The Enemies of Women (Los enemigos de la mujer)

The Enemies of Women (Los enemigos de la mujer) Page 7

by Vicente Blasco Ibáñez

  CHAPTER VII

  A new personage entered the lives of the dwellers in Villa Sirena. TheColonel announced with enthusiasm this friend whom Dona Clorinda hadintroduced.

  "He is a Spanish Lieutenant in the Foreign Legion. He lives in the hotelwhich the Prince of Monaco gave up for convalescent officers. His nameis Antonio Martinez, a very common name which reveals nothing of hischaracter; but he is a great soldier, a hero, and I don't know how hemanages to survive his wounds."

  The "General" who kept track of all the soldiers of a certainreputation, as soon as they arrived in Monte Carlo, had been anxious tomeet this Lieutenant, and had taken him under her protection. TheDuchess de Delille was also interested in him, and the two women, proudof being his _marraines_, showed him off in the anteroom of the Casino,rented carriages to promenade him around to the most beautiful spots onthe Riviera, and treated him to the finest war-time foods and pastrythat they could find. With his lungs injured by German poison gases, hehad also received a hand grenade wound on his head, and suffered fromtime to time from nervous trouble, which caused him to fall to theground unconscious. The doctors talked despairingly of his condition.Perhaps he would live for years, perhaps he would die in one of thesecrises; the important thing was that he should live a quiet life,without any deep emotion. And the two ladies, who knew the real state ofhis health, lamented it when he was not present. He was so young, soaffectionate, and so timid? On the breast of his mustard-coloreduniform, attached by red ribbons, as a symbol of bravery given to theforeign battalions, were the War Cross and the Legion of Honor.

  Clorinda, who considered that she had greater rights over him because ofhaving "discovered" him, thought for awhile of taking him to live withher in order to be able to take better care of him. But as she was atthe Hotel de Paris, she did not, like Alicia, have an entire villa ather disposal. And the latter, although tempted by her friend'ssuggestions, did not dare to take the convalescent into her home. Peopleliked to talk, and she, without saying why, was afraid of their gossip.

  In the meantime, they both took the Lieutenant everywhere, protestingthat, because of his uniform, he was not allowed to enter the rooms ofthe Casino. One afternoon, Dona Clorinda, with all the natural boldnessof her character, took him to Villa Sirena. It was a shame that thehandsome building and its vast gardens should be given over to five menwho did nothing for humanity at all. Often in her imagination, she hadconverted it into a Sanitarium filled with invalid soldiers, withherself at the head of it as director and patroness. But her suggestionshad no effect whatever on the Prince. "A selfish fellow," she said toherself, returning to her former opinion.

  As long as it was impossible to occupy the Villa with a band ofconvalescents, she took the Spanish officer to show him the gardens,without first asking Lubimoff's permission.

  The latter was able to see at first hand the hero of whom Don Marcos,during the last few days, had talked so much. He saw nothing in him toindicate extraordinary deeds. Martinez was a youth, ready to blush whenforced to tell what he had done in the war. Without his uniform and hisinsignia of honor, he would have seemed like a poor office clerk,modest and resigned and incapable of being anything else. His appearancecontrasted with the deeds which, after much pleading, he would finallybe persuaded to confess. He was twenty-six years old, and seemed muchyounger, but it was a sickly sort of youthfulness, undermined by woundsand hardships.

  Lubimoff, who hated the swagger of boastful heroes, felt at firstdisconcerted, and then attracted by the simplicity of this officer. Ifhe had not known from Don Marcos the authenticity of his prowess, hewould have taken no stock in it.

  Somewhat intimidated in the presence of the famous owner of VillaSirena, Martinez confessed his humble birth with neither pride nortimidity. He was poor, the son of poor people. He had tried to study fora career, but the necessity of earning his living had caused him toabandon books, trying the most diverse occupations, one after the other.It was so difficult to earn one's bread in Spain! After fighting in theSpanish campaign in Morocco, he had wandered through various SouthAmerican Republics, struggling all the while against poverty and illluck.

  "There where so many common rough people get rich," he said, "all Ifound was poverty, like that in my own country. When this war broke out,like many other people, I was indignant at the conduct of the Germans,and their atrocities in the invaded countries. At the time I was inMadrid. One night some of my cafe acquaintances agreed to go and fightfor France. The person who backed down was to pay ten dollars. They allrepented their decision, except myself. Don't imagine that it was toavoid paying the wager. I have my own ideas, and have read more or less.I believe in republics--and France is the country of the GreatRevolution. I entered a battalion of the Foreign Legion, which,composed for the most part of Spaniards, was being organized in Bayonne.There are a very few left by this time; most of them are dead; the restare living scattered throughout the various hospitals, or else arecrippled for life. I knew what war was like from mountain warfareagainst the Moors in the Riff country, and without seeking the honor Ihad gotten as far as being a Lieutenant of Reserves in my own country.Perhaps that is why they made me a Sergeant in the Legion after a fewweeks. But it certainly was hard! I had never imagined they wouldreceive us with a brass band! France has too many other things to thinkof; but it was sad to see how badly our enthusiasm was interpreted. Mencalled to arms by the laws of their country, and who were obliged tofight, looked at us with jealousy and suspicion. The other regimentsconsidered us adventurers; or even escaped convicts. 'How hungry youmust have been at home,' they said to me at the front, 'to have comehere to be able to get something to eat!' And among us there werestudents, newspaper men, young men from wealthy families, fellows whohad enlisted with enthusiasm--but let's not talk about that. In everycountry there are vulgar minded people incapable of understandinganything beyond their selfish, material wants."

  His military experience was confined to trench warfare, endless andmonotonous, and to short distance attacks. He had arrived late at theBattle of the Marne; and he, who imagined that he would take part ingigantic combat, involving millions of men and the firing of immensecannon, merely witnessed a series of struggles between small forceshidden in the earth, and hand-to-hand encounters to win a few yards ofground. Life at the Dardanelles was the worst of his memories. He hatedto think of that horrible campaign. The struggles in France seemedrather placid compared to that fighting on a few miles of coast, withthe sea at their backs and unconquerable lines ahead of them.

  After saying this he fell silent, and the Colonel had to insist, with acertain paternal pride, that Martinez go on talking.

  "Wounds, many wounds," he added simply. "I have lost count of thehospitals that I have known in three years, and of the trips I have madethrough France in Red Cross ambulances. When we are not killed outright,we are like the horses in bull fights. They patch up our skins outsidethe ring, strengthen us a bit and back we go into the arena, until weget the final goring."

  Toledo, becoming impatient at the young man's modesty, told the story ofhis wounds. He received some in every period of the fighting. Somebelonged to modern warfare, produced by fragments of high explosiveshells, others came from machine guns, and even that cough whichinterrupted his speech from time to time was caused by asphyxiatinggases. Others were made by knives, by clubbings from gun stocks, byflying stones, and even by the teeth of the Germans in night encountersand surprise attacks, in which men fought as they did in the infancy ofhuman life on this planet.

  Prince Lubimoff could not help admiring this slight, dark young man, wholooked so insignificant. It seemed impossible that a human organismcould resist so many blows, and that his weak body could sustain so manyshocks without succumbing.

  But Martinez, with the solidarity of all those who face danger, refusedall personal glory. He talked about the Legion as a soldier talks abouthis regiment, as a sailor talks about his ship, considering it thefinest of all. He saw the entire war in terms of the Legion. The Frenc
hwere all brave. Besides, no one could guess where the enemy wouldattack, and wherever the latter assumed the offensive, they found troopsthat withstood them and kept them from passing. But the Foreign Legion!

