St. George's, Hanover Square, on the arm of a scapegrace sailor uncle--she would notallow her stepfather to give her away. Every one was so pleased about the wedding! An Ardayre married to anArdayre! Good blood on both sides and everything suitable and rich andprosperous, and just as it should be! And there stood her handsome, stolid bridegroom, serenely calm--and the white flowers, and theBishop--and her silver brocade train--and the pages, and the bridesmaids. Oh! yes, a wedding was a most agreeable thing! And could she have penetrated into the thoughts of John Ardayre, this isthe prayer she would have heard, as he knelt there beside her at thealtar rails: "Oh, God, keep the axe from falling yet, give me a son. " The most curious emotions of excitement rose in her when they went off inthe smart new automobile en route for that inevitable country house "lentby the bridegroom's uncle, the Earl de la Paule, for the first days ofthe honeymoon. " This particular mansion was on the river, only two hours' drive from heraunt's Charles Street door. Now that she was his wife, surely John wouldbegin to make love to her, real love, kisses, claspings, and what not. For Elsie Goldmore had presumed upon their schoolgirl friendship andbeen quite explicate in these last days, and in any case Amaryllis wasnot a miss of the Victorian era. The feminine world has grown toounrefined in the expression of its private affairs and too indiscreet forany maiden to remain in ignorance now. It is true John did kiss her once or twice, but there was no real warmthin the embrace, and when, after an excellent dinner her heart began tobeat with wonderment and excitement, she asked herself what it meant. Then, all confused, she murmured something about "Good-night, " andretired to the magnificent state suite alone. When she had left him John Ardayre drank down a full glass of Benedictineand followed her up the stairs, but there was no lover's exaltation, butan anguish almost of despair in his eyes. Amaryllis thought of that night--and of other nights since--as she satthere at Arménonville, in the luminous sensuous dusk. So this was being married! Well, it was not much of a joy--and why, whydid John sit silent there? Why? Surely this is not how the Russian would have sat--that strange Russian! CHAPTER III It was nearing sunset in the garden below the Trocadéro. A tall Germanofficer waited impatiently not far from the bronze of a fierce bull in asecluded corner under the trees; he was plainly an officer although hewas clothed in mufti of English make. He was a singularly handsomecreature in spite of his too wide hips. A fine, sensual, brutal male. He swore in his own language, and then, through the glorious light, a woman came towards him. She wore an unremarkable overcoat and athick veil. "Hans!" she exclaimed delightedly, and then went on in fluent German witha strong American accent. He looked round to be sure that they were alone, and then he clasped herin his arms. He held her so tightly that she panted for breath; he kissedher until her lips were bruised, and he murmured guttural words ofendearment that sounded like an animal's growl. The woman answered him in like manner. It was as though two brutebeasts had met. Then presently they sat upon a seat and talked in low tones. The womanprotested and declaimed; the man grumbled and demanded. An envelopepassed between them, and more crude caresses, and before they parted theman again held her in close embrace--biting the lobe of her ear until shegave a little scream. "Yes--if there was time--" she gasped huskily. "I should adore you likethis--but here--in the gardens--Oh! do mind my hat!" Then he let her go--they had arranged a future meeting. And left alone, he sat down upon the bench again and laughed aloud. The woman almost ran to the road at the bottom and jumped into a waitingtaxi, and once inside she brought out a gold case with mirror and powderpuff, and red greases for her lips. "My goodness! I can't say that's a mosquito!" and she examined her ear. "How tiresome and imprudent of Hans! But Jingo, it was good!--if thereonly had been time--" Then she, too, laughed as she powdered her face, and when she alighted atthe door of the Hotel du Rhin, no marks remained of conflict except thetelltale ear. But on encountering her maid, she was carrying her minute Pekinese dog inher arms and was beating him well. "Regardez, Marie! la vilaine bête m'a mordu l'oreil!" "Tiens!" commented the affronted Marie, who adored Fou-Chou. "Et le cherpetit chien de Madame est si doux!" * * * * * Stanislass Boleski was poring over a voluminous bundle of papers when hiswife, clad in a diaphanous wrap, came into his sitting room. They had apalatial suite at the Rhin. The affairs of Poland were not prospering ashe had hoped, and these papers required his supreme attention--there wasGerman intrigue going on somewhere underneath. He longed for Harietta'ssympathy which she had been so prodigal in bestowing before she hadsecured her divorce from that brute of a Teutonic husband, whom shehated so much. Now she hardly ever listened, and yawned in his face whenhe spoke of Poland and his high aims. But he must make allowances forher--she was such a child of impulse, so lovely, so fascinating! And herein Paris, admired as she was, how could he wonder at her distraction! "Stanislass! my old Stannie, " she cooed in his ear, "what am I to wearto-night for the Montivacchini ball? You will want me to look my best, Iknow, and I just love to please you. " He was all attention at once, pushing the documents aside as she put herarms around his neck and pulled his beard, then she drew his head back tokiss the part where the hair was growing thin on the top--her eyes fixedon the papers. "You don't want to bother with those tiresome old things any more; go andget into your dressing-gown, and come to my room and talk while I ampolishing my nails, --we can have half an hour before I must dress. I'llwait for you here--I must be petted to-night, I am tired and cross. " Stanislass Boleski rose with alacrity. She had not been kind to him fordays--fretful and capricious and impossible to please. He must not losethis chance--if it could only have been when he was not so busy--but-- "Run along, do!" she commanded, tapping her foot. And putting the papers hastily in a drawer with a spring lock, he wentgladly from the room. Her whole aspect changed; she lit a cigarette and hummed a tune, whileshe fingered a key which dangled from her bracelet. No one eclipsed Madame Boleski in that distinguished crowd later on. Her clinging silver brocade, and the one red rose at the edge of theextreme décolletage, were simply the perfection of art. She did not weargloves, and on her beautifully manicured hands she wore no rings excepta magnificent ruby on the left little finger. It was her caprice torefuse an alliance. "Wedding rings!" she had said to Stanislass. "Bosh!they spoil the look. Sometimes it is chic to have a good jewel on onefinger, sometimes on another, but to be tied down to that band of homelygold! Never!" Stanislass had argued in those early days--he seldom argued now. "My love!" he cried, as she burst upon his infatuated vision, when readyfor the ball, "let me admire you!" She turned about; she knew that she was perfection. Her husband kissed her fingers, and then he caught sight of the rubyring. He examined it. "I had not seen this ruby before, " he exclaimed in a surprised voice, "and I thought I knew all your jewel case!" She held out her hand while her big, stupid, appealing hazel eyesexpressed childish innocence. "No--I'd put it away, it was of other days--but I do love rubies, and soI got it out to-night, it goes with my rose!" He had perceived this. Had he not become educated in the subtleties of awoman's apparel? For was it not his duty often, and his pleasuresometimes, to have to assist at her toilet, and to listen for hours todiscussions of garments, and if they could suit or not. He was evenaccustomed now to waiting in the hot salons in the Rue de la Paix, whilethese stately perfections were being essayed. But the ruby ring worriedhim. Why had she asked him to give her just such a one only last month, if she already possessed its fellow?. .. He had refused because herextravagance had grown fantastic, but he had meant to cede later. Everypleasure of the senses he always had to secure by bribes. "I do not understand why?--" he began, but she put her hand over hismouth and then kissed him voluptuously before she turned and shrillycried to Marie to bring her ermine cloak. The maid's eyes were round and sullen with resentment; she had notforgotten the beating of Fou-Chou! "As for the ear of Madame!" she said, clasping the tiny dog to her heart, as she watched her mistress gotowards the lift from the sitting-room, "as for that maudite ear, thyteeth are innocent, my angel! But I wish that he who is guilty had bittenit off!" Then she laughed disdainfully. "And look at the old fool! He dreams of nothing! And if he dreamed, hewould not believe--such _insensés_ are men!" Meanwhile the Boleskis had arrived at the hotel of the Duchesse diMontivacchini, that rich and ravishing American-Italian, who gave themost splendid and exclusive entertainments in Paris. So, too, had arrivedSir John and Lady Ardayre, brought on from the dinner at the Ritz byVerisschenzko. Denzil had left that morning for England, or he would have had thedisagreeable experience of meeting his _soi-disant_ cousin, to whom hehad applied the epithet "toad. " For Ferdinand Ardayre had just reachedthe gay city from Constantinople, and had also come to the ball with afriend in the Turkish Embassy. He happened to be standing at the door when the Boleskis were announced, and his light eyes devoured Harietta--she seemed to him the ideal ofthings feminine--and he immediately took steps to be presented. Assurancewas one of his strongest cards. He was a fair man--with the fairness of aTurk not European--and there was something mean and chetive in hisregard. He would have looked over-dressed and un-English in a Londonball-room, but in that cosmopolitan company he was unremarkable. He hadbeen his mother's idol and Sir James had left him everything he couldscrape from his highly mortgaged property. But certain tastes of his ownmade a Continental life more congenial to him, and he had chosen early toenter a financial house which took him to the East and Constantinople. Hewas about twenty-seven years old at this period and was considered byhimself and a number of women to be a creature of superlative charm. The one burning bitterness in his spirit was the knowledge that Sir JohnArdayre had never recognised him as a brother. During Sir James' lifetimethere had been silence upon the matter, since John had no legal reasonfor denying the relationship, but once he had become master of Ardayre hehad let it be known that he refused to believe Ferdinand to be hisfather's son. On the rare occasions when he had to be mentioned, Johncalled him "the mongrel" and Ferdinand was aware of this. A silent, intense hatred filled his being--more than shared by his mother who, until the day of her death, two years before, had always plottedvengeance--without being able to accomplish anything. Either mother orson would willingly have murdered John if a suitable and safe method hadpresented itself. And now to know that John had married a beautifulfar-off cousin and might have children, and so forever preclude thepossibility of his--Ferdinand's--own inheritance of Ardayre was a furtherincentive to hate! If only some means could be discovered to remove John, and soon! But while Ferdinand thought these things, watching hisso-called brother from across the room, he knew that he was impotent. Poisons and daggers were not weapons which could be employed in civilisedParis in the twentieth century! If they would only come toConstantinople! Amaryllis Ardayre had never seen a Paris ball before. She was enchanted. The sumptuous, lofty rooms, with their perfect Louis XV gilt _boiseries_, the marvellous clothes of the women, the gaiety in the air! She wasaccustomed to the new weird dances in England, but had not seen themperformed as she now saw them. "This orgie of mad people is a wonderful sight, " Verisschenzko said, ashe stood by her side. "Paris has lost all good taste and sense of thefitness of things. Look! the women who are the most expert in the wriggleof the tango are mostly over forty years old! Do you see that one in theskin-tight pink robe? She is a grandmother! All are painted--all arefeverish--all would be young! It is ever thus when a country is on theeve of a cataclysm--it is a dance Macabre. " Amaryllis turned, startled, to look at him, and she saw that his eyeswere full of melancholy, and not mocking as they usually were. "A dance Macabre! You do not approve of these tangoes then?" He gave a small shrug of his shoulders, which was his only form ofgesticulation. "Tangoes--or one steps--I neither approve nor disapprove--dancing shouldall have its meaning, as the Greek Orchises had. These dances to theGreeks would have meant only one thing--I do not know if they would havewished this to take place in public, they were an aesthetic and refinedpeople, so I think not. We Russians are the only so-called civilisednation who are brutal enough for that; but we are far from beingcivilised really. Orgies are natural to us--they are not to the French orthe English. Savage sex displays for these nations are an acquired taste, a proof of vicious decay, the middle note of the end. " "I learned the tango this Spring--it is charming to dance, " Amaryllisprotested. She was a little uncomfortable--the subject, much as shewas interested in the Russian's downright views, she found wasdifficult to discuss. "I am sure you did--you counted time--you moved your charming form thisway and that--and you had not the slightest idea of anything in it beyondanxiety to keep step and do the thing well! Yes--is it not so?" Amaryllis laughed--this was so true! "What an incredibly false sham it all is!" he went on. "Started byniggers or Mexicans for what it obviously means, and brought herefor respectable mothers, and wives, and girls to perform. For me awoman loses all charm when she cheapens the great mystery-ceremoniesof love--" "Then you won't dance it with me?" Amaryllis challenged smilingly--shewould not let him see that she was cast down. "I do so want to dance!" His eyes grew fierce. "I beg of you not! I desire to keep the picture I have made of you sincewe met--later I shall dance it myself with a suitable partner, but I donot want you mixed with this tarnished herd. " Amaryllis answered with dignity: "If I thought of it as you do I should not want to dance it at all. " Shewas aggrieved that her expressed desire might have made him hold her lesshigh--"and you have taken all the bloom from my butterfly's wing--I willnever enjoy dancing it again--let us go and sit down. " He gave her his arm and they moved from the room, coming almost intoconflict with Madame Boleski and her partner, Ferdinand Ardayre, whosemovements would have done honour to the lowest nigger ring. "There is your friend, Madame Boleski--she dances--and so well!" "Harietta is an elemental--as I told you before--it is right that sheshould express herself so. She is very well aware of what it all meansand delights in it. But look at that lady with the hair going grey--it isthe Marquise de Saint Vrillière--of the bluest blood in France and of arigid respectability. She married her second daughter last week. They allspend their days at the tango classes, from early morning tilldark--mothers and daughters, grandmothers and demi-mondaines, RussianGrand Duchesses, Austrian Princesses--clasped in the arms of incrediblescum from the Argentine, half-castes from Mexico, and farceurs from NewYork--decadent male things they would not receive in their ante-chambersbefore this madness set in!" "And you say it is a dance Macabre? Tell me just what you mean. " They had reached a comfortable sofa by now in a salon devoted to bridge, which was almost empty, the players, so eager to take part in thedancing, that they had deserted even this, their favourite game. "When a nation loses all sense of balance and belies the traditions ofits whole history, and when masses of civilised individuals experiencethis craze for dancing and miming, and sex display, it presages somegreat upheaval--some calamity. It was thus before the revolution of 1793, and since it is affecting England and America and all of Europe it seems, the cataclysm will be great. " Amaryllis shivered. "You frighten me, " she whispered. "Do you mean somewar--or some earthquake--or some pestilence, or what?" "Events will show. But let us talk of something else. A cousin of yourhusband's, who is a very good friend of mine, was here yesterday. He wentto England to-day, you have not met him yet, I believe--Denzil Ardayre?" "No--but I know all about him--he plays polo and is in the Zingari. " "He does other things--he will even do more--I shall be curious to hearwhat you think of him. For me he is the type of your best in England. We were at Oxford together; we dreamed dreams there--and perhaps timewill realise some of them. Denzil is a beautiful Englishman, but he isnot a fool. " A sudden illumination seemed to come into Amaryllis' brain; she felt howlimited had been all her thoughts and standpoints in life. She had beenwilling to drift on without speculation as to the goal to be reached. Indeed, even now, had she any definite goal? She looked at the Russian'sstrong, rugged face, his inscrutable eyes narrowed and gazing ahead--ofwhat was he thinking? Not stupid, ordinary things--that was certain. "It is the second evening, amidst the most unlikely surroundings, thatyou have made me speculate about subjects which never troubled me before. Then you leave me unsatisfied--I want to know--definitely to know!" "Searcher after wisdom!" and he smiled. "No one can teach another verymuch. Enlightenment must come from within; we have reached a better stagewhen we realise that we are units in some vast scheme and responsible forits working, and not only atoms floating hither and thither by chance. Most people have the brains of grasshoppers; they spring from subject tosubject, their thoughts are never under control. Their thoughts rulethem--it is not they who rule their thoughts. " They were seated comfortably on their sofa, and Verisschenzko leaningforward from his corner, looked straight into her eyes. "You control your thoughts?" she asked. "Can you really only let themwander where you choose?" "They very seldom escape me, but I consciously allow them indulgences. " "Such as?" "Visions--day dreams--which I know ought not to materialise. " Something disturbed her in his regard; it was not easy to meet, so fullof magnetic emanation. Amaryllis was conscious that she no longer feltvery calm--she longed to know What his dreams could be. "Yes--but if I told you, you would send me away. " It seemed that he could read her desire. "I shall order myself to begone presently, because the interest which you cause me to feel wouldinterfere with work which I have to do. " "And your dreams? Tell them first?" she knew that she was playingwith fire. He looked down now, and she saw that he was not going to gratify hercuriosity. "My noblest dream is for the regeneration of a nation--on that I haveordered my thoughts to dwell. For the others, the time is not yet for meto tell you of them--it may never come. Now answer me, have you yet seenyour new home, Ardayre?" "No, but why should you be interested in that? It seems strange that you, a Russian, should even know that there is such a place as Ardayre!" "Continue--I know that it is a wonderful place, and that your husbandloves it more than his life. " Amaryllis pouted slightly. "He does indeed! Perhaps I shall grow to do so also when I know it; it isthe family creed. Sir James--my late father-in-law--was the onlyexception to this rule. " "You must uphold the idea then, and live to do fine things. " "I will try--if only--" then she paused, she could not say "if only Johnwould be human and unfreeze to me, and love me, and let us go on the roadtogether hand in hand!" "It is quite useless for a family merely to continue from generation togeneration piling up possessions, and narrowing its interests. It must dothis for a time to become solid, and then it should take a vaster view, and begin to help the world. Nearly everything is spoiled in allcivilisation because of this inability to see beyond the nose, this poorand paltry outlook. " "People rave vaguely, " Amaryllis argued, "about one's duty and vastoutlooks and those things, but it is difficult to get any one to giveconcrete advice--what would you advise me to do, for instance?" "I would advise you first to begin asking yourself the reason ofeverything, each day, since Pandora's box has been opened for you in anycase. 'What caused this? What caused that?' Search for causes--theneradicate the roots, if they are not good, do not waste time on trying toameliorate the results! Determine as to why you are put into such andsuch a place, and accomplish what you discover to be the duty of thesituation. But how serious we have become! I am not a priest to give youguidance--I am a man fighting a tremendously strong desire to take you inmy arms--so come, we will return to the ball room, and I will deliver youto your husband. " Amaryllis rose and stood facing him, her heart was beating fast. "If Itry to do well--to climb the straight road of the soul's advancement, will you give me counsel should I need it by the way?" "Yes, this I will do when I have complete control, but for the moment youare causing me emotions, and I wish to keep you a thing apart--of thespirit. Hermits and saints subdue the flesh by abstinence and fasting;they then become useless to the world. A man can only lead men while heremains a man, with a man's passions, so that he should not fight in thisbeyond his strength--only he should _never sully the wrong thing_. Come!Return to the husband--and I shall go for a while to hell. " And presently Amaryllis, standing safely with John, saw Verisschenzkodancing the maddest one-step with Madame Boleski, their undulationsoutdoing all others in the room! CHAPTER IV The day after the wonderful rejoicing which the homecoming of Amaryllishad been the occasion of at Ardayre, she was sitting waiting for herhusband in that exquisite cedar parlour which led from her room. They would breakfast cosily there, she had arranged, and nothing waswanting in the setting of a love scene. The bride wore the most alluringcap and daintiest Paris négligé, and her fair and pure skin gleamedthrough the diaphanous stuff. How she longed for John to notice it all, and make love to her! She hadapprehended a number of delightful possibilities in Paris, none of whichhad materialised, alas! in her case. John was the same as ever--quiet, dignified, polite and unmoved. She hadtaken to turning out the light before he came to her at night, to hidethe disappointment and chagrin which she felt might show in her eyes. Itwould be so humiliating if he should see this. There would soon benothing left for her to do but pretend that she was as cold as he was, ifthis last effort of _froufrous_ left him as stolid as usual. She smoothed out the pale chiffon draperies with a tender hand. She gotup and looked at herself in the mirror. It was fortunate that thereflection of snowy nose and throat and chin, and the pink velvet cheeks, required no art to perfect them; it was all natural and quite nice, shefelt. What a bore it must be to have to touch up like Madame Boleski! But what was the meaning of all the imputations she had read of in thoseinteresting French novels in Paris?--the languors and lassitudes andtremors of breakfasting love! There was just such a scene as this in oneshe had devoured on the boat. A _déjeuner_ of _amants--_certainly theyhad not been married, there was that want of resemblance, but surely thiscould not matter? For a fortnight, three weeks, a month, surely even ahusband could be as a lover--especially to a mistress who took such painsto please his eye! Would Elsie Goldmore spend such dull breakfasts when she espoused HarryKahn? Elsie Goldmore was a Jewess, perhaps that made the difference, perhaps Jews were more expansive--But the people in the novels were notJews. Of course, though, they were French, that must be it! Could it bethat all Englishmen, to their wives, were like John? This she mustpresently find out. Meanwhile she would try--oh, try so hard to entice him to be lovely toher! He was her own husband; there was absolutely no harm in doing this. And how glorious it would be to turn him into a lover! Here in thisperfectly divine old house! John was so good-looking, too, and had themost attractive deep voice, but heavens! the matter-of-factness ofeverything about him! How long would it all go on? John came in presently with _The Times_ under his arm. He wasimmaculately dressed in a blue serge suit. Amaryllis had hoped to seehim in that subduedly gorgeous dressing gown she had persuaded him toorder at Charvets during their first days. It would have been sosuitable and intimate and lover-like. But no! there was the blue sergesuit--and _The Times_. A shadow fell upon her mood. Her own pink chiffons almost seemedout of place! John glanced at them, and at the glowing, living, delicious bit of youngwomanhood which they adorned. He saw the rebellious ripe cherry of amouth, and the warm, soft tenderness in the grey eyes, and then hequickly looked out of the window--his own blue ones expressionless, butthe hand which held the newspaper clenched rather hard. "Amn't I a pet!" cooed Amaryllis, deliberately subduing the chill of herfirst disappointment. "Dearest, see I have kept this last and loveliestset of garments for the morning of our home-coming--and for you!" and shecrept close to him and laid her cheek against his cheek. He encircled her with his arm and kissed her calmly. "You look most beautiful, darling, " he said. "But then, you always do, and your frills are perfection. Now I think we ought to have breakfast;it is most awfully late. " She sat down in her place and she felt stupid tears rise in her eyes. She poured out the tea and buttered herself some toast, while John wasapparently busy at a side table where dwelt the hot dishes. He selected the daintiest piece of sole for her, and handed herthe plate. "I am not hungry, " she protested, "keep it for yourself. " He did not press the matter, but took his place and began to talk quietlyupon the news of the day--in a composed fashion between glances at _TheTimes_ and mouthfuls of sole. Amaryllis controlled herself. She was too proud and too just to make afoolish scene. If this was John's way and her little effort at enticementwas a failure, she must put up with it. Marriage was a lottery she hadalways heard, and it might be her luck to have drawn a blank. So shechoked down the rising emotion and answered brightly, showing interest inher husband's remarks--and she even managed to eat some omelette, andwhen the business of breakfast was quite over she went to the window andJohn followed her there. The view which met their eyes was exquisite. Beyond the perfect stately garden, with its quaint clipped yews andmasses of spring flowers and velvet lawns, there stretched the vast parkwith its splendid oaks and browsing deer. It was a possession which anyman could feel proud to own. John slipped his arm round her waist and drew her to him. "Amaryllis, " he said, and his voice vibrated, "to-day I am going to showyou everything I love here at Ardayre--because I want you to love itall, too. You are of the family, so it must mean something to you, dear. " Amaryllis kindled with re-awakening hope. "Indeed, it will mean everything to me, John. " He kissed her forehead and murmured something about her dressing quickly, and that he would wait for her there in the cedar room. And when shereturned in about a quarter of an hour in the neatest country clothes, heplaced her hand on his arm and led her down the great stairs and onthrough the hall into the picture gallery. It was a wonderful place of green silk and chestnut wainscoting, and allthe walls of its hundred feet of length were hung with canvases ofvalue--portraits principally of those Ardayres who had gone on. Faceafter face looked down on Amaryllis of the same type as John's and herown--the brown hair and eyes of grey or blue. Some were a little fairer, some a little darker, but all unmistakably stamped "Ardayre. " John pointed out each individual to her, while she hung fondly on hisarm, from some doubtful crude fourteenth century wooden panels of Johnsand Denzils, on to Benedict in a furred Henry VII. Gown. Then came Henrysand Denzils in Elizabethan armour and puffed white satin, and throughStuart and Commonwealth to Stuart again, and so to William and Marynumbers of Benedicts, and lastly to powdered Georgian James' and RegencyDenzils and Johns. And the name Amaryllis recurred more than once instately dame or damsel, called after that fair Amaryllis of Elizabeth'sdays who had been maid of honour to the virgin Queen, and had sonnetswritten to her nut brown locks by the gallants of her time. "How little the women they married seem to have altered the type!" theyoung living Amaryllis exclaimed, when they came nearly to the end. "Itgoes on Ardayre, Ardayre, Ardayre, ever since the very first one. Oh!John, if we ever have a son he ought to be even more so--you and I beingof the same blood--" and then she hesitated and blushed crimson. This wasthe first time she had ever spoken of such a thing. John held her arm very tightly to his side for a second, and his voicewas uncertain as he answered: "Amaryllis, that is the profound desire of my heart, that we shouldhave a son. " A strange feeling of exaltation came over Amaryllis, half-innocent, wholly ignorant as she was. She had been stupid--French novels were all nonsense. Marriages in reallife were always like this--of course they must be--since John saidplainly and with such deep feeling that his profoundest desire was thatthey should have a son! That meant that she would surely have one. Thiswas perfectly glorious, and it must simply be those silly books and ElsieGoldmore's too uxorious imagination which had given her some ridiculouslyromantic exaggerated ideas of what love hours would be. She would now becontented and never worry again. She nestled closer to her husband andlooked up at him with eyes sweet and fond, the brown, curly lashes wetwith tender dew. "Oh!--darling, when, when do you think we shall have a son?" Then, for the first time in their lives, John Ardayre clasped her in hisarms passionately and held her to his heart. "Ah, God, " he whispered hoarsely, as he kissed her fresh young lips. "Pray for that, Amaryllis--pray for that, my own. " Then he restrained himself and drew her on to the four last pictures atthe end of the room. They were of his grandfather and grandmother, andhis father and mother. And then there was a blank space, and the brightercolour of the damask showed that a canvas had been removed. "Who hung there, John?" "The accursed snake charmer woman whom my father disgraced the familywith by bringing home. She was his wife by the law, and a Frenchmanpainted her. It was a fine picture with the bastard Ferdinand in herarms--the proof of our shame. I had it taken down and burnt the day theplace was mine. " Amaryllis was receiving surprises to-day--John's face was full ofemotion, his eyes were sparkling with hate as he spoke. How he must loveeverything connected with his home, and its honour, and its name--hecould not be so very cold after all! She thought of the Russian's words about a family--the uselessness of itsgoing on for generations, piling up possessions and narrowing itsinterests. What had the aims been of all these handsome men? She knew theearlier history a little, for even though she was of a distant branchthey had been proud of the connection, and treasured the traditionsbelonging to it. But these were just dry facts of history which she knew, so now she asked: "John, what did any of them do? Did they accomplish great deeds?" He took her back to the beginning again and began to tell her of theachievements of each one. There would be three perhaps, one afteranother, who had filled high posts in the State, and indeed had beenworthy of the name. Then would come one or two quiet plodding ones, whoseemed to have done little but sit still and hold on. Then Denzil Ardayre, knight of Elizabeth's time, pleased Amaryllis mostof all--though there had been greater soldiers, and more able politiciansthan he later on, culminating in Sir John Ardayre of George IV. Days, who had hammered against pocket boroughs and corruption until he died anold man, the hour the Reform Bill swept aside abuses and the road tofreedom was won. "How strange it seems that different ages produce more accentuated stampsof breeding than others, " Amaryllis said, "even in the same familieswhere the blood is all blue. Look, John! that Denzil and the rest of theElizabethans are the most refined, aristocratic creatures you couldimagine, in their little ruffs. Absolutely intellectual and cultivatedfaces and of old race--and then comes a James period, less intelligent, more round featured. And a Cavalier one, gay and gallant, aristocraticand chiselled also, but not nearly so clever looking as the Elizabethan. Then we get cadaverous William and Mary ones, they might be lawyers orbusiness men, not that look of great gentlemen, and the Anne's and thefirst George's are really bucolic! And then that wonderfully refined, cultivated, intellectual finish seems to crop up in the later eighteenthcentury again. Have you noticed this, John? You can see it in everycollection of miniatures and portraits even in the museums. " John responded interestedly: "The Elizabethans were supremely cultivated gentlemen--no wonder thatthey look as they do--and their lives were always in their hands whichgives them that air of insouciance. " When the history of the family achievements had been told her down toJohn's father, she paused, still clinging to his arm, and said: "I am so glad that they did splendid things, aren't you? And we shall notdrift either. You must teach me to be the most perfect mistress ofArdayre, and the most perfect wife for the greatest of them all--becauseyour achievement is the finest, John, to have won it all back andredeemed it by the work of your own brain. " He pressed the hand on his arm. "It was hard work--and the home times were ugly in those days, Amaryllis, though the goal was worth it, and now we must carry on. .. . " And then hisreserve seemed to fall upon him again, and he took her through the otherrooms, and kept to solid facts, and historic descriptions, and his bridehad continuously the impression that he was mastering some emotion inhimself, and that this stolidity was a mask. When lunch time came the usual relations of obvious and commonplacegoodfellowship had been fully restored between them, and that atmosphereof aloofness which seemed impossible to banish enveloped John once more. Amaryllis sighed--but it was too soon to despair she thought, after thehope of John's words, and with her serene temperament she decided toleave things as they were for the present and trust to time. But as her maid brushed out the soft brown hair that night, an unrest andlonging for something came over her again--what she knew not, nor couldhave put into words. She let herself re-live that one moment when Johnhad pressed herewith passion to his heart. Perhaps, perhaps that was thebeginning of a change in him--perhaps--presently-- But the clock in the long gallery had chimed two, and there was yet nosound of John in the dressing-room beyond. Amaryllis lay in the great splendid gilt bed in the warm darkness, and atlast tears trickled down her cheeks. What could keep him so long away from her? Why did he not come? The large Queen Anne windows were wide open, and soft noises of the nightfloated in with the zephyrs. The whole air seemed filled with waitingexpectancy for something tender and passionate to be. What was that? Steps upon the terrace--measured steps--and then silence, and then a deep sigh. It must be John--out there alone!--when she wouldhave loved to have stayed with him, to have woven sweet fancies in theluminous darkness, to have taken and given long kisses, to have buriedher face in the honeysuckle which grew there, steeped in dew. But he hadsaid to her after their stately dinner in the great dining-hall: "Play to me a little, Amaryllis, and then go to bed, child--you must betired out. " And after that he had not spoken more, but pushed her gently towards thedoor with a solemn kiss on the forehead, and just a murmur of"Good-night. " And she had deceived herself and thought that it meant thathe would come quickly, and so she had run up the stairs. But now it was after two in the morning, and would soon be growingtowards dawn--and John was out there sighing alone! She crept to the window and leaned upon the sill. She thought that shecould distinguish his tall figure there by the carved stone bench. "John!" she called softly, "I am, so lonely--John, dearest--won'tyou come?" Then she felt that her ears must be deceiving her, for there was thesound of a faint suppressed sob, and then, a second afterwards, herhusband's voice answering cheerily, with its usual casual note: "You naughty little night bird! Go back to bed--and to sleep--yes--I amcoming immediately now!" But when he did steal in silently from the dressing-room an hour later ina grey dawn, Amaryllis, worn out with speculation and disappointment, hadfallen asleep. He looked down upon her charming face--the long, curly brown lashessweeping the flushed cheek, and at the rounded, beautiful girlishform--all his very own to clasp and to kiss and to hold in his arms--andtwo scalding tears gathered in his blue eyes, and he took his placebeside her without making a sound. CHAPTER V "Here are the papers, Hans, but I think the whole thing stupid nonsense. What does it matter to any one what Poland wants? What a nuisance allthese old boring political things are! They always spoiled our happinesssince the beginning--and now if it wasn't for them we could have aglorious time here together. I would love managing to come out to meetyou under Stanislass' nose. None of the others I have ever had are asgood in the way of a lover as you. " The man swore in German under his breath. "Of a lightness always, Harietta! No _dévouement_, no patriotism. .. . Should I have agreed to the divorce, loving your body as I do, had it notbeen a serious matter? The pig-dog who now owns you must be sucked dry ofinformation--and then I shall take you back again. " A cunning look came into Madame Boleski's hazel eyes. She had not theslightest intention of permitting this--to go back to Hans! To thedifficulty of making both ends meet! Even though he did cause every inchof her well-preserved body to tingle! They had suggested her getting thedivorce for their own stupid political ends, to be able to place her inthe arms of Stanislass Boleski, and there she meant to stay! It wasinfinitely more agreeable to be a grande dame in Paris, and presently inLondon, than to be the spouse of Hans in Berlin, where, whatever hissecret power might be with the authorities, he could give her no greatsocial position; and social position was the goal of all HariettaBoleski's desires! She could attract lovers in any class of life--that had never been herdifficulty. Her trouble had been that she could never force herself intogood American society, even after she had married Hans, and they haddwelt there for a year or more. Her own compatriots would have none ofher, and so she wanted triumph in other lands. She hated to remember heryouth of humiliation, trying to play a social game on the earnings of anywork that she could pick up, between discreet outings with--friends whofailed to suggest matrimony. Hans, on some secret mission to SanFrancisco, where she had gone as companion to a friend, had seemed averitable Godsend and Prince Charming, when, in her thirtieth year, heactually offered legal marriage, completely overcome by her greatphysical charm. But although she loved Hans with whatever of that emotionsuch a nature could be capable of, five years of him and more or lessgenteel poverty had been enough, and now she was free of that, and couldstill enjoy surreptitiously the pleasure of his passion, and reign as a_persona grata_ wife of one of the richest men in Poland at the sametime. That those in authority who had arranged the divorce required ofher certain tiresome obligations in return for their services, was one ofthose annoying parts of life! She took not the slightest interest in theaffairs of any country. Nothing really mattered to her, but herself. Herwhole force was concentrated upon the betterment of the position andphysical pleasure of Harietta Boleski. It was this instinct alone which had prompted her to acquire a smatteringof education--and with the quick, adaptive faculty of a monkey she hadbeen able to use this to its utmost limits, as well as her histrionictalent--no mean one--to gain her ends. She was now playing the rôle of alady, and playing it brilliantly she knew--and here was Hans back again, and suggesting that when she had secured all the information that herequired from Stanislass she should return to him! "Tra la la!" she said to herself, there in the room at the Hotel Astoria, where she had gone to meet him, "think this if it pleases you! It willkeep you quiet and won't hurt me!" For the moment she wanted Hans--the man, and was determined to waste nofurther time on useless discussion. So she began her blandishments, taking pride in showing him her beautiful garments, and her string of bigpearls; each thing exhibited between her voluptuous kisses, until Hansgrew intoxicated with desire, and became as clay in her hands. "It is not thy pig-dog of a husband I wish to kill!" he said, after onehour had gone by in inarticulate murmurings. "Him I do not fear--it isthe Russian, Verisschenzko, who fills me with hate--we have regard ofhim, he does not go unobserved, and if you allure him also among therest, beyond the instructions which you had, then there will beunpleasantness for you, my little cat--thy Hans will twist his bear'sneck, and thine also, if need be!" "Verisschenzko!" laughed Harietta, "why, I hardly know him; he don'tamount to a row of pins! He's Stanislass' friend--not mine. " Then she smoothed back Hans' rather fierce, fair moustache from his lipsand kissed him again--her ruby ring flashing in a ray of sunlight. "Look! isn't this a lovely jewel, Hans! My old Stannie gave it to me onlysome days ago--it is my new toy--see--" Hans examined it: "Thou art a creature of the devil, Harietta, there is not one of thy evilqualities of greed and extortion which I do not know. Thou liest to meand to all men--the only good thing in thee is thy body--and for that allmen let thee lie. " Harietta pouted. "I can't understand when you talk like that, Hans--it's all warbash, aswe said out West. What are qualities? What is there but the body anyway?Great sakes! that's enough for me, and the devil is only in story booksto frighten children--I'm just like every other woman and I want to havea good time. " "I hear that you are going to London soon, " said Hans, dropping thetutoyage and growing brutally severe, "to conquer new lovers and to wearmore dresses? But there you will be of great use to me. Your instructionswill be all ready in cypher by Tuesday night, when you must meet me atwhatever point is convenient to you, after nine o'clock--here, perhaps?" Harietta frowned--she had other views for Tuesday night. "What shall I gain by coming, or by going on with this spying on Stan?I'm tired of it all; it breaks my head trying to take in your horrid oldcypher. I don't think I'll do it any more. " The Prussian's face grew livid and his mouth set like an iron spring. Helooked at her straight between the eyes, as a lion tamer might have done, and he took a cane from where it laid on a bureau near. "Until you are black and blue, I will beat you, woman, " he said, "as Ihave done before--if you fail us in a single thing--and do not think weare powerless! It shall be that you are exposed and degraded, and so loseyour game. Now tell me, will you go on?" Harietta crouched in fear, just animal, physical fear--she had felt thatstick, it was a nightmare to her, as it might have been to a child. Sheknew that Hans would keep his word. His physical strength had been one ofthe things she had adored in him--but to be degraded and exposed, as wellas beaten, touched her sensibilities, after all the trouble she had takento become a lady of the world! This was too much. No! Tiresome as allthese old papers were, she would have to go on--but since he threatenedher she would pay him out! The Russian should have papers as well! And sothere was good in all things, since now material advantage would comefrom both sides. Was it not right that you looked to yourself, especiallywhen menaced with a stick? She laughed softly; this was humorous and she could appreciate such kindof humour. Hans crushed her in his arms. "Answer!" he ordered gutturally. "Answer, you fiend!" Harietta became cajoling--no one could have looked more frank or simple, as simple as she looked to all great ladies when she would disarm themand win her way. She would look up at them gently, and ask their advice, and say that of course she was only a newcomer and very ignorant, notclever like they! "Hans, darling, I was only joking, am I not devoted to your interests andalways ready to serve you and the higher powers whom you serve? Ofcourse, I will come on Tuesday night and, of course, I will go on. " She let her lip tremble and her eyes fill with tears; they were quitereal tears. She felt the hardship of having to weary her brain with a newcypher, and self-pity inflames the lachrymose glands. "To business then, _mein liebchen_--attend carefully to every word. InEngland you must be received by Royalty itself, and you must go into thehighest circles of the diplomatic and political world. The men areindiscreet there; they trust their women and tell them secret things. Itis the women you must please. The English are a race of fools; numbersare aristocrats in all classes and therefore too stupid to suspect craft, and those who are not are trying to appear to be, and too conceited touse their wits. You can be of enormous use to our country, Harietta, mywife, " and he walked up and down the room in his excitement, his handsclasped behind him--he would have been a very handsome man but for histoo wide hips. Marietta looked at him out of the corner of her eye; she did not noticethis defect in him, for her he was a splendid male, with a delightfulquality of savagery in love which she had found in no other man exceptVerisschenzko--Verisschenzko! Her thoughts hesitated when they came tohim--Verisschenzko was adorable, but he was a man to be feared--much morethan Hans. Him she could always cajole if she