XIII
John's first caller at the Milan was, in a way, a surprise to him. Hewas sitting smoking an after-breakfast pipe on the following morning,and gazing at the telephone directory, when his bell rang. He opened thedoor to find the Prince of Seyre standing outside.
"I pay you a very early visit, I fear," the latter began.
"Not at all," John replied, taking the pipe from his mouth and throwingopen the door. "It is very good of you to come and see me."
The prince followed John into the little sitting room. He was dressed,as usual, with scrupulous care. His white linen gaiters were immaculate,his trousers were perfectly creased, the hang of his coat had engagedthe care of an artist. His tie was of a deep shade of violet, fastenedwith a wonderful pearl, and his fingers were perhaps a trifleovermanicured. He wore a bunch of Parma violets in his buttonhole, andhe carried with him a very faint but unusual perfume, which seemed toJohn like the odor of delicate green tea. It was just these details, andthe slowness of his speech, which alone accentuated his foreign origin.
"It occurred to me," he said, as he seated himself in an easy chair,"that if you are really intending to make this experiment in town lifeof which Miss Maurel spoke, I might be of some assistance to you. Thereare certain matters, quite unimportant in themselves, concerning whicha little advice in the beginning may save you trouble."
"Very good of you, I am sure," John repeated. "To tell you the truth, Iwas just looking through the telephone directory to see if I could comeacross the name of a tailor I used to have some things from."
"If it pleases you to place yourself in my hands," the prince suggested,"I will introduce you to my own tradespeople. I have made the selectionwith some care."
"That will suit me admirably," John declared. "If you will just give methe addresses--I couldn't think of taking up your time."
"I have, fortunately, an idle morning," the prince said, "and it isentirely at your disposal. At half past one I believe we are bothlunching with Miss Maurel."
John was conscious of a momentary sense of annoyance. His _tete-a-tete_with Louise seemed farther off than ever. At the prince's suggestion,however, he fetched his hat and gloves and entered the former'sautomobile, which was waiting below.
"Miss Maurel!" the prince remarked, as they glided off westward, "is, Ibelieve, inviting a few friends to meet you. If you would feel morecomfortable in town clothes, I think the tailor to whom I am taking youwill be able to arrange that. He makes special preparations for suchemergencies."
"I will do what you think best," John agreed.
They spent the morning in the neighborhood of Bond Street, and John laidthe foundations of a wardrobe more extensive than any he had everdreamed of possessing. At half past one they were shown into Louise'slittle dressing room. There were three or four men already present,standing around their hostess and sipping some faint yellow cordial fromlong Venetian glasses.
Louise came forward to meet them, and made a little grimace as sheremarked the change in John's appearance.
"Honestly, I don't know you, and I don't believe I like you at all!" sheexclaimed. "How dare you transform yourself into a tailor's dummy inthis fashion?"
"It was entirely out of respect to you," John said.
"In fact," the prince added, "we considered that we had achieved rathera success."
"I suppose I must look upon your effort as a compliment," Louise sighed,"but it seems queer to lose even so much of you. Shall you take up ourmanners and our habits, Mr. Strangewey, as easily as you wear ourclothes?"
"That I cannot promise," he replied.
"The brain should adapt itself at least as readily as the body," theprince remarked.
M. Graillot, who was one of the three men present, turned around.
"Who is talking platitudes?" he demanded. "I write plays, and that is mymonopoly. Ah, it is the prince, I see! And our young friend whointerrupted us at rehearsal yesterday."
"And whom I am anxious to have you meet again," Louise intervened. "Youremember his name, perhaps--Mr. John Strangewey."
Graillot held out his left hand to the prince and his right to John.
"Mr. Strangewey," he said, "I congratulate you! Any person who has thegood fortune to interest Miss Maurel is to be congratulated. Yet must Ilook at you and feel myself puzzled. You are not an artist--no? You donot paint or write?"
John shook his head.
"Mr. Strangewey's claim to distinction is that he is just an ordinaryman," Louise observed. "Such a relief, you know, after all you cleverpeople! And that reminds me, Miles," she added, turning to the actor, "Iasked you here, too, especially to meet Mr. Strangewey again. Mr.Faraday is one of the most dangerous guides in London a young man couldhave. He knows everybody and everything unknowable and yet worthknowing. I present him to you as a hero. He is going to make love to methree hours a night for very many nights, we hope."
John shook hands with everybody and sipped the contents of the glasswhich had been handed to him. Then a butler opened the door andannounced luncheon. Louise offered her hand to the prince, who steppedback.
"It shall be the privilege of the stranger within our gates," hedecided.
Louise turned to John with a little smile.
"Let me show you, then, the way to my dining room. I ought to apologizefor not asking some women to meet you. I tried two on the telephone, butthey were engaged."
"I will restore the balance," the prince promised, turning from thecontemplation of one of the prints hanging in the hall. "I am giving asupper party to-night for Mr. Strangewey, and I will promise him apreponderance of your charming sex."
"Am I invited?" Louise inquired.
The prince shook his head.
"Alas, no!"
They passed into a small dining room, and here again John noticed thatan absolute simplicity was paramount. The carpet was of some dark,almost indistinguishable color. The walls were white, hung with three orfour French etchings in black reed frames. At one end a curved windowlooked out upon a vista of green trees and shrubs, and the recess wascompletely filled in with what appeared to be almost a grotto offlowers. The round table, covered with an exquisitely fine cloth, wasvery simply laid. There was a little glass of the finest quality, and avery little silver. For flowers there was only one bowl, a brilliantpatch of some scarlet exotic, in the center.