  "The soldiers who fight at the front are men," he said, "men torn fromtheir families through the needs of the country. But we are fighters.That is why in the difficult operations, when flesh and blood have to besacrificed, they send us forward. I am always, of course, only one ofmany. But the Legion!... Every six months a new Colonel: He is killedand another takes his place, he, too, is destined to die. And how theenemy hates us! There is one thing we are proud of. Among the prisonersthat there are in Germany, there is not a single one from the ForeignLegion. Any one of us who ever falls into the hands of the _Boches_knows that he is a dead man: we are outlawed. And for our part, well, wedo our best too!... Even when they insult us from trench to trench, weare proud of belonging to the Legion. One night, the enemy opposite,hearing us speak Spanish, began to shout in our language. They must havebeen Germans from South America. 'Hey, _Macabros_! Wait till we get holdof you, and then!...' They threatened us with the most terribletortures. And they always nicknamed us 'Macabros!' I don't know why."

  The Duchess de Delille admired the hero, feeling at the same time acertain sense of uneasiness at the horrors which she guessed from hiswords. "The war! When would the war be over?"

  The Lieutenant shrugged his shoulders, smiling. People who live far fromthe front were more impatient for peace than those who risked theirlives in the front lines. They had become accustomed to contact withdeath. The war would last as long as was necessary: five years, tenyears; the main thing was to win the victory.

  But Toledo, fearing that the conversation would get away from his hero,insisted once more on his great deeds.

  "I'm only one of many," said Martinez. "But as far as brave men areconcerned, I can recommend the Legion. That is where you'll find them.And all have died!... At first we had men from every country. But theAmericans left as soon as their Republic intervened in the war; and itwas the same with the Italians and Poles. On the other hand, manyRussians, when their regiments were disbanded, joined the Legion. Thereis nothing extraordinary to tell about myself. And they have rewarded meso highly for the little I have done! Being a foreigner I have tworibbons. Besides, I shall never forget the moment when the Colonel, aweek before they killed him, called me, and said, 'Martinez, the Generalhas given me four Crosses of the Legion of Honor for our Legion. One ofthem is yours.' And he put it on my breast in front of a whole battalionof brave men presenting arms. It was unforgettable: it was worth a lifetime."

  It was the truth. Colonel Toledo affirmed it, nodding his head, his eyeswet with tears. Later, with selfish jealousy, Don Marcos tore him awayfrom the ladies, who were busy for the moment, talking with the Princeand his friend.

  Walking through the gardens, the Colonel gazed at his hero with a lookof tender protection, such as an artist who has exhausted his talentsgazes at the increasing triumph of a younger, fresher, and moresuccessful colleague.

  "Youth, youth!" he said. "You, Martinez, belong to the Spain of thefuture; I belong to the Spain of past days, the Spain that will neverreturn again. I am convinced that the world is progressing in newdirections."

  The Colonel kept up a frequent correspondence with many Spanishvolunteers in the Legion. He looked after them with all the affection ofa _marraine_, sending them chocolate, select edibles, everything that hecould spare from the Villa Sirena pantry, without impairing the service.Some of the letters which came from the front made him weep and laugh.One volunteer asked him to send a good Spanish knife, having broken hisown in a night attack. Another dreamt of a Browning revolver. Who wouldgive him a Browning? He had only an ordnance revolver, an undependableweapon that had failed him twice in an attack on a trench and hadprevented him from killing the German who finally wounded him.

  With Lieutenant Martinez, the Colonel could let go all his enthusiasmand give free rein to prophesies in favor of the Allies.

  In the presence of Atilio and Novoa he was less talkative as he fearedtheir ridicule.

  In order to tease him and make him mad they recalled the enthusiasm ofthe Carlist party in Spain for Germany. Castro even pretended that hewas surprised that the Colonel was not a pro-German, the same as hispolitical friends.

  "I am where I belong," said Don Marcos with dignity. "I am a gentleman,and belong with decent people."

  This was his supreme argument. Humanity was divided, according to him,into two classes--the decent and the indecent. It was the same withnations, and Germany was not to be counted among the decent.

  As a patriot he suffered at seeing Spain outside the struggle, making aneffort to remain unaware of what was going on in the rest of the world,putting its head under its wing, like certain long-legged birds thatimagine they can avoid danger by not seeing it. Happily, his country didnot figure among the indecent nations, nor was it any too decent either.It was allowing a chance for glory to escape, and this stirred theColonel's wrath deeply.

  For the last three months a fixed idea has been disturbing his happiestmoments. The Allies had entered Jerusalem. What a great joy for an oldCatholic soldier! But his joy afterwards made him smile bitterly. AProtestant nation freeing the sepulcher of Christ for the third time!...

  "Imagine, Martinez, if only Spain had been with the decent nations! Wehave missed the chance of obtaining this glory, we who belong to thenation that has showed the greatest faith. Even I, in spite of my years,would have gone on the crusade. The Spanish entering Jerusalemvictorious! What do you think of that?"

  But the officer replied, with a vague smile, "Yes, perhaps." It wasevident that the entry into Jerusalem and the empty tomb of Christ madevery little difference to him. Don Marcos was somewhat disappointed withhis hero, but he consoled himself with the thought that after all hisown ideas belonged to the Middle Ages. Decidedly, he and Martinez weremen of two different periods. "Youth, youth! You belong to the Spain ofthe future; I to the Spain" ... and so on.

  Yes; the world was progressing in new directions. He, himself, a fewdays later, worried by the gloomy aspect of the war on the WesternFront, had forgotten all about Jerusalem. The Germans, freed from theperil presented by Russia at their backs, after making peace with theBolsheviki, were concentrating all their troops in France, in order tomake a drive on Paris. The Allies, facing this overwhelming offensive,could count only on their regular forces and those which the recentintervention of the United States might bring.

  In regard to aid from this latter source Don Marcos held a fixed anddecided opinion. In the first place he had felt towards the UnitedStates a certain antipathy which dated back to the Cuban war. They mightpossess a large fleet, because anybody can buy ships if he has moneyenough, and the Americans were immensely rich: but how about an army?Toledo believed only in armies belonging to monarchies, with theexception of that of France, since in the latter country the glory ofmilitary tradition was attached to the history of the first Republic.

  At the beginning of the war, he had even been irritated by theimportance which every one had given President Wilson. Both sides hadturned to him, appealing to his judgment, and protesting against thebarbarities of the respective adversary. Even Wilhelm II cabled himfrequently to make a show of sincerity for his frauds, as though heconsidered it important to gain Wilson's good opinion.

  "Just as though this man were the center of the Universe! The Presidentof a Republic that had only a few thousand soldiers, a professor, adreamer!..."

  He understood only heads of States in uniform, their breasts coveredwith decorations, with both hands on the hilt of a sword, and with animmense army before them, ready to fight in obedience to orders. Andthis gentleman in a cut-away coat and stiff hat, with eyeglasses and asmile like that of a learned clergyman, was now the man on whom the eyesof half the world were focused with looks of hope, and he was thedeciding power that some were anxious to win over and others were afraidof arguing with!

>   Atilio Castro laughed at Don Marcos. He was always out of sympathy withthe Colonel's opinions, and seemed impressed by this new marvel inhistory.

  "Times have changed since your day, Don Marcos. We are going to seesomething new. America, which a century ago was merely a Europeancolony, will perhaps protect and save Europe now. In the meantime, weare witnessing the curious spectacle of a former University professorbeing the arbiter of the world. What would Napoleon say if he were tosee this ninety-four years after his death?"

  Toledo gloomily assented. Yes; his days had passed. Democracy,Republicanism, all these things that had made him smile, as though theywere something transitory, ineffectual and out of date, were verypowerful in the present world, and perhaps would finally take charge ofdirecting its affairs. Even he felt their irresistible influence. Whenhe saw how the President of the great American Republic protestedagainst the torpedoing of defenseless ships, the crimes of thesubmarines, and finally declared war on the German Empire, Don Marcosaffirmed, stammering out a confession:

  "This man Wilson ... this Wilson is a decent sort of a fellow."

  For him it was impossible to say more.

  He approved of the man through instinctive worship of personal power,but refused to believe in the military strength of the United States. Itwas a land of liberty, according to him, where all considered themselvesequals and this made it impossible to create a real army.