used passion enough, butshe had the uncomfortable feeling that Verisschenzko gave way to her onlywhen--and because--he wanted to, not for the reason that she hadconquered him. "Of great use to our country, Harietta, my wife, " Hans murmured again, clearing his throat. "I am not your wife, my pretty Hans!" and she raised her eyebrows, andcurled one corner of her upper lip. "You gave me up at the bidding of thehigher command--I am your mistress now and then, when I feelinclined--but I am Stanislass' wife. I like a man better when I am hismistress; there are no tiresome old duties along with it. " Hans growled, he hated to realise this. "You must be more careful with your speech, Harietta. When you get toEngland you must not say 'along with it'--after the pains I have takenwith your grammar, too! You can use Americanisms if they are apt, andeven a literal translation of another language--but bad grammar--commonphrases--pah! that is to give the show away!" Harietta reddened--her vanity disliked criticism. "I take very good care of my language when it is necessary in theworld--I am considered to have a lovely voice--but when I'm with you Iguess I can enjoy a holiday--it's kind of a rest to let yourself go, " herpronunciation lapsed into the broadest American, just to irritate him, and she stood and laughed in his face. He caught her in his arms. She never failed to appeal to his senses; shehad won him by that force and so held his brute nature even after fiveyears. This was always the reason of whatever success she secured. A manhad no smallest doubt as to why he was drawn; it was a direct appeal tothe most primitive animal nature in him. The birth of Love is ever thusif we would analyse it truly, but the spirit fortunately so wraps thingsin illusion that generally both participants really believe that themutual attraction is because of higher emotions of the mind, and so theyare doomed to disappointment when passion is sated, unless the mindfulfills the ideal. But if the reality fails to make good, the refinedspirit turns in disgust from the material, unconsciously resentful inthat it has suffered deception. With Harietta this disappointment couldnever occur, since she created no illusion that she was appealing to themind at all, and so a man if he were attracted faced no unknown quality, but was aware that it was only the animal in him which was drawn, and ifhis senses were his masters, not his servants, her victory was complete. After some more fierce caresses had come to an end--there was no delicacyabout Harietta--Hans continued his discourse. "There has come here to Paris a young man of the name ofArdayre--Ferdinand Ardayre--he is slippery, but he can be of the greatestvalue to us. See that you become friends--you can reach him through AbbaBey. He hates his brother who is the head of the family and he hates hisbrother's wife--for family reasons which it is not necessary to wastetime in telling you. I knew him in Constantinople. Underneath I believehe hates the English--there is a slur on him. " "I have already met him, " and Harietta's eyes sparkled. "I hate the wifealso for my own reasons--yes--how can I help you with this?" "It is Ferdinand you must concentrate on; I am not concerned with thebrother or his wife, except in so far as his hate for them can be used toour advantage. Do not embark upon this to play games of your own for yourhate--you may be foolish then and upset matters. " "Very well. " The two objects could go together, Harietta felt; she neverwasted words. It would be a pleasure one day, perhaps, to be able toinjure that girl whom Verisschenzko certainly respected, if he was notactually growing to love her. Harietta did not desire the respect of menin the abstract; it could be a great bore--what they thought of her neverentered her consideration, since she was only occupied with her ownpleasure in them and how they affected herself. Respect was one of theadjuncts of a good social position; and of value merely in that aspect. But as Verisschenzko respected no one else, as far as she knew, that mustmean something annoyingly important. Seven o'clock struck; she had thoroughly enjoyed being with Hans, hesatisfied her in many ways, and it was also a relaxation, as she need notact. But the joys of the interview were over now, and she had othersprepared for later on, and must go back to the Rhin to dress. So shekissed Hans and left, having arranged to meet him on the Tuesday nighthere in his rooms, and having received precise instructions as to thenature of the information to be obtained from Ferdinand Ardayre. Life would be a paradise if only it were not for these ridiculous andtiresome political intrigues. Harietta had no taste for actual intrigue, its intricacies were a weariness to her. If she could have married a richman in the beginning, she always told herself, she would never have mixedherself up in anything of the kind, and now that she _had_ married a richman, she would try to get out of the nuisance as soon as possible. Meanwhile, there was Ferdinand--and Ferdinand was becoming in love withher--they had met three times since the Montivacchini ball. "He'll be no difficulty, " she decided, with a sigh of relief. It wouldnot be as it had been with Verisschenzko, whom she had been directed tocapture. For in Verisschenzko she had found a master--not a dupe. When she reached the beautiful Champs-Elysées, she looked at her diamondwrist watch. It was only ten minutes past seven, the dinner at theAustrian Embassy was not until half-past eight. Dressing was a seriousbusiness to Harietta, but she meant to cut it down to half an hourto-night, because there was a certain apartment in the Rue Cambon whichshe intended to visit for a few minutes. "What an original street to have an apartment in!" people always said toVerisschenzko. "Nothing but business houses and model hotels fortravellers!" And the shabby looking _porte-cochère_ gave no evidence ofthe old Louis XV. Mansion within, converted now into a series of offices, all but the top flooring looking on to the gardens of the _Ministère_. Verisschenzko had taken it for its situation and its isolation, and hadconverted it into a thing of great beauty of panelling and rare picturesand the most comfortable chairs. There was absolute silence, too, thereamong the tree tops. Madame Boleski ascended leisurely the shallow stairs--there was nolift--and rang her three short rings, which Peter, the Russian servant, was accustomed to expect. The door was opened at once, and she was takenthrough the quaint square hall into the master's own sitting-room, arichly sombre place of oak boiserie and old crimson silk. Verisschenzko was writing and just glanced up while he murmuredNapoleon's famous order to Mademoiselle George--but Harietta Boleskipushed out her full underlip and sat down in a deep armchair. "No--not this evening, I have only a moment. I have merely come, Stépan, you darling, to tell you that I have something interesting to say. " "Not possible!" and he carefully sealed down a letter he had been writingand put it ready to be posted. Then he came over and took somecigarettes from a Faberger enamel box and offered her one. Harietta smoked most of the day but she refused now. "You have come, not for pleasure, but to talk! Sapristi! I am dulyamazed!" Another woman would have been insulted at the tone and the insinuation inthe words, but not so Harietta. She did not pretend to have a brain, thatwas one of her strong points, and she understood and appreciated thecrudest methods, so long as their end was for the pleasure of herself. She nodded, and that was all. Verisschenzko threw himself into the opposite chair, his yellow-greeneyes full of a mocking light. "I have seen a brooch even finer than the ruby ring at Cartier'sjust now--I thought perhaps if I were very pleased with you, itmight be yours. " Harietta bounded from her chair and sat upon his knee. "You perfect angel, Stépan, I adore you!" she said. He did not return thecaresses at all, but just ordered: "Now talk. " She spoke rapidly, and he listened intently. He was weighing her wordsand searching into their truth. He decided that for some reason of herown she was not lying--and in any case it did not matter if she were not, because he had resources at his command which would enable him to testthe information, and if it were true it would be worth the brooch. "She has been wounded in some way, probably physically, since nothingless material would affect her. Physically and in her vanity--but who canhave done it?" the Russian asked himself. "Who is her Germancorrespondent? This I must discover--but since it is the first time shehas knowingly given me information, it proves some revenge in her goat'sbrain. Now is the time to obtain the most. " He encircled her with his arm and kissed her with less contemptuousbrutality than usual, and he told her that she was a lovely creature, andthe desire of all men--while he appeared to attach little importance tothe information she vouchsafed, asking no questions and re-lighting acigarette. This forced her to be more explicit, and at last all that shemeant to communicate was exposed. "You imagine things, my child, " he scoffed. "I would have to haveproof--and then if it all should be as you say. Why, that brooch must beyours--for I know that it is out of real love for me that you talk, and Ialways pay lavishly for--love. " "Indeed, you know that I adore you, Stépan--and that brooch is just whatI want. Stanislass has been niggardly beyond words to me lately, and I amtired of all my other things. " "Bring me some proof to the reception to-night. I am not dining, but Ishall be there by eleven for a few moments. " She agreed, and then rose to go--but she pouted again and the convex_obstiné_ curve below her under lip seemed to obtrude itself. "She has gone back to England--your precious bride--I suppose?" "She has. " "We shall all meet there in a week or so--Stanislass is going to see someof his boring countrymen in London--the conference you know about--andwe have taken a house in Grosvenor Square for some months. I do not knowmany people yet--will you see to it that I do?" "I will see that you have as many of these handsome Englishmen as willcompletely keep your hands full. " She laughed delightedly. "But it is women I want; the men I can always get for myself. " "Fear nothing, your reception will be great. " Then she flung herself into his arms and embraced him, and then movedtowards the door. "I will telephone to Cartier in the morning, " and Verisschenzko openedthe door for her, "if you bring me some interesting proof of your lovefor me--to-night. " And when she had gone he took up his letter againand looked at the address, _To_Lady Ardayre, _Ardayre Chase, North Somerset, Angleterre_. "I must keep to the things of the spirit with you, precious lady. Andwhen I cannot subdue it, there is Harietta for the flesh--wough! but shesickens me--even for that!" CHAPTER VI Denzil Ardayre could not get any more leave for a considerable time andremained quartered in the North, where he played cricket and polo to hisheart's content, but the head of the family and his charming wife wentthrough the feverish season of 1914 in the town house in Brook Street. Ardayre was too far away for week-end parties, but they had severalsuccessful London dinners, and Amaryllis was becoming quite a capablehostess, and was much admired in the world. Very fine of instinct and apprehension at all times she was developing bycontact with intelligent people--for John had taken care that she onlymixed with the most select of his friends. The de la Paule family hadbeen more than appreciative of her and had guided her and supervised hervisiting list with care. Everything was too much of a rush for her to think and analyse things, and if she had been asked whether she was happy, she would have thoughtthat she was replying with honesty when she affirmed that she was. Johnwas not happy and knew it, but none of his emotions ever betrayedthemselves, and the mask of his stolid content never changed. They had gone on with their matter-of-fact relations, and when theyreturned to London after a week at Ardayre, all had been much easier, because they were seldom alone--and at last Amaryllis had grown to acceptthe situation, and try not to speculate about it. She danced every nightat balls and continued the usual round, but often at the Opéra, or theRussian ballet, or driving back through the park in the dawn, some wildlonging for romance would stir in her, and she would nestle close toJohn. And John would perhaps kiss her quietly and speak of ordinarythings. He went everywhere with her though, and never failed in thekindest consideration. He seldom danced himself, and therefore must oftenhave been weary, but no suggestion of this ever reached Amaryllis. "What does he talk to his friends about, I wonder?" she asked herself, watching him from across a room, in a great house after dinner one night. John was seated beside the American Lady Avonwier, a brilliant person whodid not allow herself to be bored. He appeared calm as usual, and therethey sat until it was time to go on to a ball. Everything he said was so sensible, so well informed--perhaps that was anice change for people--and then he was very good-looking and--but oh!what was it--what was it which made it all so disappointing and tame! A week after they had come up to Brook Street, the Boleskis arrived atthe Mount Lennard House which they had taken in Grosvenor Square, armedwith every kind of introduction, and Harietta immediately began to dazzlethe world. Her dresses and jewels defied all rivalry; they were in a class alone, and she was frank and stupid and gracious--and fitted in exactly withthe spirit of the time. She restrained her movements in dancing to suit the less advanced Englishtaste; she gave to every charity and organized entertainments of afantastic extravagance which whetted the appetite of society, grown jadedwith all the old ways. The men of all ages flocked round her, and sheplayed with them all--ambassadors, politicians, guardsmen, all drawn byher own potent charm, and she disarmed criticism by her stupidity andgood nature, and the lavish amusements she provided for every one--whilethe chef they had brought over with them from Paris would have insuredany hostess's success! Harietta had never been so happy in all the thirty-six years of her life. This was her hour of triumph. She was here in a country which spoke herown language--for her French was deplorably bad--she had an unquestionedposition, and all would have been without flaw but for this tiresomeinformation she was forced to collect. Verisschenzko had been detained in Paris. The events of the twenty-eighthof June at Serajevo were of deep moment to him, and it was not until thesecond week in July that he arrived at the Ritz, full of profoundpreoccupation. Amaryllis had been to Harietta's dinners and dances, and now the Boleskishad been asked down to Ardayre in return for the three days at the end ofthe month, when the coming of age of the young Marquis of Bridgeboroughwould give occasion for great rejoicings, and Amaryllis herself wouldgive a ball. "You cannot ask people down to North Somerset in these days just for thepleasure of seeing you, my dear child, " Lady de la Paule had said to hernephew's wife. "Each season it gets worse; one is flattered if one'sfriends answer an invitation to dinner even, or remain for half an hourwhen it is done. I do not know what things are coming to, etiquette ofall sorts went long ago--now manners, and even decency have gone. We arerapidly becoming savages, openly seizing whatever good thing is offeredto us no matter from whom, and then throwing it aside the instant wecatch sight of something new. But one must always go with the tide unlessone is strong enough to stem it, and frankly _I_ am not. NowBridgeborough's coming of age will make a nice excuse for you to have aparty at Ardayre. How many people can you put up? Thirty guests and theirservants at least, and seven or eight more if you use the agent's house. " So thus it had been arranged, and John expressed his pleasure that hissweet Amaryllis should show what a hostess she could be. None but the most interesting people were invited, and the party promisedto be the greatest success. Two or three days before they were to go down, Amaryllis coming in latein the afternoon, found Verisschenzko's card. "Oh! John!" she cried delightedly, "that very thrilling Russian whom wemet in Paris has called. You remember he wrote to me some time ago andsaid he would let us know when he arrived. Oh! would not it be nice tohave him at our party--let us telephone to him now!" Verisschenzko answered the call himself, he had just come in; heexpressed himself as enchanted at the thought of seeing her--andyes--with pleasure he would come down to Ardayre for the ball. "We shall meet to-night, perhaps, at Carlton House Terrace at the GermanEmbassy, " he said, "and then we can settle everything. " Amaryllis wondered why she felt rather excited as she walked up thestairs--she had often thought of Verisschenzko, and hoped he would cometo England. He was vivid and living and would help her to balanceherself. She had thought while she dressed that her life had been onestupid rush with no end, since that night when they had talked ofserious things at the Montivacchini hôtel. She had need of the counselhe had promised to give her, for this heedless racket was not addinglustre to her soul. Verisschenzko seemed to find her very soon--he was not one of thosepersons who miss things by vagueness. His yellow-green eyes were blazingwhen they met hers, and without any words he offered her his arm, foreignfashion, and drew her out on to the broad terrace to a secluded seat hehad apparently selected beforehand, as there was no hesitancy in hisadvance towards this goal. He looked at her critically for an instant when they were seated in thesoft gloom. "You are changed, Madame. Half the soul is awake now, but the other halfhas gone further to sleep. " "--Yes, I felt you would say that--I do not like myself, " and she sighed. "Tell me about it. " "I seem to be drifting down such a useless stream--and it is all so madand aimless, and yet it is fun. But every one is tired and restless andnobody cares for anything real--I am afraid I am not strong enough tostand aside from it though, and I wonder sometimes what I shall become. " Verisschenzko looked at her earnestly--he was silent for some seconds. "Fate may alter the atmosphere. There are things hovering, I fear, ofwhich you do not dream, little protected English bride. Perhaps it isgood that you live while you can. " "What things?" "Sorrows for the world. But tell me, have you seen Harietta Boleski inher London rôle?" "Yes--she is the greatest success--every one goes to her parties; she iscoming to mine at Ardayre. " Verisschenzko raised his eyebrows, and nothing could have been moresardonically whimsical than his smile. "I saw Stanislass this morning--he is almost _gaga_ now--a merecypher--she has destroyed his body, as well as his soul. " "They are both coming on the twenty-third. " "It will be an interesting visit I do not doubt--and I shall see theFamily house!" "I hope you will like it--I shall love to show it to you, and thepictures. It means so much to John. " "Have you met your cousin Denzil yet?". Verisschenzko was studying her face; it had gained something, it wasa little finer--but it had lost something too, and there was a shadowin her eyes. "Denzil Ardayre? No--What made you mention him now?" "I shall be curious as to what you think of him, he is so like--yourhusband, you know. " The subject did not interest Amaryllis; she wanted to hear more of theRussian's unusual views. "You know London well, do you not?" she asked. "Yes--I often came up from Oxford when I was there, and I have revisitedit since. It is a sane place generally, but this year it would seem to bealmost as _déséquilibré_ as the rest of the world. " "You give me an uneasy feeling, as though you knew that somethingdreadful was going to happen. What is it? Tell me. " "One can only speculate how soon a cauldron will boil over, one cannotbe certain in what direction the liquid will fly. The whole world seemsfeverish; the spirit of progress has awakened after hundreds of years ofsleep, and is disturbing everything. In all boilings the scum rises tothe top; we are at the period when this has occurred--we can butwait--and watch. " "If we had a new religion?" "It will come presently, the reign of mystical make-believe is past. " "But surely it is mysticism and idealism which make ordinarythings divine!" "Certainly when they are emplanted upon a true basis. I said'make-believe'--that is what kills all good things--make-believe. Mostof the present-day leaders are throwing dust in their followers' eyes--ortheir own. Priests and politicians, lawyers and financiers--all of themare afraid of the truth. Every one lives in a stupid atmosphere ofself-deception. The religion of the future will teach each individual tobe true to himself, and when that is accomplished the sixth root racewill be born. Look at that man over there talking to a woman with haggardeyes--can you see them in the gloom? They have all the ugly entitiesaround them, the spirits of morphine and nicotine--drawing misfortune andbodily decay. Every force has to have its congenial atmosphere, or itcannot exist; fishes cannot breathe on land. " Amaryllis looked at the pair; they were well-known people, the mancelebrated in the literary and artistic section of the world offashion--the woman of high rank and of refined intelligence. Verisschenzko looked also. "I do not know either of their names, " hesaid, "I am simply judging by the obvious deductions to be made by theirappearances to any one who has developed intuition. " "How I wish I could learn to have that!" "Read Voltaire's 'Zadig. ' Deductive methods are shown in it useful tobegin upon--observe everything about people, and then having seenresults, work back to causes, and then realise that all material thingsare the physical expression of an etheric force, and as we can controlthe material, we need thus only attract what etheric waves we desire. " Amaryllis looked again at the pair--both were smoking idly, and sheremembered having heard that they both "took drugs. " It was a phrasewhich had meant nothing to her until now. "You mean that because they smoke all the time, and it is said they takemorphine _piqûres_, that they are not only hurting their bodies, butdrawing spiritual ills as well. " "Obviously. They have surrounded themselves with the drab demagnetisingcurrent which envelops the body when human beings give up their wills. Itwould be very difficult for anything good to pierce through suchambience. Have you ever remarked the strange ends of all people who takedrugs? They seldom die natural, ordinary deaths. The evil entities whichthey have drawn round them by their own weakness, destroy them at last. " "I do not like the idea that there are these 'entities, ' as you callthem, all around us. " "There are not, they cannot come near us unless we allow them--have I nottold you that the atmosphere must be congenial? Our own wills can createan armour through which nothing demagnetising can pass. It is weaknessand drifting which are inexorably punished; they draw currents suitablefor the vampires beyond to exist on. " "All this does sound so weird to me. " Amaryllis was interested andyet repelled. "Have you ever thought about Marconigrams and their etheric waves?No--not often. People just accept such things as facts as soon as theybecome commercial commodities--and only a few begin to speculate uponwhat such discoveries suggest, and the other possibilities which theycould lead to. Nothing is supernatural; it is only that we are soignorant. Some day I will take you to my laboratory in my home inRussia and show you the result of my experiments with vibrations andcoloured lights. " "I should love that--but just now you troubled me--you seemed to includesmoking in the things which brought evil--I smoke sometimes. " "So do I--will you have a Russian cigarette?" He took out his case and offered her one, which she accepted. "Will itbring something bad?" "Not more than a glass of wine, " and he opened his lighter and bentnearer to her. "One glass of wine might be good for you, but twenty wouldmake you very drunk and me very quarrelsome!" They laughed softly and lit their cigarettes. "I feel when I am with you that I am enveloped in some strong essence, "and Amaryllis lay back with a satisfied sigh--"as though I were upliftedand awakened--it is very curious because you have such a wicked face, butyou make me feel that I want to be good. " His queer, husky voice took on a new note. "We have met of course in a former life--then probably I tempted you tobreak all vows--it was my fault. So in this life you are to tempt me--itmay be--but my will has developed--I mean to resist. I want to place youas my joy of the spirit this time--something which is pure and beautifulapart from earthly things. " Into Amaryllis' mind there flashed the thought that if she saw him often, her emotions for him might not keep at that high level! Her eyes perhapsexpressed this doubt, for Verisschenzko bent nearer. "Another must fulfil that which must be denied to me. You are too youngto remain free from emotion. Hold yourself until the right time comes. " Amaryllis wondered why he should speak as though it were an understoodthing that she could feel no emotion for John. She resented this. "I have my husband, " she answered with dignity and a sweetlyconventional air. Verisschenzko laughed. "You are delicious when you say things like that--loyal, and English, andproud. But listen, child--it is waste of time to have any dissimulationwith me, we finished all those things when we were lovers in our otherlife. Now we must be frank and learn of each other. Shall it not be so?" Amaryllis felt a number of things. "Yes, you are right, we will always speak the truth. " "You see, " he went on, "if you represent anything you must never injureit; you must destroy yourself if necessary in its service. Yourepresent an ideal, the ideal of the perfect wife of the Ardayres. Youmust fulfil this rôle. I represent a leader of certain thought in mycountry. My soul is given to this--I must only indulge in throughwhich nothing demagnetising can pass. It is weakness and drifting whichare inexorably punished; they draw currents suitable for the vampiresbeyond to exist on. " "All this does sound so weird to me. " Amaryllis was interested andyet repelled. "Have you ever thought about Marconigrams and their etheric waves?No--not often. People just accept such things as facts as soon as theybecome commercial commodities--and only a few begin to speculate uponwhat such discoveries suggest, and the other possibilities which theycould lead to. Nothing is supernatural; it is only that we are soignorant. Some day I will take you to my laboratory in my home inRussia and show you the result of my experiments with vibrations andcoloured lights. " "I should love that--but just now you troubled me--you seemed to includesmoking in the things which brought evil--I smoke sometimes. " "So do I--will you have a Russian cigarette?" He took out his case and offered her one, which she accepted. "Will itbring something bad?" "Not more than a glass of wine, " and he opened his lighter and bentnearer to her. "One glass of wine might be good for you, but twenty wouldmake you very drunk and me very quarrelsome!" They laughed softly and lit their cigarettes. "I feel when I am with you that I am enveloped in some strong essence, "and Amaryllis lay back with a satisfied sigh--"as though I were upliftedand awakened--it is very curious because you have such a wicked face, butyou make me feel that I want to be good. " His queer, husky voice took on a new note. "We have met of course in a former life--then probably I tempted you tobreak all vows--it was my fault. So in this life you are to tempt me--itmay be--but my will has developed--I mean to resist. I want to place youas my joy of the spirit this time--something which is pure and beautifulapart from earthly things. " Into Amaryllis' mind there flashed the thought that if she saw him often, her emotions for him might not keep at that high level! Her eyes perhapsexpressed this doubt, for Verisschenzko bent nearer. "Another must fulfil that which must be denied to me. You are too youngto remain free from emotion. Hold yourself until the right time comes. " Amaryllis wondered why he should speak as though it were an understoodthing that she could feel no emotion for John. She resented this. "I have my husband, " she answered with dignity and a sweetlyconventional air. Verisschenzko laughed. "You are delicious when you say things like that--loyal, and English, andproud. But listen, child--it is waste of time to have any dissimulationwith me, we finished all those things when we were lovers in our otherlife. Now we must be frank and learn of each other. Shall it not be so?" Amaryllis felt a number of things. "Yes, you are right, we will always speak the truth. " "You see, " he went on, "if you represent anything you must never injureit; you must destroy yourself if necessary in its service. You representan ideal, the ideal of the perfect wife of the Ardayres. You must fulfilthis rôle. I represent a leader of certain thought in my country. My soulis given to this--I must only indulge in that over which I am master. Indulgences are our recompenses, our rights, when we have obtaineddominion and they have become our slaves; to be enjoyed only when, andfor so long as, our wills permit. When you say a thing is _'plus fort quevous'_--then you had better throw up the sponge--you have lost the fight, and your indulgence will scourge you with a scorpion whip. " "You say this, and yet you are so far from being an ascetic!" "As far as possible, I hope! They are self-acknowledged failures; theydare not permit themselves the smallest indulgence, they are weaklingsafraid to enter the arena at all. To me they are at a stage further backthan the sensualists--what are they accomplishing? They have witherednature, they are things of nought! A man or woman should realise whatplane he or she is living on, and try to live to the highest of the bestof the physical, mental and moral life on that plane, but not try toalter all its workings, and live as though in a different spherealtogether, where another scheme of nature obtained. It is colossalpresumption in human beings to give examples to be followed, which, should they be followed, would end the human race. The Supreme Being willend it in His own time; it is not for us to usurp authority. " "You reason in this in the same way that you did about the smoking. " "Naturally--that is the only form of sensible reasoning. You must keepyour judgment perfectly balanced and never let it be obscured byprejudice, tradition, custom, or anything but the actual common-senseview of the case. " "I think we English like that better than any other quality inpeople--common sense. " Verisschenzko looked away from her to a new stream of guests who had comeout on the terrace--a splendid-looking group of tall young men andexquisite women. "With all your faults you are a great nation, because although theselatter years seem often to have destroyed the sense of duty in theindividual in regard to his own life, the ingrained sense of it hadbecome a habit and the habit still continues in regard to thecommunity--you are not likely to have upheavals of great magnitude here. Now all other countries are moved by different spirits, some bypatriotism and gallantry like the French, some by superstition andignorance worked on by mystic religion, as in my country--some byruthless materialism like Germany; but that dull, solid sense of duty ispurely English--and it is really a glorious thing. " Amaryllis thought how John represented it exactly! "I feel that I want to do my duty, " she said softly, "but. .. " "Continue to feel that and Fate will show you the way. Now I must takeyou back to your husband whom I see in the distance there--he is withHarietta Boleski. I wonder what he thinks of her?" "I have asked him! He says that she is so obvious as to be innocuous, andthat he likes her clothes!" Verisschenzko did not answer, and Amaryllis wondered if he agreedwith John! They had to pass along a corridor to reach the staircase, upon thelanding of which they had seen Sir John and Madame Boleski leaning overthe balustrade, and when they got there they had moved on out of sight, so Verisschenzko, bowing, left Amaryllis with Lady de la Paule. As he retraced his steps later on he saw Sir John Ardayre in earnestconversation with Lemon Bridges, the fashionable rising surgeon of theday. They stood in an alcove, and Verisschenzko's alert intelligence wasstruck by the expression on John Ardayre's face--it was so sad andresigned, as a brave man's who has received death sentence. And as hepassed close to them he heard these words from John: "It is quitehopeless then--I feared so--" He stopped his descent for a moment and looked again--and then asudden illumination came into his yellow-green eyes, and he went ondown the stairs. "There is tragedy here--and how will it affect the Lady of my soul?" He walked out of the House and into Pall Mall, and there by the Rag metDenzil Ardayre! "We seem doomed to have unexpected meetings!" cried that young mandelightedly. "Here I am only up for one night on regimental business, andI run into you!" They walked on together, and Denzil went into the Ritz withVerisschenzko and they smoked in his sitting-room. They talked of manythings for a long time--of the unrest in Europe and the clouds in theSoutheast--of Denzil's political aims--of things in general--and at lastVerisschenzko said: "I have just left your cousin and his wife at the German Embassy; theyhave now gone on to a ball. He makes an indulgent husband--I suppose theaffair is going well?" "Very well between them, I believe. That sickening cad Ferdinand iscirculating rumours--that they can never have any children--but they arefor his own ends. I must arrange to meet them when I come up next time--Ihear that the family are enchanted with Amaryllis--" "She is a thing of flesh and blood and flame--I could love her wildly didI think it were wise. " Denzil glanced sharply at his friend. He had not often known him tohesitate when attracted by a woman-- "What aspect does the unwisdom take?" "Certain absorption--I have other and terribly important things to do. The husband is most worthy--one wonders what the next few years willbring. Their temperaments must be as the poles. "No one seems to think of temperament when he marries, or heredity, oranything, but just desire for the woman--or her money--or somethingquite outside the actual fact. " Denzil lit another cigarette. "Marriageappears a perfect terror to me--how could one know one was going tocontinue to feel emotion towards some one who might prove to be the mostawful physical or mental disappointment on intimate acquaintance? Ibelieve _affaires de convenance_ selected with thought-out reasoning arethe best. " Verisschenzko shrugged his shoulders. "That is not necessary. If the brain is disciplined, it is in a conditionto use its judgment, even when in love, and ought therefore to be able toresist the desire to mate if the woman's character or tendencies areunsuitable, but most men's brains are only disciplined in regard tomental things, and have no real control over their physical desires. Ihave been this morning with Stanislass Boleski--there is a case and awarning. Stanislass was a strong man with a splendid brain and immenseambition, but no dominion over his senses, so that Succubus hascompletely annihilated all force in him. He should have strangled herafter the first _etreinte_ as I should have done, had I felt that shecould ever have any power over me!" Denzil smiled--Stépan was such a mixture of tenderness andcomplete savagery. "I always thought the Russian character was the most headstrong andundisciplined in the world, and took what it desired regardless of costs. But you belie it, old boy!" "I early said to myself on looking at my countrymen--and especially mycountrywomen--these people are half genius, half fool; they have allthe qualities and ruin most of them through being slaves, not mastersto their own desires. If with his qualities a Russian could be balancedand deductive, and rule his vagrant thoughts, to what height could henot attain!" "And you have attained. " "I am on the road, but did not affairs of vital importance occupy me atthe moment I might be capable of ancient excess!" "It is as well for the head of the Ardayre family that you are occupiedthen!" and Denzil smiled, and then he said, his thoughts drifting back towhat interested him most: "You think Europe will be blazing soon, Stépan? I have wondered myself inthe last month if this hectic peace could continue. " "It cannot. I am here upon business with great issues, but I must notspeak of facts, and what I say now is not from my knowledge of currentevents, but from my study of etheric currents which the thoughts andactions of over-civilised generations have engendered. You do not cram ashell with high explosives and leave it among matches with impunity. " The two men looked at one another significantly, and then Denzil said: "I think I will not retire from the old regiment yet--I shall waitanother year. " "Yes--I would if I were you. " They smoked silently for a moment--Verisschenzko's Calmuck face fixed andinscrutable and Denzil's debonnaire English one usually grave. "Some one told me that your friend, Madame Boleski, was having atremendous success in London. I wish I could have got leave, I shouldlike to have seen the whole thing. " "Harietta is enjoying her luck-moment; she is in her zenith. She hasbaffled me as to where she receives her information from--she is capableof betraying both sides to gain some material, and possibly trivial, end. She is worth studying if you do come up, for she is unique. Mostcriminals have some stable point in immorality; Harietta is troubled bynothing fixed, no law of God or man means anything to her, she is onlyruled by her sense of self-preservation. Her career is picturesque. " "Had she ever any children?" Verisschenzko crossed himself. "Heaven forbid! Think of watching Harietta's instincts coming out in achild! Poor Stanislass is at least saved that!" "What a terrible thought that would be to one! But no man thinks of suchthings in selecting a wife!" "You will not marry yet--no?" "Certainly not, there is no necessity that I should. Marriage is only anobligation for the heads of families, not for the younger branches. " "But if Sir John Ardayre has no son, you are--in blood--the nextdirect heir. " "And Ferdinand is the next direct heir-in-law--that makes one sick--" Verisschenzko poured his friend out a whisky and soda and said smiling: "Then let us drink once more to the Ardayre son!" CHAPTER VII Lady de la Paule really felt proud of her niece; the party at Ardayre wasprogressing so perfectly. The guests had all arrived in time for the ballat Bridgeborough Castle on the twenty-third of July and had assisted nextday at the garden party, and then a large dinner at Ardayre, and now onthe last night of their stay Amaryllis' own ball was to take place. All the other big country houses round were filled also, and nothingcould have been gayer or more splendidly done than the whole thing. John Ardayre had been quite enthusiastic about all the arrangements, taking the greatest pride in settling everything which could add lustreto his Amaryllis' success as a hostess. The quantities of servants, the perfectly turned-out motors--thewonderful chef--all had been his doing, and when most of the party hadretired to their rooms for a little rest before dinner on thetwenty-fifth, the evening of the ball, Lady de la Paule and John'sfriend, Lady Avonwier, congratulated him, as he sat with them, the lastladies remaining, under the great copper beech tree on the lawn which leddown to the lake. "Everything has been perfect, has it not, Mabella?" Lady Avonwier said. "I have even been converted about your marvellous Madame Boleski! Iconfess I have avoided her all the season, because we Americans are farmore exclusive than you English people in regard to whom we know of ourown countrywomen, and no one would receive such a person in New York, butshe is so luridly stupid, and such a decoration, that I quite agree youwere right to invite her, John. " "She seems to me charming, " Lady de la Paule confessed. "Not the leastpretension, and her clothes are marvellous. You are abominably severe, Etta. I am quite sure if she wanted to she could succeed in New York. " "Mabella, you simple creature! She just cajoles you all the time--she hasspecialised in cajoling important great ladies! No American would betaken in by her, and we resent it in our country when an outsider likethat barges in. But here, I admit, since she provides us with amusement, I have no objection to accepting her, as I would a new nigger band, andshall certainly send her a card for my fancy ball next week. " John Ardayre chuckled softly. "That sound indicates?"--and Etta Avonwier flashed at him her lovelyclever eyes. John Ardayre did not answer in words, but both women joined in his smile. "Yes, we are worldlings, " Lady Avonwier admitted, "just measuring peopleup for what they can give us, it is the only way though when the wholething is such a rush!" "I am so sorry for the poor husband, " and Lady de la Paule's fat voicewas kindly. "He does look such a wretched, cadaverous thing, with thatblack beard and those melancholy black eyes, and emaciated face. Do youthink she beats him when they are alone?" "Who knows? She is so primitive, she may be capable even of that!" "Her clothes are not primitive, " and John Ardayre lighted a cigarette. "I don't think she really can be such a fool. " "I never suggested that she was a fool at all!" Lady Avonwier wasdecisive. "No one can be a fool who is as tenacious as she is--foolsare vague people, who let things go. She is merely illiterate andstupid as an owl. " "I like your distinction between stupidity and foolishness!" John Ardayreoften argued with Lady Avonwier; they were excellent friends. "A stupid person is often a great rest and arrives--a fool makes onenervous and loses the game. But who is that walking with Amaryllis at theother side of the lake?" John Ardayre looked up, and on over the water to the glory of the beechtrees on the rising slope of the park, and there saw moving at the edgeof them his wife and Verisschenzko, accompanied by two of the greattawny dogs. "Oh! it is the interesting Russian whom we met in Paris, where all thecharming ladies were supposed to be in love with him. He was to have comedown for the whole three days. I suppose these Russian and Austrianrumours detained him, he has only arrived for to-night. " * * * * * And across the lake Amaryllis was saying to Verisschenzko in her softvoice, deep as all the Ardayre voices were deep: "I have brought you here so that you may get the best view of thehouse. I think, indeed, that it is very beautiful from over the water, do not you?" Verisschenzko remained silent for a moment. His face was altered in thislast week; it looked haggard and thinner, and his peculiar eyes wereconcentrated and intense. He took in the perfect picture of this English stately home, with itsHenry VII centre and watch towers, and gabled main buildings, and theQueen Anne added Square--all mellowed and amalgamated into a whole ofexquisite beauty and dignity in the glow of the setting sun. "How proud you should be of such possessions, you English. Theaccumulation of centuries, conserved by freedom from strife. It is nowonder you are so arrogant! You could not be if you had only memories, aswe have, of wooden barracks up to a hundred and fifty years ago, anddrunkenness and orgies, and beating of serfs. This is the picture ourcountry houses call up--any of the older ones which have escaped beingburnt. But here you have traditions of harmony and justice andobligations to the people nobody fulfilled. " And then he took his hat offand looked up into the golden sky: "May nothing happen to hurt England, and may we one day be as free. " A shiver ran through Amaryllis--but something kept her silent; shedivined that her friend's mood did not desire speech from her yet. Hespoke again and earnestly a moment or two afterwards. "Lady of my soul--I am going away to-morrow into a frenzied turmoil. Ihave news from my country, and I must be in the centre of events; we donot know what will come of it all. I come down to-day at great sacrificeof time to bid you farewell. It may be that I shall never see you again, though I think that I shall; but should I not, promise me that you willremain my star unsmirched by the paltriness of the world, promise me thatyou will live up to the ideal of this noble home--that you will developyour brain and your intuition, that you will be forceful and filled withcommon sense. I would like to have moulded your spiritual being, andbrought you to the highest, but it is not for me, perhaps, in thislife--another will come. See that you live worthily. " Amaryllis was deeply moved. "Indeed, I will try. I have seen so little of you, but I feel that I haveknown you always, and--yes--even I feel that it is true what you said, "and she grew rosy with a sweet confusion--"that we were--lovers--I am soignorant and undeveloped, not advanced like you, but when you speak youseem to awaken memories; it is as though a transitory light gleamed indark places, and I receive flashes of understanding, and then it growsobscured again, but I will try to seize and hold it--indeed, I will tryto do as you would wish. " They both looked ahead, straight at the splendid house, and thenAmaryllis looked at Verisschenzko and it seemed as though his face weretransfigured with some inward light. "Strange things are coming, child, the cauldron has boiled over, and wedo not know what the stream may engulf. Think of this evening in the dayswhich will be, and remember my words. " His voice vibrated, but he did not look at her, but always across thelake at the house. "Whenever you are in doubt as to the wisdom of a decision between twocourses--put them to the test of which, if you follow it, will enable youto respect your own soul. Never do that which the inward You despises. " "And if both courses look equally good and it is merely a question ofearthly benefit?" Verisschenzko smiled. "Never be vague. There is an Arab proverb which says: Trust in God buttie up your camel. " The setting sun was throwing its last gleams upon the windows of the hightower. Nothing more beautiful or impressive could have been imagined thanthe scene. The velvet lawn sloping down to the lake, with a group oftrees to the right among which nestled the tiny cruciform ancient church, while in the distance, on all sides, stretched the vast, gloriouslytimbered park. Verisschenzko gazed at the wonder of it, and his yellow-green eyes werewide with the vision it created in his brain. No--this should never go to the bastard Ferdinand, whose life inConstantinople was a disgrace. This record of fine living and achievementof worthy Ardayres should remain the glory of the true blood. He turned and looked at Amaryllis at his side, so slender, and strong, and young--and he said: "It is necessary above all things that you cultivate a steadiness andclearness of judgment, which will enable you to see the great aim in athing, and not be hampered by sentimental jingo and convention, which isa danger when a nature is as good and true, but as undeveloped, as yours. Whatever circumstance should arise in your life, in relation to the trustyou hold for this family and this home, bring the keenest common sense tobear upon the matter, and keep the end, that you must uphold it and passit on resplendent, in view. " Amaryllis felt that he was transmitting some message to her. His eyeswere full of inspiration and seemed to see beyond. What message? She refrained from asking. If he had meant her tounderstand more fully he would have told her plainly. Light would come inits own time. "I promise, " was all she said. They looked at the great tower; the sun had left some of the windows andin one they could see the figure of a woman standing there in some lightdressing-gown. "That is Harietta Boleski, " Verisschenzko remarked, his mood changing, and that penetrating and yet inscrutable expression growing in hisregard. "It is almost too far away to be certain, but I am sure that itis she. Am I right? Is that window in her room?" "Yes--how wonderful of you to be able to recognise her at that distance!" "Of what is she thinking?