The Hillman
Page 33
XXXIII
The reception in honor of the little company of French tragedians, atwhich almost the whole of the English stage and a sprinkling of societypeople were present, was a complete success. Louise made a charminghostess, and Sir Edward more than ever justified his reputation forsaying the right thing to the right person at the right moment. Therooms were crowded with throngs of distinguished people, who all seemedto have plenty to say to one another.
The only person, perhaps, who found himself curiously ill at ease wasJohn. He heard nothing but French on all sides of him--a language whichhe read with some facility, but which he spoke like a schoolboy. He hadbeen wandering about for more than an hour before Louise discovered him.She at once left her place and crossed the room to where he was standingby the wall.
"Cheer up!" she begged, with a delightful smile. "I am afraid that youare being bored to death. Will you not come and be presented to ourguests?"
"For goodness' sake, no!" John implored. "I have never seen one of themact, and my French is appalling. I am all right, dear. It's quite enoughpleasure to see you looking so beautiful, and to think that I am goingto be allowed to drive you home afterward."
Louise looked into a neighboring mirror, and gazed critically at her ownreflected image. The lines of her figure, fine and subtle, seemedtraced by the finger of some great sculptor underneath her faultlesslymade white-satin gown. She studied her white neck and shoulders and herperfectly shaped head, seeking everywhere for some detail with which animpartial critic might find fault.
She had a curious feeling that at that precise moment she had reachedthe zenith of her power and her charm. Her audience at the theater hadbeen wonderfully sympathetic, had responded with rare appreciation toevery turn of her voice, to every movement and gesture. The compliments,too, which she had been receiving from the crowds who had bent over herfingers that night had been no idle words. Many distinguished men hadlooked at her with a light in their eyes which women understand sowell--a light questioning yet respectful, which provokes yet begs forsomething in the way of response.
She was conscious, acutely conscious, of the atmosphere she had createdaround her. She was glorying in the subtle outward signs of it. She wasin love with herself; in love, too, with this delightful new feeling ofloving. It would have given her more joy than anything else in theworld, in that moment of her triumph, to have passed her arm throughJohn's, to have led him up to them all, and to have said:
"After all, you see, I am a very simple sort of woman. I have done justthe sort of simple thing that other women do, and I am glad of it--veryglad and very happy!"
Her lips moved to the music of her thoughts. John leaned toward her.
"Did you say anything?" he asked.
"You dear stupid, of course I did not! Or if I did, it was just one ofthose little whispers to oneself which mean nothing, yet which count forso much. Can I not do anything to make you enjoy yourself more? I shallhave to go back to my guests now. We are expecting a royal personage,and those two dears who keep so close to my side do not speak a word ofEnglish."
"Please go back, dear," John begged promptly. "It was nice of you tocome at all. And here's Sophy at last, thank goodness! Now I am allright."
She laid her fingers upon his arm.
"You must take me back to my place," she said. "Then you can go and talknonsense to Sophy. I won't even ask you what she said when you told herthe news. I suppose you did tell her?"
"Of course!"
She glanced at him swiftly. His reply had sounded a little lame; butthey were back in the crowd now, and she dismissed him with a littlenod. He made his way quickly to the spot where he had seen Sophy. To hisdisappointment, she had disappeared. Graillot, however, came up andseized him by the arm.
"Still playing the moth, my young friend?" he exclaimed. "Aren't thewings sufficiently burned yet?"
"I am afraid it's become a permanent role," John replied, as the two menshook hands. "Where have you been all these weeks, and why haven't youbeen to see me?"
"Paris, my dear young friend--Paris and life! Now I am back again--I amnot sure that I know why. I came over with these French people, to seethem start their theater. Forgive me, I have not paid my respects to ourhostess. We shall meet again presently."
He strolled off, and a few minutes later John found Sophy.
"How late you are!" he grumbled.
"I couldn't help it," she answered. "This is the only evening dress Ipossess at present, and I had to mend it before it was decent to comeout in. Why are you wandering about alone? Hasn't Louise been kind toyou?"
"She has been charming," John declared promptly, "but she is surroundedwith all sorts of people I don't know. I can't help her. For one thing,my French is absurd. Then they are all talking about things which Idon't understand in the least."
Sophy remained silent for a moment. Then she took John's arm and led himto the buffet.
"Give me an ice and a cigarette, will you, please? You are a dear,impractical person, but you are as much out of this world as a humanbeing well could be!"
John waited upon her without any further remark. The Prince of Seyre,passing through, bowed to them. John looked after his retreating figure.An irresistible impulse seized him.
"Sophy," he asked, sitting down by her side, "tell me, why have theprince and Louise always been such great friends?"
Sophy looked steadfastly at her ice.
"I suppose because the prince is a very clever and cultivated person,"she said. "He has been of great assistance to Louise several times. Itwas he who financed Miles Faraday when he put on this play ofGraillot's. Graillot hasn't a penny, you know, and poor Miles was almostbroke after three failures."
"That was just an investment," John remarked irritably. "He will get hismoney back again."
"Of course," Sophy agreed. "I think the prince generally manages to getvalue for what he does in life."
"You don't think Louise ever thought of caring for him, do you?" Johnpersisted.
Sophy paused until she had lit a cigarette. The expression in her face,when she looked up at John, irritated him vaguely. It was as if she weretalking to a child.
"I think," she said, "you had better ask Louise that question yourself,don't you?"
* * * * *
He asked it an hour or so later, when at last the party of guests hadtaken their leave, and, somewhat to the well-bred surprise of the one ortwo friends who lingered, Louise had beckoned to John to take her out toher car. Her hand had sought his at once, her head rested a littlewearily but very contentedly upon his shoulder.
"Louise dear," he began, "I asked Sophy a question to-night which Iought to have asked you. Quite properly, she told me so."
"Nice little soul, Sophy!" Louise murmured. "What was it, John?"
"Once or twice I have wondered," he went on, "whether you have evercared in any sort of way, or come near to caring, for the Prince ofSeyre?"
For a moment she made no movement. Then she turned her head and lookedat him. The sleepy content had gone from her eyes.
"Why do you ask?"
"Isn't it quite a natural question from a jealous man who believes thatevery one who sees you must be in love with you? You have seen a greatdeal of the prince, haven't you, in the last few years? He understandsyour art. There are many things that you and he have in common."
Louise was looking out of the window at the thin stream of people stillpassing along Piccadilly. She seemed suddenly to have become only theshadow of her former brilliant self.
"I think that once--perhaps twice," she confessed, "I came very near tocaring for him."
"And now?"
"And now," she repeated, suddenly gripping John's hands, "I tell youthat I am very much nearer hating him. So much for the prince! In tenminutes we shall be at home, and you are such a dear stupid about comingin. You must try to say all the nice things in the world to mequickly--in ten minutes!"
"H
ow shall I begin?" he whispered.
She leaned once more toward him.
"You don't need any hints," she murmured. "You're really quite good atit!"