  The Prince and Castro occasionally talked in his presence of the war ofsecession, the first war in which millions of men had taken part,applying, moreover, innumerable inventions, in which all the progress inmodern armament found its source. Toledo listened, with a doubt inspiredby distant events. This struggle had been among themselves: militiawarfare; but to raise an army of millions of men in a country that didnot have compulsory military service; to transport this army across theocean with all the immense quantity of supplies and munitions, and toget them there, besides, in time to save Europe from the greatdanger.... Mere dreams! "What they call over there 'bluff'!"

  Don Marcos clung to this word in order to maintain his incredulity. Thisrace is accustomed to accomplishing tremendous things; Americansconceive of everything on a large scale: cities, buildings, industries,wealth; but afterwards they exaggerate considerably when they come toadvertising and describing what they do. Everybody knew that, and theAmerican military forces which were to crush German militarism andre-establish peace on earth, although well-intentioned, were nothing butone bluff more.

  Castro approved of the Colonel's words for the first time, without anyintention of making fun of him. The President had declared war, but thecountry did not seem disposed to follow him.

  "They will probably send money, munitions, supplies, all the immensepower of their wealth and production. But a big army? Where can they getone? How is an immense people accustomed to the volunteer system, andliving amid the greatest prosperity, going to take up arms? What wouldthey gain by doing so?"

  But the Prince, who had often been over there, replied with an ambiguousgesture:

  "Perhaps! But if they really want to enter the war, who knows! Anythingmight happen in that country, no matter how impossible it seems!"

  The Colonel was gradually won over by the irrational enthusiasm of thegeneral public. Since the beginning of the war, the masses, who believein mysterious predictions and supernatural interventions, had alwayshad some favorite people, some nation that it had been the fashion toregard as invincible and in which all hopes could be concentrated.

  At the beginning it had been Russia, with its millions and millions ofmen, the Russian "steam roller" that had only to advance in order tocrush Germany. Poor steam roller! When it had fallen to pieces, thefickle enthusiasm of the public had turned toward England. Now it wasAmerica, all the more miraculous and omnipotent because little known.

  In all conversations one heard the name of an American, both at elegantteas and in humble cafes; the one American well known in Europe: Edison,the inventor. He would settle everything. Up to the present time he hadremained out of sight and silent, but now that his country had enteredthe war they would see something miraculous. In a few hours, invisibleand implacable powers would crush to bits the invading armies; thesubmarines would burst like shells under a sort of frozen light whichwould pursue them in the ocean depths; the aeroplanes that bombardeddefenseless cities would be forced to descend, drawn by electricmagnetism, as a bird is drawn toward the mouth of a boa constrictor.Edison, the wonder-worker, meant more to the popular imagination ofEurope than all the soldiers and all the ships of his country.

  And Toledo, who decorated his bedroom with pictures of Joffre and Foch,but believed at the same time that St. Genevieve, the patron saint ofParis, had intervened in the victory of the Marne, felt attracted by allthe miracles of the American wizard, announced by every one as somethingsure. Science, being somewhat apart from religion, inspired in him afeeling of respect and fear. For this reason he believed blindly in itswonders, much as a zealot believes in the immense powers of the devil.

  At other times his incredulity was renewed. The war could only bedetermined by troops. Up to that time the forces of both sides had beenequal; but now Germany was bringing new divisions--those from theEastern Front,--and was preparing the decisive blow. On the side of theAllies an equivalent or greater number of soldiers was lacking; theyneeded the last few drops which would fill the glass, cause it tooverflow and tip the scales. America might do this. But their forceswere arriving so slowly! The obstacles were so great! A few battalionsof the regular American army had already marched through Paris. Afterthat months went by without the constant tiny stream of reenforcementsbecoming a torrent.

  Everywhere on the Riviera, Toledo observed wounded soldiers from variouscountries. Only from time to time was he able to distinguish a fewAmerican uniforms, worn by men of the Medical Corps, who did not seem tohave much to do. The newspapers talked about forces from the UnitedStates that occupied a sector on the front, but they were so few!

  "All that talk about a million or two million men before the end of theyear is mere bluff," said the Colonel. "I know something about suchthings, and it is easier to build a skyscraper with a hundred storiesthan to transport a million soldiers from one hemisphere to the other.And how about the great drive that is beginning! And France is worn out,after four years of heroism that has drained her blood!"

  Every day he walked up and down in the ante-room of the Casino, waitingimpatiently for the big bulletins which were written out by hand inlarge letters and posted on the panels by the employees. In scanningthe latest telegraphic dispatches he was looking only for the beginningof the offensive announced by the enemy. This menace had shaken hisfaith in the victory, and kept him in a state of constant worry. Oh! Ifonly the Americans would come in time, and in enormous numbers.

  He felt it his duty to lie unblushingly to the friends who surroundedhim in the ante-room, asking his opinion as a soldier.

  "We will triumph; and William will have to shoot himself."

  The question of his shooting himself was the one thing that will be hisend, in case of a defeat.

  "I know the Kaiser very well," he continued. "He is only a Lieutenant, aLieutenant that has grown old, keeping the cracked brain swagger ofyouth. But he has the sense of honor of an officer who, finding himselfdefeated, raises his revolver to his head. You will see that that willbe his end, in case of a defeat."

  "He writes verse, music, and paints pictures, giving his opinion onevery matter, and making people accept it, like one of those youngofficers who on entering a drawing room of civilians monopolizeattention with their insolence and conceit, emboldened by the silence ofthe guests, who are afraid of provoking a duel. He is the eternaltwenty-two-year-old Lieutenant whose hair has grown gray under theimperial crown, whose head has been turned a bit by the constanttriumphs of his personal vanity. But once Fate turns her back on him, hewill act in the same decisive manner as an officer who has gambled awaythe funds entrusted to his care, or com
mitted other crimes against hishonor.

  "Never fear; the Lieutenant will know how to act when the hour ofadversity arises. He is a mad man, a vain comedian, but he has the senseof shame of a warrior. Let me repeat: He will shoot himself."

  And in his imagination he could hear the Imperial revolver-shot.

  What disgusted Don Marcos was not to be able to talk about this, norabout the danger of the offensive, when he was in Villa Sirena. Thefriends of the Prince lived like guests at a hotel. They never were alltogether except during the early morning hours. They rarely sat downtogether at table. Some power from the outside seemed to attract themaway from the Villa, driving them toward Monte Carlo. Even the Princeoften lunched or dined at the Hotel de Paris, sending word at the lastminute by telephone.

  This domestic disorder was accepted by Toledo as providential.

  The service had suffered an unavoidable decline through the departure ofEstola and Pistola. One morning they appeared, stammering and filledwith emotion, minus the dress suits which were too large for them. Theywere going away. They were to cross the frontier that very afternoon toappear at the Barracks. They had received orders from their Consul.

  They did not seem filled with enthusiasm for their new profession; butDon Marcos, through a sense of professional duty, tried to buck them upwith a bit of a speech. He, too, at their age, had gone off to war ofhis own accord. "Respect for your officers ... love them as you wouldyour father ... for honor ... for the flag."

  The appearance of the Prince cut short his harangue. The two boys kissedtheir master's hand as though they were taking leave of him foreternity, and in their confusion they did not know where to put the banknotes which were given them. Imagine Estola and Pistola converted intosoldiers! Even these two boys were being driven along the road of death!And the whole thing seemed so extraordinary to Michael, so absurd, thatwhile he felt sorry for them, he also felt like laughing.

  Half an hour later he had forgotten all about them. The Colonel wouldmanage to organize new service with women, now that owing to the war itwas impossible to get other servants. Besides, he was bored at VillaSirena, and living at Monte Carlo would be something of a novelty forhim.

  The idlers who promenaded around the "Camembert" frequently saw himenter the Casino with an absent-minded air, like a gambler who has justthought of a new combination. The crowd in the gambling room had alsoseen him approach the tables as though interested in the fluctuation ofchance, but they waited in vain to see him place a bet, imagining thathe would play nothing save enormous sums.