--if one can call her planning thoughts! Shedoes not gaze at views to appreciate the loveliness of the landscape;figures in the scene are all which could hold her attention--and thosefigures are you and me. " "Why should we interest her?" "There are one or two reasons why we should. I think after all you mustbe very careful of her. I believe if she stays on in England you hadbetter not let the acquaintance increase. " "Very well. " Amaryllis again did not question him; she felt he knew best. "She has been most successful here, and at the Bridgeborough ball sheamused herself with a German officer, and left the other women's menalone. He was brought by the party from Broomgrove and was most_empressé;_ he got introduced to her at once--just after we came in. Iexpect they will bring him to-night. He and she looked such a magnificentpair, dancing a quadrille. It was quite a serious ball to begin with!None of those dances of which you disapprove, and all the Yeomanry woretheir uniforms and the German officer wore his too. " "He was a fine animal, then?" "Yes--but?" "You said _a pair_--only an animal could make a pair with Harietta!Describe him to me. What was he like? And what uniform did he wear?" Amaryllis gave a description, of height, and fairness, and of the blueand gold coat. "He would have been really good-looking, only that to our eyes his hipsare too wide. " "It sounds typically German--there are hundreds such there--some ordinaryPrussian Infantry regiment, I expect. You say he was introduced toHarietta? They were not old friends--no?" "I heard him ask Mrs. Nordenheimer, his hostess, who she was, in hisguttural voice, and Mrs. Nordenheimer came up to me and presented him andasked me to introduce him to my guest. So I did. The Nordenheimers arethose very rich German Jews who bought Broomgrove Park some years ago. Every one receives them now. " "And how did Harietta welcome this partner?" "She looked a little bored, but afterwards they danced several timestogether. " "Ah!"--and that was all Verisschenzko said, but his thoughts ran: "Aninfantry officer--not a large enough capture for Harietta to waste timeon in a public place--when she is here to advance herself. She dancedwith him because _she was obliged to_. I must ascertain who this man is. " Amaryllis saw that he was preoccupied. They walked on now and roundthrough the shrubbery on the left, and so at last to the house again. Amaryllis could not chance being late. Verisschenzko recovered from his abstraction presently and talked ofmany things--of the friendship of the soul, and how it can only thriveafter there has been in some life a physical passionate love and fusionof the bodies. "I want to think that we have reached this stage, Lady mine. My missionon this plane now is so fierce a one, and the work which I must do is soabsorbing, that I must renounce all but transient physical pleasures. ButI must keep some radiant star as my lodestone for spiritual delights, andever since we met and spoke at the Russian Embassy it seems as thoughstep by step links of memory are awakening and comforting me withknowledge of satisfied desire in a former birth, so that now our soulscan rise to rarer things. I can even see another in the earthly relationwhich once was mine, without jealousy. Child, do you feel this too?" "I do not know quite what I feel, " and Amaryllis looked down, "but I willtry to show you that I am learning to master my emotions, by thinkingonly of sympathy between our spirits. " "It is well--" Then they reached the house and entered the green drawing-room in theQueen Anne Square, by one of the wide open windows, and there Amaryllisheld out her two slim hands to Verisschenzko. "Think of me sometimes, even amidst your turmoil, " she whispered, "and Ishall feel your ambience uplifting my spirit and my will. " "Lady of my Soul!" he cried, exalted once more, and he bent as though tokiss her hands, but straightened himself and threw them gently from him. "No! I will resist all temptations! Now you must dress and dine, anddance, and do your duty--and later we will say farewell. " Harietta Boleski stamped across her charming chintz chamber in the greattower. She was like an angry wolf in the Zoo, she burst with rage. Verisschenzko had never walked by lakes with her, nor bent over with thatair of devotion. "He loves that hateful bit of bread and butter! But I shall crush heryet--and Ferdinand Ardayre will help me!" Then she rang her bell violently for Marie, while she kicked asideFou-Chow, who had travelled to England as an adjunct to her beauty, concealed in a cloak. His minute body quivered with pain and fear, and helooked up at her reproachfully with his round Chinese idol's eyes, thenhe hid under a chair, where Marie found him trembling presently andcarried him surreptitiously to her room. "My angel, " she told him as they went along the passage, "that she-devilwill kill thee one day, unless happily I can place thee in safety first. But if she does, then I will murder for myself! What has caused her furytonight, some one has spoilt her game. " In the oak-panelled smoking room, deserted by all but these two, Verisschenzko spoke to Stanislass, hastily, and in his own tongue. "The news is of vital importance, Stanislass. You must return with me toLondon; of all things you must show energy now and hold your mentogether. I leave in the morning. You hesitate!--impossible!--Hariettakeeps you! Bah!--then I wash my hands of you and Poland. Weakling! tolet a woman rule you. Well; if you choose thus, you can go by yourselfto hell. I have done with you. " And he strode from the room, lookingmore Calmuck and savage than ever in his just wrath. And when he hadgone the second husband of Harietta leant forward and buried his head inhis hands. * * * * * The picture Gallery made a brilliant setting for that gallant company! Acollection of England's best, dancing their hardest to a stirring band, which sang when the tune of some popular Révue chorus came in. "The Song of the Swan, " Verisschenzko thought as he observed it all inthe last few minutes before midnight. He must go away soon. A messengerhad arrived in hot haste from London, motoring beyond the speed limit, and as soon as his servant had packed his things he must return and notwait for the morning. All relations between Austria and Servia had beenbroken off, the conflagration had begun, and no time must be wastedfurther. He must be in Russia as soon as it was possible to get there. Heblamed himself for coming down. "And yet it was as well, " he reflected, because he had become awakened inregard to possible double dealing in Harietta. But where were his hostand hostess--he must bid them farewell. John Ardayre was valsing with Lady Avonwier and Harietta Boleskiundulated in the arms of the tall German who had come with the party fromBroomgrove--but Amaryllis for the moment was absent from the room. "If I could only know who the beast is before I go, and where she has methim previously!" Verisschenzko's thoughts ran. "It is more than evernecessary that I master her--and there is so little time. " He waited for a few seconds, the dance was almost done, and when thelast notes of music ceased and the throng of people swept towards him, hefixed Harietta with his eye. Her evening so far had not been agreeable. She had not been able to havea word with Stépan, who had been far from her at the banquet before theball. She was torn with jealousy of Amaryllis; and the advent of Hans, when she would have wished to have been free to re-grab Verisschenzko, was most unfortunate. It had not been altogether pleasant, his turning upat Bridgeborough, but at any rate that one evening was quite enough! Shereally could not be wearied with him more! His new instructions to her from the higher command were most annoyinglydifficult too--coming at a time when her whole mind was given toconsolidating her position in England, --it was really too bad! If only the tiresome bothers of these stupid old quarrelsome countriesdid not upset matters, she just meant to make Stanislass shut up his uglyold Polish home, and settle in some splendid country house like this, only nearer London. Now that she had seen what life was in England, sheknew that this was her goal. No bothersome old other language to belearned! Besides, no men were so good-looking as the English, or madesuch safe and prudent lovers, because they did not boast. If anyinformation she had been able to collect for Hans in the last year hadhelped his Ober-Lords to stir up trouble, she was almost sorry she hadgiven it--unless indeed, ructions between those ridiculous southerncountries made it so that she could remain in England, then it was a goodthing. And Hans had assured her that England could not be dragged in. Then she laughed to herself as she always did if Hans coerced her--whenshe recollected how she had given his secrets away to Verisschenzko andthat no matter how he seemed to compel her obedience, she was even withhim underneath! She looked now at the Russian standing there, so tall and ugly, andweirdly distinguished, and a wild passionate desire for him overcame her, as primitive as one a savage might have felt. At that moment she almosthated her late husband, for she dared not speak to Verisschenzko withHans there. She must wait until Verisschenzko spoke to her. Hans couldnot prevent that, nor accuse her of disobeying his command. So that itwas with joy that she saw the Russian approach her. She did not know thathe was leaving suddenly, and she was wondering if some meeting could notbe arranged for later on, when Hans would be gone. "Good evening, Madame!" Verisschenzko said suavely. "May I not have thepleasure of a turn with you; it is delightful to meet you again. " Harietta slipped her hand out of Hans' arm and stood still, determined tosecure Stépan at once since the chance had come. Verisschenzko divined her intention and continued, his voice serious withits mock respect: "I wonder if I could persuade you to come with me and find your husband. You know the house and I do not. I have something I want to talk to himabout if you won't think me a great bore taking you from your partner, "and he bowed politely to Hans. Harietta introduced them casually, and then said archly: "I am sure you will excuse me, Captain von Pickelheim. And don't forgetyou have the first one-step after supper!" So Hans was dismissed with aravishing smile. Verisschenzko had watched the German covertly and saw that with all hisforced stolidity an angry gleam had come into his eyes. "They have certainly met before--and he knows me--I must somehow maketime, " then, aloud: "You are looking a dream of beauty to-night, Harietta, " he told her asthey walked across the hall. "Is there not some quiet corner in thegarden where we can be alone for a few minutes. You drive me mad. " Harietta loved to hear this, and in triumph she raised her head and drewhim into one of the sitting-rooms, and so out of the open windows on intothe darkness beyond the limitations of the lawn. Twenty minutes afterwards Verisschenzko entered the house alone, a grimsmile of satisfaction upon his rugged countenance. Jealousy, acting onanimal passion, had been for once as productive of information as a rubyring or brooch--and what a remarkable type Harietta! Could there beanything more elemental on the earth! Meanwhile this lady had gained theball-room by another door, delighted with her adventure, and the thoughtthat she had tricked Hans! "Have you seen our hostess, Madame?" the Russian asked, meeting Lady dela Paule. "I have been looking for her everywhere. Is not this acharming sight?" They stayed and talked for a few minutes, watching the joyous company ofdancers, among whom Amaryllis could now be seen. Verisschenzko wished tosay farewell to her when the one-step should be done. They would all begoing into supper, and then would be his chance. He could not delaylonger--he must be gone. He was paying little attention to what Lady de la Paule was saying--herfat voice prattled on: "I hope these tiresome little quarrels of the Balkan peoples will settlethemselves. If Austria should go to war with Servia, it may upset myCarlsbad cure. " Then he laughed out suddenly, but instantly checked himself. "That would be too unfortunate, Madame, we must not anticipate suchpreposterous happenings!" And as he walked forward to meet Amaryllis his face was set: "Half the civilised world thinks thus of things. The sinister events inthe Balkans convey no suggestions of danger, and only matter in thatthey could upset a Carlsbad cure! Alas! how sound asleep these splendidpeople are!" He met Amaryllis and briefly told her that he must go. She left herpartner and came with him to the foot of the staircase, which ledto his room. "Good-bye, and God keep you, " she said feelingly, but she noticed that hedid not even offer to take her hand. "All blessings, my Star, " and his voice was hoarse, then he turnedabruptly and went on up the stairs. But when he reached the landing abovehe paused, and looked down at her, moving away among the throng. "Sweet Lady of my Soul, " he whispered softly. "After Harietta I could notsoil--even thy glove!" CHAPTER VIII Events moved rapidly. Of what use to write of those restless, feverishdays before the 4th of August, 1914? They are too well known to all theworld. John, as ever, did his duty, and at once put his name down foractive service, cajoled a medical board which would otherwise probablyhave condemned him and trained with the North Somerset Yeomanry inanticipation of being soon sent to France. But before all this happened, the night War was declared; he remained in his own sitting-room atArdayre, and Amaryllis wondered, and towards dawn crept out of bed andlistened in the passage, but no sound came from within the room. How very unsatisfactory this strange reserve between them was becoming!Would she never be able to surmount it? Must they go on to the end oftheir lives, living like two polite friendly acquaintances, neithersharing the other's thoughts? She hardly realised that the War couldpersonally concern John. The Yeomanry, she imagined, were only for homedefence, so at this stage no anxiety troubled her about her husband. The next day he seemed frightfully preoccupied, and then he talked to herseriously of their home and its traditions, and how she must love it andunderstand its meaning. He spoke too of his great wish for a child--andAmaryllis wondered at the tone almost of anguish in his voice. "If only we had a son, Amaryllis, I would not care what came to me. Atrue Ardayre to carry on! The thought of Ferdinand here after me drivesme perfectly mad!" Amaryllis knew not what to answer. She looked down and clasped her hands. John came quite close and gazed into her face, as if therein some comfortcould be found; then he folded her in his arms. "Oh! Amaryllis!" he said, and that was all. "What is it? Oh! what does everything mean?" the poor child cried. "Why, why can't we have a son like other people of our age?" John kissed her again. "It shall be--it must be so, " he answered--and framed her face inhis hands. "Amaryllis--I know you have often wondered whether I really loved you. You have found me a stupid, unsatisfactory sort of husband--indeed, I ambut a dull companion at the best of times. Well, I want you to know thatI do--and I am going to try to change, dear little girl. If I knew that Iheld some corner of your heart it would comfort me. " "Of course, you do, John. Alas! if you would only unbend and be loving tome, how happy we could be. " He kissed her once more. "I will try. " That afternoon he went up to London to his medical board, and Amarylliswas to join him in Brook Street on the following day. She was stunned like every one else. War seemed a nightmare--anunreality--she had not grasped its meaning as yet. She thought ofVerisschenzko and his words. What was her duty? Surely at a great crisislike this she must have some duty to do? The library in Brook Street was a comfortable room and was always theirgeneral sitting-room; its windows looked out on the street. That evening when John Ardayre arrived he paced up and down it forhalf an hour. He was very pale and lines of thought were stampedupon his brow. He had come to a decision; there only remained the details of a course ofaction to be arranged. He went to the telephone and called up the Cavalry Club. Yes, CaptainArdayre was in, and presently Denzil's voice said surprisedly: "Hullo!" "I heard by chance that you were in town. I suppose your regiment will begoing out at once. It is your cousin, John Ardayre, speaking, we have notmet since you were a boy. I have something rather vital I want to say toyou. Could you possibly come round?" The two voices were so alike in tone it was quite remarkable, each wasaware of it as he listened to the other. "Where are you, and what is the time?". "I am in our house in Brook Street, number 102, and it is nearly seven. Could you manage to come now?" There was a second or two's pause, then Denzil said: "All right. I will get into a taxi and be with you in about fiveminutes, " and he put the receiver down. John Ardayre grew paler still, and sank into a chair. His hands weretrembling, this sign of weakness angered him and he got up and rangthe bell and ordered his valet who had come up with him, to bring himsome brandy. Murcheson was an old and valued servant, and he looked at his master withconcern, but he knew him too to make any remark. If there was any one inthe world beyond the great surgeon, Lemon Bridges, who could understandthe preoccupations of John Ardayre, Murcheson was the man. He brought the old Cognac immediately and retired from the room amoment or two before Denzil arrived. Very little trace of emotionremained upon the face of the head of the family when his cousin wasshown in, and he came forward cordially to meet him. Standing oppositeone another, they might have been brothers, not cousins, theresemblance was so strong! Denzil was perhaps fairer, but their headswere both small and their limbs had the same long lines. But where asJohn Ardayre suggested undemonstrative stolidity, every atom of theyounger man was vitally alive. His eyes were bluer, his hair more bronze, and exuberant perfect healthglowed in his tanned fresh skin. Both their voices were peculiarly deep, with the pronunciation of thewords especially refined. John Ardayre said some civil things withcomposure, and Denzil replied in kind, explaining how he had beenmost anxious to meet John and Amaryllis and heal the breach thefathers had made. John offered him a cigar, and finally the atmosphere seemed to beunfrozen as they smoked. But in Denzil's mind there was speculation. Itwas not for just this that he had been asked to come round. John began to speak presently with a note of deep seriousness in hisvoice. He talked of the war and of his Yeomanry's going out, and ofDenzil's regiment also. It was quite on the cards that they might both bekilled--then he spoke of Ferdinand, and the old story of the shame, andhe told Denzil of his boyhood and its great trials, and of hisdetermination to redeem the family home and of the great luck which hadbefallen him in the city after the South African War--and how that thethought of worthily handing on the inheritance in the direct male linehad become the dominating desire of his life. At first his manner had been very restrained, but gradually the intensefeeling which was vibrating in him made itself known, and Denzil grewto realise how profound was his love for Ardayre and how great hisfamily pride. But underneath all this some absolute agony must be wringing his soul. Denzil became increasingly interested. At last John seemed to have come to a very difficult part of hisnarration; he got up from his chair and walked rapidly up and down theroom, then forced himself to sit down again and resume his original calm. "I am going to trust you, Denzil, with something which matters far morethan my life. " John looked Denzil straight in the eyes. "And I willconfide in you because you are next in the direct line. Listen verycarefully, please, it concerns your honour in the family as well as mine. It would be too infamous to let Ardayre go to the bastard, Ferdinand, thesnake-charmer's son, if, as is quite possible, I shall be killed in thecoming time. " Denzil felt some strange excitement permeating him. What did these wordsportend? Beads of perspiration appeared on John's forehead, and his voicesunk so low that his cousin bent forward to be certain of hearing him. Then John spoke in broken sentences, for the first time in his lifeletting another share the thoughts which tortured him, but the time wasnot for reticence. Denzil must understand everything so that he wouldconsent to a certain plan. At length, all that was in John's heart hadbeen made plain, and exhausted with the effort of his innermost being'sunburdenment, he sank back in his chair, deadly pale. The quiet, waitingattitude in Denzil had given way to keenness, and more than once as helistened to the moving narration he had emitted words of sympathy andconcern, but when the actual plan which John had evolved was unfolded tohim, and the part he was to play explained, he rose from his chair andstood leaning on the high mantelpiece, an expression of excitement andillumination on his strong, good-looking face. "Do not say anything for a little, " John said. "Think over everythingquietly. I am not asking you to do anything dishonourable--and howevermuch I had hated his mother I would not ask this of you if Ferdinand weremy father's son. You are the next real heir--Ferdinand could not be; myfather had never met the woman until a month before he married her, andthe baby arrived five months afterwards, at its full time. There was noquestion of incubators or difficulties and special precautions to rearhim, nor was there any suggestion that he was a seven months' child. Itwas only after years that I found out when my father first saw the woman, but even before this proof there were many and convincing evidences thatFerdinand was no Ardayre. " "One has only to look at the beast!" cried Denzil. "If the mother was aBulgarian, he's a mongrel Turk, there is not a trace of English blood inhis body!" "Then surely you agree with me that it would be an infamy if he shouldtake the place of the head of the family, should I not survive?" Denzil clenched his hands. "There is no moral question attached, remember, " John went on anxiouslybefore he could reply. "There is only the question of the law, which hasbeen tricked and defamed by my father, for the meanest ends of revengetowards me--and now we--you and I--have the right to save the family andits honour and circumvent the perfidy and weakness of that one man. Oh!--can't you understand what this means to me, since for this trust ofArdayre that I feel I must faithfully carry on, I am willing to--Oh!--myGod, I can't say it. Denzil, answer me--tell me that you look at it inthe same way as I do! You are of the family. It is your blood whichFerdinand would depose--the disgrace would be yours then, since ifFerdinand reigned I would have gone. " The two men were standing opposite one another, and both their faces werepale and stern, but Denzil's blue eyes were blazing with some wonderfulnew emotion, as they looked at John. "Very well, " he said, and held out his hand. "I appreciate the tremendousfaith you have placed in me, and on my word of honour as an Ardayre, Iwill not abuse it, nor take advantage of it afterwards. My regiment willgo out at once, I suppose, the chances are as likely that I shall bekilled as you--" They shook hands silently. "We must lose no time. " Then John poured out two glasses of brandy, and the toast they drank wasunspoken. But suddenly Denzil remembered as a strange coincidence that hewas drinking it for the third time. * * * * * Amaryllis arrived from Ardayre the next afternoon, after John's medicalboard had been squared into pronouncing him fit for active service--andhe met his wife at the station and was particularly solicitous of herwell-being. He seemed to be unusually glad to see her, and put his armround her in the motor driving to Brook Street. What would she like todo? They could not, of course, go to the theatre, but if she would ratherthey could go out to a restaurant to dine--there were going to be allkinds of difficulties about food. Amaryllis, who responded immediately tothe smallest advance on his part, glowed now with fond sweetness. She hadbeen so miserable without him; so crushed and upset by the thought ofwar, and his possible participation in it. All the long night, alone atArdayre, she had tried to realise what it all would mean. It was toostupendous, she could not grasp it as yet, it was just a blank horror. And now to be in the motor and close to him, and everything ordinary andas usual seemed to drive the hideous fact further and further away. Shewould not face it for to-night, she would try to be happy and banish theremembrance. No one knew what was happening, nor if the ExpeditionaryForce had or had not crossed to France. John asked her again what shewould like to do. She did not want to go out at all, she told him; if the kitchenmaid andMurcheson could find them something to eat she would much rather dinealone with him, like a regular old Darby and Joan pair--and afterwardsshe would play nice things to him, and John agreed. When she came down ready for dinner, she was radiant; she had put on anew and ravishing tea-gown and her grey eyes were shining with a winsomechallenge, and her beautiful skin was brilliant with health andfreshness. A man could not have desired a more delectable creature tocall his own. John thought so and at dinner expanded and told her so. He was not apractised lover; women had played a very small part in his life--alwaystoo filled with work and the one dominating idea to make room for them. He had none of the tender graciousness ready at his command whichDenzil would very well have known how to show. But he loved Amaryllis, and this was the first time he had permitted the expression of hisemotion to appear. She became ever more fascinating, and at length unconscious passion grewin her glance. John said some rather clumsy but loving things, and whenthey went back to the library he slipped his arm round her, and drew herto his side. "I love to be near you, John, " she whispered; "I like your being so talland so distinguished-looking. I like your clothes--they are so wellmade--" and then she wrinkled her pretty nose--"and I adore the smell ofthe stuff you put on your hair! Oh! I don't know--I just want to be inyour arms!" John kissed her. "I must give you a bottle of that lotion--it is supposedto do wonders for the hair. It was originally made by an old housekeeperof my mother's family in the still room, and I have always kept thereceipt--there are cloves in it and some other aromatic herbs. " "Yes, that is what I smell, like a clove carnation--it is divine. Iwonder why scents have such an effect upon one--don't you? Perhaps I am avery sensuous creature--they can make me feel wicked or good--somescents make me deliciously intoxicated--that one of yours does--when Iget near you--I want you to hold me and kiss me--John. " Every fibre of John Ardayre's being quivered with pain. The cruel, ironical bitterness of things. "I've never smelt this same scent on any one else, " she went on, rubbingher soft cheek up and down against his shoulder in the most alluring way. "I should know it anywhere for it means just my dear--John!" He turned away on the pretence of getting a cigarette; he knew that hiseyes had filled with tears. Then Murcheson came into the room with the coffee, and this made abreak--and he immediately asked her to play to him, and settledhimself in one of the big chairs. He was too much on the rack tocontinue any more love-making then; "what might have been" caused toopoignant anguish. He watched her delicate profile outlined against the curtain of greensilk. It was so pure and young--and her long throat was white as milk. Ifthis time next year she should have a child--a son--and he, not killed, but sitting there perhaps watching her holding it. How would he feelthen? Would the certainty of having an Ardayre carry on heal the wildrebellion in his soul? "Ah, God!" he prayed, "take away all feeling--reward this sacrifice--letthe family go on. " "You don't think you will have really to go to the war, do you, John?"Amaryllis asked after she left the piano. "It will be all over, won't it, before the New Year, and in any case the Yeomanry are only for homedefence, aren't they?" and she took a low seat and rested her headagainst his arm. John stroked her hair. "I am afraid it will not be over for a long time, Amaryllis. Yes, Ithink we shall go out and pretty soon. You would not wish to stopme, child?" Amaryllis looked straight in front of her. "What is this thing in us, John, which makes us feel that--yes, wewould give our nearest and dearest, even if they must be killed? Whenthe big thing comes even into the lives which have been perhaps allfrivolous like mine--it seems to make a great light. There is anexaltation, and a pity, and a glory, and a grief, but no holding back. Is that patriotism, John?" "That is one name for it, darling. " "But it is really beyond that in this war, because we are not going tofight for England, but for right. I think that feeling that we must giveis some oblation of the soul which has freed itself from the chains ofthe body at last. For so many years we have all been asleep. " "This is a rude awakening. " They were silent for a little while, each busy with unusual thoughts. There was a sense of nearness between them--of understanding, new anddangerously sweet. Amaryllis felt it deliciously, sensuously, and took joy in that she wastouching him. John thrust it away. "I must get through to-night, " he thought, "but I cannot if this hideouspain of knowledge of what I must renounce conquers me--I must be strong. " He went on stroking her hair; it made her thrill and she turned and bitone of his fingers playfully with a wicked little laugh. "I wish I knew what I am feeling, John, " she whispered, and her eyes wereaflame, "I wish I knew--" "I must teach you!" and with sudden fierceness he bent down andkissed her lips. Then he told her to go to bed. "You must be tired, Amaryllis, after your journey. Go like a good child. " She pouted. She was all vibrating with some totally new and overmasteringemotion. She wanted to stay and be made love to. She wanted--she knew notwhat, only everything in her was thrilling with passionate warmth. "Must I? It is only ten. " "I have a frightful lot of business things to write tonight, Amaryllis. Go now and sleep, and I will come and wake you about twelve!" He lookedlover-like. She sighed. "Ah! if you would only come now!" He kissed her almost roughly again and led her to the door. And he stoodwatching her with burning eyes as she went up the stairs. Then he came back and rang the bell. "I shall be very late, Murcheson--do not sit up, I will turn out thelights. Good-night. " "Very good, Sir John. " And the valet left the room. But John Ardayre did not write any business letters; he sank back intohis great leather chair--his lips were trembling, and presently sobsshook him, and he leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. Just before twelve had struck, he went out into the hall, and turned offthe light at the main. The whole house would now be in absolute darknessbut for an electric torch he carried. He listened--there was not a sound. Then he crept quietly up to his dressing room and returned with a bottleof the clove-scented hair lotion. "What a mercy she spoke of it, " his thoughts ran. "How sensitive womenare--I should never have remembered such a thing. " Yes--now there was a sound. * * * * * Midnight had struck--and Amaryllis, sleeping peacefully, had beendreaming of John. "Oh! dearest, " she whispered drowsily, as but half awakened, she feltherself being drawn into a pair of strong arms--"Oh!--you know I lovethat scent of cloves--Oh!--I love you, John!" CHAPTER IX When Amaryllis awoke in the morning her head rested on John's breast, andhis arm encircled her. She raised herself on her elbow and looked at him. He was still asleep--and his face was infinitely sad. She bent over andkissed him with shy tenderness, but he did not move, he only sighedheavily as he lay there. Why should he look so sad, when they were so happy? She thought of loving things he had said to her at dinner--and then theafterwards!--and she thrilled with emotion. Life seemed a glorious thingand--But John was sad, of course, because he must go away. Therecollection of this fact came upon her suddenly like a blast of coldair. They must part. War hung there with its hideous shadow, and Johnmust be conscious of it even in his dreams, that was why he sighed. The irony of things--now--when--Oh! how cruel that he must go. Then John awoke with a shudder, and saw her there leaning over him with anew soft love light in her eyes, and he realised that the anguish of hiscalvary had only just begun. She was perfectly exquisite at breakfast, a fresh and tender graciousnessradiated in her every glance; she was subtle and captivating, teasing himthat he had been so silent in the night. "Why wouldn't you talk to me, John? But it was all divine, I did not mind. " Then she became full ofwinsome ways and caresses, which she had hitherto been too timid toexpress; and every fond word she spoke stabbed John's heart. Could she not come and stay somewhere near so as to be with him while hewas in training? It was unbearable to remain alone. But he told her that this would be impossible and that she must go backto Ardayre. "I will get leave, if there is a chance, dear little girl. " "Oh! John, you must indeed. " After he had gone out to the War Office, she sang as she undid a bundleof late roses he had sent her from Soloman's, on his way. She must herself put them in water; no servant should have this pleasingtask. Was it the thought of the imminence of separation which had alteredJohn into so dear a lover? She went over his words there in the library. She relived the joy of his sudden fierce kiss, when he had said that hemust teach her as to what her emotions meant. Ah! how good to learn, how all glorious was life and love! "Sweetheart, " the word rang in her ears. He had never called her thatbefore! Indeed, John rarely ever used any term of endearment, and nevergot beyond "Dear" or "Darling" before. But now it was an exquisiteremembrance! Just the murmured word "Sweetheart!" whispered softly againand again in the night. John came back to lunch, but two of the de la Paule family dropped inalso, and the talk was all of war, and the difficulty of getting money atthe banks, and how food would go on, and what the whole thing would mean. But over Amaryllis some spell had fallen--nothing seemed a reality, shecould not attend to ordinary things, she felt that she but moved andspoke as one still in a dream. The world, and life, and death, and love, were all a blended mysterywhich was but beginning to unravel for her and drew her nearer to John. The days went on apace. John in camp thanked God for the strenuous work of his training that itkept him so occupied that he had barely time to think of Amaryllis or thetragedy of things. When he had left her on the following afternoon, theseventh of August, she had returned to Ardayre alone and began theknitting and shirt-making and amateurish hospital committees which allwell-meaning English women vaguely grasped at before the sternnecessities brought them organised work to do. Amaryllis wrote constantlyto John--all through August--and many of the letters contained lovingallusions which made him wince with pain. Then the awful news came of Mons, then the Marne--and the Aisne--awfuland glorious, and a hush and mourning fell over the land, and Amaryllis, like every one else, lost interest in all personal things for a time. A young cousin had been killed and many of her season's partners andfriends, and now she knew that the North Somerset Yeomanry would shortlygo out and fight as they had volunteered at once. She was verymiserable. But when September grew, in spite of all this general sorrow, a new horizon presented itself, lit up as if by approaching dawn, for ahope had gradually developed--a hope which would mean the rejoicing ofJohn's heart. And the day when first this possibility of future fulfilment waspronounced a certainty was one of almost exalted beatitude, and whenDoctor Geddis drove away down the Northern Avenue, Amaryllis seized acoat from the folded pile of John's in the hall, and walked out into thepark hatless, the wind blowing the curly tendrils of her soft brown hair, a radiance not of earth in her eyes. The late September sun was sinkingand gilding the windows of the noble house, and she turned and lookedback at it when she was far across the lake. And the whole of her spirit rose in thankfulness to God, while her soulsang a glad magnificat. She, too, might hand on this great and splendid inheritance! She, too, would be the mother of Ardayres! And now to write to John! That was a fresh pleasure! What would he say? What would he feel? DearJohn! His letters had been calm and matter of fact, but that was his way. She did not mind it now. He loved her, and what did words matter withthis glorious knowledge in her heart? To have a baby! Her very own--and John's! How wonderful! How utterly divine--! Her little feet hardly touched the moss beneath them, she wanted toskip and sing. Next May! Next May! A Spring flower--a little life to care for whenwar, of course, would have ended and all the world again could be happyand young! And then she returned by the tiny ancient church. She had the key of it, a golden one which John had given her on their first coming down. It hungon her bracelet with her own private key. The sun was pouring through the western window, carpeting the altar stepsin translucent cloth of gold. Amaryllis stole up the short aisle, and paused when she came between thetwo tall canopied tombs of recumbent sixteenth century knights, whichmade so dignified a screen for the little side aisles--and then she movedon and knelt in the shaft of the sunlight there at the carved rails. And no one ever raised to God a purer or more fervent prayer. She stayed until the sun sunk below the window, and then she rose andwent back to the house, and up to her cedar room. And now she mustwrite to John! She began--once--twice--but tore up each sheet. Her news was a supremehappiness, but so difficult to transmit! At last she finished three sides of her own rather large sizednote-paper, but as she read over what she had written, she was not quitecontent; it did not express all that she desired John to know. But how could a mere letter convey the wordless gladness in her heart? She wanted to tell him how she would worship their baby, and how shewould pray that they should be given a son--and how she would rememberall his love words spoken that last time they were together, and weavethe joy of them round the little form, so that it should grow strong andbeautiful and radiant, and come to earth welcomed and blessed! Something of all this finally did get written, and she concluded thus: "John, is it not all wonderful and blissful and mysterious, this comingproof of our love? And when I lie awake I say over and over again thesweet name you called me, and which I want to sign! I am not justAmaryllis any longer, but your very own 'Sweetheart'!" John received this letter by the afternoon post in camp. He sat downalone in his tent and read and re-read each line. Then he stiffened andremained icily still. He could not have analysed his emotions. They were so intermixed withthankfulness and pain--and underneath there was a fierce, primitivejealousy burning. "Sweetheart!" he said aloud, as though the word were anathema! "And mustI call her that 'Sweetheart'! Oh! God, it is too hard!" and he clenchedhis hands. By the same post came a letter from Denzil, of whose movements he hadasked to be kept informed, saying that the 110th Hussars were going outat once, so that they would probably soon meet in France. Then John wrote to Amaryllis. The very force of his feelings seemed tofreeze his power of expression, and when he had finished he knew that itwas but a cold, lifeless thing he had produced, quite inadequate as ananswer to her tender, exalted words. "My poor little girl, " he sighed as he read it. "I know this willdisappoint her. What a hideous, sickening mockery everything is. " He forced himself to add a postscript, a practice very foreignto his usual methodical rule. "Never forget that I love you, Amaryllis--Sweetheart!" he said. And then he went to his Colonel and asked for two days' leave, and whenit was granted for the following Saturday and Monday he wired to his wifeasking her to meet him in Brook Street. "I must see her--I cannot bear it, " he cried to himself. And late at night he wrote to Denzil--it was just that he should do this. "My wife is going to have a baby--if only it should be a son, then itwill not so much matter if both of us are killed, at least the familywill be saved, and be able to carry oh. " He tried to make the letter cordial. Denzil had behaved with the mostperfect delicacy throughout, he must admit, and although they had metonce and exchanged several letters, not the faintest allusion to thesubject of their talk in the library at Brook Street had ever beenmade by him. Denzil had indeed acted and written as though such knowledge betweenthem did not exist. He--Denzil--in these last seven weeks had beenextremely occupied, and while his forces were concentrated upon theexhilarating preparations for war, it would happen in rare momentsbefore sleep claimed him at night that he would let his thoughts conjurea waking dream, infinitely, mystically sweet. And every pulse wouldthrill with ecstasy, and then his will would banish it, and he wouldthink of other subjects. He could not face the marvel of his emotions at this period, nor dwellupon the romantically exciting aspect of some things. He was up in London upon equipment business on the very Saturday thatJohn got leave, and he was due to dine at the Carlton with Verisschenzkowho had that day arrived on vital matters bent. As they came into the hall, a man stopped to talk to the Russian, andDenzil's eyes wandered over the unnumerous and depressed looking companycollected waiting for their parties to arrive. War had even in thoseearly Autumn days set its grim seal upon this festive spot. People lookedrather ashamed of being seen and no one smiled. He nodded to one or twofriends, and then his glance fell upon a beautiful, slim, brown-hairedgirl, sitting quietly waiting in an armchair by the restaurant steps. She wore a plain black frock, but in her belt one huge crimson clovecarnation was unostentatiously tucked. "What a lovely creature!" his thoughts ran, and Verisschenzkoturning from his acquaintance that moment, he said to him as theystarted to advance: "Stépan, if you want to see something typically English and perfectlyexquisite, look at that girl in the armchair opposite where the band usedto be. I wonder who she is?" "What luck!" cried Verisschenzko. "That is your cousin, AmaryllisArdayre--come along!" And in a second Denzil found himself being introduced to her, and beinggreeted by her with interested cordiality, as befitted their cousinlyrelationship. But Verisschenzko, whose eyes missed nothing, remarked that under hissunburn, Denzil had grown suddenly very pale. Amaryllis was enchanted tosee her friend, the Russian. John had gone to the telephone, itappeared--and yes, they were dining alone--and, of course, she was sureJohn would love to amalgamate parties, it was so nice of Verisschenzko tothink of it! There was John now. The blood rushed back to Denzil's heart, and the colour to his face--hehad only murmured a few conventional words. Mercifully John would decidethe matter--it was not his doing that he and Amaryllis had met. John caught sight of the three as he came along the balcony from thetelephone, so that he had time to take in the situation; he saw that themeeting was quite _imprévu_, and he had, of course, no choice but toaccept Verisschenzko's suggestion with a show of grace. At that verymoment, before they could enter the restaurant, and re-arrange theirtables, Harietta Boleski and her husband swept upon them--they werestaying in the hotel. Harietta was enraptured. What a delightful surprise meeting them! Were they all just together, would they not dine with her? She purred to John, while her eyes took in with satisfaction Denzil'sextraordinary good looks--and there was Stépan, too! Nothing could bemore agreeable than to scintillate for them both. John hailed their advent with relief: it would relax the intolerablestrain which both he and Denzil would be bound to have to experience. Solooking at the rest of the party, he indicated that he thought they wouldaccept. It suited Verisschenzko also for his own reasons. And anysuggestion to enlarge the intimate number of four would have beenreceived by Denzil with graciousness. He had not imagined that he would feel such profound emotion on seeingAmaryllis, the intensity of it caused him displeasure. It was altogethersuch a remarkable situation. He knew that it would have been of thrillinginterest to him had it not been for the presence of John. His knowledgeof what John must be suffering, and the knowledge that John was aware