"A supper party to which I am not invited," said Louise, as she took herplace at the table and motioned John to a seat by her side, "fills mewith curiosity. Who are to be your guests, prince?"
"Calavera and her sprites," the prince announced.
Louise paused for a moment in the act of helping herself to _horsd'oeuvres_. She glanced toward the prince. He was busy studying the menuthrough his eyeglass.
"By her sprites you mean--"
"The young ladies of her wonderful ballet," the prince replied. "I amalso dipping into musical comedy for a few of my guests. Calavera,however, is to be the _piece de resistance_."
The prince dropped his eye-glass and glanced toward his hostess. For amoment their eyes met. Louise's lips were faintly curled. It was almostas if a challenge had passed between them.
"Mr. Strangewey," she said, turning to John, "let me warn you. You areto meet to-night a woman for whom kings are reported to sigh in vain, atwhose feet the _jeunesse doree_ of the world pours out its riches. Isit kind of the prince, I wonder, to try and seal your fate so soon?"
John laughed easily. He met the challenge in her eyes and answered it.
"If you are talking of the great Calavera," he said, "she will be fartoo wonderful a lady to take any notice of a yokel like myself. Andbesides--"
"Besides?" the prince intervened.
"I have only seen her photographs and read of her," John remarked, "butI don't think she would attract me very much."
They all laughed. Graillot leaned across the table.
"My young friend," he exclaimed, "pray to your presiding genius, thepresiding genius that w
on for you the friendship of our hostess, thatCalavera never hears that speech, or within a week you will be at herchariot-wheels! I have seen many women and loved many, but there arenone like Calavera. In her way she is the greatest artist that everbreathed. As for her beauty, wait till you see her! She has a body whichmakes me close my eyes and dream of Greece; eyes such as one seldom seessave in a few parts of southern Spain; and as for her smile--well, if Igo on I shall begin to tell stories of her victims and neglect mylunch."
The conversation drifted away to reminiscences of other great dancers.Louise, under its cover, devoted her attention to her guest,
"First of all," she asked, "tell me how you like my little friend?"
"I think she is charming," John answered without hesitation. "We went toa supper club last night and stayed there till about half past three."
"A supper club?"
John nodded.
"I have forgotten the name of the place, but they made me a member. Itwas great fun. We had some more champagne, and Sophy danced. I found ayoung man there whom I used to know."
"Really," said Louise, "I am not sure that I approve of this! A supperclub with Sophy until half past three in the morning!"
He looked at her quickly.
"You don't mind?"
"My dear man, why should I mind?" she returned. "What concern is it ofmine if you and Sophy care to amuse each other? It is exactly what Ihoped for."
"That's all right, then," John declared, with a sigh of relief. "Do youknow," he went on, lowering his voice, "that I am just a littledisappointed about today?"
"Disappointed? After I have taken the trouble to give a luncheon partyfor you?"
"I should have thought it a greater compliment, and liked it better, ifyou had asked me to lunch with you alone," he said.
She shook her head.
"It would have been a wasted opportunity. You have come up to Londonwith a purpose. You have an experiment to make, an experiment in living.All these men can help you."
"The greater part of my experiment," he pointed out, "needs the help ofonly one person, and that person is you."
She moved a little uneasily in her chair. It might have been his fancy,but he imagined that she glanced under her eyelids toward the Prince ofSeyre. The prince, however, had turned almost ostentatiously away fromher. He was leaning across the table, talking to Faraday.
"You have not lost your gift of plain speech," she observed.
"I hope I never shall," he declared. "It seems to me to be the simplestand the best plan, after all, to say what you feel and to ask for whatyou want."
"So delightful in Cumberland and Utopia," she sighed; "so impracticablehere!"
"Then since we can't find Utopia, come back to Cumberland," hesuggested.
A reminiscent smile played for a moment about her lips.
"I wonder," she murmured, "whether I shall ever again see that dear,wonderful old house of yours, and the mist on the hills, and the starsshining here and there through it, and the moon coming up in thedistance!"
"All these things you will see again," he assured her confidently. "Itis because I want you to see them again that I am here."
"Just now, at this minute, I feel a longing for them," she whispered,looking across the table, out of the window, to the softly waving trees.
At the close of the luncheon, a servant handed around coffee andliqueurs. The prince turned to Louise.
"You must not keep our young friend too late," he said. "He hasappointments with his tailor and other myrmidons who have undertaken toadorn his person."
"Alas," replied Louise, rising, "I, too, have to go early to mydressmaker's. Do the honors for me, prince, will you?--and I will makemy adieus now."
They all rose. She nodded to Graillot and Faraday. The prince moved tostand by the door. For a moment she and John were detached from theothers.
"I want to see you alone," he said under his breath. "When can I?"
She hesitated.
"I am so busy!" she murmured. "Next week there are rehearsals nearlyevery minute of the day."
"To-morrow," John said insistently. "You have no rehearsals then. I mustsee you. I must talk to you without this crowd."
It was his moment. Her half-formed resolutions fell away before thecompelling ring in his voice and the earnest pleading in his eyes.
"I will be in," she promised, "to-morrow at six o'clock."
The Hillman Page 13