  His eyes seemed to see in all directions, and no sooner did the Duchessde Delille leave her seat to go over to another table, than the Princecame forward to meet her, extended his hand and smiled youthfully.

  They remained motionless in the spot where they greeted each other,gazing into each other's eyes, until, warned instinctively of pryingglances behind their backs, they went and sat down on a divan in acorner, and continued their conversation there. Suddenly, a murmur fromthe crowd around a table would cause her out of professional curiosityto leave Lubimoff and to hasten thither.

  Alicia would smile the proud bitter smile of a dethroned queen. Duringthe preceding day people had talked of nothing save her. Her name hadtraveled as far as Nice and Menton. In the evenings, at the dinner hour,families who dwelt permanently in Monaco and who are forbidden to enterthe Casino, asked for news of her luck. In the cafes and restaurants,her name resounded, mingled with those of the Generals who weredirecting the war. In front of the bulletins giving the latest news,people interrupted their comments on the coming offensive, asking oneanother, "How did the Duchess de Delille come out yesterday?"Afternoons, when she arrived at the Casino, sightseers crowded about herto get a better view, and her friends greeted her, proudly kissing herhand. It was a silent ovation, consisting of glances and smiles, likethat which greets the entry of a famous soprano on the stage which haswitnessed her triumphs.

  Her battle with the Casino lasted about two weeks; she won, lost, andwon again. She began her "work" at three o'clock in the afternoon, andremained at it until midnight. The tea hour passed, then the dinnerhour, without her being aware of it. When the gambling was closed shecame away, leaning on Valeria's arm, greeting every one amiably,exhausted and victorious. Sometimes, like an invalid fed against herwill, she accepted the sandwiches and a cup of tea which her companionsbrought her at the gambling table.

  One night--a memorable one--she had won continuously up to the closinghour of the Casino. She counted the bank notes that the head employeeshad given her with a hard, enigmatic smile. There were four hundred ofthem, each of a thousand francs. They protruded from her hand bag andfrom Valeria's. Even her friend, "the General," was obliged to help her,by taking care of several packages of them.

  "If they hadn't closed I would have broken the bank," she said with thevanity of a conqueror.

  Clorinda accompanied her in the carriage as far as her house, repeatingprudent advice: "Don't go on; keep the money. It is impossible to goany higher." Valeria, during the course of the evening, kept repeatingthe same words: "It is tempting God to keep on."

  But Alicia refused to listen to her. Her inspiration was not exhausted.There still remained great things for her to do; and when the time camefor her to stop, she would be aware of it sooner than the rest.

  Michael had been present at this struggle, which had been annoying tohim. Every afternoon, when he entered the Casino, he called himselfnames, as though he were doing something cowardly. Why did he come towitness the acts of that mad woman? She did not seem to be aware of hispresence! At first a look, a smile, and during the remaining hours shehad eyes for nothing save the gambling and the _croupiers_. In spite ofthis, the Prince kept coming regularly.

  To excuse himself, he recalled certain words which the Duchess had said.The day following her first famous winning, she had arisen on seeing himenter the room, taken both his hands in hers to speak to him privately.

  "You bring me good luck," she murmured in his ear. "I am sure that thisis so. I have been winning since we became friends. Come, come all thetime! Let me see you every time I raise my eyes."

  She raised them, however, very, very seldom. She had other more urgentthings to think of. But Michael, to quiet his angry conscience, toldhimself that he was there to keep his word. Besides, who knew but whatshe was telling the truth! The tendency to superstition, common to allgamblers, the Casino's surroundings and even Alicia's luck itself, hadfinally influenced the credulity of the Prince.

  He tried to avenge himself for these long waits and her indifference bylooking at her with scornful eyes.

  "How ugly she looks!"

  Yes, she was ugly, like all the women who gamble and seem to suffer atan ever increasing rate, the weight of years crushing out their youthunder the stress of emotion. Every loss meant another year, everywinning meant a look of tenseness which spoiled the regularity of theirfeatures. Michael took a certain joy in noting the wrinkles which fixedattention formed about her eyes. Her nose seemed to grow sharp, and twodeep furrows drew down the corners of her mouth, giving her anexpression of premature old age. All the little feminine attentionsdisappeared as the hours went by. Her hat tilted to one side; locks ofhair made an effort to escape, as though disarranged by currents ofhuman electricity darting among their roots. She seemed ten years older.

  But a second voice within gave forth a different opinion. "Yes, she wasvery ugly, but so interesting!" Surely when she arose from the table shewould be once more the same Alicia as ever.

  One afternoon, on entering the Casino, he had a sense of somethingextraordinary happening. People were talking together, asking news, allof them hurrying toward the same table.

  His friend Lewis passed him without stopping.

  "It was bound to happen. She doesn't know how to play. I expected it."

  A little farther on Spadoni came forward to greet him.

  "She would never listen to me. She acts on her whims. She doesn't followany system.
She is done for."

  All the gamblers were talking as though they were lamenting somebody'sdeath; but it was a question of hypocritical compunction, inwardly theyfelt a sense of envious triumph on seeing at an end that absurd run ofluck, which had embittered their evenings.

  Lubimoff, thrusting his head between the shoulders of two onlookers, sawAlicia at the same time that she raised her eyes. Their glances met. Shelooked at him with dismay, as though lamenting, making him responsiblefor her misfortune. "Why did you abandon me?"

  The Prince fled: it hurt him to see her with that humble look of rage,like that of a cornered sheep, bleating in pain and defending itself.

  At nightfall he returned to the Casino. A few people were still talkingabout the Duchess, but in low tones, with sad gestures, as thoughreferring to a dying person. The crowd had thinned about the table. Hesaw Alicia in the same place. Valeria stood behind her chair, with a sadface, while Dona Clorinda bent over her friend, talking in her ear. Heguessed her words. She was pleading with her to come away: next day shewould have better luck. But she did not seem to hear, and remained withher eyes fixed on the few five hundred and a thousand franc chips, whichwere all that remained. Suddenly she lost her patience, and turning herhead she said one word, nothing more, something very strong, but nothingwithout precedent in that intimate friendship which was broken off atleast once every week. Dona Clorinda immediately retorted, lookingdaggers, and went away, haughtily and disdainfully, while Valeria lookedat the ceiling in despair.

  Michael fled once more. He was frightened by the expression on Alicia'sface and the nervous hostility in her voice, which he had not been ableto hear, but which was easily guessed from the trembling of her lips. Hewandered about the rooms for half an hour, listening at a distance tothe words of those who were still talking about the Duchess. Oneafternoon had been sufficient to sweep away all that she had won inmany successful days. Her misfortune was as extraordinary as her goodluck had been. She had not won a single bet.

  Suddenly he felt the contact of a nervous hand on his shoulder. Heturned his eyes. It was Alicia, but with an eager gesture, and with anexpression which was both bold and imploring.

  "Have you any money?"

  Her voice and the expression on her face were not unknown to Michael.Before the war, the Casino had been the scene of his most unexpected anddazzling conquests. Women who were very cold and treated him withvisible antipathy, and women of well-known virtue whose very looksrepelled all audacity, had approached him with an air of suddendecision, requesting a loan, and immediately asking point blank at whathour the Prince might offer them a cup of tea at Villa Sirena. Hethought of the Colonel, who considered gambling the worst of women'senemies. It caused them to lose all sense of shame. In a few hours thestandards built up during an entire lifetime were suddenly demolished.In order to go on gambling, they offered of their own free will whatthey had never thought of granting.

  The Prince replied, with surprise, at this sudden request. He carriedvery little money on his person: he was not a gambler. How much did shewant?

  "Twenty thousand francs."

  She mentioned the figure in the same manner as she might have said ahundred thousand or five thousand. It was the same to her at thatmoment. Besides, during the last few days she had lost all sense ofvalues.