ofwhat he also must be feeling, turned the whole circumstance intodiscomfort. As soon as he recalled himself to Madame Boleski they all went into therestaurant to the Boleski table, just inside the door, by the window onthe right. Harietta put John on one side of her and Denzil at the other, and beyond were Verisschenzko and her husband, with Amaryllis between, who thus sat nearly opposite Denzil, with her back to the room. Harietta, when she desired to be, was always an inspiriting hostess, making things go. She intended to do her best to-night. The turn affairshad taken, England being at war, was quite too tiresome. It had spoiltall her country house visits and nullified much of the pleasure andprofit she was intending to reap from her now secured position in thispromised land. Stanislass, too, had been difficult, he had threatened to go back toPoland immediately, which he explained was his obvious duty to do--butshe had fortunately been able to crush that idea completely with tearsand scenes. Then he suggested Paris, but information from Hans gave heroccasion to think this might not be a comfortable or indeed quite a safespot, and in all cases if the Frenchmen were fighting for dear life theywould not have leisure to entertain her, therefore, dull and gloomy asEngland had become, she preferred to remain. Hans, too, had given her orders. For the present London must be her home, and the lease of the Mount Lennard house in Grosvenor Square havingexpired, they had moved to the Carlton Hotel. The misery of war, the holocaust of all that was noblest, left herabsolutely cold. It was certainly a pity that those darling youngguardsmen she had danced with should have had to be killed, but there wasnever any use in crying over spilt milk--better look out for new onescoming on. She was quite indifferent as to which country won. It wasstill a great bother collecting information for her former husband, buthe threatened terrible reprisals if she refused to go on, and as in hersecret heart she thought that there was no doubt as to who would bevictor, she felt it might be wiser to remain on good terms with the powershe believed would win! Ferdinand Ardayre had been very helpful all the summer--he had moved fromthe Constantinople branch of his business to one in Holland and had justreturned to England now; he was, in fact, coming to see her later on whenshe should have packed Stanislass safely off to the St. James' Club. Harietta had no imagination to be inflamed by terrible descriptions ofthings. She saw no actual horrors, therefore war to her was only anuisance--nothing ghastly or to be feared. But it was a disgustingnuisance and caused her fatigue. She had continually to remember tosimulate proper sympathy, and concern and to subdue her vivacity, andshow enthusiasm for any agreeable war work which could divert her dulldays. If she had not been more than doubtful of her reception in America, even as a Polish magnate's wife, she would have gone over there to escapeas far as possible from the whole situation, and she had been bored todeath now for several days. People were too occupied and too grieved togo out of their way now to make much of her, and she had been left aloneto brood. Thus the advent of Verisschenzko, who thrilled her always, anda possible new admirer in Denzil, seemed a heaven-sent occurrence. Amaryllis and John were undesired but unavoidable appendages who had tobe swallowed. Denzil's type particularly attracted her. There was an insouciance abouthim, a _débonnair sans gêne_ which increased the charm of his good looks;he had everything of attraction about him which John Ardayre lacked. Amaryllis, against her will, before the end of the dinner, was consciousof the fact also, though Denzil studiously avoided any conversation withher beyond what the exigencies of politeness required. He devoted himselfentirely to Harietta, to her delight, and Verisschenzko and Amaryllistalked while John was left to Stanislass. But the very fact of Denzil'slikeness to John made Amaryllis look at him, and she resented hisattraction and the interest he aroused in her. His voice was perhaps even deeper than John's, and how extraordinarilywell his bronze hair was planted on his forehead; and how perfectlygroomed and brushed and soldierly he looked! He seemingly had taken the measure of Madame Boleski, too, and wasapparently enjoying with a cultivated subtlety the drawing of her out. Hewas no novice it seemed, and there was a whimsical light in his eyes andonce or twice they had inadvertently met hers with understanding whenVerisschenzko had made some especially cryptic remark. She knew that shewould very much have liked to talk to him. Verisschenzko was observing Amaryllis carefully. There was a newexpression in her eyes which puzzled him. Her features seemed to be drawnwith finer lines and pale violet shadows lay beneath her grey eyes. Wasit the gloom of the war which oppressed her? It could not be altogetherthat, because her regard was serene and even happy. "Did I not know that nothing could be more unlikely, I should say she wasgoing to have a child. What is the mystery?" He found himself very muchinterested. Especially he was anxious to watch what impression Denzilmade upon her. He saw, as the dinner went on, that Amaryllis was awarethat he was an attractive creature. "There is the beginning of a chapter of necessary andexpedient--romance--here, " he decided. "If only Denzil is not killed. "But what did his growing so pale on learning that she was his cousinmean. .. ? that was not a natural circumstance--some deep undercurrentswere stirred. And in what way was all this going to affect the ladyof his soul? They could not have any intimate conversation at dinner; they spoke ofordinary things and the war and the horror of it. Russia was movingforward, but Verisschenzko did not appear to be very optimistic in spiteof this. There were things in his country, he told Amaryllis, which mighthandicap the fighting. Stanislass Boleski looked extremely depressed. He had a hang-dog, strained mien and Verisschenzko's contemptuously friendly attitudetowards him wounded him deeply. Once he had shone as a leader and chiefin Stépan's life, and now after the stormy scene in the smoking-room atArdayre, that he could greet him casually and not turn from him in anger, showed, alas! to where he had sunk in Verisschenzko's estimation--a thingof nought--not even worth his disapproval. The dinner to him was apainful trial. John also was far from content. He had been longing to see Amaryllis, andyet the sight of her and her fond and insinuating words and caresses hadcaused him exquisite suffering. His emotions were so varied and complex. His prayer had been answered, but apart from his natural loathing for allsubterfuge, every new tenderness towards himself which Amaryllisdisplayed aroused some indefinable jealousy. She had been so glad to seehim and he had been conscious himself that he had been even unusuallystolid and self-contained towards her. He knew that she grew disappointedand that probably the exalted sentiment which her letter had indicatedthat she was feeling had been chilled before she could put it into words. All this distressed him, and yet he could not break through the reserveof his nature. And now to crown unfortunate things, there was Denzil brought by fate andno one's manoeuvring into Amaryllis' company! Of all things he had hopedthat they need not meet before he and his cousin should go to the Front. And it was all brought about by his own action in insisting that they hadbetter dine at a restaurant, as the kitchenmaid, who always remained atBrook Street, had gone to see a wounded brother. Amaryllis had sighed a little as she had consented, with the faintprotest that they could have eaten something cold. But on their drive to the Carlton she had become fondly affectionateagain, nestling close to him, and then she had pulled out the carnationfrom her belt and held it for him to smell. "I picked it in the greenhouse this morning, the last of them; I have hadthem all around me while there were any, because they remind me of you, dearest--and of everything divine. " John felt that he should always now hate that clove stuff for the hairand could no longer bear to use it. He was perfectly aware that Denzil on his hostess' other hand waslooking everything that a woman could desire, and that his easycasualness of manner would be likely to charm. He saw that Amaryllis, too, observed him with unconscious interest, and a feeling akin todespair filled his heart. Life for him had always been difficult, and he was accustomed to blows, but this one was particularly hard to bear, because he really lovedAmaryllis and desired happiness with her which he knew could never reallybe attained. Only Harietta of the whole party was quite content. She intended to annexStépan when they should be drinking coffee in the hall. She looked uponDenzil's conquest now as almost an accomplished fact, and so felt thatshe might let him talk to Amaryllis, since the Russian was her realobject. His ugly rugged face and odd Calmuck eyes always attracted her. "Why aren't you staying in the hotel, darling Brute?'" she whispered tohim as they left the restaurant. "If you had been--" "I am, " said Verisschenzko, and leaving her for a moment he went andtelephoned to his not unintelligent Russian servant at the Ritz toarrange about the transference of his rooms. "She requires the most careful watching--I must waste no time. " And then he returned to the party in the hall. CHAPTER X Denzil Ardayre took up his letters which had been forwarded to him fromthe dépót where he was stationed. He and Verisschenzko were passingthrough the hall of his mother's house, for a talk and a smoke in hissitting-room, after leaving the Carlton. The house was in St. James' Place, a small, old building, the groundfloor of which was given over to Denzil whenever he was in London. Hismother was absent at Bath, where she spent a long autumn cure. John's letter lay on the top, and Verisschenzko caught the look ofinterest which came into Denzil's face. "Don't mind me, my dear chap, " he remarked, "read your letters. " And theywent on into the sitting-room. "I want just to look at this one--it is from John Ardayre whom we metto-night, " and Denzil opened it casually--"I wonder what he is writing tome about, he did not say anything at dinner. " He read the short communication and exclaimed: "Good God!" and thenchecked himself. He was obviously stirred, and Verisschenzko watched himnarrowly. Anything to do with John must concern Amaryllis, and thereforewas of profound interest to himself. "No bad news, I hope?" he said. Denzil was gazing into the fire, and there was a look of wonderment andeven rapture upon his face. "Oh! No--rather splendid--" He felt quite the strangest emotion he hadever experienced in his life. His usual serene self-confidence and easyflow of words deserted him, and Verisschenzko, watching him, began tolink certain things in his mind. "Tell me, what did you think of your cousin, Lady Ardayre?" he askedcasually, as though the subject was irrelevant. "Amaryllis?" and Denzil almost started from a reverie. "Oh, yes, ofcourse, she is a lovely creature, is not she, Stépan?" Verisschenzko narrowed his eyes. "I have told you that I adore her--but with the spirit--if it werenot so, she would appeal very strongly to the flesh--Yes?--Did younot feel it?" "I did. " "Well?" "Well--" "She is longing to understand life, she is groping; why do you not setabout her education, Denzil?" "That is the husband's business. " "Not in this case. I consider it is yours; you are the right matefor her. John Ardayre is a good fellow, but he stands for nothing inthe affair. Why did you waste your time upon Harietta, when time isso short?" "I was given no choice. " "But afterwards, in the hall?" It was quite evident to Verisschenzko that the mention of Amaryllis wascausing his friend some unexplainable emotion. "You did not even exert yourself, then. Why, Denzil?" Denzil lit a cigarette. "I thought her awfully attractive--it is the first time I have ever seenher--as you know. " "And that was a reason for remaining silent and as stiff as a poker inmanner! You English are a strange race!" Denzil smiled--if Stépan only knew everything, what would he say! "You were made for each other. If I were you, I would not lose asecond's time!" "My dear old boy, you seem quite to forget that the girl has a husbandof her own!" "Not at all, it is for that reason--just because of that husband. I shallsay no more, you are quite intelligent enough to understand. " "You think it is all right then for a woman to have a lover?" Denzilsmiled as he curled rings of smoke. "It is curious how the mosthonourable among us has not much conscience concerning such things. " Verisschenzko knocked off his cigarette ash and spoke contemplatively: "The world would be an insupportable place for women, if he had! Butwhatever the moral aspect of the matter is in general, circumstancesarise which alter the point, and that is where the absurd ticketingsystem hampers suitable action. A thing is ticketed 'dishonourable. 'Pah! it is sometimes, and it is not at others--there is no hard andfast rule. " Denzil stretched himself--he was always interested in Verisschenzko'sreasonings and prepared to listen with enjoyment: "The general idea is that a man should not make love to another man'swife. Man professes this as a creed, and the law enforces it and punisheshim if he is found out doing so. And if he acted up to this creed as hedoes about stealing goods and behaving like a gentleman over businessmatters, all might be well, but unfortunately that seldom occurs, becausethere is that strong; instinct which is the base of all things working inhim, and which does not work in regard to any other point ofhonour--i. E. , the unconscious desire to re-create his, species, so thatthis one particular branch of moral responsibility cannot be measured, judged, or criticised from the same standpoint as any other. No laws can. Alter human nature, or really control a man's actions when a naturalforce is prompting him unless stern self-analysis discovers the truth tothe man, and so permits his spirit to regain dominion. The best chancewould be to resist the first feeling of attraction which a womanbelonging to another man aroused before it had actually obtained a holdupon his senses--but the percentage of men who do this must be verysmall. Some resist--or try to resist the actual possession of the womanfrom moral motives, but many more from motives of expediency and fear ofconsequences. Then to salve conscience the mass of men ride a high moralstalking horse, and write and speak condemnation of every back-sliding, while their own behaviour coincides with the behaviour they arecriticising. The hypocrisy of the thing sickens me; no one ever looks anyquestion straight in the face, denuded of its man-made sophistries. Andfew realise that a woman is a creature to be fought for--it isprehistoric instinct, and if she can't be obtained in fair fight then yousecure her by strategy. And if a man cannot keep her once he has securedher, it is up to him. If I had a wife, I should take good care that she_desired_ no other man--but if I bored her, or was a cold and bad lover, I should not expect the other men not to try and take her fromme--because I should know this was a natural instinct with them--liketaking food. It would probably be no temptation to most of us to stealgold lying about in a room, even if we were poor, but a hideoustemptation to refrain from eating a tempting dish if we were starvingwith hunger and it was before us--and if a woman did succumb to some newpassion I should blame myself, not her. " Denzil agreed. "Jealousy is a natural instinct, though, " he said, "and although therewould be not much profit in trying to hold a woman who no longer cared, one could not help being mad about it. " "Of course not--that is the sense of personal possession which isaffronted. Vanity is deeply wounded, and so the power to analyse causeand result sleeps. But this attitude which men take up of neglecting awoman and then expecting her to be faithful still is quite ridiculous, and without logic; they are as usual fogged by convention and can't seestraight. " Verisschenzko's rough voice was keen--compelling. Denzil smiled. "Another of your windmills to fight!" "I am always fighting convention and shams. Get down to the meaning of athing, and if its true significance coincides with the convention whichsurrounds it, then let that hold, but if convention is a super-imposedgrowth, then amputate it and study the thing without it. " "I suppose a man marries a woman nine times out of ten because he cannotobtain her in any other way; then when he has become indifferent bypossession, he still thinks that she should remain devoted to him. Youare right, Stépan, it is very illogical. " "Club the creature, or keep her in a cage if you want fidelity throughfear, but don't expect it if you allow her to remain at large andneglected, and don't be such an ass as to imagine that your friends won'tact just as you yourself would act were she some one's else wife. If awoman has that quality in her which arouses sex, married or single, Inever have observed that men refrained from making love to her. " "All this means that you consider I am quite at liberty to make love toAmaryllis Ardayre!" "Quite. " Denzil threw his cigarette end into the fire: "Well, for once you are wrong, Stépan, in your usually perfectdeductions, " he got up from his chair. "There is a reason in thiscase which makes the thing an absolute impossibility; under nopossible circumstance while John is alive could I make the smallestadvance towards Amaryllis! There is another point of honour involvedin the affair. " Verisschenzko felt that here was some mystery which he had yet toelucidate, the links in the chain were visible up to a point, but he thenbecame baffled by the incontestable fact that Denzil had seen Amaryllisthat evening for the first time! "If this is so, then it is a very great pity, " he announced, after amoment or two's thought. "Were the times normal, we might leave all toFate and trust to luck, but if you are killed and John is killed, itwill be a thousand pities for Ferdinand to be the head of the family. A creature like that will not enlist, he will be safe while you riskyour lives. " Denzil went over to the window, apparently to get out a fresh box ofcigars which were in a cabinet near. "John writes to-night that there is the chance of an heir after all--soperhaps we need not worry, " he said, his voice a little hoarse withfeeling. "I was so awfully glad to hear this--we all loathe the thoughtof Ferdinand. " Verisschenzko actually was startled, and also he was strangely moved. "When I saw my lady Amaryllis to-night that idea came to me, only as Ibelieved it was quite an impossibility--I dismissed it--It is a warmiracle then?" and he smiled enquiringly. "Apparently. " The cigar box was selected and Denzil had once more resumed his seat in abig chair before either of them spoke again. "I perfectly understand that there is some mystery here, Denzil--and thatyou cannot tell me--and equally I cannot ask you any questions, but itmay be that in the days that are coming I could be of assistance to you. I have some very curious information which I am holding concerningFerdinand Ardayre in his activities. You can always count on me--"Verisschenzko rose from his chair, stirred deeply with the thoughts whichwere coursing through his brain. "Denzil--I love that woman--I am absolutely determined that I shall notdo so in any way but in spirit--I long for her to be happy--protected. She has an exquisite soul--I would have given her to you withcontentment. You are her counterpart upon this plane--" Denzil remained silent, he had never seen Stépan so agitated. Thesituation was altogether very unusual. Then he asked: "Do you think Ferdinand will make some protest then?" "It is possible. " "But there is absolutely nothing to be said, the fact of there being achild refutes all the old rumours. " "In law--" "In every way, " a flush had mounted to Denzil's forehead. "You know Lemon Bridges?" Verisschenzko suggested. "Yes--why do you ask?" "He is a remarkably clever surgeon. It is said that he is also agentleman; if this news surprises him he will not express his feelingsprobably. " Stépan was observing his friend with the minutest scrutiny now, while hespoke lazily once more as though upon a casual topic bent, and he sawthat a lightning flash of anxiety passed through Denzil's eyes. "I do not see how any one can have a word to say about the matter, " andhe lit his cigar deliberately. "John is awfully pleased--" "And so am I--and so are you, and so will be the lady Amaryllis. Thus wecan only wish for general happiness, and not anticipate difficultieswhich may never occur. When is the event to happen?" "The beginning of next May, " Denzil announced, without hesitation, andthen the flush deepened, for he suddenly remembered that John had notmentioned any date in his letter! The subject was growing embarrassing, and he asked, so as to change it: "What is your friend, Madame Boleski, doing now, Stépan?" "She is receiving news from Germany which I shall endeavour to have hertransmit to me, and I have some suspicion that she is transmitting anyinformation which she can pick up here to Germany, but I cannot yet besure. When I am, then I shall have no mercy. She would betray any countryfor an hour's personal pleasure or gain. I have not yet discovered whothe man was at the Ardayre ball--I told you about it, did I not? Justthen more important matters pressed and I could not follow up the clue. " "She is certainly physically attractive, and all the things she says areso obvious and easy, she is quite a rest at a dinner, but Lord! think ofspending one's life with a woman like that!" and Denzil smiled. "There are very few women whom it would be possible to contemplate incalmness spending one's life with, because one's own needs change, andthe woman's also. The tie is a galling bond unless it can be looked atwith common sense by both--but I think men are quite as illogical aswomen over it, and of such an incredible vanity! It is because we havemixed so much sentiment into such a simple nature-act that all thebothers arise, and men are unjust over every thing to do with women. All men think, for instance, that a woman must not deceive her loverand, at the same time that she is appearing to be his faithfulmistress, take another for her pleasure and diversion in secret. A manwould look upon this and rightly as a dishonourable betrayal because itwould wound his vanity and lower his personal prestige. But theillogical part is that he would not hesitate to do the same thinghimself, and would never see the matter in the light of a betrayal, because the Creator has happily equipped him with a rhinoceros hidewhich enables him never to feel stings of self-contempt when viewinghis own actions towards the other sex. " Denzil laughed aloud. "You are hard on us, Stépan, but I dare say you are right. " "It is just custom and convention which make us think ourselves suchgods. Had woman had the same chance always, who knows what she might nothave become by now! Everything is ticketed, it is called by a name andput down under such and such a heading--women are 'weak' and 'illogical'and 'unreliable' and men are 'brave' and 'sound' and 'to betrusted'--tosh! in quantities of cases--and if so, why so? Women arewonderful beings in many ways--of a courage! The way they bear things sogladly for men--think of their suffering when they have children. Youdon't know about it probably, men take all this as a matter ofcourse--but I saw my sister die--after hours of it--" Denzil moved his arm rather suddenly and upset the glass of lemon squashon a little table near. Verisschenzko observed this, but went on without a break: "It is agony for them under the best conditions, and sometimes theybecome divine over it. Amaryllis will be divine--I hope John will takecare of her--" A look of concern came into Denzil's face, and Verisschenzko watched him. Could any one be more attractive as a splendid mate for Amaryllis, hethought. He crushed down all feeling of human jealousy. His intuitionwould probably reveal all the mystery to him presently, and meanwhile ifhe could forward any scheme which would be for the good of Amaryllis andthe security of the family, he would do so. "I must leave you now, old man, " he said, looking at his watch. "I have arendezvous with Harietta. I shall have to play the part of an ardentlover and cannot yet wring her neck. " When Denzil was alone, he stood gazing into the fire. "That John should take care of her?"--but John was going out tofight--and so was he--and they might both be killed--What then? "Stépan knows, I am certain, " he thought, "and he is true as steel; hemust stand by her if we don't come back. " And then his thoughts flew to the vision of her sitting opposite him atthe table, with her sweet eyes turned to his now and then, the faintviolet shadows beneath them and the transparent exquisiteness of her skintelling their own story by the added, fragile beauty. Oh! whatunutterable joy to hold her in his arms and whisper passionate love wordsin her little ears, to live again the dream of her dainty head lyingprone there on his breast. Every pulse in his being throbbed to bursting, seeming almost to suffocate him. "Amaryllis--Sweetheart!" he whispered aloud, and then started at hisown voice. He paced up and down the room, clenching his hands. The family might goon, but the two members of it must endure the pain of renunciation. Which was the harder to bear, he wondered--his part of hopeless memoryand regret, or John's of forced denial and abstinence? In all the world, no situation could be more strange or more cruel. He had felt deeply about it before he had seen Amaryllis. He thought ofthe myth of Eros and Psyche. His emotions had been much as Psyche'sbefore she lit the lamp. And now the lamp had been lighted--his eyes hadseen what his arms had clasped, the reality was more lovely than hisdream, and passion was kindled a hundredfold. It swept him off his feet. He forgot war and the horror of the time, he forgot everything exceptthat he longed for Amaryllis. "She is mine, absolutely mine, " he said wildly. "Not John's. " And then he remembered his promise, given before any personal equationhad entered into the affair. Never to take advantage of the situation--afterwards! And what would the child be like? A true Ardayre, of course--they wouldsay that it had harked back, perhaps, to that Elizabethan Denzil whomhis father had told him was his exact portrait in the picture galleryat Ardayre. He could have laughed at the sardonic humour of everything if he had notbeen too overcome with passionate desire to retain any critical sense. Then he sat down and forced himself to realise what it meant--parenthood. Not much to a man, as a rule. He had looked upon those occult stirringsof the spirit of which he had read as romantic nonsense. It was a naturalthing and all right if a man had a place for him to wish to have ason--but otherwise, sentimentality over such things was such rot! And yet now he found himself thrilling with sentiment. He would like totalk to Amaryllis all about it, and listen to her thoughts, too. And thenhe remembered the many discussions with Verisschenzko upon the theory ofre-birth and of the soul's return again and again until its lessons arelearned on this plane of existence, and he wondered what soul wouldanimate the physical form of this little being who would be his and hers. And suddenly in his mental vision the walls of the room seemed to fade, and he was only conscious of a vastness of space, and knew that for thisbrief moment he was looking into eternity and realising for the firsttime the wonder of things. * * * * * Meanwhile Verisschenzko had returned to the Carlton and was softlywalking down the passage towards the Boleskis' rooms. The ante-room doorwas at the corner, and as he was about ten yards from it a man came outand strode rapidly towards the lift down the corridor at right angles, but the bright light fell upon his face for an instant, and Verisschenzkosaw that it was Ferdinand Ardayre. He waited where he was until he heard the lift doors shut, and even thenhe paced up and down for a time before he entered the sitting-room. Theremust be no suspicion that he had encountered the late visitor. "Darling Brute, here you are!" Harietta cried delightedly, rising fromher sofa and throwing herself into his arms. "I've packed Stanislass offto the St. James' to play piquet. I have been all alone waiting for youfor the last hour--I began to fear you would not come. " Verisschenzko looked at her, with his cynical, humorous smile, whosemeaning never reached her. He took in the transparent garments whichhardly covered her, and then he bent and picked up a man's handkerchiefwhich lay on a table near. "_Tiens_! Harietta!" he remarked lazily. "Since when has Stanislass takento using this very Eastern perfume?" and he sniffed with disgust. The wide look of startled innocence grew in Madame Boleski's hazel eyes. "I believe Stanislass must have got a mistress, Stépan. I havenoticed lately these scents on his things--as you know, he never usedany before!" "The handkerchief is marked with 'F. A. ' I suppose the _blanchisseuse_mixes them in hotels. Let us burn the memento of a husband's strayingfancies then; the taste in perfumes of his inamorata is anything butrefined, " and Verisschenzko tossed the bit of cambric into the fire whichsparkled in the grate. "I've lots of news to tell you, Darling Brute--but I shan't--yet! Haveyou come to England to see that bit of bread and butter--or--?" But Verisschenzko, with a fierce savagery which she adored, crushed herin his arms. CHAPTER XI On the Tuesday morning after the Carlton dinner, fate fell upon Denziland Amaryllis in the way the jade does at times, swooping down uponthem suddenly and then like a whirlwind altering the very current oftheir destiny. It came about quite naturally, too, and not by one ofthose wildly improbable situations which often prove truth to bestranger than fiction. Amaryllis was settled in an empty compartment of the Weymouth express atPaddington. She had said good-bye to John the evening before, and he hadreturned to camp. She was going back to Ardayre, and feeling verymiserable. Everything had been a disillusion. John's reserve seemed tohave augmented, and she had been unable to break it down, and all thenew emotions which she was trembling with and longing to express, hadgrown chilled. Presumably John must be pleased at the possibility of having a son sinceit was his heart's desire; but it almost seemed as though the subjectembarrassed him! And all the beautiful things which she had meant to sayto him about it remained unspoken. He was stolidly matter-of-fact. What could it all mean? At last she had become deeply hurt and had cried with a tremour in hervoice the morning before he left her: "Oh! John, how different you have become; it can't be the same you whoonce called me 'Sweetheart' and held me so closely in your arms! Have Idone anything to displease you, dearest? Aren't you glad that I am goingto have a baby?" He had kissed her and assured her gravely that he was glad--overjoyed. And his eyes had been full of pain, and he had added that he was stupidand dull, but that she must not mind--it was only his way. "Alas!" she had answered and nothing more. She dwelt upon these things as she sat in the train gazing out of thewindow on the blank side. Yes. Joy was turning into dead sea fruit. How moving her thoughts hadbeen when coming up to meet him! The marvel of love creating life had exalted her and she had longed topour her tender visionings into the ears of--her lover! For John had beenthus enshrined in her fond imagination! The whole idea of having a child to her was a sacred wonder with littleof earth in it, and she had woven exquisite sentiment round it and haddreamed fair dreams of how she would whisper her thoughts to John as shelay clasped to his heart; and John, too, would be thrilled withexaltation, for was not the glorious mystery his as well--not hers alone? Now everything looked grey. Tears rose in her eyes. Then she took herself to task; it was perhapsonly her foolish romance leading her astray once more. The thoughtmight mean nothing to a man beyond the pride of having a son to carryon his name. If the baby should be a little girl John might not carefor it at all! The tears brimmed over and fell upon a big crimson carnation in her coat, a bunch of which John had ordered to be sent her, and which were nowsafely reposing in a card-board box in the rack above her head. Fortunately she had the carriage to herself. No one had attempted to getin, and they would soon be off. To be away from London would be a relief. Then her thoughts flew to Verisschenzko; he had told her thatcircumstances in his country might require his frequent presence inEngland for the next few months. She would see him again. What would he tell her to do now? Conqueremotion and look at things with common sense. The picture of the dinner at the Carlton then came back to her, and theface of Denzil across the table, so like, and yet so unlike John! If Denzil had a wife would he be cold to her? Was it in the nature ofall Ardayres? At the very instant the train began to move the carriage was invaded by aman in khaki who bounded in and almost fell by her knees, and with acheery 'Just done it, Sir!' the guard flung in a dressing-bag and slammedthe door, and she realised with conscious interest that the intruder wasDenzil Ardayre! "How do you do? By Jove. I am awfully sorry, " and he held out his hand. "I nearly lost the train and I am afraid I have bundled in without askingleave. I am going down to Bath to say good-bye to my mother. I say, doforgive me if I startled you, " and he looked full of concern. Amaryllis laughed; she was nervous and overstrung. "Your entrance was certainly sudden and in this non-stop to Westbury weshall have to put up with each other till then--shall you mind?" "Awfully--Must I say that the truth would be that I am enchanted!" Fortune had flung him these two hours. He had not planned them, hisconscience was clear, and he could not help delight rushing through him. Two hours with her--alone! There are some blue eyes which seem to have a spark of the devil lurkingin them always, even when they are serious. Denzil's were such eyes. Women found it difficult to resist his charm, and indeed had never triedvery hard. Life and its living, knowledge to acquire, work to do, beaststo hunt, had not left him too much time to be spoiled by themfortunately, and he had passed through several adventures safely and hadnever felt anything but the most transient emotion, until now looking atAmaryllis sitting opposite him he knew that he was in love with thisdream which had materialised. Amaryllis studied him while they talked of ordinary things and the warnews and when he would go out. She felt some strong attraction drawingher to him. Her sense of depression left her. She found herself noticinghow the sun which had broken through a cloud turned his immaculatelybrushed hair into bronze. She did a little modelling to amuse herself, and so appreciated balance and line. Everything in Denzil was in the right place, she decided, and above allhe looked so peculiarly alive. He seemed, indeed, to be the reality ofwhat her imagination had built up round the personality of John in theweeks of their separation. Denzil believed that he was talking quitecasually, but his glance was ardent, and atmosphere becomes charged whenemotions are strong no matter how insignificant words may be. Amaryllis_felt_ that he was deeply interested in her. "You know my friend Verisschenzko well, it seems, " she said presently. "Is not he a fascinating creature? I always feel stimulated when I amwith him, and as if I must accomplish great things. " "Stépan is a wonder--we were at Oxford together--he can do anything hedesires. He is a musician and an artist and is chock full of commonsense, and there's not a touch of rot. He would have taken honours if hehad not been sent down. " Amaryllis wanted to know about this, and listened amazedly to the storyof the mad freak which had so scandalised the Dons. She had recovered from her nervousness, she was natural and delightful, and although the peculiar situation was filling Denzil with excitementand emotion, he was too much a man of the world to experience any _gêne_. So they talked for a while with friendliness upon interesting things. Then a pause came and Amaryllis looked out of the window, and Denzil hadtime to grow aware that he must hold himself with a tighter hand, a sensealmost of intoxication had begun to steal over him. Suddenly Amaryllis grew very pale and her eyelids flickered a little; forthe first time in her life she felt faint. He bent forward in anxiety as she leaned her head against thecushioned division. "Oh! what is it, you poor little darling! what can I do for you?" heexclaimed, unconscious that he had used a word of endearment; but eventhough things had grown vague for her Amaryllis caught the tenderlypronounced 'darling' and, physically ill as she felt, her spirit thrilledwith some agreeable surprise. He came nearer and pushing up the paddeddivisions between the seats, he lifted her as though she had been a babyand laid her flat down. He got out his flask from his dressing bag andpoured some brandy between her pale lips, then he rubbed her hands, murmuring he knew not what of commiseration. She looked so fragile andhelpless and the probable reason of her indisposition was of suchinfinite solicitude to himself. "To think that she is feeling like that because--Ah!--and I may not evenkiss her and comfort her, or tell her I adore her and understand. " So histhoughts ran. Presently Amaryllis sat up and opened her eyes. She had not actuallyfainted, but for a few moments everything had grown dim and she was notcertain of what had happened, or if she had dreamed that Denzil hadspoken a love word, or whether it was true--she smiled feebly. "I did feel so queer, " she explained. "How silly of me! I have never feltfaint before--it is stupid"--and then she blushed deeply, rememberingwhat certainly must be the cause. "I am going to open the window wide, " he said, appreciating the blush, and let it down. "You ought not to sit with your back to the engine likethat, let us change sides. " He took command and drew her to her feet, and placed her gently in hisvacant seat; then he sat down opposite her and looked at her withanxious eyes. "I sit that way as a rule because of avoiding the dust, but, of course, it was that. I am not generally such a goose though--it is the nastiestfeeling that I have ever known. " "You poor dear little girl, " his deep voice said. "You must shut youreyes and not talk now. " She obeyed, and he watched her intently as she lay back with her eyesclosed, the long lashes resting upon her pale cheeks. She looked childishand a little pathetic, and every fibre of his being quivered with desireto protect her. He had never felt so profoundly in his life--and thewhole thing was so complicated. He tried to force himself to rememberthat he was not travelling with _his_ wife whom he could take care of andcherish because she was going to have _his_ child, but that he wastravelling with John's wife whom he hardly knew and must take no moreinterest in than any Ardayre would in the wife of the head of the family! He could have laughed at the extraordinary irony of the thing, if it hadnot been so moving. Verisschenzko, had he been there and known the circumstances, would havetaken joy in analysing what nature was saying to them both! Amaryllis was only conscious that Denzil seemed the reality of her dreamof John, and that she liked his nearness--and Denzil only knew that heloved her extremely and must banish emotion and remember his given word. So he pulled himself together when she sat up presently and begantalking again, and gradually the atmosphere of throbbing excitementbetween them calmed. They spoke of each other's tastes and likings andfound many to be the same. Then they spoke of books, and each discoveredthat the other was sufficiently well read to be able to discuss variedfavourite authors. An understanding and sympathy had grown up between them before theyreached Westbury, and yet Denzil was really trying to keep his word inthe spirit as well as the letter. Amaryllis felt no constraint--she was more friendly than she would havebeen with any other man she knew so slightly. Were they not cousins, andwas it not perfectly natural! They talked of Oxford and of the effect it had upon young men, and againthey spoke of Stépan and of the dream he and Denzil shared. "You will go into Parliament, I suppose, when you come back from thewar?" she remarked at last. "If you have dreams they should becomerealities. .. . " "That is what I intend to do. The war may last a long time though--but itought to teach one something, and England will be a vastly differentplace after it, and perhaps the younger men who have fought may have agreater chance. " "You have pet theories, of course. " "I suppose so--I believe that the first great step will be to give thepeople better homes--the housing question is what I am going to devote myenergy to. I am sure it is the root of nearly every evil. Every man andwoman who works should have the right to a good home. I have two supremeinterests--that is one, and the other is elimination of the wastrels andthe unfit. I am quite ruthless, perhaps, you will think. But there issuch a sickening lot of mawkish sentiment mixed up with nearly everyscheme to benefit workers. I agree with Stépan who always preaches: Getdown to the commonsense point of view about a thing. Prune the conventionand religion and sentimentality first and then you can judge. " Amaryllis thought for a moment; her eyes became wide and dreamy, and hercharmingly set head was a little thrown back. Denzil took in the line ofher white throat and the curve of her chin--it was not weak. Why was itthat women with the possibilities of this one always seemed to be someother man's property! He had never come across such charm in girls. Orwas it that marriage developed charm? They neither of them spoke for a minute or two, each busy withspeculation. "I want to do something, " Amaryllis said at last, "not, only just makeshirts and socks, " and then the pink flushed her cheeks again suddenly asshe remembered that she would not be fit for more strenuous work forquite a long time--and then the war would be over, of course. Denzil thought the same thing without the last qualification. He wasunder no delusions as to the speedy end of strife. He could not help visioning the wonderful interest the hope of a sonwould be to him if she really were his wife--how filled with supremesympathy and tenderness would be the months coming on. How they wouldtalk together about their wishes and the mystery and the glory of theevolution of life. And here she had blushed at some thought concerningit, and no words must pass between them about this sacred thing. Helonged to ask her many questions--and then a pang of jealousy shook him. She would confide to John, not to him, all the emotions aroused by thethought of the child--then. He wondered what she would do in the winterall alone. Had she relations she was fond of? He wished that she knew hisMother, who was the kindest sweetest lady in the world. He said aloud: "I would like you to meet my Mother. She is going to be at Bath for amonth. She is almost an invalid with rheumatism in her ankle where shebroke it five years ago. I believe you would get on. " "I should love to--it is not an impossible distance from us. I will goover to see her, if you will tell her about me--so that she won't thinksome stranger is descending upon her some day!" "She will be so pleased, " and he thought that he would be happier knowingthat they were friends. "Does she mean a great deal to you? Some mothers do, " and shesighed--her own was less than emptiness--they had never been near, andnow her stepfather and the step-family claimed all the affection hermother could feel. "She is a great dear--one of my best friends, " and his eyes beamed. "Wehave always been pals--because I have no brothers and sisters I supposeshe spoilt me!" "I daresay you were quite a nice little boy!" Amaryllis smiled--"and itmust be divine to have a son--I expect it would be easy to spoil one. " Denzil clasped his hands rather tightly--she looked so adorable as shesaid that, her eyes soft with inward knowledge of her great hope. Howimpossible it all was that they must remain strangers--casual cousins andnothing more. "It must be an awful responsibility to have children, " he said, watchingher. "Don't you think so?" The pink flared up again as she answered a rather solemn "Yes. " Then she went on, a little hurriedly: "One would try to study their characters and lead them to the highestgood, as gardeners watch over and train plants until they come toperfection. But what funny, serious things we are talking about, " and shegave a little, nervous laugh--"Like two old grandfather philosophers. " "It is rather a treat to talk seriously; one so seldom has the chance tomeet any one who understands. " "To understand!" and she sighed. "Alas--How quite perfect life wouldbe--" and then she stopped abruptly. If she continued her words mightcontain a reflection upon John. Denzil bent forward eagerly--what had she been going to say? She saw his blue attractive eyes gazing at her so ardently and somedelicious thrill passed through her. But Denzil recovered himself, andleaned back in his seat--while he abruptly changed the conversation byremarking casually: "I have never seen Ardayre. I would love to look at our common ancestors. My father used to say there was an Elizabethan Denzil who was rather likeme. I suppose we are all stamped with the same brand. " "I know him!" Amaryllis cried delightedly. "He is up at the end of thegallery in puffed white satin and a ruff. Of course, you must come andsee him; he has exactly the same eyes. " "The whole family are alive I believe--we were a tenacious lot!" "If you and John both get leave at Christmas you must come with him andspend it at Ardayre--I shall have made your Mother's acquaintance bythen, and we must persuade her too. " He gave some friendly answer--while he felt that John might not endorsethis invitation. If the places were reversed, how would he himself act?Difficult as the situation was for him, it was infinitely harder forJohn. Then the train stopped at Westbury. CHAPTER XII Denzil had got out to get some papers which he had been to hurried tosecure at Paddington tipping the guard on the way, so that an oldgentleman who showed signs of desiring to enter was warded off to anothercompartment. Thus when the train re-started, they were again left alone. Amaryllis had partially recovered and was looking nearly her usual self, but for the violet shadows beneath her