  Michael replied with a laugh. Did she imagine, by any chance, that hecame to the Casino with twenty thousand francs in his pocketbook, asthough he were a money lender or a pawn broker?

  "Ask for a loan," said the Duchess. "They will give you anything you askfor."

  He went on laughing at this absurd proposition, but was won overimmediately by the simplicity with which Alicia formulated her request.

  "How about you? Why don't you ask for one?"

  Oh, as for her!... In the midst of her proud triumph, she had forgottento pay various debts contracted before her sudden burst of luck. Atpresent it was useless to ask. It was a difficult moment for her; everyone considered her ruined, and incapable of recouping.

  "And they are mistaken, Michael; I feel the inspiration of luck. Youshall see how I get on my feet again after a few days. It is my secret.If I tell it to you, fortune will abandon me. Do me this favor! Ask forthe twenty thousand from that little old man over there who is lookingat us. He can't refuse you; you are Prince Lubimoff. If you like we willform a partnership: I shall share half my winnings with you."

  Michael kept on smiling, while inwardly he was scandalized by thisproposition. Imagine the things in which this woman was trying toinvolve him! He, asking for money from a money lender in the Casino!

  But, like certain invalids who do things most contrary to their will, nosooner did he leave Alicia with gestures of protest, than his legsmechanically took him in the direction of the divan where the old manwith the short beard, and the badge of the Sacred Heart on his lapel,was squatting, with his hat in one hand and a silk cap on his bald head.

  "I need twenty thousand francs."

  The Prince seemed to be in doubt as he faced this little man, who hadarisen, surprised and suspicious on seeing that he was talking with solofty a personage. Was it really his own voice that he heard? Yes, itwas his voice, but he felt a sensation of immense surprise, as though itwere some one else who was talking. He felt a desire to withdraw withoutwaiting for the gnome's reply; but the latter had already responded,stammering:

  "Prince ... such an amount! I am a poor man. From time to time I dofavors to distinguished people, two or three thousand francs ... buttwenty thousand! Twenty thousand!"

  He muttered this sum with a groan of torture, but meanwhile his shrewdeyes were penetrating Lubimoff like a probe. This look irritatedMichael, causing him to take an interest in the operation as though hishonor were at stake. Doubtless, the usurer was thinking about Russia,and the disaster of the revolution and of the impossibility of beingpaid this loan even though the great man were to offer all his fortune.

  "You must know me," he said in an irritated tone. "I am Prince Lubimoff;I am the owner of Villa Sirena. I need twenty thousand francs; not afranc less. If you are unable...."

  He was about to turn his back on him, but the dwarf humbly restrainedhim, considering useless on this occasion all the excuses and delayswhich he usually made his clients endure, like a slow torture. Heslipped out between the groups of people, begging "His Highness" to waitan instant. Perhaps he did not have the entire sum with him, and wasobliged to ask for aid from the Cashier of the Casino; perhaps he wasgoing to secrete himself for a moment in the lavatories, to take banknotes from various hiding places in his clothes, even from his shoes.

  Michael felt a discreet hand touch his own, thrusting between hisfingers a roll of paper. The old man had returned without his seeinghim come; bobbing up between two groups, small and sprightly, like animp from a trap door on the stage.

  "You know the Colonel? To-morrow he will interview you about the paymentand the interest."

  And the Prince turned his back without more words, leaving the usurersatisfied with his discourteous brevity. A great gentleman could nottalk in any other way. He liked to have dealings with men of that sort.

  Alicia, who had followed the scene from a distance, came forward to meethim, holding out her hands inconspicuously.

  "Take it!" Michael's right hand thrust the bank notes forward so rudelythat the offer was almost a blow.

  His shame for what he had just done expressed itself in a confusion ofprotests.

  "Women! Of all the fool things I have ever done!"

  But Alicia, with the bank notes in her hand, was already thinking ofnothing but the tables.

  "You will see great things. You know we have formed a partnership: youget half."

  Mastered once more by the invisible demon that was singing numbers andcolors in her ear, she went away without thanking him.

  He also left. He was afraid of meeting the money lender again, andhaving him bow familiarly; he imagined the entire crowd in the rooms hadfollowed attentively his interview with th
e old man and had smiled whenhe received the money.

  He left the Casino. He would never come back again: he swore it!

  Castro, whom he had seen from a distance gambling at one of the tables,returned to Villa Sirena at the dinner hour. He was in a bad humor; buthe forgot his own misfortune long enough to console himself by relatingAlicia's mishaps:

  "After losing everything in _trente et quarante_, she appeared at a lastminute with more money: a roll of thousand franc notes. And she, whonever felt any special inclination for roulette, began to play thewheel. And how she played! At first she won a few long shots, two orthree; but after that nothing: she kept losing and losing! She lefteverything on the table. I did not see her go out, but they told me shelooked like a corpse, leaning on Valeria's arm. They say she suffersfrom heart trouble. All I say is: it isn't every one who pretends to bea gambler that is one; you need a strong constitution. The 'General'doesn't play so much, but she is cooler and doesn't lose her head."

  Michael slept badly. He was angry with Alicia. Instead of lamenting hermisfortune he considered it logical. Imagine a woman trying to makemoney! Women can only get it from men's hands, and it is useless forthem to try and get it for themselves, even by appealing to gambling.Gambling also is an enterprise for men.

  In the mental twilight when one is half asleep and half awake, thePrince, lying on his bed, remembered a scene from his happier days, whenhis yacht was anchored in the harbor of Monaco. It was one night when hewas coming from a banquet in the Hotel de Paris. He was slightlyintoxicated and was leaning in a sort of a mental haze on the arms oftwo pretty women, who, smiling and unsuccessful, were competing to seewhich one would get him. Behind him, like a retinue, came his friends,his brilliant parasites, and various women guests, his entire court.They had entered the Casino. He was not a gambler; it bored him to sitmotionless at a table; he considered it childish to get interested inthe whirling of a little ball of bone, or the combinations of littlecolored cards. There were so many more interesting pleasures in life!But that night, proud of his power, he felt a desire to fight a battlewith fortune. Fortune is a woman, and he was determined to conquer it bythe power of wealth, as he had conquered many another woman. The richfinally defeat even destiny with all its mysteries. He placed in frontof him an enormous quantity of money to begin the struggle, and fortunerefused it; or rather, began to give him money of her own, with scornfulprodigality. The multi-millionaire wanted to lose and he could not. Hevaried his game capriciously, committed voluntary errors, and successalways came forward to meet him. Finally he grew tired. It was beforethe war, and instead of with bone chips representing a hundred francs,they played with handsome gold coins of the same value. In front of himhe had numerous and dazzling columns of this metal; and packages of banknotes.

  "Who wants money?"

  He began to fling it about in an enchanting rain. All except the mostaristocratic women came running, tense and pale, swarming around thetable, struggling for a single _louis_. They shoved one another, rolledon the carpet, bruising each other with hands and feet, to gain a singledrop of this golden manna. Some of them struck and scratched each other,while their right hands clutched the same thousand franc note, tearingit. Hats rolled about on the ground; the hair of some of the women felldown their back, or was scattered in a cloud of false curls.

  "Me, Prince! Me!"

  And with clutching fingers they danced about him, in a body, as thoughpossessed.

  "Who wants money?"

  The head employees intervened, angry but smiling, seeing who was thecause of the disturbance. "Your Highness, please! You are interruptingthe play! Such a thing has never happened here before." But he continuedflinging his money, until he had exhausted his winnings--more than sixtythousand francs--and the games went on again, with more players thanbefore. Every one who had gathered something from the floor or caught itin the air, ran to risk it on a card or a number.

  Michael dwelt on this memory which was like a triumph. He could repeatit any time he pleased; he was sure of it. He recognized that in the endevery gambler finally loses, and he did not consider himself anexception to this rule. But his will dominated fortune at first, and--bywithdrawing in time before the latter had a chance to recoup with theperverse cunning of an untamable female!...

  The Prince finally went to sleep thinking of Alicia.