eyes. She glanced at the paperswhich he handed to her, and Denzil retired behind the Times. He wantedto think; he must not let himself slip out of hand. He must resolutelystamp out all the emotion that she was causing him; he despised weaknessof any sort. He thought of Verisschenzko's words about laws being powerless to controla man's actions, when a natural force is prompting him, unless he usesself-analysis, and so by gaining knowledge permits the spirit to conquer. He recollected that he had transgressed often without a backward thoughtin past days with other women, but now his honour was engaged even apartfrom his firm belief in Stépan's favourite saying, that a man must neversully the wrong thing. Then the argument they had often had aboutindulgences came to him, and the truth of the only possibility of theirenjoyment being while they remained servants, not masters. He had had his indulgences in the two hours to Westbury, and had verynearly let it conquer him, more than once, and now he must not only curball friendly words and delightful dalliance with forbidden topics, but hemust _feel_ no more passion. He made himself read the war news and try to visualize the grim realitybehind the official phrasing of the communiqués. And gradually he becamecalm, and was almost startled when Amaryllis, who had been watching himfurtively and had begun to wonder if he was really so interested in hispaper, said timidly: "Will you pull the window up a little? It seems to be growing cold. " She noticed that his lips were set firmly and that an abstractedexpression had grown in his eyes. Then Denzil spoke, now quite naturally and about the war, anddeliberately kept the conversation to this subject, until Amaryllis layback again in her corner and closed her eyes. "I am going to have a little sleep, " she said. She too had begun to realise that in more personal investigation ofmutual tastes there lay some danger. She had become conscious of the factthat she was very interested in Denzil--and there he was, not really theleast like John! They were silent for some time, and were nearing Frome when he spoke. Hehad been deliberating as to what he ought to do? Get out and leave her, to catch his connection to Bath, or sacrifice that and see her safely toher destination and perhaps hire a motor from Bridgeborough? This latter was his strong desire and also seemed the only chivalrousthing to do when she still looked so pale, but-- "Here we are almost at Frome, " he said. Her eyes rounded with concern. It would be horrid to be alone. She hadleft her maid in London for a few days' holiday. "You change here for Bath, " she faltered a little uncertainly. He decided in a second. He could not be inhuman! Duty and desire wereone! "Yes--but I am coming on with you. I shall not leave you until I see yousafely into your own motor. I can hire one perhaps then, to take me onthe rest of the way. " She was relieved--or she thought it was merely relief, which made asudden lifting in her heart! "How kind of you. I do feel as if I did not like the thought of being bymyself, it is so stupid of me--But you can't hire a motor fromBridgeborough which would get you to Bath before dark! They are wretchedthings there. You must come with me to Ardayre; it is on the Bath road, you know--and we can have a late lunch, and and then I'll send you on inthe Rolls Royce. You will be there in an hour--in time for tea. " This was a tremendous fresh temptation. He tried to look at it as thoughit did not in reality matter to him more than the appearance suggested. Had there been no emotion in his interest in Amaryllis, he would not havehesitated, he knew. Then it was only for him to conquer emotion and behave as he would dounder ordinary circumstances--it would be a good test of his will. "All right--that's splendid, and I shall be able to see Ardayre!" It was when they were in Amaryllis's own little coupé very close to eachother that strong temptation assailed Denzil. He suddenly felt hispulses throbbing wildly and it was with the greatest difficulty heprevented himself from clasping her in his arms. He tried to look out ofthe window and take an interest in the park, which was entered very soonafter leaving the station. He told himself Ardayre was something whichdeserved his attention and he looked for the first view of the house, butall his will could only keep his arms from transgressing, it could notcontrol the riot of his thoughts. Amaryllis was conscious in some measure that he was far from calm, andher own heart began to beat unaccountably. She talked rather fast aboutthe place and its history, and both were relieved when the front doorcame in sight. There was a welcoming smell of burning logs in the hall to greet them, and the old butler could not restrain an expression of startled curiositywhen he saw Denzil, the likeness to his master was so great. "This is Captain Ardayre, Filson, " Amaryllis said, "Sir John's cousin, "and then she gave the order about the motor to take Denzil on to Bath. They went through the Henry VII inner hall, and on to the greendrawing-room, with its air of home and comfort, in spite of its greatsize and stateliness. There were no portraits here, but some fine specimens of the Dutchschool, and the big tawny dogs rose to welcome their mistress and wereintroduced to their "new relation. " She was utterly fascinating, Denzil thought, playing with them there onthe great bear skin rug. "We shall lunch at once, " she told him, "and then rush through thepictures afterwards before you start for Bath. " They both tried to talk of ordinary things for the few moments beforethat meal was announced, and then some kind of devilment seemed to comeinto Amaryllis--nothing could have been more seductive or alluring thanher manner, while keeping to strict convention. The bright pink colourglowed in her cheeks and her eyes sparkled. She could not have accountedfor her mood herself. It was one of excitement and interest. Denzil had the hardest fight he had ever been through, and he grew almostgruff in consequence. He was really suffering. He admired the way she acted as hostess, and the way the home was done. He hardly felt anything else, though apart from her he would have beeninterested in his first view of Ardayre, but she absorbed all otheremotions, he only knew that he desired to make passionate love to her, orto get away as quickly as he could. "Are you going to remain here all the winter?" he asked her presently, asthey rose from the table, "or shall you go to London? You will be awfullylonely, won't you, if you stay here?" "I love the country and I am growing to love and understand the place. John wants me to so much, it means more to him than anything else in theworld. I shall remain until after Christmas anyway. But come now, I wantjust to take you into the church, because there are two such fine tombsthere of both our ancestors, yours and mine. We can go out of the windowsand come back for coffee in the cedar parlour. " Denzil acquiesced; he wished to see the church. They reached it in aminute or two and Amaryllis opened the door with her own key and led himon up the aisle to the recumbent knights--and then she whispered theirhistory to him, standing where a ray of sunlight turned her brown hairinto gold. "I wonder what their lives were, " Denzil said, "and if they lived andloved and fought their desires--as we do now--the younger one's facelooks as though he had not always conquered his. Stépan would say hisindulgences had become his masters, not his servants, I expect. " "Verisschenzko is wonderful--he makes one want to be strong, " andAmaryllis sighed. "I wonder how many of us even begin to fight ourdesires--" "One has to be strong always if one wants to attain--but sometimes it isonly honour which holds one--and weaklings are so pitiful. " "What is honour?" Her eyes searched his face wistfully. "Is it being trueto some canon of the laws of chivalry, or is it being true to some higherthing in one's own soul?" Denzil leaned against the tomb and he thought deeply: then he lookedstraight into her eyes: "Honour lies in not betraying a trust reposed in one, either in thespirit or in the letter. " "Then, when, we say of a man 'he acted honourably, ' we mean that he didnot betray a trust placed in him, even if it was only perhaps bycircumstance and not by a person. " "It is simply that'--keeping faith. If a man stole a sum of money from afriend, the dishonour would not be in the act of stealing, which isanother offence--but in abusing his friend's trust in him by committingthat act. " "Dishonour is a betrayal then--" "Of course. " "Why would this knight"--and she placed her hand on the marble face, "have said that he must kill another who had stolen his wife, say, toavenge his 'honour'?" "That is the conventional part of it--what Stépan calls the graftingon of a meaning to suit some idea of civilisation. It was a nice wayof having personal revenges too and teaching people that they couldnot steal anything with impunity. If we analysed that kind of honourwe would find it was principally vanity. The dishonour really lay withthe wife, if she deceived her husband--and with the other man if hewas the husband's friend--if he was not, his abduction of the womanwas not 'dishonourable' because he was not trusted, it was merely anact of theft. " "What then must we do when we are very strongly tempted?" Her voice wasso low he could hardly hear it. "It is sometimes wisest to run away, " and he turned from her and movedtowards the door. She followed wondering. She knew not why she had promoted thisdiscussion. She felt that she had been very unbalanced all the day. They went back to the house almost silently and through the greendrawing-room window again and up the broad stairs with Sir WilliamHamilton's huge decorative painting of an Ardayre group of his time, filling one vast wall at the turn. And so they reached the cedar parlour, and found coffee waiting andcigarettes. There was a growing tension between them and each guessed that the otherwas not calm. Amaryllis began showing him the view from the windowsacross the park, and then the old fireplace and panelling of the room. "We sit here generally when we are alone, " she said. "I like it the bestof all the rooms in the house. " "It is a fitting frame for you. " They lit cigarettes. Denzil had many things he longed to say to her of the place, and thethoughts it called up in him--but he checked himself. The thing was toget through with it all quickly and to be gone. They went into thepicture gallery then, and began from the end, and when they came to theElizabethan Denzil they paused for a little while. The painted likenesswas extraordinary to the living splendid namesake who gazed up at the oldpanel with such interested eyes. And Amaryllis was thinking: "If only John had that something in him which these two have in theireyes, how happy we could be. " And Denzil was thinking: "I hope the child will reproduce the type. " He felt it would be some kindof satisfaction to himself if she should have a son which should be hisown image. "It is so strange, " she remarked, "that you should be exactly like thisDenzil, and yet resemble John who does not remind me of him at all, except in the general family look which every one of them share. This onemight have been painted from you. " He looked down at her suddenly and he was unable to control thepassionate emotion in his eyes. He was thinking that yes, certainly, thechild must be like him--and then what message would it convey to her? Amaryllis was disturbed, she longed to ask him what it was which shefelt, and why there seemed some illusive remembrance always haunting her. She grew confused, and they passed on to another frame which containedthe Lady Amaryllis who had had the sonnets written to her nut brownlocks. She was a dainty creature in her stiff farthingale, but bore nolikeness to the present mistress of Ardayre. Denzil examined her for some seconds, and then he said reflectively: "She is a Sweetheart--but she is not you!" There was some tone of tenderness in his voice when he said the word"Sweetheart" and Amaryllis started and drew in her breath. It recalledsomething which had given her joy, a low murmur whispered in the night. "Sweetheart!"--a word which John, alas! had never used before nor since, except in that one letter in answer to her cry of exaltation--her gladMagnificat. What was this echo sounding in her ears? How like Denzil'svoice was to John's--only a little deeper. Why, why should he have usedthat word "Sweetheart"? No coherent thought had yet come to her, it was as though she had lookedfor an instant upon some scene which awakened a chord of memory, and thenthat the curtain had dropped before she could define it. She grew agitated, and Denzil turning, saw that her face was pale, andher grey eyes vague and troubled. "I am quite sure that it is tiring you, showing me all the house likethis, we won't look at another picture--and really I must be getting on. " She did not contradict him. "I am afraid that you ought to go perhaps, if you want to arrive bydaylight. " And as they returned to the green drawing-room she said some nice thingsabout wanting to meet his mother, and she tried to be natural and atease, but her hand was cold as ice when he held it in saying good-byebefore the fire, when Filson had announced the motor. And if his eyes had shown passionate emotion in the picture gallery, hersnow filled with question and distress. "Good-bye, Denzil--" "Good-bye, Amaryllis--" He could not bring himself to say the usualconventionalities, and went towards the door with nothing more. Her brain was clearing, terror and passion and uncertainty had come inlike a flood. "Denzil--?" He turned to her side fearfully. Why had she called him now? "Denzil--?" her face had paled still further, and there was an anguish ofpleading in it. "Oh, please, what does it all mean?" and she fell forwardinto his arms. He held her breathlessly. Had she fainted? No--she still stood on herfeet, but her little face there lying on his breast was as a lily inwhiteness and tears escaped from her closed eyes. "For God's sake, Denzil, have you not something to tell me? You cannotleave me so!" He shivered with the misery of things. "I have nothing to tell you, child. " His voice was hoarse. "You areoverwrought and overstrung. I have nothing to say to you but justgood-bye. " She held his coat and looked up at him wildly. "--Denzil--It was you--not--John!" He unclasped her clinging arms: "I must go. " "You shall not until you answer me--I have a right to know. " "I tell you I have nothing to say to you, " he was stern with thesuffering of restraint. She clung to him again. "Why did you say that word 'Sweetheart' then? It was your own word. Oh!Denzil, you cannot be so frightfully cruel as to leave me inuncertainty--tell me the truth or I shall die!" But he drew himself away from her and was silent; he could not make lyingprotestations of not understanding her, so there only remained one coursefor him to follow--he must go, and the brutality of such action made himfierce with pain. She burst into passionate sobs and would have fallen to the ground. Heraised her in his arms and laid her on the sofa near, and then fearseized him. What if this excitement and emotion should make her reallyill--? He knelt down beside her and stroked her hair. But she only sobbed themore. "How hideously cruel are men. Why can't you tell me what I ask you? Youdare not even pretend that you do not understand!" He knew that his silence was an admission, he was torn with distress. "Darling, " he cried at last in torment, "for God's sake, let me go. " "Denzil--" and then her tears stopped suddenly, and the great dropsglistened on her white cheeks. Weeping had not disfigured her--she lookedbut as a suffering child. "Denzil--if you knew everything, you could not possibly leave me--youdon't know what has happened--But you must, you will have tosince--soon--" He bowed his head and placed her two hands over his face with adespairing movement. "Hush--I implore you--say nothing. I do know, but I love you--I mustgo. " At that she gave a glad cry and drew him close to her. "You shall not now! I do not care for conventions any more, or for laws, or for anything! I am a savage--you are mine! John must know that you aremine! The family is all that matters to him, I am only an instrument, amedium for its continuance--but Denzil, you and I are young and lovingand living. It is you I desire, and now I know that I belong to you. Youare the man and I am the woman--and the child will be our child!" Her spirit had arisen at last and broken all chains. She wastransfigured, transformed, translated. No one knowing the gentleAmaryllis could have recognised her in this fierce, primitive creatureclaiming her mate! Furious, answering passion surged through Denzil; it was the suprememoment when all artificial restrictions of civilisation were swept away. Nature had come to her own. All her forces were working for these two ofher children brought near by a turn of fate. He strained her in his armswildly--he kissed her lips, and ears, and eyes. "Mine, mine, " he cried, and then "Sweetheart!" And for some seconds which seemed an eternity of bliss they forgot allbut the joy of love. But presently reality fell upon Denzil and he almost groaned. "I must leave you, precious dear one--even so--I gave my word of honourto John that I would never take advantage of the situation. Fate has donethis thing by bringing us together; it has overwhelmed us. I do not feelthat we are greatly to blame, but that does not release me from mypromise. It is all a frightful price that we must pay for pride in theFamily. Darling, help me to have courage to go. " "I will not--It is shameful cruelty, " and she clung to him, "that we mustbe parted now I am yours really--not John's at all. Everything in myheart and being cries out to you--you are the reality of my dream lover, your image has been growing in my vision for months. I love you, Denzil, and it is your right to stay with me now and take care of me, and it ismy right to tell you of my thoughts about the--child--Ah! if you knewwhat it means to me, the joy, the wonder, the delight! I cannot keep itall to myself any longer. I am starving! I am frozen! I want to tell itall to my Beloved!" He held her to him again--and she poured forth the tenderest holy things, and he listened enraptured and forgot time and place. "Denzil, " she whispered at last, from the shelter of his arms. "I havefelt so strange--exalted, ever since--and now I shall have this everpresent thought of you and love women in my existence--But how is itgoing to be in the years which are coming? How can I go on pretending toJohn?--I cannot--I shall blurt out the truth--For me there is onlyyou--not just the you of these last days since we saw each other with oureyes--but the you that I had dreamed about and fashioned as my lover--mydelight--Can I whisper to John all my joy and tenderness as I watch thegrowing up of my little one? No! the thing is monstrous, grotesque--Iwill not face the pain of it all. John gave you to me--he must have doneso--it was some compact between you both for the family, and if I did notlove you I should hate you now, and want to kill myself. But I love you, I love you, I love you!" and she fiercely clasped her arms once moreabout his neck. "You must take the consequences of your action. I did notask to have this complication in my life. John forced it upon me for hisown aims, but I have to be reckoned with, and I want my lover, I claim mymate. " Her cheeks were flaming and her eyes flashed. "And your lover wants you, " and Denzil wildly returned her fond caress, "but the choice is not left to me, darling, even if you were my wife, notJohn's. You have forgotten the war--I must go out and fight. " All the warmth and passion died out of her, and she lay back on thepillows of the sofa for a moment and closed her eyes. She hadindeed forgotten that ghastly colossus in her absorption in theirown two selves. Yes--he must go out and fight--and John would go too--and they might bothbe killed like all those gallant partners of the season and her cousin, and those who had fallen at Mons and the battle of the Marne. No--she must not be so paltry as to think of personal things, even love. She must rise above all selfishness, and not make it harder for her man. Her little face grew resigned and sanctified, and Denzil watching herwith burning, longing eyes, waited for her to speak. "It is true--for the moment nothing but you and my great desire for youwas in my mind. But you are right, Denzil; of course, I cannot keep you. Only I am glad that just this once we have tasted a brief moment ofhappiness, and--Denzil, I believe our souls belong to each other, even ifwe do not meet again on earth. " And when at last they had parted, and Amaryllis, listening, heard themotor go, she rose from the sofa and went out through the window to thelawn, and so to the church again, and there lay on the steps of the youngknight's tomb, sobbing and praying until darkness enveloped the land. CHAPTER XIII A day or two before Denzil sailed for France he dined with Verisschenzko. The intense preoccupation of the last war preparations had left him verylittle time for grieving. He was unhappy when he thought of Amaryllis, but he was a man, and another primitive instinct was in action inhim--the zest of going out to fight! Verisschenzko was depressed, his country was not yet giving him theopportunity to fulfil his hopes, and he fretted that he must directthings from so far. They sat in a quiet corner of the Berkeley and talked in a desultoryfashion all through the _hors d'ouvres_ and the soup. "I am sick of things, Denzil, " Verisschenzko said at last. "I feelinclined to end it all sometimes. " "And belie the whole meaning of your whole beliefs. Don't be a fool, Stépan. I always have told you that there is one grain of suicide in thecomposition of every Russian. Now it has become active with you. Haveanother glass of champagne, old boy, and then you'll talk sense again. It is sickening to be killed, or maimed, or any beastly thing if itcomes along with duty, but to court it is madness pure and simple. It'sjust rot. " "I'm with you, " and he called the waiter and ordered a fine champagne, while he smiled, showing his strong, square teeth. "They don't have decent vodka--but the brandy will do the trick, " and inan instant his mood changed even before the cognac had come. "It is the lingering trace of some other life of folly, when I talk likethat--I know it, Denzil. It is the harking back to long months of gloomand darkness and snow and the howling of wolves and the fear of theknout. This is not my first Russian life, you know!" "Probably not; but you've had some more balanced intervening ones, or Ishould have found you dead with veronal, or some other filthy thingbefore this, with your highly strung nerves! I am not really alarmedabout you though, Stépan--you are fundamentally sane. " "I am glad you think that--very few English understand us--" "Because you don't understand yourselves. You seem to have every qualityand fault crammed into your skins with no discrimination as to how tosort them. You are not self-conscious like we are and afraid of lookinglike fools--so whatever is uppermost bursts out. If one of us had halfyour brains he would never have said an idiot thing completely contraryto his whole natural bent like that, just because he felt down on hisluck for the moment. " Verisschenzko laughed outright. "Go ahead, Denzil--let off steam! I'm done in!" "Well, don't be such a damned fool again!" "I won't--how is my Lady Amaryllis?" Denzil looked at him keenly. "Why do you ask?" "Because she has written to me, and I am going down to see her--" "Then you know how she is?" "I guess. Look here, Denzil, do try and be frank with me. You areacquainted with me and know whether I am to be trusted or not. You areaware that I love her with the spirit. You and the worthy husband are offto be killed, and yet just because you are so damned reserved English, you can't bring yourself to do the sensible thing and tell me all aboutit so that if you go to glory I could look after her rights and--thechild's--and take care of her. It is you who are a fool really, not I!Because I get a little drunk with my moods and talk about suicide, thatis froth, but I should not bottle up a confidence because it's 'not thething' to talk about a woman--even though it's for her benefit andprotection to do so. I've more common sense. Some difficult questionsmight crop up later with Ferdinand Ardayre, and I want to have the realtruth made plain to myself so that I can crush him. If you've some cardsup your sleeve that I don't know of, I can't defend Amaryllis so well. " Denzil put down his knife and fork for a moment; he realised the truthof what his friend said, but it was very difficult for him to speakall the same. "Tell me what you know, Stépan, and I'll see what I can do. It is notbecause I don't trust you, but it is against everything in me to talk. " "Convention again, and selfishness. You are thinking more about theEnglishman's point of view than the good of the woman you love--because Ifeel partly from her letter that you do love her and that she lovesyou--and I surmise that the child is yours, not John's, though how thismiracle has been accomplished, since it was clear that you had never seenher until the night at the Carlton, I don't pretend to guess!" Denzil drank down his champagne, and then he made Verisschenzkounderstand in a few words--the Russian's imagination filled in thedetails. He lit a cigarette between the course and puffed rings of smoke. "So poor John devised this plan, and yet he loves her--he must indeed beobsessed by the family!" "He is--he is a frightfully reserved person too, and I am sure has frozenAmaryllis from the first day. " "My idea was always for this, directly I went to Ardayre. I felt thatmysterious pull of the family there in that glorious house. I thought shewould probably simplify things by just taking you for a lover, when youmet, as you are her counterpart--a perfect mate for her. I had even madeup my mind to suggest this to her, and influence her as much as I couldto this end--but lo! the husband takes the matter out of our hands anddevises a really unique accomplishment of our wishes. Gosh! Denzil! it'sJohn who's got the common sense and the genius, not we!" "Yes, he has--so far, but he did not reckon with human emotion. He mighthave known that directly I should see Amaryllis I should fall in lovewith her, and he ought to have understood that that extraordinary thing, nature, might make her draw to me afterwards. Now the situation istragic, however you look at it. John will have the hell of a life if hecomes back; he can't help feeling jealous every time he sees the child, and the tension between him and Amaryllis, now that she knows, will begreat. Amaryllis is wretched--she is passionate and vivid as a hummingbird. Every hair of her darling head is living and quivering with humanpower for joy and union, and she will lead the famished life of a nun! Iabsolutely worship her. I am frantically in love, so my outlook, if Icome back is not gay either. I wonder if we did well, after all, John andI, and if the family makes all this suffering worth while? Perhaps itwould have been better to leave it to fate!" Denzil sighed and forgot tonotice a dish the waiter was handing. "It is perfectly certain, " and Verisschenzko grew contemplative, "thatthe result of deliberately turning the current of events like that musthave some momentous consequence. Mind you, I think you were right. Ishould have advised it as I have told you, because of that swine of aTurk, Ferdinand--but it may have deranged some plan of the Cosmos, andif so some of you will have to pay for it. I hate that it should be mylady Amaryllis. All her sorrow comes from your dramatically honourablepromise. You can't make love to her now--because a man who is agentleman does not break his word. Now if my plan had been followed, youwould not have had this limitation and you could have had some joy--butwho knows! A false position is a gall in any case, and it would havesoiled my star, which now shines purely. So perhaps all is for the best. But have you analysed, now that we are on the subject, what it is 'beingin love, ' old boy?" "It is divine--and it is hell--" "All that! Amaryllis is the exact opposite to Harietta Boleski--in this, that she attracts as strongly as Harietta could ever do physically, andwill be no disappointment in soul in the _entre actes_. _Being in love_is a physical state of exaltation; _loving_ is the merging of spiritwhich in its white heat has glorified the physical instinct forre-creation into a godlike beatitude not of earth. A man could be in lovewith Harietta, he could never love her. A man could always loveAmaryllis, so much that he would not be aware that half his joy wasbecause he was _in love_ with her also. " "You know, Stépan, men, women and every one talk a lot of nonsense aboutother interests in life mattering more, and there being other kinds ofreally better happiness, but it is pure rot; if one is honest one ownsthat there is no real happiness but in the satisfaction of love. Everyother kind is second best. It is jolly good often, but only a _pis aller_in comparison to the real thing. "And when people deny this, believing they are speaking honestly, it issimply because the real thing has not come their way, or they are toobrutalised by transient indulgences to be able to feel exaltation. "So here's to love!" and Denzil emptied his glass. "The supreme God--" _"Ainsi soit il, "_ and Stépan drank in response. "Our toast before hasalways been to the Ardayre son, and now we drink to what I hope has beenhis creator!" They were silent for some moments, and then Verisschenzko went on: "When the state of being in love is waning, affection often remains, butthen one is at the mercy of a new emotion. I'd be nervous if a woman whohad loved me subsided into feeling affection!" "Then define loving?" "Loving throbs with delight in the flesh; it thrills the spirit withreverence. It glorifies into beauty commonplace things. It draws nearerin sickness and sorrow, and is not the sport of change. When a womanloves truly she has the passion of the mistress, the selfless tendernessof the mother, the dignity and devotion of the wife. She is all fire andsnow, all will and frankness, all passion and reserve, she isauthoritative and obedient--queen and child. " "And a man?" "He ceases to be a brute and becomes a god. " "Can it last, I wonder?" and again Denzil sighed. "It could if people were not such fools--they nearly always deliberatelydestroy the loved one's emotion by senseless stupidity--in not graspingthe fact that no fire burns without fuel. They disillusionise each other. The joy once secured, they take no pains to keep it. A woman will dothings when the lover is an acknowledged possession, which she would nothave dreamed of doing while desiring to attract the man--and a manlikewise--neither realising that the whole state of being in love is anintoxication of the senses, and that the senses are very easily weariedor affronted. " "Stépan--what am I going to do about Amaryllis? If I come back, it willbe hell--a continual longing and aching, and I want to accomplishsomething in life; it was never my plan to have the whole thing held andbounded by passion for a woman. A hopeless passion I can understandfacing and crushing, but one which you know that the woman returns, andthat it is only the law and promises you have made which separate you, isthe most awful torment. " He covered his eyes with his hand for a moment. His face was stern. "And her life too--how sickening. You say you aregoing down to Ardayre to see Amaryllis--you will tell me how you findher. I have not written--I am trying not to feel. " "Are you interested about the coming child? I am never quite certain howmuch it matters to a man, whether we deceive ourselves and feel sentimentsimply because we love the woman, whether the emotion is half vanity, orwhether there is something in the actual state called parenthood? How doyou feel?" Denzil thought of his musings upon this subject after he had seenAmaryllis at the Carlton. "It is hard to describe, " he answered now, "it is all so interwoven withlove for Amaryllis that I cannot distinguish which is which, or how Ifeel about the state in the abstract. Women have these mysteriousemotions, I believe, but I do not think that they come to the averageman, but if he loves it seems a fulfilment. " "I have two children scattered in Russia, begotten before I had begun tothink of things and their meanings. I have them finely educated--I loathethem. I sicken at the memory of the mothers; I am ashamed when I see inthem some chance physical likeness to myself. But how will you feelpresently when you see the child, adoring the mother as you do? What willit say to you, looking at you with your own eyes, perhaps? You'll long tohave some hand in the training of it. You'll desire to watch the buddingbrain and the expanding soul. You'll be drawn closer and closer toAmaryllis--it will all pull you with an invisible nature chain--" "I know it, --that is the tragedy of the whole thing. Those delights willbe John's--and I hate to think that Amaryllis will be alone for all thesemonths--and yet I believe I would prefer that to her being with John. Iam jealous when I remember that he has rights denied to me--so what musthe feel, poor devil, when he remembers about me?" "It is quite a peculiar situation. I wonder what the years willdevelop it into. " "If the child is a girl, the whole thing is in vain. " "It won't be a girl--you will see I am right. When will you and John getleave, do you suppose?" "I don't know, but about Christmas, perhaps, if we are alive--" "Do you want to see her again, then?" "I long always to see her--but by Christmas--it would be nearly fivemonths. I don't think I could keep my word and not make love to her--if Isaw her--then. " "You will wish to hear about her--?" "Always. " After this they were both silent while the cheese was being removed. Verisschenzko was thinking profoundly. Here was a study worthy of hishighest intuitive faculties. What possible solution could the futurehold? Only one--that of death for either of the men concerned. Well, death was busy with England's best--it was no unlikely possibility--andas he looked at Denzil he felt a stab of pain. Nothing more splendid andliving and strong could be imagined than his six foot one of manhood, crowned with the health of his twenty-nine years. "I hope to God he comes through, " he prayed. And then he became cynical, as was his habit, when he found himself moved. "I am on the track of Harietta, Denzil. She has a newlover--Ferdinand Ardayre. " "What a combination!" "Yes, but who the officer was at the Ardayre ball I cannot yet trace. Stanislass is quite a _gaga_--he spends his time packed off to playpiquet at the St. James'--he has no _bosse des cartes_, --it is hisburdensome duty. " "He does not feel the war?" "He is numb. " "What will you do if you catch her red-handed?" "I shall have her shot without a moment's compunction. It would be afitting end. " "I don't know that I should have the nerve to shoot a woman--even a spy. " Verisschenzko laughed, and a savage light grew in his Calmuck eyes. "My want of civilisation will serve me--if ever that moment comes. " Then their talk turned to fighting, and women were forgotten for thetime. CHAPTER XIV Amaryllis came up to London the following week to say good-bye to John, so Verisschenzko did not go down to Ardayre to see her. John's leave-taking was characteristic. He could not break through theiron band of his reserve, he longed to say something loving to her, butthe more deeply he felt things the greater was his difficulty inself-expression. And the knowledge of the secret he hid in his heart madehim still more ill at ease with Amaryllis. She too was changed--he feltit at once. Her grey eyes were mysterious--they had grown from a girl'sinto a woman's. She did not mention the coming child until he did--andthen it was she who showed desire to change the conversation. All thispained John, while he felt that he himself was the cause--he knew that hehad frozen her. He thought over his marriage from the beginning. Hethought of the night when he had sat on the bench outside her windowuntil dawn, of the agony he suffered, realising at last that the axe hadindeed fallen, and that some day she must know the truth. And would shereproach him and say that he should have warned her that this possibilitymight occur? He remembered his talk with Lemon Bridges. He had been goingto give him a definite answer that morning, but John had missed theappointment, so they spoke at the ball. Would it have been better if he had let himself go and fondly kissed andnetted Amaryllis? Or would that have been misleading and still moreunkind? It was too late now, in any case. He must learn to take the onlysatisfaction which was left to him, the knowledge that there was the hopeof a true Ardayre to carry on. He talked long to his wife of his desires for the child's education, should it prove a boy, and he should not return, and Amaryllis listeneddutifully. Her mind was filled with wonder all the time. She had been through muchemotion since the passionate outburst after Denzil had gone, but wasquite calm now. She had classified things in her mind. She felt noresentment against John. He ought not to have married her perhaps, but itmight be that at the time he did not know. Only she wondered when shelooked at him sitting opposite her, talking gravely about the baby, inthe library of Brook Street, how he could possibly be feeling. What animmense influence the thought of the family must have in his life. Sheunderstood it in a great measure herself. She remembered Verisschenzko'swords upon the occasions when he had spoken to her about it, and of herduties towards it, and how she must uphold it. She particularlyremembered that which he had said when they walked by the lake, and hehad seemed to be transmitting some message to her, which she had notunderstood at the time. Did Verisschenzko know then that John must alwaysbe heirless and had he been suggesting to her that the line should go onthrough her? Some of the pride in it all had come to her before she hadleft the dark church after parting with Denzil. Perhaps she wasfulfilling destiny. She must not be angry with John. She did not try tocease from loving Denzil. She had not knowingly been unfaithful toJohn--and now, she would be faithful to Denzil, he was her love and hermate. Indeed, even in the fortnight which elapsed between her farewellto him, and now when she was going to say farewell to John, she had manymonths of tender consolation in the thought of the baby--Denzil's son. She could revive and revel in that exquisite exaltation which she hadexperienced at first and which John had withered. Denzil far surpassedeven the imagined lover into which she had turned John. So now Denzil hadbecome the reality, and John the dream. She felt sorry for her husband too. She was fine enough to understand anddivine his difficulties. She found that she felt just nothing for him but a kindly affection. Hemight have been Archie de la Paule--or any of her other cousins. She knewthat her whole being was given to Denzil--who represented her dream. She tried to be very kind to John, and when he kissed her beforestarting, the tears came to her eyes. Poor good, cold John! And when he had departed--all the de la Paule family had been there atBrook Street also--Lady de la Paule wondered at her niece's set face. Butwhat a mercy it was the marriage was such a success after all and thatthere might be a son! So both Denzil and John went to the war--and Amaryllis was alone. Verisschenzko had returned to Paris without seeing her--and it was thebeginning of December before he was in England again and rang her up atBrook Street where she had returned for a week, asking if he might call. "Of course!" she said, and so he came. The library was looking its best. Amaryllis had a knack of arrangingflowers and cushions and such things--her rooms always breathed an air ofhome and repose, and Verisschenzko was struck by the sweet scent and thewarmth and cosiness when he came in out of the gloomy fog. She rose to greet him, her face more ethereal still than when he haddined with her. "You are looking like an angel, " he said, when she had given him some teaand they were seated on the big sofa before the fire. "What have you totell me? I know that you are going to have a child; I am very interestedabout it all. " Amaryllis blushed a soft pink--he went on with perfect calm. "You blush as though I had said something unheard of! How custom rulesyou still! For a blush is caused by feeling some sort of shame ordiscomfort, or agitating surprise at some discovery. We may get red withanger, or get pale, but that bright, sudden flush always has someself-conscious element of shame in it. It is just convention which haswrapped the most natural and divine thing in life round with discomfortin this way. You are deeply to be congratulated that you are going tohave a baby, do you not think so?" "Of course I do--" and Amaryllis controlled her uneasy bashfulness. Shereally wished to talk to her friend. "Who told you about it?" she asked. "Denzil. " Amaryllis drew in her breath suddenly. Verisschenzko's eyes were lookingher through and through. "Denzil--?" "Yes, --he is glad that there may be the possibility of a son forthe family. " "How do you feel about it? It is an enormous responsibility to havechildren. " "I feel that--I want to do the wisest things from the beginning--" "You must take great care of yourself, and always remain serene. Neverlet your mind become agitated by speculation as to the _presently_, keepall thoughts fixed upon the now. " Amaryllis looked at him a little troubled. What did he know? Somethingtangible, or were these views of his just applicable to any case? Hereyes were full of question and pleading. "What do you want to ask me?" His eyes narrowed in contemplating her. "I--I--do not know. " "Yes, you want to hear of Denzil--is it not so?" She clasped her hands. "Yes--perhaps--" "He is well--I heard from him yesterday. He asked me to come to you. Hismother is still at Bath--he wishes you to meet. " Suddenly the impossibleness of everything seemed to come over Amaryllis. She rose quickly and threw out her hands: "Oh! if I could only understand the meaning of things, my friend! I amafraid to think!" "You love Denzil very much--yes?" "Yes--" "Sit down and let us talk about it, lady of my soul. I am yourmother now. " She sank into her seat beside him, among the green silk pillows--and heleaned back and watched her for a while. "He fulfils some imaginary picture, _hein?_ You had not seen him reallyuntil we all dined?" "No. " "You were bound to be drawn to him--he is everything a woman coulddesire--but it was not only that--tell me?" "He was what I had hoped John would be--the likeness is so great--" "It is much deeper than that--nature was drawing you unconsciously. " She covered her face with her hands. It seemed as if Verisschenzko mustknow the truth. Had Denzil told him, or was it his wonderful intuitionwhich was enlightening him now, or was it just her sensitive conscience? "You see custom and convention and false shames have so distorted mostnatural things that no one has been taught to understand them. Men wereintended in the scheme of things to love women and to have children;women were meant to love men and to desire to be mothers. These instinctsare primordial, the life of the world depends upon them. They have beendistorted and abused into sins and vices and excesses and every evil bycivilisation, so that now we rule them out of every calculation injudging of a circumstance; if we are 'nice' people they are taboo. Supposing we so suppressed and distorted and misused the other twoprimitive instincts, to obtain food and to kill one's enemy, the worldwould have ended long ago. We have done what we could to distort thosealso, but nothing to the extent to which we have debased the nobility ofthe recreative instinct!" Amaryllis listened attentively, and he went on: "It is admitted that we require food to live--and that if we arethreatened with death from an enemy we have the right to kill him inself-defence. But it is never admitted that it is equally natural that wedesire to recreate our species. Under certain circumstances of vows andrestrictions, we are permitted to take one partner for life--and--if thisperson turns out to be a fraud for the purpose for which we made thepromise, we may not have another. Supposing hungry savages were givencovered dishes purporting to contain food, and upon lifting the cover oneof them discovered his dish was empty--what would happen? He would bearit as long as he could, but when he was starving he would certainly tryto steal some food from his neighbour--and might even knock him on thehead and obtain it! Civilisation has controlled primitive instincts, sothat a civilised man might perhaps prefer to die himself from starvationrather than kill or steal. He is master of his actions, _but he is notmaster of the effects of his abstinence--Nature wins these, _ and whateverwould be the natural physical result of his abstinence occurs. Now youcan reason this thought out in all its branches, and you will see whereit leads to--" Amaryllis mused for some moments--and she saw the justice of hisreflections. "But for hundreds of years there have been priests and nuns and companiesof ascetics, " she remarked tentatively. "There have been hundreds of lunatics also--and madness is not on thedecrease. When you destroy nature you always produce the abnormal, whenlife survives from your treatment. " "You think that it is natural that one should have a mate then?"