  "Poor woman! She doesn't know how to play; Lewis is right: She doesn'tknow how.... How should a beautiful woman know, who has never thoughtabout anything save her own person! I must help her. I am a man. Perhapsto-morrow ... to-morrow!" ...

  The following day, at the breakfast hour, Don Marcos had a greatsurprise which worried him considerably. The Prince, who never botheredabout money, allowing his "Chamberlain" to make negotiations directlywith his Paris manager for the house expenses, asked him what amount hehad at his disposal.

  The Colonel made a mental calculation. He did not think he kept justthen any more than fifteen thousand francs. He was expecting a checkfrom the agent.

  "Give it to me," Lubimoff commanded.

  And immediately, as though suddenly recalling something, he calmlymentioned the debt he had contracted the afternoon before. Toledo wasthoughtful for a moment on learning that he was to come to anunderstanding with the old money lender to return the twenty thousandfrancs and the payment of extraordinary interest, which might double ina few days. He recalled the luncheon during which the Prince hadproposed their present solitary life. Where were the ferocious "enemiesof women" now? For the Colonel suspected that behind these squanderingsof the Prince and this sudden passion for gambling, lay the influence ofsome woman. And he who never dared stake more than a few odd coins fromtime to time, thinking of the enormous sums entrusted to his loyalty,was deeply worried.

  While Don Marcos was on his way to the bank where the house money wasdeposited, the Prince walked about in the neighborhood of the Casino,waiting impatiently for the rooms to open. In the morning the crowd wasvery slight and very few tables were operating. Only the most desperategamblers, after spending a sleepless night, anxious to try their newcombinations as soon as possible, and sickly people who hoped to find agood seat vacant, came at that early hour.

  Impatiently Lubimoff entered the anteroom, after secretly thrusting intoa pocket a roll of bills which Toledo handed to him. The employees ofthe first shift were arriving slowly, like clerks entering an office.The cleaning women and porters in shirt sleeves had just swept up thesawdust scattered on the floor. They all looked at him from the cornerof their eyes, pointing him out to one another by discreet nudges.Imagine the Prince there at that hour, when people of his station inlife were still in bed! Instinctively they looked all about expecting tosee some coyly dressed lady waiting to meet him unobserved at that earlyhour. His well-known reputation did not permit them to imagine anythingsave a rendezvous.

  It was ten o'clock. The curtains were opened, and Michael enteredbrushing against the first gamblers to arrive, modest timid folk. Hefelt the same nervousness, impatience, and dull anger that he felt onthe mornings when he had fought duels. He walked with a heavy step; hishands kept contracting as though ready to strangle the empty air. At thesame time he felt the same proud confidence of a marksman, sure ofhitting the bull's-eye. He defied Lady Fortune before facing her, thewench whom he had once conquered. "By God! She would see she was dealingwith a man this time!"

  He jerked a chair away from a hand already stretched out to take it, andsat down at a roulette table, between two dirty, badly dressed oldwomen, who looked like witches. The employees exchanged looks ofamazement, eyeing one another discreetly. The Prince betting, and atsuch an hour!...

  _"Faites vos jeux!"_

  The game began. Michael had no particular combination and had notthought of any. His eyes wandered over the thirty-six numbers, but onlyfor an instant.

  "That's the one," he thought. And he placed all that he could, nine_louis_, the maximum, on thirteen.

  The ball spun about the mahogany border, and when it fi
nally came torest was greeted with a murmur of amazement. "Number thirteen."

  A few thousand franc notes thrust in his direction by the rake of the_croupier_ remained in front of the Prince, who sat there impassively,retaining a hard willful look. He knew it; he was sure he was making nomistake. Thirteen once more.

  People looked in amazement. What folly to bet twice on the same number!But when thirteen won a second time and the Prince was paid the maximumagain, a murmur from the crowd applauded the victor. Onlookers camehurrying, leaving the other tables devoid of spectators. This was goingto be as famous a morning in the Casino, in spite of the smallness ofthe crowd, as the most celebrated afternoon and evening, when wealthyplayers fought with luck.

  Lubimoff changed his number. It was absurd to go on with thirteen. Andhe placed nine _louis_ on seventeen. The ball spun around. It wasthirteen once more. He lost.

  His look became harder and more aggressive. Dame Fortune was beginningto laugh at him for his lack of will power. A conqueror should feel novacillation; it was his fault, for having given up his number. Men likehim should go ahead, and impose their will, or perish without abandoningtheir first attitude. Thirteen as before!... And it was seventeen thatwon.

  For a moment he thought the ground was falling away beneath his feet; heseemed to be floating in air, surrounded by mysterious forces that wereweakening and finally breaking his will. He passed his hand over hisforehead, as though trying to brush away, far away, his momentaryweakness.

  "The she-devil," he exclaimed, mentally, insulting Fortune, sure oncemore that he was going to enslave her.

  And he went on playing.

  * * * * *

  At three o'clock in the afternoon he came out of the Hotel de Paris. Hehad lunched alone, without paying any attention to the glances he hadreceived from other tables, avoiding friendly greetings that might havestarted a conversation.

  In his mouth was a fat cigar, and his legs, although perfectly steady,inwardly felt a certain voluptuous sensation. The food had been bad; hehad scarcely touched the dishes; on the other hand he had drunk a bottleof famous Burgundy, and several glasses of cordials immediately afterfinishing two cups of coffee.

  From the hotel steps he gave a glance of destructive hate at the square,the Casino and the Gardens. He thought with satisfaction of thepossibility of a cruiser belonging to one of the nations which werecarrying on war on the seas of Europe anchoring in front of thatgingerbread house, and firing a few shells at it. What a wonderfulsight! Then, in his imagination, he had a landing party with theirmachine guns disembark, to take prisoner all the people who were fillingthe square, men, women and even children. The world would lose nothingby it. What a city of corruption! Why the devil had his mother taken itinto her head to buy the promontory of Villa Sirena, obliging him tolive near this den of thieves? He even upbraided the dead Princess, withthe stern uncompromising morality of every gambler who has just foundhimself tricked.

  As he glanced over the gay, well-dressed crowd that he was condemning toslavery, he saw Alicia, alone and on foot, on the edge of the sidewalkaround the "Camembert," looking at the Casino.

  "Are you going in?" he said, approaching her.

  The Duchess became indignant, as though he was proposing somethinghumiliating, something that she had never done before. She enter theCasino?

  "It's a rotten den, and the employees are rotters, and those whogamble--rotters too."

  It was all rotten! After saying this they took each other's hands asthough they had just suddenly recognized each other.

  When Michael, still harping on his kind wishes, told her about thebombardment and landing party with machine guns that he had beenenjoying in his imagination, the Duchess almost applauded. As far as shewas concerned, she would be very glad if they destroyed everything, ifthey even took the sovereign Prince himself prisoner, and if, into thebargain, the invaders returned the money she had lost, she could wantnothing better.

  Suddenly, as if these charitable fantasies of Lubimoff told her ofsomething, her eyes scrutinized him closely, much like those of asuspicious invalid who is able to recognize his own symptoms in those ofa neighbor.

  "You have been gambling."

  Michael nodded sadly.

  "And you have lost," she continued; "that goes without saying: I don'tneed to ask you. You, gambling!"

  But her surprise was short.

  "You have been gambling for my sake: I have guessed it. You said toyourself: 'I'm going to win what that crazy woman loses; men know morethan women.' Oh, my poor boy, my poor boy, how grateful I am for yourfriendly intention!... How much was it?"

  On hearing the sum she gave him a look of compassion, but smiledimmediately, as though the comradeship of misfortune made her own losseseasier to bear.

  They remained silent for a moment. Then she explained her presence onthe square. The night before she had sworn she would never again comenear the Casino, but habit...!

  "I'm alone. Valeria went away immediately after lunch. She goes aroundlike a crazy woman on account of that scientist you have at your house.They must have made an engagement somewhere. All she talks about isSpain, because the women there marry without dowries. As for 'theGeneral,' don't talk to me about her: I don't want to hear her name;she is dead--dead forever, as far as I am concerned! And I'm so boredall by myself; I think of things that make me weep; I go out, and myfeet take me here without my realizing it."

  Then she added with a graceful entreaty:

  "Take me somewhere, wherever you feel like. Let's go a long ways fromhere. Where can we go?"

  The Prince showed the same hesitation. They continually moved in thesame circle, from their houses to the center of Monte Carlo, the Casino,and seemed lost if they tried to go any farther. The war had done awaywith private automobiles; to go on an excursion it was necessary to geta permit in advance. One could find nothing save carriages drawn byfeeble horses, rejected by the Army.

  "Suppose we go to Monaco?" Alicia proposed.

  Monaco was in sight, on the other side of the harbor; a street car ranfrom there to Monte Carlo every twenty minutes, and nevertheless shemade this proposal as though speaking of some remote country.

  They had both spent some twenty years there, continually seeing the rockwhich bore on its crest the old city of the Princes; but, as thoughthose places were painted on a back drop in the theater, it had neverentered their heads to go that far. Alicia vaguely recalled a visit tothe Palace of the Sovereign and another to the Museum of Oceanography,without being able to formulate her impressions. Lubimoff also from hisautomobile had seen the garden, the old houses, and a large square, theone day that he had visited the Prince of Monaco in his old castle.

  They decided on the trip with the glee of school children, and when theDuchess went to call a cab, Michael showed a certain hesitation as hesearched through various pockets.

  He had no money. He had dropped it all in the roulette, absolutely all.At the hotel he had asked them to charge his lunch, handing over hislast few francs to the waiter as a tip.

  Alicia greeted his worried look with bursts of laughter. Lubimoff unableto pay a cabman! Monte Carlo was the only place where you could seethings like that.

  "Poor boy, I'll pay. You can deduct it from the twenty thousand I oweyou. No; not that, no; it will be a gift. You have given women so muchmoney, let me be the first to pay a bill for you. What a luxury! I'keeping' Prince Lubimoff."

  They had gotten into the carriage, which was beginning to descend theslope toward La Condamine harbor.

  "How people stare at us!" said Alicia. "They will think I am carryingyou off by force. The Duchess de Delille, ruined, seduces amulti-millionaire Prince to make him her lover and get money out of him... and they don't know that I am the one that is paying! Come laugh alittle. Are you annoyed that I should pay? Don't you think it isamusing?"

  She talked of her lack of foresight and her folly with a certain pride,as though it were something which placed her above people
of regularhabits. The evening before she had been afraid of not having enoughmoney left to buy food for the next day. But Valeria had spent themorning making valuable discoveries in the closets! Bank notes lostamong the clothes, Casino chips forgotten among the books, and even athousand franc bill used to wrap up an old cake of soap.

  She suddenly stopped enumerating these finds.

  "Look! Look!"

  They were beside the harbor. She pointed out a lady who was walkingalong the shore, among the tall rose-bay bushes trimmed in the shape oftrees. It was Clorinda. A gentleman who seemed to be waiting for herrose from the bench, and came forward to meet her. They both recognizedAtilio Castro, and observed how he and "the General" greeted each other,and how they continued their promenade together, so absorbed in mutualcontemplation, that they did not notice the carriage.

  Michael smiled slightly. Himself there, beside Alicia, who was causinghim to commit every sort of folly; and the other man waiting there forDona Clorinda's arrival with all the emotion of a youth! Poor enemies ofwomen!

  "Don't talk to me about her!" Alicia exclaimed in a rage, in spite ofthe fact that her companion had said nothing. "I hate her.... Think ofpoor Martinez forgotten. She quarrels with me to get him, takes him awayfrom me, and then comes in search of Castro, while the other unhappyfellow is wandering about Monte Carlo. What a woman! She has done me somuch harm! She is to blame for everything."

  And as the Prince looked at her with a questioning air she explained hercomplaints with a tone of conviction. Her losses which had been so rapidand so complete, could not be explained logically. She had won for twoweeks, and in a few hours had lost everything. How could that be? Theevening before, as she was leaving the Casino, a respectable friend, anItalian Marchioness, a former dancer, who was very wise in matters ofluck, and who had been gambling for the last thirty years in MonteCarlo, had revealed to her the cruel truth: "Duchess, there is some onewho hates you; an envious friend who comes to your house and has cast anevil spell over you. That is the only way to explain what has happened.You must drive out the evil luck, turning it back on the person who gaveit to you.

  "So you see it couldn't be clearer: an envious friend who comes to myhouse--Clorinda; it can't be any one else. And no later than to-morrow Iam going to drive away my bad luck, in the way the Marchionessrecommended. Other gamblers follow her advice and are very successful."

  It was the Three Wise Kings who possessed the power of undoing evilspells. It was necessary to cleanse away the rooms which "the General"had entered by burning in a small pan gold, incense and myrrh, the threepresents of the monarchs who had come from afar. She had no gold; it wasinaccessible on account of the war; but, according to theWitch-Marchioness, it would be the same if she burned wheat.

  "And at the same time recite a prayer in Italian, a very pretty entreatyto the Three Kings, that sounds like a song, that says--that says----"

  Unable to remember it, she opened her hand bag. She kept the prayer inher coin purse, written in lead pencil on one of the cards furnished bythe Casino to keep track of bets. Michael looked at the contents of thepurse with the curiosity always inspired by every object belonging to awoman who interests a man. Beside the mussed handkerchief he saw alittle leather case, and hanging from it a gambler's fetish, a hand withthe index and little finger extended like horns, to ward off bad luck.But beside the hand there hung another golden fetish, of such anunexpected, unheard of form, that Michael refused to believe what hadpassed before his eyes like a rapid vision.

  Alicia drew back, pushing aside his inquisitive hand: "No, no!" And sheclosed the purse so rapidly that the silver rings almost caught hisfingers. Blushing and smiling, she held him off, giving him a sly look,and at the same time shrinking like a naughty child.

  "It is a gift from the Marchioness. The best she knows, to bring luck.Mine has gone. That is all you need to know. How curious you are!"

  And while she pretended to be somewhat angry in order to avoid newexplanations, Michael recalled the Rosary of Satan belonging to hisfriend Lewis and its strange ornaments.

  The carriage began to ascend the slope towards Monaco. The ships and theharbor seemed to sink with each turn of the wheel. Verdant shades cooledthe road, within sight of the luminous sea and of the yellowishmountains, that were taking on a rosy color under the afternoon sun.

  Michael explained to his companion the strange features of thepromontory that serves as a base for old Monaco. On the Southern part,among the rocks covered with century plants and prickly pear, thevegetation of the warm countries becomes acclimated with a facility thatif one takes the latitude into account is truly extraordinary. On hisvisit to the palace of the Prince he had found in the warmer moats ofthe fortress, which are like natural hothouses, the same damp stickyheat that one finds in the forests of Equador, with their Brazilian palmtrees that rise many yards in quest of light. On the other hand, withoutleaving the rock, one finds on the northern side, where there is littlesunlight, ferns from the cold countries, vegetation from the VosgesMountains, which got here no one knows how, and took root beside theMediterranean.

  Alicia, not wishing to seem less informed, talked about the San MartinoGardens. She had not seen them, but she imagined that they were betweenthe Museum of Oceanography and the Cathedral. Valeria had not been ableto talk about anything else during the last few weeks, and describedthem as though they were the most interesting gardens in the world. Shehad seen them in good company, and this had exerted a strong influenceon her powers of vision. It was doubtless Novoa who had revealed to herthis Paradise.

  "Supposing we were to meet them!" said Alicia, laughingly.

  The carriage passed between two little towers, capped with tiles, thatmarked the entrance to the walled enclosure of Monaco. The harbor layfar below, with its boats that seemed so tiny. On the other side of thesheet of water shone the cupolas of the Casino and the many Monte Carlohotels, with their multi-colored facades, the windows of their balconiesand belvideres. It was impossible to make out the people. Automobileswere gliding along like tiny insects on the slope that descended to LaCondamine.