--shehesitated. "Absolutely. " "It is more important than the keeping of vows?" "No, the spirit is degraded by the knowledge of broken vows--only onemust have intelligence to realise what the price of keeping them will be, and then summon strength enough to carry out whatever course is best forthe soul, or best for the ideal one is living for. Sometimes that endrequires ruthlessness, and sometimes that end requires that we starve inone way or another, so _we must_ be prepared for sacrifice perhaps oflife, or what makes life worth living, if we are strong enough to keepvows which we have been short-sighted enough to make too hastily. " Amaryllis gazed in front of her--then she asked softly: "Do you think it is wicked of me to be thinking of Denzil--not John?" "No--it is quite natural--the wickedness would be if you pretended toJohn that you were thinking of him. Deception is wickedness. " "Everything is so sad now. Both have gone to fight. I do not dare tothink at all. " "Yes, you must think--you must think of your child and draw to it all thegood forces, so that it may come to life unhampered by any weakness ofbalance in you. That must be your constant self-discipline. Keep sereneand try to live in a world of noble ideals and serenity. Now I am goingto play to you--" Amaryllis had never heard Verisschenzko play. He arranged the sofacushions and made her lie comfortably among them, then he went to thepiano--and presently it seemed to her that her soul was floating upwardinto realms of perfect content. She had never even dreamed of suchplaying. It was like nothing she had ever heard before, the soundstouched all the highest chords in her spirit. She did not ask whose wasthe music. She seemed to know that it was Verisschenzko's own, which wasjust talking to her, telling her to be calm and brave and true. He played for a whole hour--and at last softly and yet more softly, andwhen he finished he saw that she was quietly asleep. A smile as tender as a mother's came into his rugged face, and he stolefrom the room noiselessly, breathing a blessing as he passed. And somewhere in France, Denzil and John were thinking of her too, eachwith great love in his heart. CHAPTER XV Harietta Boleski was growing dissatisfied with her life. England was ofno amusement to her, and yet Hans insisted upon her staying on. Shewanted to go to Paris. The war altogether was a supreme bore and upsether plans! She had been so successful in her obvious stupid way that Hans had beenenabled to transmit the most useful information to his country, which hadassisted to foil more than one Allied plan. Harietta saw numbers of oldgentlemen who pulled strings in that time, and although they wearied her, she found them easier to extract news from than the younger men. Hermethod was so irresistible: a direct appeal to the senses, and it hardlyever failed. If only Hans would consent to her returning to Paris, withthe help of Ferdinand Ardayre, who was now her slave, she promisedwonderful things. Hans, as a Swedish philanthropic gentleman, had been over to give herinstructions once or twice, and at last had agreed to her crossingthe Channel. She told this good news to Ferdinand one afternoon just before Christmas, when he came in to see her in London. "I'm going to Paris, Ferdie, and you must come too. There's no use inyour pretending that England matters to you, and you are of such use tous with your branch business in Holland like that. If I'd thought in thebeginning that there was a chance to knock out Germany, I would have beenright on this side, because there's no two ways about it, England's theplace to have a good time in, but I've information which makes it certainthat we shall take Calais in the Spring, and so I guess it's safer tocling to Kaiser Bill--and get it all done soon, then we can enjoyourselves again. I do pine for a tango! My! I'm just through with thisdull time!" Ferdinand was a rest to her, almost as good as Hans. She had not to beover-refined--she knew that he was on the same level as herself. Heamused her too in several ways. He looked sulky now. It did not suit his plans to go to Paris yet. He wastrying to collect information for a game of his own. But where Hariettawent he must go, he was besotted about her, and knew that he could nottrust her a yard. He protested a little that they were very well where they were, but asshe never allowed any one's wishes to interfere with her plans sheonly smiled. "I'm going on Saturday. We have secured a suite at the Universal thistime, now that the Rhin is shut up, and it is such a large hotel, you canquite well stay there; Stanislass won't notice you among the crowd. " Ferdinand agreed unwillingly--and just then Verisschenzko came in. He hadnot seen Madame Boleski since the night at the Carlton, having taken carenot to let her know of his further visits to England since. He looked at Ferdinand Ardayre as though he had been some bit offurniture, and he took up Fou-Chow who was cowering beneath a chair. Hedid not speak a word. Harietta talked for every one for a little while, and then she began tofeel nervous. Verisschenzko smiled lazily--he was trying an experiment. The interviewcould not go on like this; Ferdinand Ardayre would certainly have to go. Now that Verisschenzko had come, Harietta ardently wished that he would. The most venomous hate was arising in Ferdinand's resentful soul. He feltthat here was a rival to be dreaded indeed. He saw that Harietta wasnervous; he had never seen her so before. He shut his teeth anddetermined to stay on. Verisschenzko continued his disconcerting silence. Harietta felt thatshe should presently scream! She took Fou-Chow from Stépan and pinchedhim cruelly in her exasperation. He gave a feeble squeak and she pushedhim roughly down. Animals to her were a nuisance. She disliked them ifshe had any feeling at all. But Fou-Chow was an adjunct to her toiletsometimes, and was a coveted possession, envied by her many femalefriends. His tiny, cringing body irritated her though extremely whenshe was not using him for effect, and he was often kicked and cuffedout of her way. He showed evident fear of her and ran from her always, so that whenshe wanted to make a picture with him, she was obliged to carry himin her arms. Verisschenzko raised one bushy eyebrow, and a sardonic smile cameinto his eyes. Madame Boleski saw that she had made a mistake in showing her temper tothe dog; it would have given her pleasure then to wring its neck! The two men sat on. She began to grow so uncomfortable that she couldendure it no more. "You are coming back to dinner, Mr. Ardayre, " she remarked at length, "and I want you to get me gardenias to wear, if you will be so kind, andI am afraid you will have to hurry as the shops close soon. " Ferdinand Ardayre rose, rage showing in his mean face, but as he had nochoice he said good-bye. Harietta accompanied him to the door, pressinghis hand stealthily, then she returned to the Russian with flaming eyes. He had not uttered a word. "How dare you make me so nervous, sitting there like a log! I won't standfor such treatment--you Bear!" "Then sit down. Why do you have that Turk with you at all?" "He is not a Turk; he's an Englishman and a friend of mine. Why, he isthe brother of your precious John Ardayre--and they have behavedshamefully to him, poor dear boy. " She was still enraged. "He is not even a pure Turk--some of them are gentlemen. He is just thescum of the earth, and no blood relation to John Ardayre. " "He will let them know whether he is or not some day! I hear that yourbit of bread and butter is going to have a child, and as Ferdie says itcan't be John's, I suppose it is yours!" Verisschenzko's face looked dangerous. "You would do well to guard your words, Harietta. I do not permit you tomake such remarks to me--and it would be more prudent if you warned yourfriend that he had better not make such assertions either--do youunderstand?" Harietta felt some twinge of fear at the strange tone in the Russian'svoice, but she was too out of temper to be cowed now. "Puh!" and she tossed her head. "If the child is a boy Ferdie will havesomething to say--and as for Amaryllis--I hate her! I'd like to kill herwith my own hands. " Verisschenzko rose and stood before her--and there was a look in his eyeswhich made her suddenly grow cold. "Listen, " he said icily. "I have warned you once and you know me wellenough to decide whether I ever speak lightly. I warn you again to becareful of your words and your deeds. I shall warn you no more--if youtransgress a third time--then I will strike. " Harietta grew pale to her painted lips. How would he strike? Not with a stick as Hans would have done, butin some much more deadly way. She changed her manner instantly andbegan to laugh. "Darling Brute!" Verisschenzko knew that he had alarmed her sufficiently, so he sat downin his chair again and lit a cigarette calmly--then he sniffed the air. "Your mongrel friend uses the same perfume as Stanislass' mistress!" "Stanislass' mistress?" she had forgotten for the moment. "Yes--don't you remember we burnt his scented handkerchief the last timewe met, because we did not like her taste in perfumes?" Harietta's ill humour rose again; she was annoyed that she had forgottenthis incident. Her instinct of self-preservation usually preserved herfrom committing any such mistakes. She felt that it was now advisable tobecome cajoling; also there was something in the face of Verisschenzkoand his fierceness which aroused renewed passion in her--it was absurdto waste time in quarrelling with him when in an hour Stanislass might becoming in, so she went over behind his chair and smoothed back his thickdark hair. "You know that I adore you, darling Brute!" "Of course--" he did not even turn his head towards her. "Have you hadyour heart's desire here in England?" "Before this stupid war came--yes--now I'm through with it. I'm forParis again. " "I suppose I must have been mistaken, but I thought I caught sight ofyour handsome German friend in the hall just now?" "German friend--who?" "Your _danseur_ at the Ardayre ball. I have forgotten his name. " "And so have I. " At that instant Marie appeared at the door and Fou-Chow came from underthe chair where he was sheltering and pattered towards her with a gladtiny whine. The maid's eyes rounded with dislike as she looked at hermistress; she realised that the little creature had been roughly treatedagain. She picked him up and could hardly control her voice into a toneof respectfulness as she spoke: "Monsieur Insborg demands if he can see Madame in half an hour. Hetelephoned to Madame but received no reply. " For a second Harietta's eyes betrayed her; they narrowed with alarm, andthen she said suavely: "I suppose the receiver was off. No, say I amdining early for the theatre--but to-morrow at five. " The maid inclined her head and left the room silently, carryingFou-Chow, but as she did so her eyes met Verisschenzko's and theirexpression suggested to him several things: "Marie loves the dog--so she hates Harietta. Good--we shall see. " Thus his thoughts ran, but aloud he asked what Harietta meant to do withher life in Paris, and who had been her lovers here? "You do say such frightful things to me, Stépan, " and she tossed herhead. "You think that because I took you, I take others! Pah!--and if Ido--these Englishmen are peaches, just like little school boys--they'dnot harm a fly. But I only love you, Darling Brute--even though we havehad a row. " "I know that, of course. I am not jealous, only you have not given me anyproofs lately, so I am going to retire from the field. I came to saygood-bye. " He looked adorably attractive, Harietta thought--he made her blood run. Ferdinand Ardayre was but an instructed weakling, when one had comethrough his intricacies there was nothing in him. As a lover he was notworth the Russian's little finger, and the more Verisschenzko eludedher, the higher her passion for him grew; and here he was after monthsof absence and suggesting that he would leave her for ever! This was notto be borne! The enraging part was that she would not dare to try to keep him withHans again upon the scene. She hated Hans once more as she had hated himat the Ardayre ball! Verisschenzko did not attempt to caress her; he sat perfectly still, nordid he speak. Harietta could not think how to cope with this new mood; her wearinesswith the gloom of England and the absence of amusement seemed to renderStépan more than ever desirable. He represented the wild, the strong, theprimitive, the only thing she felt that she desired at that moment--andif she let him go to-day he was capable of never coming back to heragain. It was worth using any means to keep him on. She knew that shecould obtain some show of love from him if she bribed him with bits ofnews. It would serve Hans right too for daring to turn up soinconveniently! So she came from behind his chair and sat down on Verisschenzko's kneeand commenced to whisper in his ear. "Now I am beginning to think that you love me again, " he announcedpresently, --"and of course I must always pay for love!" * * * * * They were seated by the fire in two armchairs when Stanislass came infrom the Club before dinner at eight. Harietta had not even rememberedthat she must dress, so intoxicated with re-awakened passion forVerisschenzko had she become. A man for her must be in the room; heraffection could not keep alight in absence. She had revelled in the joyof finding again a complete physical master. She loved him as a tigressmay love her tamer, the man with the whip; and the knowledge that she wasdeceiving Hans and her husband and Ferdinand added a fillip to hersatisfaction. But how was she going to be sure to see Stépan again--thatwas the question which still agitated her. Verisschenzko wished tofurther examine Ferdinand Ardayre, and so decided to make every oneuncomfortable once more by staying on. Stanislass, very nervous with himnow, talked fast and foolishly. Harietta fidgeted, and in a moment or twoFerdinand Ardayre was announced. He reddened with annoyance to see the Russian had not gone; the flowerswhich he had brought were in a parcel in his hand. Harietta took them disdainfully without a word of thanks. What a nuisancethe creature was after all!--and Stanislass was--and everything andanything was which kept her from being alone with Verisschenzko! "When are you coming to see me again, Stépan?" she asked, determined notto let him part without some definite future meeting settled. "I will come back and take coffee with you to-night, " he answeredunexpectedly. Harietta was enchanted, she had not hoped for this. "No one bothers so much about dressing now, stay and dine as you are. " "Yes, do, " chimed in Stanislass timidly in Russian, "we should beso charmed. " "Very well--I will dine--but I must change. I shall not be long though. Begin dinner without me, I will join you before the fish. " And with nofurther waste of words he left them. Harietta pushed Stanislass gently from the room with an injunction to bequick--and then she returned and held out her arms to Ferdinand Ardayre. "Now you must not be jealous, Ferdie pet, about Verisschenzko, " and shepatted him. "It is business--I must talk to him to-night; he has an ideathat you and I are not favourable to the Allies, " and she laugheddelightedly, "and I must get him off this notion!" Ferdinand Ardayre looked sullen; he was burning with jealousy. "Will you make it up to me afterwards?" "But, of course, in the usual way!" and with one of her wonderful kissesHarietta went laughing from the room. Left alone, the young man gave himself a morphine _piqûre_, and then satdown and held his head in his hands. He had heard, as he had told Harietta earlier in the afternoon, that hisbrother's wife was going to have a child, and he could find no way ofproving legally that it could not be John's, so his venom had grown withhis impotence. His mother had said to him once: "The accursed English will always beat us, my son. Thy real father wouldhave put poison in their coffee. We can only hope for revenge some day. Ifear we shall never gain our desires. The old fool whom thou callestfather must be sucked dry of everything while he lives, because noquarter will be given us once the breath is out of his body. " Was this true? Must the English always beat him? He remembered his hatredof Denzil while at Eton, and the dog's life he had often led there. Well, he would hit back with an adder's sting when the chance came to him. Hewould like to see both Ardayres ruined and England herself in the dust, numbed and conquered. All his English life and education had never madehim anything but an alien in thought and appearance. It was his powerlessness which enraged him, but surely the day must comewhen he could make some of them suffer. Harietta had not appeared in the hall when Verisschenzko returneddressed, and she even kept all three men waiting for about ten minutes, and then swept in resplendent in yellow brocade and the gardenias, whenthe clock had struck nine and most of the other diners were havingtheir coffee. The atmosphere of restraint and depression was a constant source ofresentment to her. It was all very well to be dignified and refined forsome definite end, like securing an unquestioned position, but it was aweariness of the flesh to have to keep up this rôle month after monthwith no excitement or reward, and every now and then she felt that shemust break out even in small ways by wearing too gorgeous and unsuitableraiment. She wished that Germany would be quick about winning, thenthings could settle down and she could begin her social career again. "It don't amount to a row of pins to the people who want to enjoythemselves, as I do, if their country is beaten or not; it'll all be thesame six months after peace is declared, so I'm all for knockingwhichever seems feeblest out quickly, " she had said to Ferdinand, "andParis will always be top of the world for clothes and things that onewants, so what do old politics matter?" She derived some pleasure out of the sensation she created when she wentinto a restaurant, and she really looked extraordinarily handsome. The dinner amused her, too; it was entertaining to make Ferdinandjealous. The emotions of Stanislass had ceased to count to her in any waywhatsoever. Verisschenzko had discovered what he required in regard to FerdinandArdayre before they went into the hall for coffee--there was nothingfurther to be gained by having another tête-à-tête with Harietta, so hesat down by Stanislass and suggested that the other two should go on tothe Coliseum without them, and Harietta was obliged to depart reluctantlywith Ferdinand, having arranged that Stépan should let her know, directlyhe arrived in Paris, whither he was going in a day or two also. When she had left them Stanislass Boleski turned melancholy eyes to hisold friend, but remained silent. "Has it been worth it?" Verisschenzko asked, with certain feeling--theyhad relapsed into Russian. Stanislass sighed deeply. "No--far from it--I am broken and finished, Stépan, she has devouredmy soul--" "Why don't you kill her! I should. " The Pole clenched one of his transparent looking hands: "I cannot--I desire her so--she is an obsession. I cannot work--sheleaves me neither time nor brain. But I want her always, she is a burningtorment, and a blast, and a sin. I see visions of the chance that I havemissed, and then all is obliterated by her voluptuous kisses. I die eachday with jealousy and shame. She withholds herself, and I would pay withthe blood from my veins to possess her again!" "You have no longer any delusions about her--you see her as a curse anda vampire?" Stanislass reddened. "I see everything, but I know only desire. Stépan, she has dragged methrough every degradation. I am a witness of her unfaithfulness. Shegives herself to this Turk with hardly a pretence of concealment--I knowit--I burn with rage, and I can do nothing. She returns to my arms and Iforget everything. I am a most unhappy man and only death can release me, and yet I wish to live because I love her. Each day is fierce longing forher--each night away from her hell--" Tears sprang to his hopeless blackeyes and his voice broke with emotion. Verisschenzko looked at him and a rough pity tempered his contempt. Here was a case where an indulgence having become master was exacting ahideous toll. But the net was drawing closer and when all the strandswere in his hands he would act without mercy. CHAPTER XVI When Amaryllis knew that John was going to get a few days' leave atChristmas a strange nervousness took possession of her. The personalityof Denzil had been growing more real to her ever since they had parted, in spite of her endeavours to discipline her mind and control allemotion. The thought of him and the thought of the baby were inseparableand were seldom absent from her consciousness. All sorts of wonderfulemotions held her, and exalted her imagination until she felt that Denzilwas part of her daily life--and with the double interest her love for himgrew and grew. She had only seen John during the day when he had come to bid hergood-bye before leaving for the Front, and most of the time they had beensurrounded by the de la Paule family. But now she would have to face thefact of living with him again in an intimate relationship. The thought appeared awful to her. There was something in her naturewhich resembled that of the bride of King Caudaules. She could notsupport the idea of belonging now to John; it seemed to her that he musthave no rights at all. She had written to him dutifully each week lettersabout the place and her Committees in the County. She had not oncementioned the coming child. Denzil's mother had been ill and the visit to Bath had been postponed, and after a fortnight alone at Ardayre she had come up to London. She hadtoo much time to think there. Stépan had left her a list of books to get and she had been steadilyreading them. How horribly ignorant she had been! She realised that what knowledge shehad possessed had never been centralised or brought to any use. She hadknown isolated histories of Europe, and never had studied themcollectively or contemporarily to discover their effect upon humanevolution. She had learned many things, and then never employed hercritical faculties about them. A whole new world seemed to be opening toher view. She had determined not to be unhappy and not to look ahead, butin spite of these good resolutions she would often dream in the firelightof the joy of being clasped in Denzil's arms. When she thought of John it was with tolerance more than affection. Whatdid he really mean to her, denuded of the glamour with which she herselfhad surrounded him? Practically nothing at all. She was quite aware that her state of being was rendering all her mentaland emotional faculties particularly sensitive, and she did her utmost toremember all Verisschenzko's counsel to discipline herself and remainserene. The morning John was expected to arrive she had a hard fight withherself. She felt very nervous and ill at ease. Above all things, shemust not be unkind. He was bronzed and looked well, he was more expansive also and plainlyvery glad to see her. He held her close to him and bent to kiss her lips; but some undefinedreluctance came over her, and she moved her head aside. Something in her resented the caress. Her lips were now for Denzil andfor no other man. It was she who was recalcitrant and turned theconversation into everyday things. The de la Paule family had been summoned for luncheon and theafternoon passed among them all, and then the evening and thetête-à-tête dinner came. John knocked at the door of her room while she was dressing. Her maid hadjust finished her hair and she wondered at herself that she shouldexperience a sense of shyness and have to suppress an inclination torefuse to let him come in. And once any of these little intimatehappenings would have given her joy! She kept Adams there, and hurried into her tea-gown and then walkedtowards the door. John had not spoken much, but stood by the fire. How changed things were! Once he had to be persuaded and enticed to staywith her at such moments, and it was he who now seemed to desire to doso, and it was she who discouraged his wishes! In Amaryllis' mind an agitation grew. What could she say to himpresently--if he suggested coming to sleep in her room? The knowledge in her breast rose as an insurmountable barrierbetween them. During dinner she kept the conversation entirely upon his life at theFront--which indeed really interested her. She was not cold or stiff inher manner, but she was unconsciously aloof. Then they went back into the library, each feeling exceedingly depressed. When coffee had come and they were quite alone Amaryllis felt she couldnot stand the strain, and went to the piano. She played for quite a longtime all the things she remembered that John liked best. She wanted themusic to calm her, and she wanted to gain time. John sat in one of themonster chairs and gazed into the fire. He seemed to see pictures in theglowing coals. The strange relentless fate which had pursued him always as far ashappiness was concerned! He remembered what his mother had said to him when she lay a-dying with abroken heart. "John, we cannot see what God means in it all. There must be someexplanation because He cannot be unjust. It is because we have missed thepoint of some lesson, probably, and so are given it again to learn. Donot ever be rebellious, my son, and perhaps some day light will come. " He had read an article in some paper lately ridiculing the theory that wehave had former lives, but, after all, perhaps there was some foundationfor the belief. Perhaps he was paying in this one for sins in a previousbirth. That would account for the seeming inexorableness of themisfortunes which fell upon him now, since common sense told him that inthis life such cruel blows were undeserved. Amaryllis glanced at his face from the piano as she played. It wasinfinitely sad. A great pity grew in her heart. What ought she to do not to be unkind? Presently she finished a soft chord and got up and came to his side. They were both suffering cruelly--but John was going back to fight. Shemust have some explanation with him which could make him return to Franceat peace in a measure. It was cowardly to shirk telling him the truth, and she could not let him go again into danger with this black shadowbetween them. He looked up at her and rose from his chair. "You play so beautifully, " he said hastily. "You take one out ofoneself. Now it is late and the day has been long. Let us go to bed, dearest child. " Amaryllis stiffened suddenly--the moment that she dreaded had come. "I would rather that you slept in your dressing-room. I have ordered thatto be prepared--" He looked at her startled--and then he took her hand. "Amaryllis--tell me everything. Why are you so changed?" "I'm trying not to be, John. " "You are trying--that proves that you are, if you must try. Please tellme what this means. " She endeavoured to remain calm and not become unhinged. "It was you yourself who altered me. I came to you all loving and humanand you froze me. There is nothing to be done. " "Yes, there is. You know that I love you. " "Perhaps you do, but the family matters more to you than I do, oranything else in the world. " "That may have been so once, but not now, " his voice throbbed withfeeling. "Alas!" was all she answered and looked down. John longed to appeal toher--but he was too honest to seek to soften her through the link of thechild. Indeed, the thought of it had grown hateful to him. He only knewthat he had played for a stake which now seemed worthless. Amaryllis andher love mattered more than any child. He clenched his hands tightly; the pain of things seemed hard to bear. Why had he not broken the thongs of reserve which held him long days agoand made love to her in words? But that would have been dishonest. Hemust at least be true; and he realised now that he had starved her--nomatter what his motive had been. "Amaryllis, tell me everything, please, " and he held out his hands anddrew her to the sofa and sat down by her side. She could not control her emotion any longer, and her voice shook as sheanswered him: "I know that it was not you--but Denzil, John--and the baby is his, not yours. " His face altered. He had not been prepared to hear this thing and hewas stunned. "Ferdinand is an awful possibility to contemplate there at Ardayre, ifyou have no son--" She went on, trying to be calm, "but do you not thinkthat you might have told me? Surely a woman has the right to select thefather of her child. " John could not answer her. He covered his face with his hands. "You see it is all pitiful, " she continued, her voice deep and brokenwith almost a sob in it. "Denzil is so like you--it was an easytransition to find that I loved him--because I was only loving theimaginary you I had made for myself. I cannot explain myself and do notmake any excuse. There is something in me, whenever I think of the baby, that draws me to Denzil and makes me remember that night. John, we mustjust face the situation and try to find some way to avoid as much pain aswe can. I hate to think it is hurting you, too. " "Did Denzil tell you this?" his voice was icy cold. "No--it came to me suddenly when I heard him say a word. " "'Sweetheart'!" and now John's eyes flashed. "He called you again'Sweetheart'!" "No, he did not--he used the word simply in speaking of a picture--but Irecognised his voice then immediately--it is a little deeper than yours. " "When did you see Denzil?" She told him the exact truth about their meeting and his coming toArdayre, and how Denzil had endeavoured to keep his word. "He would never have spoken to me--it was fate which sent him into thetrain, and then I made him speak--I could not bear it. After Irecognised him, I made him admit that it was he. Denzil is not to blame. He left immediately and I have never seen him or heard from him since. It is I alone who must be counted with, John--Denzil will try never tosee me again. " John groaned aloud. "Oh God--the misery of it all!" "John, I must tell you everything now while we are talking of thesethings. I love Denzil utterly. I thrill when I think of him; he seems tome my husband, not even only a lover. John, not long ago, when I feltthe first movement of the child, I shook with longing for him--I foundmyself murmuring his name aloud. So you must think what it all means tome, so strongly passionate as I am. But I would never cheat you, John--Ihad to be honest. I could not go on pretending to be your wife andliving a lie. " Tears of agony gathered in John Ardayre's blue eyes and rolled downhis cheeks. He suddenly understood the suffering, that she, too, must be undergoing. What right had he to have taken this young and loving woman and then tohave used her for his own aims, however high? "Amaryllis--you cannot forgive me. I see now that I was wrong. " But the sympathy which she had felt when she had looked at him from thepiano welled up again in Amaryllis's heart and drowned all resentment. She knew that he must be enduring pain greater than hers, so shestretched out her hands to him, and he took them and held them in his. "Of course, I forgive you, John--but I cannot cease from loving Denzil, that is the tragedy of the thing. I am his really, not yours, even if Inever see him again, and that is why we must not make any pretences. John dearest, let us be friends--and live as friends, then everythingwon't be so hard. " He let her hands drop and got up and paced the room. He was sufferingacutely--must he renounce even the joy of holding her in his arms? "But I love you, Amaryllis--I love you, dearest child--" And now again she said "Alas!"--and that was all. "Amaryllis--this is a frightful sacrifice to me--must you insist uponit?" Then her eyes seemed to flash fire and her cheeks grew rose--and shestood up and faced him. "I tell you, John, you do not know me. You have seen a well brought up, conventional girl--milk and water, ready to obey your slightest will--Ihad not found myself. I am a creature as primitive and passionate as asavage"--her breath came in little pants with her great emotion, --"I_could not_ belong to two men--it would utterly degrade me, then I do notknow what I should become. I love Denzil, body and soul--and while helives no other man shall ever touch me; that is what passion means tome--fidelity to the thing I love! He is my Beloved and my darling, and Imust go away from you altogether and throw off the thought of the family, and implore Denzil to take me when he comes home if you can agree to theonly terms I can offer you now. " John bowed his head. Life seemed over for him and done. Amaryllis came close to him, then she stood on tiptoe and kissed hisbrow. Her vehemence had died down in her sorrow for his pain. "John, " she whispered softly, "won't you always be my dearest friend? Andwhen the baby comes it will be a deep interest to us both, and you mustlove it because it is mine and an Ardayre--and the comfort of that mustfill our lives. I truly believe that you did everything, meaning it forthe best, only perhaps it is dangerous to play with the creation oflife--perhaps that is why fate forced me to know. " John drew her to him, he smoothed the soft brown hair back from her browand kissed her tenderly, but not on the lips--those he told himself hemust renounce for evermore. "Amaryllis, "--his voice was husky still, "yes--I will be your friend, darling--and I will love your child. I was very wrong to marry you, butit was not quite hopeless then, and you were so young and splendid andliving--and I was growing to love you, and for these reasons I hopedagainst hope--and then when I knew that everything was impossible--Ifelt that I must make it up to you in every other way I could. I don'tknow how to put things into words, I always was dull, but I thought if Igratified all your wishes perhaps--Ah!--I see it was very cruel. Darling, I would have told you the truth--presently--but then the war came, andthe thought of Ferdinand here drove me mad and it forced my hand. " She looked up at him with her sweet true eyes--her one idea was now tocomfort him since she need no longer fear. "John, if you had explained the whole thing to me--I do not know, perhapsI should have agreed with you, for I, too, have much of this familypride, and I cannot bear to think of Ferdinand--or his children which maybe, at Ardayre. I might have voluntarily consented--I cannot be sure. Butsomehow just lately I have been thinking very much about spiritualthings, things I mean beyond the material, those great forces which mustbe all around us, and I have wondered if we are not perhaps too ignorantyet to upset any laws. Perhaps I am stupid--I don't know really. I haveonly been wondering--but perhaps there are powerful currents connectedwith laws, whether they are just or unjust, simply because of the forceof people's thoughts for hundreds of years around them. " They went to the sofa then and sat down. It made John happier to hearher talk. His strong will was now conquering the outward show of hisemotion at last. "It may be so--" "You see, supposing anything should happen to Ferdinand, " she went on, "then Denzil would have been naturally the next heir--and now--if thechild is a boy--" John started. "We neither of us thought of that. " "But nothing is likely to happen to Ferdinand; he won't enlist--it isonly you, dear John, who are in danger, and Denzil, too--but surely thewar cannot go on long now?" John wondered if he should tell her what he really felt about this, orwhether it were wiser to keep her quietly in this hopeful dream of aspeedy end. He decided to say nothing; it was better for her health notto agitate her mind--events would speak for themselves, alas, presently. He talked quietly then of Ardayre and of his boyhood and of its sorrows;he was determined to break down his own reserve, and Amaryllis listenedinterestedly, and gradually some kind of peace and calm seemed to cometo them both, and they resolutely banished the thought of the future, and sought only to think of the present. And then at last John rose andtook her hand: "Go to bed now, dear girl, --and to-morrow I shall have quite conqueredall the feelings which could disturb you, and just remember always that Iam indeed your friend. " She understood at last the greatness of his sacrifice and the fineness ofhis soul, and she fell into a passion of weeping and ran from the room. But John, left alone, sank down into the same chair as he had done oncebefore on the night he was waiting for Denzil, and, as then, he buriedhis face in his hands. CHAPTER XVII The next day they met at breakfast. John had not slept at all and wasvery pale and Amaryllis's eyes still showed the deepened violet shadowsfrom much weeping. But they were both quite calm. She came over to John and kissed his forehead with gentle tenderness andthen gave him his tea. They tried to talk in a friendly way as of oldbefore any new emotions had come into their lives. And gradually thestrain became lessened. They arranged to go out shopping, and John bought Amaryllis a newemerald ring. "Green is the colour of hope, " she said. "I want green, John, because it will make me think of the springtime and nature, and allbeautiful things. " They lunched at a restaurant and in the afternoon went down to Ardayre. John had many things to attend to and would be occupied all thefollowing day. There had been no Christmas feasting, but there were gifts to bedistributed and various other duties and ceremonies to be gone through, although they had missed the Christmas day. Amaryllis tried in every wayto be helpful to her husband, and he appreciated her stateliness andsweet manners with all the tenants and people on the estate. So the four days passed quite smoothly, and the last night of the oldyear came. "I don't think that you must sit up for it, dear, " John said afterdinner. "It will only tire you, and it is always a rather sad momentunless one has a party as we always had in old days. " Amaryllis went obediently to her room and stayed there; sleep was farfrom her eyes. What was the rest of her life going to be without Denzil?And what of John? Would they settle down into a real quiet friendshipwhen he came back, and the child was born? Or would she have always tofeel that he loved her and was for ever suffering pain? The more she thought the less clear the issue became, and the deeper thesadness in the atmosphere. At last she slipped down onto the big white bear-skin rug andbegan to pray. But when the clock struck midnight, and the New Year bells rang out, adreadful depression fell upon her, a sense of foreboding and fear. She tried to tell herself that she was foolish, and it was all causedonly because she was so highly strung and sensitive now, on account ofher state. But the thought would persist that danger threatened some oneshe loved. Was it Denzil, or John? Amaryllis tried to force herself from her unhappy impressions by thinkingof what she could do presently in the summer, when she would be quitewell again, though her greatest work must always be to try to make Johnhappy, if by then he had come home. She heard him go into his room at about one o'clock, and then she creptnoiselessly to her great gilt bed. John had waited for the New Year by the cedar parlour fire. The room wasso filled with the radiance of Amaryllis that he liked being there. And he, too, was thinking of what their new life would be should hechance to come through. The ache in his heart would gradually subside, hesupposed, but how would he bear the long years, knowing that Amarylliswas thinking of Denzil--and longing for him--and if fate made themmeet--what then? How could he endure to know that these two beings were suffering? There seemed no clear outlook ahead. But, as he knew only too well deathcould hardly fail to intervene, and if it should claim Denzil, then hemust console Amaryllis' grief. But if happily it could be he who weretaken, then their future path would be clear. He could not forget the third eventuality, that he and Denzil might bothbe killed. He thought and thought over them all, and at last he decidedto add a letter to his will. If he should be killed he would ask Denzilto marry Amaryllis immediately, without waiting for the conventionalyear. The times were too strenuous, and she must not be leftunprotected--alone with the child. He got up and began the letter to his lawyer, and so theinstructions ran: "I request my cousin Denzil Benedict Ardayre to marry Amaryllis, my wife, as soon as possible after my death, if he can get leave and is stillalive. I confide her to his care and ask them both not to let anyconventional idea of mourning stand in the way of these, my urgent lastcommands. And I ask my cousin Denzil, if he lives through the war, totake great care of the bringing up of the child. " He read thus far, and when he came to "the child" he scratched it outand wrote "my child" deliberately, and then he went on to add his wishesfor its education, should it be a boy. The will had already amplyprovided for Amaryllis, so that she would be a rich woman for the restof her days. When all this was clearly copied out and sealed up in an envelopeaddressed to his lawyer, the clock struck twelve. The silence in the old house was complete; there was no revelry for thefirst time for many years, even the servants far off in their wing hadgone to rest. It seemed to John that the shadow of sorrow was suddenly removed fromhim, and as though a weight of care had been lifted from his heart. Hecould not account for the alteration, but he felt no longer sad. Wasit an omen? Was this New Year going to fulfill some great thing afterall? A divine peace fell upon him, and then a pleasant sensation ofsleep, and he turned out the lights and went softly to his room, andwas soon in bed. And then he slept soundly until late in the morning, and awoke refreshedand serene on New Year's day. His leave was up on the third of January and he returned to London, but he would not let Amaryllis undergo the fatigue of accompanyinghim. He said good-bye to her there at Ardayre. She felt extremely sadand unhappy. Had she done well, after all, to have told John the truth? Should shehave borne things as they were and waited until the end of the war? Butno, that would have been impossible to her nature. If she might not haveDenzil for her lover, she would have no other man. John's cheerfulness astonished her--it was so uniform, it could not beassumed. Perhaps she did not yet understand him, perhaps in his heart hewas glad that all pretences had come to an end. They had the most affectionate parting. John never was sentimental, andhe went off with brave, cheery words, and every injunction that she wasto take the greatest care of herself. "Remember, Amaryllis, that you are the most precious thing on earth tome--and you must think also of the child. " She promised him that she would carry out all his wishes in thisrespect and remain quietly at Ardayre until the first of April, whenperhaps he could get leave again and then she would go to London forthe birth of the baby. John turned and waved his hand as he went off down the avenue, andAmaryllis watched the motor until it was out of sight, the tears slowlybrimming over and running down her cheeks. She noticed that at the turn in the avenue a telegraph boy passed the carand came straight on. The wire was not for John evidently, so she wouldwait at the door to see. It proved to be for her, and from Denzil'smother, saying that she was en route for Dorchester, motoring, and wouldstop at Ardayre on the chance of finding its mistress at home. Amaryllisfelt suddenly excited; she had often longed for this and yet in some wayshe had feared it also. What new emotions might the meeting not arouse? It was quite early after luncheon that Mrs. Ardayre was announced. Amaryllis had waited in the green drawing room, thinking that she wouldcome. She was playing the piano at the far end to try and lighten herfeeling of depression, when the door opened, and to her astonishmentquite a young, slight woman came into the room. She was a little lame, and walked with a stick. For a moment Amaryllis thought she must bemistaken, and rose with a vague, but gracious look in her eyes. Mrs. Ardayre held out her hand and smiled: "I hope you got my telegram in time, " she said cordially. "I felt I mustnot lose the opportunity of making your acquaintance. My son has been soanxious for us to meet. " "You--you can't be Denzil's mother, surely!" Amaryllis exclaimed. "He ismuch too old to be your son!" Mrs. Ardayre smiled again--while Amaryllis made her sit down on the sofabeside her and helped her off with her furs. "I am forty-nine years old, Amaryllis--if I may call you so--but one ought never to grow old in body. It is not necessary, and it is not agreeable to the eye!" Amaryllis looked at her carefully in the full side light. It was theshape of her face, she decided, which gave her such youth. There were nounsightly bones to cause shadows and the skin was smooth and ivory--andher eyes were bright brown; their expression was very humorous as well askindly, and Amaryllis was drawn to her at once. They talked about their desire to know one another and about the family, and the place, and the war--and at last they spoke of Denzil, and Mrs. Ardayre told of what his life was, and his whereabouts now, and then grewretrospective. "He is the dearest boy in the world, " she said. "We have been friendsalways, and now he will not allow me to be anxious about him. I reallythink that as far as the frightfulness of things will let him be, heis actually enjoying his life! Men are such queer creatures, they liketo fight!" Amaryllis asked what was her latest news of him, and where he was, andlistened interestedly to Mrs. Ardayre's replies: "The cavalry have not had very much to do lately, fortunately, " sheremarked. "My husband has just gone back, but I suppose if there is ashortage of men for the trenches, they will be dismounted perhaps. " "I expect so--then we shall have to use all our courage and controlour fears. " Amaryllis turned the conversation back to Denzil again, and drew hismother out. She would like to have heard incidents of his childhood andof how he looked when he was a little boy, but she was too timid to askany deliberate questions. She felt drawn to this lady, she looked soyoung and human. Perhaps she was not so wonderful in evening dress, buther figure was boyish in its slim spareness--in these serge travellingclothes she hardly looked thirty-five! She wondered what Denzil had told his mother about her--probably that shewas going to have a child, but nothing more. They talked in the most friendly way for half an hour, and then Amaryllisasked her guest if she would like to come and see the house andespecially the picture gallery and the Elizabethan Denzil hanging there. "It is just my boy!" Mrs. Ardayre cried, when they stood in front of it. "Eyes and all, they are bold and true and so loving. Oh! my dear child, you can't think what a darling he is; from his babyhood every woman hasadored him--the nurse maids were his slaves, and my old housekeeper andmy maid are like two jealous cats as to who shall do things for him whenhe comes home. He has that queer quality which can wile a bird off atree. I daresay I am the silliest of them all!" Amaryllis listened, enchanted. "You see he has not one touch of me in him, " Mrs. Ardayre went on, "but Iwas so frantically in love with my husband when he was born, he naturallywas all Ardayre. Does it not interest you, Amaryllis, to wonder what yourlittle one, when it comes, will look like? It ought to be pronouncedly ofthe family, your being also an Ardayre. " "Indeed yes, I am very curious. And how we all hope that it willbe a son!" "Is there a portrait of your husband here? Denzil says they are alike. " "There is one in my sitting room; it is going to be moved in herepresently, when mine is done next year. It is by Sargent, almost the lastportrait he painted. Let us go there now and see it. " "But there is no likeness, " Mrs. Ardayre exclaimed presently, when theyhad gone to the cedar parlour and were examining the picture of John. "Can you discover it?" "I thought they were very alike once--but I do not altogether see itnow. " Mrs. Ardayre smiled. "I cannot, of course, think any one can compare withmy Denzil! And yet I am not a real mother at all! I am totally devoid ofthe maternal instinct in the abstract! Children bore me, and I am glad Ihave never had any more. I adore Denzil because he is Denzil. I loved myhusband and delighted in being the mother of his son. " "There are the two sorts of women, are not there? The mother woman andthe mate woman--we have to be one or the other, I suppose. I hardly yetknow to which category I belong, " and Amaryllis sighed, "but I ratherthink that I am like you--the man might matter even more to me than thechild, and I know that the child matters to me enormously because of theman. It is all a great mystery and a wonder though. " Beatrice Ardayre looked up at the portrait of John; his stolid face didnot give her the impression that he could make a woman, and such afascinating and adorable creature as Amaryllis, passionately in love withhim, or fill her with mysterious feelings of emotion about his child!Now, if it had been Denzil she could have understood a woman's committingany madness for him, but this stodgy, respectable John! Her bright brown eyes glanced at Amaryllis furtively, and she saw thatshe was looking up at the picture with an expression of deep melancholyon her face. There was some mystery here. She went over again in her mind what Denzil had told her about Amaryllis. It was not a great deal. He had arrived at Bath that time looking verystern and abstracted, and had mentioned rather shortly that he had comedown with the head of the family's wife in the train, and had gone on toArdayre with her, after meeting them the previous night at dinner for thefirst time. He had not been at all expansive, but later in the evening when they hadsat by her sitting room fire, he had suddenly said something which hadstartled her greatly: "Mum--I want you to know Amaryllis Ardayre. I am madly in love withher--she is going to have a baby, and she seems to be so alone. " It must be one of those sudden passions, and the idea seemed in some wayto jar a little. Denzil to have fallen in love with a woman whom he knewwas going to have a child! She had said something of this to him, and he had turned eyes full ofpain to her and even reproach. "Mum--you always understand me--I am not a beast, you know--I haven'tanything more to say, only I want you to be really kind to her--and getto know her well. " And he had not mentioned the subject again, but had been very preoccupiedduring all his three days' visit, which state she could not account forby the fact of the war--Denzil, she knew, was an enthusiastic soldier, and to be going out to fight would naturally be to him a keen joy. Whatdid it all mean? And here was this sweet creature speaking of divine lovemysteries and looking up at the portrait of her dull, unattractivehusband with melancholy eyes, whereas they had sparkled with interestwhen Denzil was the subject of conversation! Could she, too, have fallenin love with Denzil in one night at dinner and a journey in the train! It was all very remarkable. They had tea together in the green drawing room, and by that time theyhad become very good friends. Mrs. Ardayre told Amaryllis of the little old manor home she had inKent--The Moat, it was called, and of her garden and the pleasure itwas to her. "I had about twelve thousand a year of my own, you know, " she said, "andever since Denzil was born I have each year put by half of it, so thatwhen he was twenty-one I was able to hand over to him quite a decent sumthat he might be independent and free. It is so humiliating for a man tohave to be subservient to a woman, even a mother, and I go on doing thesame every year. All the last years of his life my husband was verydelicate--he was so badly wounded in the South African War, you know--sowe lived very quietly at The Moat and in my tiny house in London. I hopeyou will let me show you them both one day. " Amaryllis said she would be delighted, and added: "You will come and see me, won't you? I am going up to our house in BrookStreet at the beginning of April, and I am praying that I may have alittle son about the first week in May. " Just before Mrs. Ardayre went on to Dorchester, she asked Amaryllis ifshe had any message to send Denzil--she wanted to watch her face. Itflushed slightly and her deep soft voice said a little eagerly: "Yes--tell him I have been so delighted to meet you, and you are justwhat he said I should find you!--and tell him I sent him all sorts ofgood wishes--" and then she became a little confused. "I should so love a photograph of you--would you give me one, I wonder?"the elder woman asked quickly, to avoid any pause, and while Amarylliswent out of the room to get it, she thought: "She is certainly in love with Denzil. It could not have been the firsttime he had seen her--at the dinner--and yet he never tells lies. " Andshe grew more and more puzzled and interested. When Amaryllis was alone after the motor with Mrs. Ardayre in it haddeparted, an uncontrollable fit of restlessness came over her. The visithad stirred up all her emotions again; she could not grieve any moreabout the tragedy of John; her whole being was vibrating with thoughtsof Denzil and desire for his presence--she could see his face and feelthe joy of his kisses. At that moment she would have flung everything in life away to rushinto his arms! CHAPTER XVIII Denzil was wounded at Neuve Chapelle on March 10th, 1915, though notseriously--a flesh wound in the side. He had done most gallantly and wasto get a D. S. O. He had been in hospital for two weeks and was almost wellwhen Amaryllis came up to Brook Street, on the first of April. She hadread his name in the list of wounded, and had telegraphed to his motherin great anxiety, but had been reassured, and now she throbbed withlonging to see him. To know that soon he would be going back again to the Front, was almostmore than she could bear. She was feeling wonderfully well herself. Hersplendid constitution and her youth made natural things cause her littledistress. She was neither nervous nor fretful, nor oppressed with fanciesand moods. And she looked very beautiful with her added dignity of mienand perfectly chosen clothes. Mrs. Ardayre came at once to see her the morning after her arrival, andsuggested that Denzil should come when out driving that afternoon. Amaryllis tried to accept this suggestion calmly, and not show her joy, and Mrs. Ardayre left, promising to bring her son about four. Denzil had said to his Mother when he knew that Amaryllis was comingto London: "Mum, I want to see Amaryllis--please arrange it for me. And Mum, don'task me anything about it; just leave me there when we drive and come andfetch me when I must go in again. " Mrs. Ardayre was a very modern person, but she could not help exclaimingin a half voice while she sat by her son's bed: "You know she is going to have a baby in a month, dear boy, perhaps shewon't care to see you now. " A flush rose to Denzil's forehead: "Yes, I do know, " he said a littlehurriedly, "but we are not conventional in these days. I wish to see her;please, darling Mother, do what I ask. " And then he had turned the conversation. So his mother had obediently arranged matters, and at about four in theafternoon left him at the Brook Street door. Early as it was, Amaryllis had made the tea, and expected to see bothDenzil and his mother. The room was full of hyacinths and daffodils, andshe herself looked like a spring flower, as she sat on the sofa among thegreen silk cushions, wrapped in a pale parma violet tea-gown. The butler announced "Captain Ardayre, " and Denzil came in slowly, andmurmured "How do you do?" But as soon as the door was closed upon him, he started forward, forgetting his stiff side. He covered her hands with kisses, he could not contain his joy; andthen he drew back and looked at her with worship and reverence in hisblue eyes. The most mysterious, quivering emotions were coursing through him, mixedwith triumph, as he took in the picture she made. This delicate, beautiful creature! And to see her--so! Amaryllis lowered her head in a sweet confusion; her feelings were noless aroused. She was thrilling with passionate welcome and deliciousshyness. Nature was indeed ruling them both, and with a glad "DarlingAngel!" Denzil sat down beside her and clasped her in his arms. Then fora few seconds delirious pleasure was all that they knew. "Let me look at you again, Sweetheart, " he ordered presently, with a toneof command and possession in his very deep voice, which caused Amaryllisdelight. It made her feel that she really belonged to him. "To me you have never been so beautiful--and every scrap of you is mine. " "Absolutely yours. " "I had to come--I cannot help whether it is right or wrong. I must goback to the Front as soon as I am fit, and I could not have borne to gowithout seeing you, darling one. " They had a hundred things to say to each other about themselves--andabout the baby, and the next hour was very sacred and wonderful. Denzil was a superlatively perfect lover and knew the immense value oftender words. He intoxicated Amaryllis' imagination with the moving things he said. Alas! how many worthy men miss themselves, and make their loved onesmiss the best part of life's joys by their mulish silence and refusalto gratify this desire of all women to be _told_ that they are loved, to have the fact expressed in passionate speech! No deeds make up forthis omission. Denzil had none of these limitations; he said everything which couldcajole and excite the imagination. He murmured a hundred affectingtendernesses in her ears. He caressed her--he commanded and mastered her, and then assured her that he was her slave. He was arrogant andhumble--arrogant when he claimed her love, humble in his worship. Hespoke of the child and what it meant to him that it should be his andhers. He caused her to feel that he was strong and protective and thatshe was to be cherished and adored. He made pictures of how it would beif he could spend a whole day and night with her presently in June, whenshe would be quite well, and of how thrilled with interest he would be tosee the baby, and that, of course, it _must_ be exactly like himself! AndAmaryllis' eyes, all soft and swimming with emotion answered him. Naturally, since she loved him so passionately, it would be his image!Had not his own mother accounted for his pronounced Ardayre stamp by herhaving been so in love with his father--so, of course, this wouldre-occur! It was all dear to think about! They spent another hour of divine intoxication, and then the clockstruck six. It sounded like a knell. Amaryllis gave a little cry. "Denzil, it is altogether unnatural that you should have to go. Tothink that you must leave me, and may not even welcome your son! Tothink that by the law we are sinning, because I am sitting here claspedin your arms! To think that I may not have the joy of showing you theexquisite little clothes, and the pink silk cot--all the things whichhave given me such pleasure to arrange. .. . It is all too cruel! Youknow that eighteenth century engraving in the series of Moreau leJeune, of the married lovers playing with the darling, teeny captogether! Well, I have it beside my bed, and every day I look at it andpretend it is you and me!" "Darling--Darling!"--and Denzil fiercely kissed her, he was sodeeply moved. "It is all holy and beautiful, the coming to earth of a soul. It onlymakes me long to be good and noble and worthy of this wonderful thing. But for us--we who love truly and purely, it has all been turned intosomething forbidden and wrong. " "Heart of me--I must have some news of you. I cannot starve there in thetrenches, knowing that all the letters that should be mine are going toJohn. My mother is really trustworthy, will you let her be with you asoften as you can, that she may be able to tell me how you are, preciousone? When the seventh of May comes I shall go perfectly mad with suspenseand anxiety. I will arrange that my mother sends me at once a telegram. " "Denzil!" and Amaryllis clung to him. "It is an impossible situation, " and he gave a great sigh. "I shall tellJohn that I have seen you--I cannot help it, the times are too precariousto have acted otherwise. And afterwards, when the war is over, we mustface the matter and decide what is best to be done. " "_I_ cannot live without you, Denzil, and that I know. " They said good-bye at last silently, after many kisses and tears, andDenzil came out into the darkening street to his mother in the motor, with white, set face. "I am a little troubled, dearest boy, " she whispered, as they went along. "I feel that there is something underneath all this and that Amaryllismeans some great thing in your life--the whole aspect of everything fillsme with discomfort. It is unlike your usual, sensitive refinement, Denzil, to have gone to see her--now--" "I understand exactly what you mean, Mother. I should say the same thingmyself in your place. I can't explain anything, only I beg of you totrust me. Amaryllis is an angel of purity and sweetness; perhaps some dayyou will understand. " She took his hand into her muff and held it: "You know I have no conventions, dearest, and my creed is to believe whatyou say, but I cannot account for the situation because of your onlyhaving met Amaryllis so lately for the first time. I could understand itperfectly if you had been her lover, and the child was your child, butshe has not been married a whole year yet to John!" Denzil answered nothing--he pressed his mother's hand. She returned the pressure: "We will talk no more about it. " "And you will go on being kind?" "Of course. " Before they reached the hospital door in Park Lane Mrs. Ardayre had beeninstructed to send an immediate telegram the moment the baby was born, and to comfort and take care of Amaryllis, and tell her son every littledetail as to her welfare and about the child. "I will try not to form any opinion, Denzil; and some day perhaps thingswill be made plain, for it would break my heart to believe that you are adishonourable man. " "You need not worry, Mum dearest. Indeed, I am not that. It is just atragic story, but I cannot say more. Only take care of Amaryllis, andsend me news as often as you can. " * * * * * The telegram to say that Amaryllis had a little son came to John Ardayreon the night before he went into the trenches again at the second battleof Ypres on May 9th, 1915. He had been waiting in feverish impatienceand expectancy all the day, and, in fact, for three days for news. His whole inner life since that New Year's night had been strangelyserene, in spite of its frightful outward turmoil and stress. He hadtaken the tumult of Neuve Chapelle calmly, and had come through it andall the beginning of the Ypres battle without a scratch. He had felt thathe was looking upon it all from some detached standpoint, and that it inno way personally concerned him. He had seen Denzil do the splendid thing and he had felt a distinctdistress when he had seen him fall wounded. Denzil was just back now and in the trenches again with the rest of thedismounted cavalry. They might meet in the attack at dawn. When John read the telegram from his aunt, Lady de la Paule, his emotionwas so great that he staggered a little, and a friend standing by in thebillet took out his flask and gave him some brandy, thinking that he musthave received bad news. Then it seemed as though he went mad! The repression of his life appeared to fall from him, he became as a newman. All his comrades were astonished at him, and a Scotch Corporal washeard to remark that it was "na canny--the Captain was fey. " The Ardayres were saved! The family would carry on! Fondest love welled up in his heart for Amaryllis. If he only camethrough he would devote his life to showing her his gratitude andshowering everything upon her that her heart could desire--andperhaps--perhaps the joy of the baby would make up for the absence ofDenzil. This thought stayed with him and comforted him. Lady de la Paule had wired: "A splendid little son born 11:45 A. M. Seventh May--Amarylliswell--all love. " And an hour or two before this Denzil had also received the news from hisMother. He, too, had grown exalted and thanked God. So the day that the Germans were to fail at Ypres, and destiny was toaccomplish itself for these two men--dawned. * * * * * Of what use to write of that terrible fight and of the gas and the horrorand the mud? John Ardayre seemed to bear a charmed life as he led his men"over the top. " For an hour wild with exaltation and gladness, he ralliedthem and cheered them on. The scene of blood and carnage has been toooften repeated on other fateful days, and as often well described, whenacts of glorious heroism occurred again and again. John had rushedforward to succour a wounded trooper when a shell crashed near them, andhe fell to the ground. And then he know what the great thing was the NewYear had promised him. For death was going to straighten outmatters--John was going beyond. Well, he had never been rebellious, andhe knew now that light had come. But the sky above seemed to be darkeningcuriously, and the terrible noise to be growing dim, when he wasconscious that a man was crawling towards him, dragging a leg, and thenhis eyes opened wildly for an instant, and he saw that it was Denzil allcovered with blood. "Are we both going West, Denzil?" he demanded faintly. "At least I am--"then he gasped a little, while a stream of scarlet flowed from hisshattered side. "I've asked you in a letter to marry Amaryllis immediately--if you gethome. I hope your number is not up, too, because she will be all alone. Take care of her, Denzil, and take care of the child. .. . " His voice grewlower and lower, and the last words came in spasms: "There is an Ardayreson, you know--so it's all right. The family is saved from Ferdinand andI am very glad to die. " Denzil tried to get out his flask, but before he could reach John's lipswith it he saw that it would be of no avail--for Death had claimed thehead of the Family. And above his mangled body John's face wore a look ofcalm serenity, and his firm lips smiled. Then things became all vague for Denzil and he remembered nothing more. CHAPTER XIX It was more than two months before Denzil was well enough to be broughtfrom Boulogne, and then he had a relapse and for the whole of July wasdangerously ill. At one moment there seemed to be no hope of saving hisleg, and his mother ate her heart out with anxiety. And Amaryllis, back at Ardayre with the little Benedict, wept many tears. John's death had deeply grieved her. She realised his steadfast kindnessand affection for her. He had written her a letter just before the battlehad begun--a short epistle telling her calmly that the chances would beperhaps even for any man to come out of it alive--and assuring her of hisgreatest devotion. "I know that Denzil went to see you, my dear little girl. He has told meabout it. And I know that you love each other. There is only one chancefor us in the future--and that lies with the child. It may be that whenit comes to you it may fill your life and satisfy you. This is myprayer--otherwise we must see what can be arranged about things; becauseI cannot allow you to be unhappy. You were an innocent factor in allthis, and it would be unjust that you should be hurt. " How good and generous John had always been. And his letter to his lawyers! To make things smooth for her--and forDenzil--how marvellously kind! Her mourning for John was real and deep, as it would have been for abrother. But during the month of intense anxiety about Denzil everythingelse was numbed, even her interest in her son. By the end of August he was out of danger, although little hope wasentertained that he would ever walk easily. But this was a minorthing--and gradually it began to be some consolation to the two women wholoved him to know that he was safely wounded and would probably not befit for active service again for a very long time. They wrote letters to one another, but they decided not to meet. Six months must elapse at least, they both felt--even in spite ofJohn's commands. Another shell must have fallen not far off, for his body was neverfound--only his field glasses, broken and battered. And there would havebeen no actual information about his death had not Denzil seen him die. * * * * * Harietta Boleski and Stanislass and Ferdinand Ardayre had remained inParis, with visits to Fontainebleau. When John had been killed, Harietta had been extremely perturbed. "Now Stépan will be able to marry that odious bit of bread and butter, and he is sure to do it after the year!" This thought rankled with herand embittered everything. Nothing pleased her. She grew more than everrebellious at the dullness she had to live in. War was an impositionwhich ought not to be tolerated and she often told Hans so. At last shegrew to take quite an interest in her spying for lack of more agreeablethings to do. And so the months went by and November came, and a madness of jealousywas gradually augmenting in Harietta for Amaryllis Ardayre. Verisschenzko had gone to Russia in September, and she was convincedthat he loved Amaryllis and that the child was his child. She could notconceive of a spiritual devotion, and something had altered all Stépan'sways. From the moment he returned to Paris until he had left she hadtried and been unable to invoke any response in him, and she had feltlike a foiled tigress when another has eaten her prey. As the impossibility of moving him forced itself upon her unwillingunderstanding, so the wildest passion for him grew, and when he left inSeptember she was quite ill for a week with chagrin; then she becamemoody and more than ever capricious, and made Stanislass' life a hell, while Ferdinand Ardayre had little less misery to endure. An incident late in November caused her jealousy to burst into flame. She heard that Verisschenzko had returned from Russia and she went to hisrooms to see him. The Russian servant who was accustomed to receive herwas there waiting for his master who had not yet arrived. Without a wordshe passed the old man when he opened the door, and made her way into thesitting room, and then into the bedroom beyond. She did not believe thatStépan was not there and wanted to make sure. It was empty but a lightburned before an Ikon, the doors of which were closed. Curiosity made Harietta go close and examine it. She knew the room sowell and had never seen it there before. The table beneath it wasarranged like an altar, and the Ikon was let in to the carved boiserie ofthe wall. It must have been since he had parted with her that thisridiculous thing had been done! She had not entered his _appartement_since June. She felt angry that the shrine should be closed and that shecould not look upon it, for it must certainly be something whichVerisschenzko prized. She bent nearer and shook the little doors; they resisted her, and hertemper rose. Then some force seemed to propel her to commit sacrilege. She shook and shook and tore at the golden clasp, her irritation givingstrength and cunning to her hands; and at last the small bolt came undoneand the doors flew open--and an exquisitely painted modern picture of theVirgin disclosed itself, holding the Christ child in her arms. But forall the saintliness in the eyes of Mary, the face was an exact portraitof Amaryllis Ardayre! A frenzy of rage seized Harietta. Her rival reigned now indeed! This waspositive proof to her, not of spiritual meaning--not of the mystic, abstract aloofness of worship which lay deep in Stépan's nature and hadcaused him to have Amaryllis transfigured into the symbol of purity, adaily reminder that she must always be for him the lady of his soul--suchthings had no meaning for Harietta. The Ikon was merely a material proofthat Verisschenzko loved Amaryllis--and, of course, as soon as the yearof mourning should be over he would make her his wife. She trembled with passionate resentment. Nothing had ever moved her soforcibly. She took out her pearl hatpin and stabbed out the eyes of theVirgin, almost shaking with passion, and scratched and obliterated theface of the Christ child. This done, she extinguished the little lamp andslammed to the doors. She laughed savagely as she went back into the sittingroom. "The Virgin indeed!--and _his_ child!--well, I've taught him!" and sheflung past the Russian servant with a look which was a curse, so that theold man crossed himself and quickly barred the entrance door, when shestamped off down the stairs. Arrived in her gilded salon at the Universal, she would like to havewrung some one's neck. She had never been so full of rage in her life. She did find a little satisfaction in a kick at Fou-Chow, who fledwhining to his faithful Marie who had come in to carry away her mistress'sable cloak. The maid's face became thunderous. A look of sullen hate gleamed in herdark eyes. "She will kick thee, my angel, just once too often, " she murmured to thewee creature when she had carried him from the room. "And then we shallsee, thy Marie knows that which may punish her some day soon!" Harietta, quite indifferent to these matters, telephoned immediately toFerdinand Ardayre. He must come to her instantly without a moment's delay! And shestamped her foot. A plan which might give her some satisfaction to execute had evolveditself in her brain. He was in his room in another part of the building, and hastened to obeyher command. She was livid with anger and seemed to have grown old. She went over and kissed him voluptuously and then she began: "Ferdie, " and she whispered hoarsely, "now you have got to do somethingfor me. You are not going to let the child of Verisschenzko be master ofArdayre! We are going to gain time and perhaps some day be able to doaway with it. Now I have got a plan which will lighten your heart. " She knew that she could count upon him, for since the birth of thelittle Benedict and the death of John, Ferdinand had stormed with threatsof vengeance, while knowing his impotency. His life with Harietta had grown a torment and a hell--but with everyfresh unkindness and pang of jealousy she caused him, his low passion forher increased. He knew that she loved Verisschenzko, whom he hated withall his might--and if she now proposed to hurt both his enemies, he wouldassist her joyfully. "Tell it me, " he begged. So she drew him to the sofa and picked up a block and pencil. "Do you possess any of the writing of your dead brother, John, or if youdon't, can you get some from anywhere?" Ferdinand's face blazed with excitement. What was she going to suggest? "I always keep one letter--in which he ordered me never to address himand told me I was not of his blood but was a mongrel Turk. " "That is splendid--where is it? Have you got it here?" "Yes, in my despatch box. I'll go and fetch it now. " "Very well. I will get rid of Stanislass for the evening and we can havesome hours alone--and you will see if I don't help you to worry themhideously, Ferdie, even if that is all we can do!" And when he had left her presence, she paced the room excitedly. "It will prevent Stépan's marrying her at all events for; a long time. " The thought that she had lost Verisschenzko completely unbalanced her. It was the first time in her life that she had had to relinquish a man. She hated to have to realise how highly he must hold Amaryllis. He seemedthe only thing she wanted now in life, and she knew that he was quitebeyond her, and that indeed he had never been hers; the one human beingwhom she had attracted and yet never been able to intoxicate and drawagainst his will. She went over all their past meetings. With whatsupreme insolence he had invariably treated her--even in moments when hepermitted himself to feel passion! And how she adored him! She would havecrawled to him now on the ground. She had not known she could feel somuch. Every animal, sensual desire made her throb with rage. She wouldhave torn the flesh from Amaryllis' face had she been there, and thrusther hatpin into her real eyes. But the spoke should be put in the wheel of Verisschenzko's marrying her!And perhaps some other revenge would come. Hans?--Hans should be made tocarry the scheme through--Hans and Ferdinand. She dug her nails into thepalms of her hands. No wild animal in its cage could have felt more rage. Then when Ferdinand returned with John's letter, she controlled herselfand sat down at the table beside him and supervised his attempts atcopying the writing, while she unfolded the details of her scheme. "You know John's body was never found, " she informed him presently. "Iheard all the details from a man who was there--they only picked up hisglasses and his boot. He could very well have been taken prisoner by theGermans and be in hospital there, too ill to have written for all thistime. Now think how he ought to word his first letter to his preciousbread and butter wife!" "There must only be the fewest words, because I don't know whatterms they were on. I think a postcard, if we get one, would be thebest thing. " "Of course?--I have some one who can see to that--it will be worthwaiting the week for--we'll procure several, and meanwhile you mustpractise his hand. " At the end of half an hour a very creditable forgery had been secured, and the two jealous beings felt satisfied with their work for the time. CHAPTER XX It had been arranged that Denzil and his mother should spend Christmaswith Amaryllis at Ardayre. Both felt that it was going to be the mostwonderful moment when they should meet. There were no obstacles now totheir happiness and everything promised to be full of joy. The monthswhich had gone by since John's death had been turning Amaryllis into amore serene and forceful being. The whole burden of the estate hadfallen upon her young shoulders and she had endeavoured to carry it withdignity and success--and yet have time to spare for her warorganisations in the county. She had developed extraordinarily and hadgrown from a very pretty girl into a most beautiful young woman. Whatwould Denzil think of her? That was her preoccupation--and what would hethink of the baby Benedict? The great rooms at Ardayre were shut up except the green drawing room, and she lived in her own apartments, the cedar parlour being her chiefpleasure. It was now filled with her books and all the personalbelongings which expressed her taste. The nurseries for the heir werejust above. Her guests were to be there on the twenty-third of December, and when thehour came for the motor to arrive from the station Amaryllis grew hot andcold with excitement. She had made herself look quite exquisite in a softblack frock, and her heart was beating almost to suffocation when sheheard the footsteps in the hall. Then the green drawing room door openedand Colonel and Mrs. Ardayre were announced and were immediately greetedby the great tawny dogs and then by their mistress. A pang contracted herheart when she caught sight of Denzil--he was so very pale and thin, andhe walked painfully and slowly with a stick. It was only a wreck of thesplendid lover who had come to Ardayre before. But he was always Denzilof the ardent eyes and the crisp bronze hair! They were people of the world, and so the welcoming speeches went offeasily, and they sat round the tea-table with its singing kettle and itsdelectable buns and Devonshire cream, and Amaryllis was gracious andradiant and full of dignity and charm. But inwardly she felt deliciouslyshy and happy. They had neither met nor written any love letters since the April daywhen they had parted in Brook Street, which now seemed to be an age away. Her attraction for Denzil had increased a hundredfold. He thought as shesat there pouring out the tea, of how he would woo her with subtletybefore he would claim her for his own. He was stimulated by her sweetshyness and her tender aloofness. The tea seemed to him to beinterminably long and he wished for it to end. Mrs. Ardayre behaved with admirable tact; she spoke of all sorts of lightand friendly things, and then asked about the baby. Was he not wonderful, now at seven months old! The lovely vivid pink deepened in Amaryllis' smooth velvet cheeks, andher grey eyes became soft as a doe's. "You shall see him in the morning--he will be asleep now. Of course, tome he is wonderful, but I daresay he is only an ordinary child. " She had peeped at Denzil and had seen that his face fell a little as shesaid they should only see the baby the next day, and she had felt a waveof joy. She knew that she meant to take him up quietly presently--just heand she alone! After they had finished tea, Mrs. Ardayre suggested that she should goto her room. "I am tired, Amaryllis, my dear, " she announced cheerily, --"and I shallrest for an hour before dinner. " "Come then and I will show you both your rooms. " They came up the broad staircase with her, Denzil a step at a time, slowly, and at the top she stopped and said to him: "Perhaps you will remember that is the door of the cedar parlour atthe end of the passage--you will find me there when I have installedyour mother comfortably. Your room is next to hers, " and she pointedto two doors through the archway of the gallery. Then she went on withMrs. Ardayre. Some contrary nervousness made her remain for quite a little while. Was Cousin Beatrice sure that she was comfortable? Had she everything shewanted? Her maid was already unpacking, and all was warm and freshscented with lavender and bowls of violets on the dressing table. "My dear child, it is Paradise, and you are a perfect angel--I shallrevel in it after the cold journey down. " So at last there was no excuse to stay longer, and Amaryllis left theroom; but in the passage it seemed as though her knees were trembling, and as she passed the top of the staircase she leaned for a second or twoon the balustrade. The longed for moment had come! When she opened the door of the cedar parlour, with its soft lamps andgreat glowing logs, she saw Denzil was already there, seated on the sofabeside the fire. She ran to him before he could rise, the movement she knew was pain tohim--and she sank down beside him and held out her hands. "Beloved darling!" he whispered in exaltation, and she slipped forwardinto his arms. Oh! the bliss of it all! After the months of separation, and the horribletrenches and the battles and the suffering, the days and nights ofagonising pain! It seemed to Denzil that his being melted withinhim--Heaven itself had come. They could not speak coherently for some moments, everything was toofilled with holy joy. "At last! at last!" he cried presently. "Now we shall part no more!" Then he had to be assured that she loved him still. "It is I who must take care of you now, Denzil, and I shall love to dothat, " she cooed. "I have not thought much of the hurt, " he answered her, "for all thesemonths I have just been living for this day, and now it has come, darling one, and I can hardly believe that it is true, it is soabsolutely divine--" They could not talk of anything but themselves and love for an hour, they told each other of their longings and anxieties--and at last theyspoke of John. "He was so splendid, " Denzil said, "unselfish to the very end, " and thenhe described to Amaryllis how he actually had died, and of his lastwords, and their thought for her. "If he could see us, I think that he would be glad that we are happy. " "I know that he would, " but the tears had gathered in her eyes. Denzil stroked her hand gently; he did not make any lover's caress, andshe appreciated his understanding, and after a little she leanedagainst his arm. "Denzil--when we live here together, we must always try to carry out allthat John would have wished to do. It meant his very soul--and you willhelp me to be a worthy mother of the Ardayre son. " She had not spoken of the child before--some unaccountable shyness hadrestrained her, even in their fondest moments. And yet the thought hadnever been absent from either. It had throbbed there in their hearts. Itwas going to be so exquisite to whisper about it presently! And Denzil had waited until she mentioned this dear interest. He did notwish to assume any rights, or take anything for granted. She should bequeen, not only of his heart, but of everything, until she should herselfaccord him authority. But his eyes grew wistful now as he leaned nearer to her. "Darling, am I not going to be allowed to see--my son!" Then, with a cry, Amaryllis bent forward and was clasped in his arms. Allher wayward shyness melted, and she poured forth her delight in thebaby--their very own! "You will see that he is just you, Denzil, --as we knew that he would be, and now I will go and fetch him for you and bring him here, because thestairs up to the nursery are so steep they might hurt you to climb. " She left him swiftly, and was not long gone, and Denzil sat thereby the fire trembling with an emotion which he could not havedescribed in words. The door opened again and Amaryllis returned with the tiny sleeping form, in its long white nightgown and wrapped in a great fleecy shawl. She crept up to him very softly. The little one was sound asleep. Shemade a sign to Denzil not to rise, and she bent down and placed thebundle tenderly in his arms. Then they gazed at the little face together with worshipping eyes. It was just a round pink and white cherub like thousands of others in theworld; the very long eyelashes, sweeping the sleep-flushed cheeks, andminute rings of bronze-gold hair curling over the edge of the closecambric cap; but it seemed to those two looking at it to be unique, andmore beautiful than the dawn. "Isn't he perfect, Denzil!" whispered Amaryllis, in ecstasy. "Marvellous!" and Denzil's voice was awed. Then the wonder and the divinity of love and its spirit of creation cameover them both and a mist of deep feeling grew in both their eyes. * * * * * At dinner they were all so happy together. Mrs. Ardayre was a note ofharmony anywhere. She had gradually grown to understand the situation inthe months of her son's recovering from his wounds and although no actualwords had passed between them Denzil felt that his mother had divined thetruth and it made things easier. Afterwards, in the green drawing room, Amaryllis played to them anddelighted their ears, and then they went up to the cedar parlour and satround the fire and talked and made plans. If it should be quite hopeless that Denzil could ever return to thefront, or be of service behind the lines, he meant to enter Parliament. The thought that his active soldiering was probably done was very bitterto him, and the two women who loved him tried to create an enthusiasm forthe parliamentary idea. The one certainty was that his adventurous spiritwould never remain behind in the background, whatever occurred. They would be married at the beginning of February, they decided. Thewhole of their world knew of John's written wishes, and no unkindcomments would be likely to arise. And when Beatrice Ardayre left them alone to say good-night to eachother, Denzil drew Amaryllis back to his side! "I think the world is going to be a totally new place, darling--after thewar. If it goes on very long the gradual privation and suffering andmisery will create a new order of things, and all of us should be readyto face it. Only fools and weaklings cling to past systems when theon-rolling wave has washed away their uses. Whatever seems for the realgood of England must be one's only aim, even if it means abandoning whatwas the ideal of the Family for all these hundreds of years. You willadvance with me, Sweetheart, will you not, even if it should seem to be achasm we are crossing?" "Denzil, of course I will. " He sighed a little. "The old order made England great--but that cycle is over for all theworld--and what we shall have to do is to stand steady and try todirect the new on-rush, so that it makes us greater and does not sweepcivilisation into darkness, as when Rome fell. It may be a fairly easymatter because, as Stépan says, we have got such fundamental commonsense. It would be much less hard if the people at the top were reallycourageous and unhampered by trying to secure votes, or whatever it is, which makes them wobble and surrender at the wrong moment. If thepoliticians could have that dogged, serene steadfastness which theTommies, and almost every man has in the trenches, how supreme weshould be--!" "I hope so, but one must have vision as well so that one can look rightahead and not stumble over retained old prejudices; people so often wanta thing and yet have not will enough to eliminate qualities in themselveswhich must obviously prevent their obtaining their desire. " Denzil was not looking at her now, he was gazing ahead with his blueeyes filled with light, and she saw that there was something far beyondthe physical magnetism which drew her to him, and a pride and joy filledher. She would indeed be his helpmate in all his undertakings andstriving for noble ends. They talked for some time of these things andtheir plans to aid in their fulfilment, and then they gradually spoke ofVerisschenzko and Amaryllis asked what was the latest news--he was inRussia, she supposed. "Stépan will be arriving in London next week. I heard from him to-day. Won't you ask him down, darling, to spend the New Year with us here--itwould be so good to see the dear old boy again. " This was agreed upon, and then they drifted back to lovers' whisperings, and presently they said a fond good-night. * * * * * Christmas Day of 1915, and the weeks which followed were like some happydream for Denzil and Amaryllis. Each hour seemed to discover some newaspect which caused further understanding and love to augment. They spentlong late afternoons in the cedar parlour dipping into books and adelicious pleasure was for Amaryllis to be nestled in Denzil's arms onthe sofa while he read aloud to her in his deep, magnetic voice. Beatrice Ardayre at this period was like a pleased mother cat purring inthe sun while her kittens gambol. Her well-beloved was content, and shewas satisfied. She always seemed to be there when wanted and yet to leavethe lovers principally to themselves. Another of their joys was to motor about the beautiful country, exploringthe old, old churches and quaint farmhouses and manors with which NorthSomerset abounds; and they went all over the estate also and saw all thepeople who were their people and their friends. The union was thoroughlyapproved of, and although the engagement was not to be officiallyannounced until after the New Year it was quite understood, as thetenants had all heard of John's instructions in his will. But perhaps themost supreme joy of all was when they could play with the baby Benedicttogether alone for half an hour before he went to bed. Then they werejust as foolish and primitive as any other two young things with theirfirstborn. He was a very fine and forward baby and already expressed aspirit and will of his own, and it always gave Denzil the very strangestthrill when he seized and clung firmly to one of his fingers with histiny, strong, chubby hand. And over all his qualities and perfections hisparents then said wonderful things together! Every subtle and exquisite pleasure, mystical, symbolical and material, which either had ever dreamed of as connected with this living proof oflove, was realised for them. And to know that soon, soon, they would beunited for always--wedded--not merely engaged. Oh! that wasglorious--when passion need be under no restraint--when there need be nogood-night! For in this the chivalry of Denzil never failed--and each day they grewto respect each other more. Verisschenzko was to arrive in time for dinner on the last day ofthe old year. That afternoon was one of even unusually perfecthappiness--motoring slowly round the park and up on to the hills inAmaryllis' little two-seater which she drove herself. They got out at thetop and leaned upon a gate from which they seemed to be looking down overthe world. Peaceful, smiling, prosperous England! Miles and miles of herfairest country lay there in front of them, giving no echo of war. "If we had been born sixty years ago, Denzil, what different thoughtsthis view would be creating in our minds. We would have nospeculation--no uncertainty--we should feel just happy that it is oursand would be ours for ever! The world was asleep then!" "Stépan would say that it was resting before the throes of struggle mustbegin. Now we are going to face something much greater than the actualwar in France, but if we are strong we ought to come through. We havealways been saner than other peoples, so perhaps our upheaval will besaner too. " "Whatever there is to face, we shall be together, Denzil, and nothingcan really matter then--and we must make our little Benedict armedfor the future, so that he will be fitted to cope with the conditionsof his day. " "Look there at the blue distance, darling, could anything be morepeaceful? How can anyone in the country realise that not two hundredmiles away this awful war is grinding on?" Denzil put an arm round her and drew her close to him and claspedher fondly. "But just for a little we must try to forget about it. I never dreamed ofsuch perfect happiness as we are having, Sweetheart, --my own!" "Nor I, Denzil, --I am almost afraid--" But he kissed her passionately and bade this thought begone. Afraid ofwhat? Nothing mattered since they would always be together. Februarywould soon come, and then they would never part again. So the vague foreboding passed from Amaryllis' heart, and in fondvisionings they whispered plans for the spring and the summer and thegrowing years. And so at last they returned to the house and found theafter-noon post waiting for them. Filson had just brought it in andAmaryllis' letters lay in a pile on her writing table. There happened to be none for Denzil and he went over to the fireplaceand was stroking the head of Mercury, the greatest of the big tawny dogs, when he was startled by a little ominous cry from his Beloved, and onlooking up he saw that she had sunk into a chair, her face deadly pale, while there had fluttered to the floor at her feet a torn envelope and aforeign looking postcard. What could this mean? CHAPTER XXI Verisschenzko had come straight through from Petrograd to England. He hadbeen delayed and had never returned to Paris since September. He knewnothing of Harietta's sacrilege as yet. But he had at last accumulatedsufficient proof against her to have her entirely in his hands. He thought over the whole matter as he came down in the train to Ardayre. She was a grave danger to the Allies and had betrayed them again andagain. He must have no mercy. Her last crimes had been against France, her punishment would be easier to manage there. The strain of cruelty in his nature came uppermost as he reviewed theevil which she had done. Stanislass' haunted face seemed to look at himout of the mist of the half-lit carriage. What might not Poland haveaccomplished with such a leader as Boleski had been before this banefulpassion fell upon him! Then he conjured up the? imaged faces of the braveFrenchmen who were betrayed by Harietta to Hans, and shot in Germany. A spy's death in war time was not an ignoble one, and they had gone therewith their lives in their hands. Had Harietta been true to that side, andhad she been acting from patriotism, he could have desired to save herthe death sentence now. But she had never been true; no country matteredto her; she had given to him secrets as well as to Hans! Then he laughedto himself grimly. So her _danseur_ at the Ardayre ball was the firsthusband! The man who used to beat her with a stick--and who had let herdivorce him in obedience to the higher command! How clever the whole thing was! If it had not all been so serious, itwould have been interesting to allow her to live longer to watch whatnext she would do, but the issues at stake were too vital to delay. Hewould not hesitate; he would denounce her to the French authoritiesimmediately on his return to Paris, and without one qualm or regret. Shehad lived well and played "crooked"--and now it was meet that she shouldpay the price. Filson announced him in the green drawing room when he reached Ardayre, but only Denzil rose to greet him and wrung his hand. He noticed that hisfriend's face looked stern and rather pale. "I'm so awfully glad that you have come, Stépan, " and they exchangedhandshakes and greetings. "You are about the only person I should want tosee just now, because you know the whole history. Something unprecedentedhas happened. A communication has come apparently from John to Amaryllisfrom a prisoners' camp in Germany, and yet as far as one can be certainof anything I am certain that I saw him die--" Verisschenzko was greatly startled. What a frightful complication itwould make should John be alive! "The letter--merely a postcard enclosed in an envelope--came by thisafternoon's post--and as you can understand, it has frightfully upset usall. It is a sort of thing about which one cannot analyse one's feelings. John had a right to his life and we ought to be glad--but the idea ofgiving up Amaryllis--of having all the suffering and the partingagain--Stépan, it is cruelly hard. " Verisschenzko sat down in one of the big chairs, and Euterpe, the lessertawny dog, came and pushed her nose into his hand. He patted her silkyhead absently. He was collecting his thoughts; the shock of this news wasconsiderable and he must steady his judgment. "John wrote to her himself, you say? It is not a message through a thirdperson--no?" "It appears to be in his own writing. " Denzil stood leaning on themantelpiece, and his face seemed to grow more haggard with each word. "Merely saying that he was taken prisoner by the enemy when they made thecounter attack, and that he had been too ill to write or speak until now. I can't understand it--because they did not make the counter attack untilafter I was carried in--and even though I was unconscious then, thestretcher bearers must have seen John when they lifted me if he had beenthere. Nothing was found but his glasses and we concluded another shellhad burst somewhere near his body after I was carried in. Stépan, I swearto God I saw him die. " "It sounds extraordinary. Try to tell me every detail, Denzil. " So the story of John's last moments was gone over again, and all the mostminute events which had occurred. And at the end of it the two solidfacts stood out incontrovertibly--John's body was never found, but Denzilhad seen him die. "How long will it take to communicate with him, I wonder? We can throughthe American Ambassador, I suppose, because he gives no address. It mustbe awful for him lying there wounded with no news. I say this because Isuppose I must accept his own writing, but I, cannot yet bring myself tobelieve that he can be alive. " Verisschenzko was silent for a moment, then he asked: "May I see my Lady Amaryllis?" "Yes, she told me to bring you to her as soon as I should have explainedto you the whole affair. Come now. " They went up the stairs together, and they hardly spoke a word. Andwhen they reached the cedar parlour Denzil let Verisschenzko go in infront of him. "I have brought Stépan to you, " he told Amaryllis. "I am going to leaveyou to talk now. " Amaryllis was white as milk and her grey eyes were disturbed and verytroubled. She held out her two hands to Verisschenzko and he kissed themwith affectionate worship. "Lady of my Soul!" "Oh! Stépan, --comfort me--give me counsel. It is such a terrible momentin my life. What am I to do?" "It is indeed difficult for you--we must think it all out--" "Poor John--I ought to be glad that he is alive, and I am--really--only, oh! Stépan, I love Denzil so dearly. It is all too awfully complicated. What so greatly astonishes me about it is that John has not writtendeliriously, or as though he has lost his memory, and yet if we hadcarried out his instructions and wishes we should be married now, Denziland I, --and he never alludes to the possibility of this! It is written asthough no complications could enter into the case--" "It sounds strange--may I see the letter?" She got up and went over to the writing table and returned with a packetand the envelope which contained the card. It was not one which prisonersuse as a rule; it had the picture of a German town on it and thepostmark on the envelope was of a place in Holland. Verisschenzko read itcarefully: "I have been too ill to write before--I was taken prisoner in the counterattack and was unconscious. I am sending this by the kindness of a nursethrough Holland. Everyone must have believed that I was dead. I amlonging for news of you, dearest. I shall soon be well. Do not worry. Iam going to be moved and will write again with address. "All love, -- "JOHN. " The writing was rather feeble as a very ill person's would naturally be, but the name "John" was firm and very legible. "You are certain that it is his writing?" "Yes"--and then she handed him another letter from the packet--John'slast one to her. "You can see for yourself--it is the same hand. " Stépan took both over to the lamp, and was bending to examine them whenhe gave a little cry: "Sapristi!"--and instead of looking at the writings he sniffed stronglyat the card, and then again. Amaryllis watched him amazedly. "The same! By the Lord, it is the work of Ferdinand. No one could mistakehis scent who had once smelt it. The muskrat, the scorpion! But he hasbetrayed himself. " Amaryllis grew paler as she came close beside him. "Stépan, oh, tell me! What do you mean?" "I believe this to be a forgery--the scent is a clue to me. Smellit--there is a lingering sickly aroma round it. It came in an envelope, you see, --that would preserve it. It is an Eastern perfume, veryheavy, --what do you say?" She wrinkled her delicate nose: "Yes, there is some scent from it. One perceives it at first and then itgoes off. Oh, Stépan, please do not torture me. Can you be quite sure?" "I am absolutely certain that whether it is in John's writing or not, Ferdinand, or some one who uses his unique scent, has touched that card. Now we must investigate everything. " He walked up and down the room in agitation for a few moments; talkingrapidly to himself--half in Russian--Amaryllis caught bits. "Ferdinand--how to his advantage? None. What then? Harietta?Harietta--but why for her?" Then he sat down and stared into the fire, his yellow-green eyes blazingwith intelligence, his clear brain balancing up things. But now he didnot speak his thoughts aloud. "She is jealous. I remember--she imagined that it is my child. Shebelieves I may marry Amaryllis. It is as plain as day!" He jumped up and excitedly held out his hands. "Let us fetch Denzil, " he cried joyously. "I can explain everything. " Amaryllis left the room swiftly and called when she got outside his door: "Denzil--do come. " He joined them in a second or two--there as he was, in a blue silkdressing gown, as he had just been going to dress for dinner. He looked from one face to the other anxiously and Stépanimmediately spoke. "I think that the card is a forgery, Denzil. I believe it to have beenwritten by Ferdinand Ardayre--at the instigation of Harietta Boleski. She would have means to obtain the postcard, and have it sent throughHolland too. " "But why--why should she?" Amaryllis exclaimed in wonderment. "Whatpossible reason could she have for wishing to be so cruel to us. We werealways very nice to her, as you know. " Verisschenzko laughed cynically. "She was jealous of you all the same. But Denzil, I track it by thescent. I know Ferdinand uses that scent, " he held out the card. "Smell. " Denzil sniffed as Amaryllis had done. "It is so faint I should not have remarked it unless you had told me--butI daresay if it was a scent one had smelt before, one would be struck byit! But how are you going to prove it, Stépan? We shall have to haveconvincing proof--because I am the only witness of poor John's death, andit could easily be said that I am too deeply interested to be reliable. For God's sake, old friend, think of some way of making a certainty. " "I have a way which I can enforce as soon as I reach Paris. Meanwhile saynothing to any one and put the thought of it out of your heads. Theevidence of your own eyes convinced you that John is dead; you found itdifficult to accept that he was alive even when seeing what appeared tobe his own writing, but if I assure you that this is forged you can be atpeace. Is it not so?" Amaryllis' lips were trembling; the shock and then this countershock were unhinging her. She was horrified at herself that sheshould not catch at every straw to prove John was alive, instead offeeling some sense of relief when Verisschenzko protested that thepostcard was a forgery. Poor John! Good, and kind, and unselfish. It was all too agitating. Butwas just life such a very great thing? She knew that had she the choiceshe would rather be dead than separated now from Denzil. And if John werereally to be alive--what misery he would be obliged to suffer, knowingthe situation. "Quite apart from what to me is a convincing proof, the scent, "Verisschenzko went on, "the card must be a forgery because of John'sseeming oblivion of the possibility that you two might have alreadycarried out his wishes. All this would have been very unlike him. But ifit is, as I think, Ferdinand's and Harietta Boleski's work, they wouldnot be likely to know that John had desired that Denzil should marry you, Amaryllis, and so would have thought a short card with longings to seeyou would be a natural thing to write. Indeed you can be at rest. And nowI will go and dress for dinner, and we will forget disturbing thoughts. " Amaryllis and Denzil will always remember Stépan's wonderful tact andgoodness to them that evening; he kept everything calm and thrilled themall with his stories and his conversation and his own wonderfullymagnetic personality. And after dinner he played to them in the greendrawing room and, as Mrs. Ardayre said, seemed to bring peace and healingto all their troubled souls. But when he was alone with Denzil late, after the two women had retiredto bed, he sunk into a deep chair in the smoking room and suddenly burstinto a peal of cynical laughter. "What the devil's up?" demanded Denzil, astonished. "I am thinking of Harietta's exquisite mistake. She believes the baby ismine! She is mad with a goat's jealousy; she supposes it is I who willmarry Amaryllis--hence her plot! Does it not show how the good areprotected and the evil fall into their own traps!" "Of course! She was in love with you!" "In love! Mon Dieu! you call that love! I mastered her body and wasunobtainable. She was never able to draw me more than a person could towhom I should pay two hundred francs. She knew that perfectly--it enragedher always. The threads are now completely in my hands. Conceive of it, Denzil! The man at the Ardayre ball was her first husband for whom shealways retained some kind of animal affection--because he used to beather. They married her to Stanislass just to obtain the secrets of Poland, and any other thing which she could pick' up. Her marvellous stupidityand incredible want of all moral restraint has made her the mostbrilliant spy. No principles to hamper her--nothing. She has only trippedup through jealousy now. When she felt that she had lost me she grew todesire me with the only part of her nature with which she desiresanything, her flesh--then she became unbalanced, and in September beforeI left, gave the clue into my hands. I shall not bore you with all thedetails, but I have them both--she and Ferdinand Ardayre. The firsthusband has gone back to Germany from Sweden, but we shall secure him, too, presently. Meanwhile I shall hand Harietta to the Frenchauthorities--her last exploits are against France. She has enabled theGermans to shoot six or seven brave fellows, besides giving informationof the most important kind wormed from foolish elderly adorers and aboveall from Stanislass himself. " "She will be shot, I suppose. " "Probably. But first she shall confess about the postcard from theprison camp. I shall go to Paris immediately, Denzil; there must beno delay. " "You will not feel the slightest twinge because she was your mistress, ifshe is shot, Stépan? I ask because the combination of possible emotionsis interesting and unusual. " "Not for an instant--" and suddenly Verisschenzko's yellow-green eyesflashed fire and his face grew transfigured with fierce hate. "You do notknow the affection I had for Stanislass from my boyhood--he was myleader, my ideal. No paltry aims--a great pioneer of freedom on thesanest lines. He might have altered the history of our two countries--hewas the light we need, and this foul, loathsome creature has destroyednot only his soul and his body, but the protector and defender of aconception of freedom which might have been realised. I would strangleher with my own hands. " "Stanislass must have been a weakling, Stépan, to have let her destroyhim. He could never have ruled. It strikes me that this is the proof ofanother of your theories. It must be some debt of his previous life thathe is paying to this woman. He was given his chance to use strengthagainst her and failed. " The hate died out of Verisschenzko's face--and the look of calmreasoning returned. "Yes, you are right, Denzil. You are wiser than I. So I shall not giveher up, for punishment of her crimes. I shall only give her up because ofjustice--she must not be at large. You see, even in my case, --I who pridemyself on being balanced, can have my true point of view obsessed byhate. It is an ignoble passion, my son!" "You will catch Ferdinand too?" "Undoubtedly--he is just a rotten little snipe, but he does mischief asHarietta's tool--and through his business in Holland. " "He loathes the English--that is his reason, but Madame Boleski has noincentive like that. " "Harietta has no country--she would be willing to betray any one of themto gratify any personal desire. If she had been a patriot exclusivelyworking for Germany, one could have respected her, but she has oftenbetrayed their secrets to me--for jewels--and other things she requiredat the moment. No mercy can be shown at all. " "In these days there is no use in having sentiment just because a spy isa woman--but I am glad it is not my duty to deliver her up. " Verisschenzko smiled. "I cannot help my nature, Denzil, --or rather the attributes of the nationinto which in this life I am born. I shall hand Harietta over to justicewithout a regret. " Then they parted for the night with much of the disturbance and thecomplex emotions removed from Denzil's heart. CHAPTER XXII When Verisschenzko reached Paris and discovered the desecration of theIkon, an icy rage came over him. He knew, even before questioning his oldservant, that it could only be the work of Harietta. Jealousy alone wouldbe the cause of such a wanton act. It revealed to him the certainty ofhis theory that she had imagined the little Benedict to be his child. Nofurther proof that the postcard was a forgery was really needed, but hewould see her once more and obtain extra confirmation. His yellow-green eyes gleamed in a curious way as he stood looking at themutilated picture. That her ridiculous and accursed hatpin should have dared to touch theeyes of his soul's lady, and scratch out the face of the child! But he must not let this emotion of personal anger affect what heintended in any case to do from motives of justice. In the morning hewould give all his proofs of her guilt to the French authorities, and letthe law take its course--but to-night he would make her come there to hisapartment and hear from him an indictment of her crimes. He sat down in the comfortable chair in his own sitting room andbegan to think. His face was ominous; all the fierce passions of his nation and of hisnature held him for a while. His dog, an intelligent terrier whom he loved, sat there before the fireand watched him, wagging his stump of a tail now and then nervously, butnot daring to approach. Then, after half an hour had gone by, he rose andwent to the telephone. He called up the Universal and asked to be putthrough to the apartment of Madame Boleski, and soon heard Harietta'svoice. It was a little anxious--and yet insolent too. "Yes? Is that you Stépan! Darling Brute! What do you want?" "You--cannot you come and dine with me to-night--alone?" His voice was honey sweet, with a spontaneous, frank ring in it, only hisface still looked as a fiend's. "You have just arrived? How divine!" "This instant, so I rushed at once to the telephone. I long foryou--come--now. " He allowed passion to quiver in the last notes--he must be sure that shewould be drawn. "He cannot have opened the doors of the Ikon, " Harietta thought. "I willgo--to see him again will be worth it anyway!" "All right!--in half an hour!" "_Soit_, "--and he put the receiver down. Then he went again to the Ikon and examined the doors; by slamming themvery hard and readjusting one small golden nail, he could give thefastening the appearance of its having been jammed and impossible toopen. He ordered a wonderful dinner and some Château Ykem of 1900. Harietta, he remembered, liked it better than Champagne. Its sweetnessand its strength appealed to her taste. The room was warm anddelightful with its blazing wood fire. He looked round before he wentto dress, and then he laughed softly, and again Fin nervously waggedhis stump of a tail. Harietta arrived punctually. She had made herself extremely beautiful. Her overmastering desire to see Verisschenzko had allowed her usuallykeen sense of self-preservation partially to sleep. But even so, underneath there was some undefined sense of uneasiness. Stépan met her in the hall, and greeted her in his usual abrupt waywithout ceremony. "You will leave your cloak in my room, " he suggested, wishing to give herthe chance to look at the Ikon's jammed doors and so put her at her ease. The moment she found herself alone, she went swiftly to the shrine. Sheexamined it closely--no the bolt had not been mended. She pulled at thedoors but she could not open them, and she remembered with relief thatshe had slammed them hard. That would account for things. He certainlycould not yet know of her action. The evening would be one of pleasureafter all! And there was never any use in speculating about to-morrows! Verisschenzko was waiting for her in the sitting-room, and they wentstraight in to dinner. A little table was drawn up to the fire; allappeared deliciously intimate, and Harietta's spirits rose. To her Verisschenzko appeared the most attractive creature on earth. Indeed, he had a wonderful magnetism which had intoxicated many womenbefore her day. He was looking at her now with eyes unclouded by glamour. He saw that she was painted and obvious, and without real charm. Shecould no longer even affect his senses. He saw nothing but the reality, the animal, blatant reality, and in his memory there remained the piercedout orbs of the Virgin and the scratched face of the Christ child. Everything fierce and cunning in his nature was in action--he wasglorying in the torture he meant to inflict, the torture of jealousy andunsatisfied suspicion. He talked subtly, deliberately stirring her curiosity and arousing herapprehension. He had not mentioned Amaryllis, and yet he had conveyed toher, as though it were an unconscious admission, that he had been inEngland with her, and that she reigned in his soul. Then he used everyone of his arts of fascination so that all Harietta's desires wereinflamed once more, and by the time she had eaten of the rich Russiandishes and drank of the Château Ykem she was experiencing the strongestemotion she had ever known in her life, while a sense of impotence tomove him augmented her other feelings. Her eyes swam with passion, as she leaned over the table whispering wordsof the most violent love in his ears. Verisschenzko remained absolutely unstirred. "How silly you were to send that postcard to Lady Ardayre, " he remarkedcontemplatively in the middle of one of her burning sentences. "It wasnot worthy of your usual methods--a child could see that it was aforgery. If you had not done that I might have made you very happyto-night--for the last time--my little goat!" "Stépan--what card? But you are going to make me happy anyway, darlingBrute; that is what I have come for, and you know it!" Her eyes were not so successfully innocent as usual when she lied. Shewas uneasy at his stolidity, some fear stayed with her that perhaps hemeant not to gratify her desires just to be provoking. He had teased hermore than once before. Verisschenzko went on, lighting his cigarette calmly: "It was a silly plot--Ferdinand Ardayre wrote it and you dictated it; Iperceived the whole thing at once. You did it because you were jealous ofLady Ardayre--you believe that I love her--" "I do not know anything about a card, but I _am_ jealous about thathateful bit of bread and butter, " and her eyes flashed. "It is so unlikeyou to worry over such a creature--I'm what you like!" He laughed softly. "A man has many sides--you appeal to his lowest. Fortunately it is not in command of him all the time--but let me tell youmore about the forgery. You over-reached yourselves--you made John ignoresomething which would have been his first thought, thus the fraud wasexposed at once. " Her jealousy blazed up, so that she forgot herself and prudence. "You mean about the child--your child--" The ominous gleam came into Verisschenzko's eyes. "My child--you spoke of it once before and I warned you--I neverspeak idly. " She got up from the table and came and flung her arms round his neck. "Stépan, I love you--I love you! I would like to kill Amaryllis and thechild--I want you--why are you so changed?" He only laughed scornfully again, while he disengaged her arms. "Do you know how I found out? By the perfume--the same as you told memust be that of Stanislass' mistress--on the handkerchief marked 'F. A. 'The whole thing was dramatically childish. You thought to prove herhusband was still alive, would stop my marriage with Amaryllis Ardayre!" "Then you are going to marry her!" Harietta's hazel eyes flashed fire, her face had grown distorted withpassion and her cheeks burned beyond the rouge. She appeared a most revolting sight to Stépan. He watched her with cold, critical eyes. As she put out her hands he noticed how the thumbs turnedright back. How had he ever been able to touch her in the past! Heshivered with disgust and degradation at the thought. She saw his movement of repulsion, and completely lost her head. She flung herself into his arms and almost strangled him in her furiousembrace, while she threw all restraint to the winds and poured out atorrent of passion, intermingled with curses for one who had dared to tryand rob her of this adored mate. It was a wonderful and very sickening exhibition, Verisschenzko thought. He remained as a statue of ice. Then when she had exhausted herself alittle, he spoke with withering calm. "Control yourself, Harietta; such emotion will leave ugly lines, and youcannot afford to spoil the one good you possess. I have not the leastdesire for you--I find that you look plain and only bore me. But nowlisten to me for a little--I have something to say!" His voice changedfrom the cynical callousness to a deep note of gravity: "You need noteven tell me in words that you sent the forgery--you have given me ampleproof. That subject is finished--but I will make you listen to therecital of some of your vile deeds. " The note grew sterner and his eyesheld her cowed. "Ah! what instruments of the devil are such women asyou--possessing the greatest of all power over men you have used it onlyfor ill--wherever you have passed there is a trail of degradation andslime. Think of Stanislass! A man of fine purpose and lofty ideals. Whatis he now? A poor lifeless semblance of a man with neither brain norwill. You have used him--not even to gratify your own low lust, but tobetray countries--and one of them your husband's country, which ought tohave been your own. " She sank to her knees at his side; he went on mercilessly. He spoke ofmany names which she knew, and then he came to Ferdinand Ardayre. "They tell me he is drinking and sodden with morphine, and raves wildlyof you. Think of them all--where are they now? Dead many of them--and youhave survived and prospered like a vampire, sucking their blood. Do youever think of a human being but your own degraded self? You wouldsacrifice your nearest and dearest for a moment's personal gain. You arenot caught and strangled because the outside good natures come easily toyou. It makes things smooth to smile and commit little acts of showykindness which cost you nothing. You live and breathe and have your beinglike a great maggot fattening on a putrid corpse. I blush to think that Ihave ever used your body for my own ends, loathing you all the time. Ihave watched you cynically when I should have wrung your neck. " She sobbed hoarsely and held out her hands. "For all these things you might still have gone free, Harietta--and fatewould punish you in time, but you have committed that great crime forwhich there can be no mercy. You have acted the part of a spy. A wretchedspy, not for patriotism but for your own ends--you have not been faithfulto either side. Have you not often given me the secrets of your latehusband Hans? Do you care one atom which country wins? Not you. Thewhole sordid business has had only one aim--some personal gratification. " He paused--and she began to speak, now choking with rage, but he motionedher to be silent. "Do you think so lightly of the great issues which are shaking the worldthat you imagine that you can do these things with impunity? I tell youthat soon you must pay the price. I am not the only one who knows ofyour ways. " She got up from the floor now and tossed her head. Important things hadnever been to her realities--her fear left her. What agitated her now wasthat Stépan, whom she adored, should speak to her in such a tone. Shethrew herself into his arms once more, passionately proclaiming her love. He thrust her from him in shrinking disgust, and the cruel vein in hischaracter was aroused. "Love!--do not dare to desecrate the name of love. You do not know whatit means. I do--and this shall always remain with you as a remembrance. Ilove Amaryllis Ardayre. She is my ideal of a woman--tender and restrainedand true--I shall always lay my life at her feet. I love her with a lovesuch beings as you cannot dream of, knowing only the senses and playingonly to them. That will be your knowledge always, that I worship andreverence this woman, and hold you in supreme contempt. " Harietta writhed and whined on the sofa where she had fallen. "Go, " he went on icily. "I have no further use for you, and my car iswaiting below. You may as well avail yourself of it and return to yourhotel. In the morning the last proof of the interest I have taken in youmay be given, but to-night you can sleep. " Harietta cried aloud--she was frightened at last. What did he mean? Buteven fear was swallowed up in the frantic thought that he had done withher, that he would never any more hold her in his arms. Her world lay inruins, he seemed the one and only good. She grovelled on the floor andkissed his feet. "Master, Master! Keep me near you--I will be your slave--" But Verisschenzko pushed her gently aside with his foot and going to atable near took up a cigarette. He lighted it serenely, glancingindifferently at the dishevelled heap of a woman still crouching onthe floor. "Enough of this dramatic nonsense, " and he blew a ring of smoke. "Iadvise you to go quietly to bed--you may not sleep so softly onfuture nights. " Fear overcame her again--what could he mean? She got up and held on tothe table, searching his face with burning eyes. "Why should I not sleep so softly always?" and her voice was thick. He laughed hoarsely. "Who knows? Life is a gamble in these days. You must ask your interestingGerman friend. " She became ghastly white--that there was real danger was beginningto dawn upon her. The rouge stood out like that on the painted faceof a clown. Verisschenzko remained completely unmoved. He pressed the bell, and hisRussian servant, warned beforehand, brought him in his fur coat and hat, and assisted him to put them on. "I will take Madame to get her cloak, " he announced calmly. "Wait hereto show us out. " There was nothing for Harietta to do but follow him, as he went towardsthe bedroom door. She was stunned. He walked over to the Ikon, and slipping a paper knife under them openedwide the doors; then he turned to her, and the very life melted withinher when she saw his face. "This is your work, " and he pointed to the mutilations, "and for that andmany other things, Harietta, you shall at last pay the price. Now come, Iwill take you back to your lover, and your husband--both will be waitingand longing for your return. Come!" She dropped on the floor and refused to move so that he was obliged tocall in the servant, and together they lifted her, the one holding herup, while the other wrapped her in her cloak. Then, each supporting her, they made their way down the stairs, and placed her in the waiting motor, Verisschenzko taking the seat at her side--and so they drove to theUniversal. She should sleep to-night in peace and have time to think overthe events of the evening. But to-morrow he must no longer delay aboutgiving information to the authorities. She cowered in the motor until they had almost reached the door, when sheflung her arms round his neck and kissed him wildly again, sobbing withrage and terror: "You shall not marry Amaryllis; I will kill you both first. " He smiled in the darkness, and she felt that he was mocking her, andsuddenly turned and bit his arm, her teeth meeting in the cloth of hisfur-lined coat. He shook her off as he would have done a rat: "Never quite apropos, Harietta! Always a little late! But here we havearrived, and you will not care for your admirers, the concierge, and thelift men, to see you in such a state. Put your veil over your face and goquietly to your rooms. I will wish you a very good-night--and farewell!" He got out and stood with mock respect uncovered to assist her, and shewas obliged to follow him. The hall porter and the numerous personnel ofthe hotel were looking on. He bowed once more and appeared to kiss her hand: "Good-bye, Harietta! Sleep well. " Then he re-entered the car and was whirled away. She staggered for a second and then moved forward to the lift. But as shewent in, two tall men who had been waiting stepped forward and joinedher, and all three were carried aloft, and as she walked to her salon shesaw that they were following her. "There will be no more kicks for thee, my Angel!" the maid, peepingfrom a door, whispered exultingly to Fou-Chow! "Thy Marie has savedthee at last!" * * * * * When Verisschenzko again reached his own sitting room he paced up anddown for half an hour. He was horribly agitated, and angry with himselffor being so. Denzil had been right; when it came to the point, it was a ghastly thingto have to do, to give a woman up to death--even though her crimes amplyjustified such action. And what was death? To such a one as Harietta what would death mean? A sinking into oblivion for a period, and then a rebirth in some sphereof suffering where the first lessons of the meanings of things might belearned? That would seem to be the probable working of the law--so thatshe might eventually obtain a soul. He must not speculate further about her though, he must keep his nerve. And his own life--what would it now become? Would the spirit of freedom, stirring in his beloved country, arrive at any good? Or would the redcurrent of revolution, once let loose, swamp all reason and flow inrivers of blood? He would be powerless to help if he let weakness overmaster him now. The immediate picture looked black and hopeless to his far-seeing eyes. But his place must be in Petrograd now, until the end. His activities, which had obliged him to be away from Russia, were finished, and new oneshad begun which he must direct, there in the heart of things. "The world is aching for freedom, God, " his stormy thoughts ran, "but wecannot hope to receive it until we have paid the price of the æons ofgreed and self-seeking which have held us, the ignorance, the lowmaterial gain. We must now reap that sowing. The divine Christ--oneman--was enough as a sacrifice in that old period of the world's day--butnow there must be a holocaust of the bravest and best for ourpurification. " He threw himself into his chair and gazed into the glowing embers. Whatpictures were forming themselves there? Nations arising glorified by anew religion of common sense, education universally enjoyed, the greatforces studied, and Nature's fundamental principles reckoned with andunderstood. To hunt his food. To recreate his species. _And to kill his enemy. _ A bright blade sheathed but ready, a clear judgment trained and used, ideals nobly striven for, and Wisdom the High Priest of God. These were the visions he saw in the fire, and he started to his feet andstretched out his arms. "Strength, God! Strength!" that was his prayer. "That we may go--Armoured and militant, New-pithed, new-souled, new-visioned, up the steepsTo those great altitudes whereat the weakLive not, but only the strongHave leave to strive, and suffer, and achieve. " Then he sat down and wrote to Denzil. "I have all the needed proofs, my friend. Marry my soul's lady in peaceand make her happy. There come some phases in a man's life which requireall his will to face. I hope I am no weakling. I return to Russiaimmediately. Events there will enable me to blot out some disturbingmemories. "The end is not yet. Indeed, I feel that my real life is only justbeginning. "Ferdinand Ardayre is deeply incriminated with Harietta; it is only aquestion of a little time and he will be taken too. Then, Denzil, you, inthe natural course of events, would have been the Head of the Family. Youwill need all your philosophy never to feel any jar in the situation withyour son as the years go on. You will have to look at it squarely, dearold friend, and know that it is impossible to have interfered withdestiny and to have gone scott free. Then you will be able to accepttitle affair with common sense and prize what you have obtained, withoutspoiling it with futile regrets. You have paid most of your score withwounds and suffering, and now can expect what happiness the agony of theworld can let a man enjoy. "My blessings to you both and to the Ardayre son. "And now adieu for a long time. " He had hardly written the last line when the telephone rang, and thefrantic voice of Stanislass, his ancient friend, called to him! Harietta had been taken away to St. Lazare--her maid had denounced her. What could be done? A great wave of relief swept over Stépan. So he was not to be theinstrument of justice after all! How profoundly he thanked God! But the irony of the thing shook him. Harietta would pay with her life for having maltreated a dog! Truly the workings of fate were marvellous. CHAPTER XXIII The days in prison for Harietta, before and after her trial, were days offrenzied terror, alternating with incredulity. She would not believe thatshe was to die. Stanislass and Ferdinand, and even Verisschenzko, would save her! She loathed the hard bed at St. Lazare, and the discomfort, and theugliness, and the Sister of Charity! She spent hours tramping her cell like a wild beast in a cage. She wouldroar with inarticulate fury, and cry aloud to her husband, and herlovers, one after another, and then she would cower in a corner, shakingwith fear. The greatest pain of all was the thought that Stépan and Amaryllis wouldmarry and be happy. Once or twice foam gathered at the corners of herlips when she thought of this. If she could have reached Marie, that would have given her somesatisfaction--to tear out her eyes! For Ferdinand Ardayre had told herhow Marie had given her up, working quietly until she had all necessaryproofs, and then denouncing her. When Stanislass had returned from the Club, whither she had despatchedhim for the evening, so that she might be free to dine withVerisschenzko, he found that she had already been taken away. The shock, when he discovered that nothing could be done, had nearlykilled him--he now lay dangerously ill in a Maison de Santé, happilyunconscious of events. For Ferdinand Ardayre the blow had fallen with crushing force. The onestrong thing in his weak nature was his passion for Harietta--and to berobbed of her in such a way! He battled impotently against fate, unable even to try to use any meansin his possession to get the death sentence commuted, because he was toodeeply implicated himself to make any stir. He saw her in the prison after the trial, with the bars between and thewarders near. And the awful change in Tier paralysed him with grief. Onthe morrow she was to die--the usual death of a spy. Her hair was wild and her face without rouge was haggard and wan. She implored him to save her. The frightful pain of knowing that he could do nothing made Ferdinanddesperate, and then suddenly he became inspired with an idea. He could at all events remove some of the agony of terror from her, andenable her to go to her death without a hideous scene. He remembered "LaTosca"--the same method might serve again! He managed to whisper to her in broken sentences that she would certainlybe saved. The plan was all prepared, he assured her. The rifles wouldcontain blank cartridges, and she must pretend to fall--and afterwards hewould come, having bribed every one and made the path smooth. He lied so fervently that Harietta was convinced, her material braincatching at any straw. She must dress herself and look her best, he toldher, so as to make an impression upon all the men concerned; and then, when he had to leave her, he arranged with the prison doctor that shemight receive a strong _piqûre_ of morphine, so that she would beserene. She spent the night dreaming quite happily and at four o'clockwas awakened and began to dress. The drug had calmed all her terrors and her dramatic instinct heldfull sway. She arranged her toilet with the utmost care, using all her arts tobeautify herself. In her ears were Stanislass' ruby earrings and she woreStépan's ring and brooch. Death to her was an impossibility--she had never seen any one die. It was a wonderfully fine part she would have to play, with Ferdinandthere really going to save her! That was all! She must even be sweet atlast to the poor sister, whom she had snarled at hitherto. If she could only have seen Stépan once more! Stanislass and his brokenlife and fond devotion never gave her a thought or troubled her at all. After she was free, she would find some means to pay out Hans! She hatedhim. If it had not been for Hans and his tiresome old higher commandwith their stupid intrigues, she would still be free. That she hadbetrayed countries--that she was guilty in any way never presenteditself to her mind. All Verisschenzko's passionate indictment had fallen upon unheeding ears. The morphine now left her only sufficiently conscious for fundamentalinstincts to act. She felt that she was a beautiful woman going to be the chief figure in awonderfully dramatic scene. Nothing solemn had touched her. Her brain waslight and now only filled with cunning and _coqueterie_; she meant tocharm her guards and executioners to the last man! And ready at length, she walked nonchalantly out of the prison and into the waiting car whichwas to carry her to Vincennes. Now the end of all this is best told in the words of a young Frenchsoldier who was an eye witness and wrote the whole thing down. To pen thehideous horror I find too difficult a task. "Sunday--11 in the evening. "We had only returned at that moment from our day's leave, when theLieutenant came to us to announce that we should be of the _piquet_to-morrow morning for the execution of Madame Boleski, the spy. "He said this to us in his monotonous voice as though he had been saying'To-morrow--_Revue d'Armes_'--but for us, after a whole day passed farfrom barracks, it was a rather brusque return to military realities! "At once it became necessary that we look through our accountrements forthe show. No small affair! and for more than an hour there was brushingand polishing of straps and buckles. It was nearly two o'clock in themorning before we could turn in. "Many of us could not sleep--we are all between eighteen and nineteenyears old, and the idea to see a woman killed agitated us. But little bylittle the whole band dozed. " "Monday morning. "At four o'clock--reveille. We dress in haste in the dark. Ten minuteslater we all find ourselves in the courtyard. "'_A droit alignement couvres sur deux_. ' "The Lieutenant made the call. " * * * * * "The detachment moves off in the night, marching in slow cadence--thatstep which so peculiarly gives the impression of restrained force andcondensed power. "We leave the fort and gain the artillery butts--true landscape of thefront! Trenches, stripped trees, abandoned wagons! "And in the middle of all that--our silhouettes of carbines, casques and sacs. "Absolute silence. "We stop--we advance--and suddenly in the dawn which has begun, we arriveat our destination--the execution ground. "'_Cannoniers--halte! Couvres sur deux. A droite alignement_. '" "A rattle of arms. And there in front of us, at hardly fifteen yards, wecatch sight of the post. "Up till now we had scarcely felt anything--just startled impressions, almost of curiosity, but now I begin to experience the first strongsensation. "The post! Symbol of all this sinister ceremony. A short post--not higherthan one's shoulder! There it stands in front of the shooting butts. Andto think that nearly every Monday--" * * * * * "Now the troops from the Square, which is in reality rectangular, theshooting butt constituting one of its sides. Then in the grim dawn wewait quietly for what is to come. One after another, we see severalautomobiles approach, and each time we ask ourselves, 'Is not this thecondemned?' "No--they are journalists--officers--_avocats_--and presently a hearse, out of which is lifted the coffin. "The undertakers' men, who presently will proceed to the business ofplacing the body there, laugh and talk together as they sit and smoke. They are old _habitués!_" "One was cold standing still! It begins to be quite light. The condemnedone may arrive at any moment, because the execution has been fixed forexactly at the rising of the sun. "The men of the platoon load their rifles. The number of them istwelve--four sergeants, four corporals, four soldiers. "And then there are the _Chasseurs à pied_. " "All of a sudden, two more cars appear, escorted by a company ofdragoons. "This time it is She. "They stop--out of the first one, officers descend. The Commissaire ofthe Government who has, condemned Madame Boleski to death and who hadgone a little more than an hour ago to awake her in her cell. TheCaptain, reporter, and two other Captains. The door of the second autoopens, two gendarmes get out--a Sister of St. Lazare (what a terrible_métier_ for her!)--and then Harietta Boleski! "And at once, accompanied by the nun and followed by the gendarmes, shepenetrates into the square of men. "Until now we have been enduring a period of waiting, we have been askingourselves if it will have an effect upon us--but now we have no moredoubt. The effect has begun! "'Present arms!' "All together we render honour to the dead woman--for one considers aperson condemned as already dead. And the bugles begin to play theMarch--_Do sol do do Sol do do, Mi mi mi_-- "They play slowly--very softly and in the minor key. "Harietta Boleski walks quickly, the sister can hardly keep by her side. She is tall, beautiful, very elegant. A large hat with floating lace veilthrown back and splendid earrings. A dark dress--pretty shoes. "She looks at the troops and the _piquet d'exécution_ a littledisdainfully, and then she smiles gaily--it is almost a titter. Thesister taps her gently on the shoulder, as if to recall her to a sense oforder, but she makes one careless gesture and walks up to the post. "The bugles are sounding plaintively, slowly and more slowly all thetime. "She pauses in front of us--and with us it is now, 'Does this make usfeel something?' We must hold ourselves not to grow faint. "To see this woman go by with the trumpets sounding ever. To say toourselves that in sixty seconds she will be no more. There will be nolife in that beautiful body. Ah! that is an emotion, believe me! "Never has the great problem been brought more forcibly before my spirit. "It is during the second when she passes before me that I receivethe most profound impression, more even than at the actual moment ofthe firing. " * * * * * "Harietta Boleski is beside the post. The bugles stop their mournfulsound. They tie her to it, but not tightly, only so that her fall may notbe too hard. A gendarme presents her with a bandeau for her eyes, whichshe pushes aside with scorn. "And when an officer reads the sentence, Harietta Boleski smiles. " * * * * * "At twelve yards the platoon is lined up. The sentence has been read. "Madame Boleski embraces the Sister of Charity, who is very overcome. She even whispers a few words to comfort her. They stand back from thepost. The adjutant who commands the platoon raises his sword--the riflescome in into position--two seconds--and the sword falls!" * * * * * "A salute!" * * * * * "Harietta Boleski is no more. "The fair body drops to earth and immediately an Adjutant ofDragoons goes swiftly to the post, revolver pointed, and gives the_coup de grace_. "_'Arme sur l'épaule--Droit. A droit. En avant. Marche!'_ "And we file past the corpse while the trumpets recommence to sound. "Harietta Boleski is lying down. She seems to be only reposing, sobeautiful she looks. "The ball had entered her heart (we knew this later) so that her deathhas been instantaneous. "All the troops have defiled before her now. "We regain our quarters. "But as we file into the courtyard the sun gilds the highest window ofthe fortress. The day has begun. " * * * * * Thus perished Harietta Boleski in the thirty-seventh year of her age--inthe midst of the zest of life. The times are to strenuous for sentiment. So perish all spies! THE END