  They followed the asphalt avenue, between two narrow dense gardens,leading to the Museum of Oceanography.

  "Look at them!" said Alicia with an expression of triumph, as she nudgedthe Prince at the same time.

  When the latter turned his head all he could see were two indistinctforms hiding in a side path.

  "It is they, you may be sure," continued the Duchess, laughing. "Theywere walking in the middle of the avenue. Valeria is very quick; sheturned when she heard the sound of a carriage, and recognized meimmediately. She hurried the scientist away as though she were dragginghim along."

  She stopped laughing, and her features took on a look of sad solemnity.

  "Happy pair! What dreams! We have all gone through the same thing. Theworst of it is that we want to keep on going in quest of somethingfurther, when we ought to remain satisfied with what we have."

  The Prince nodded, repeating briefly:

  "Happy pair!"

  His voice sounded like a _requiem_. These successive meetings had madehim think of the end of the community of which he was the ridiculoushead. First of all, Castro; then, Novoa. Even the Colonel at that verymoment was walking up and down in front of a millinery shop waiting forthe gardener's little girl. Spadoni was the only one left, but hisloyalty counted for little. As far as the latter was concerned, nothingfeminine existed except the roulette wheel.

  The carriage stopped beyond the Museum of Oceanography, where the SanMartino Garden began. Alicia paid the driver.

  "We must economize," she said gravely. "We shall return on foot."

  They followed a network of winding paths, ascending and descending thegulleys of the slope. The tiny plateaus had been converted into stonelookouts, from which the view embraced an immense expanse of sea.Occasionally at dawn one could distinguish the distant profile of theMountain of Corsica. Since the gardens were far above the Mediterranean,the horizon line was s
o high that one seemed to be looking upwards whenviewing it. The pine trees rose in slender black colonnades and betweenthe thin trunks one could see the dark Mediterranean suspended like acurtain. Only the murmuring tops of the sharp trees emerged in thediaphanous azure of the skies. Below the vegetation was composed of wildhardy plants breathing out strong odors, plants that were unaffected bythe salty exhalations of the sea; prickly pear, lobes of which weresurmounted by red fruit; small century plants whose twisted bladesintertwined like tentacles of green pulp.

  Alicia admired this garden. According to her it was a maritime garden,in harmony with the nearby Museum and the landscape. The trunks of thetrees seemed like the masts of ships; the plants amassed at their feethad the radiating enveloping form of the monsters of the ocean depths.Other vegetation of a foreign origin recalled images of warm countries,and of distant parts, filled with odors and swarming with crowds ofyellow and copper-colored men. Through the straight trunks of the trees,one could see five schooners, motionless on the horizon with their sailshanging.

  A train of smoke followed the evolutions of a slim torpedo boat steamingaround the white, timid flock, like a watch dog.

  Looking over the stone balconies one could peer into the ocean toenormous depths. The bold red cliff buried itself vertically in thewaters darkened by shadows, or took shelter behind landslides of rockscontinually surrounded by foam. On one side Cap-Martin advanced,repelling the onrush of the waves, circles of white caps that constantlysucceeded one another, rising from the azure meadows; still farther onlay the Italian coast, showing rose-colored through the melancholyafternoon mist, and on the opposite side lay Cap-d'Ail and Cap-Ferrat,above whose backs embossed with the green of the seas, and dotted withthe white of the villas--the golden winding sheet, which was to enshroudthe dying sun, began to rise.

  "Beautiful! very beautiful!"

  Alicia displayed a girlish delight. They sat down in view of the sea,slowly drinking in the vibrant calm, in which mingled the trembling ofthe pines, the deep churning of the invisible foam, the breath of theazure plain, and the rustling of the earth, grazed by rosaries of ants,by chains of caterpillars, and by the busy work of the black beetle, andat the same time deeply stirred by the awakening of the roots.

  From time to time human footsteps sounded on the sand of the windingpath. They came from invalids or convalescents who were passing throughthe gardens on coming out of the Museum; people from Monaco returning totheir homes after having taken the sun on a bench; fat housewives whokept their knitting in a bag; old men leaning on canes, who perhaps hadnever gone to sea, but who looked like old Genoese sailors. Also a fewpairs of lovers passed slowly. They would appear at a turning of thepath with their arms around each other's waists, silent, looking at eachother, and observing that there was another couple on the bench, theyunclasped, and suddenly pretended to be carrying on a conversation. Assoon as possible they gained the nearest turning to resume their tenderentwining, not without having first greeted the Prince and the Duchesswith a smile, as though they saw in them another pair of lovers.

  "And just to think that we have never come here before!" said Alicia."You, at least, own magnificent gardens; but I, living in a villa whichis simply a house with a few trees around it and has no other views thanthe opposite building, have been so stupid to have spent the afternoonin the Casino, dark and shut in like a wine cellar. How awful!"

  She shuddered on thinking of the Casino. It seemed impossible to her nowthat during the very hours when this garden lay stretched out beside thesea, with its luminous sylvan splendor she should have been able to livein that half light of artificial illumination or in that nasty,unwholesome atmosphere.

  "There are many beautiful things in the world," she continued, "forwhich money is not necessary. Just to think that if we had not lost wewould not be here! It is almost better to be poor."

  Michael laughed at her earnestness. No; it was not pleasant to be poor;but she was right in saying that to enjoy many beautiful things it wasnot necessary to have money.

  "We, ourselves," she added, after a long pause, "have known each otheronly since we lost our wealth. Who knows but what if we had been bornpoor we would have understood each other better when we were young! Ihave often thought so."

  Of course! And since Michael had been there on the bench, beside her, hehad been thinking the same thing. Alicia's joy at the splendor of theafternoon, her enthusiasm on seeing this rustic garden overlooking thesea, far from certain people, without whom she formerly would havethought life intolerable, far from gambling, which was the only remedyto fill the emptiness of her life--all this flattered and delighted thePrince, like a discovery in harmony with his desires. At present he sawher in a very different light from that in which he had imagined her informer years. And he, too, surely seemed like a very different person inher eyes than he had in the past. Before, they had been separated by anenormous wall, wealth, that gave rise to pride and eagerness fordomineering.

  He felt the need of going on talking. Something was surging within him,causing words to rise to his lips in an irresistible tide.

  A voice within seemed to warn him. "You are going to commit somemonstrous folly. Look out!--You are on the road to mixing up your lifeagain----" It was the old Lubimoff in him that was talking; the Lubimoffwho had recently arrived from Paris to take refuge in his Ark, far fromthe vain longings that make up the happiness of the majority of men; itwas the stern chief of the "enemies of women."

  But the harsh, mournful inner voice awoke no echoing response. ThePrince despised this phantom that still remained within him, lamentingover the ruins it found there.

  Up to that moment he had been inhaling with delight the perfume of thatwoman. It seemed to mingle with the perfumes of the afternoon,communicating its essence to all Nature. He saw the sky, the sea, thetrees, and everything in fact in terms of her, as though she filled allspace.

  He, too, had made a discovery that afternoon. He thought with horror ofthe loneliness of Villa Sirena, just as she had been thinking of theCasino. These gardens which every one might enjoy, seemed to him morebeautiful than those he owned, and which every one envied him. How hadhe ever been able to walk around his villa, through its magnificent andlonely avenues, when there existed in the world the marvelous pleasuresof sitting on a public bench beside a woman, or walking close to her,with an arm around her waist, like those poor soldiers and sailors?

  Once more he heard the voice: "Fine, Prince! In love like a school-boywhen you're over forty. Go on with your foolishness, if it amusesyou!... What would the other 'enemies of women' say?"

  But he refused to listen to this last protest from the other hostile andforgotten half of his personality.

  "Our life has been a mistake," he said aloud, with a certain vehemence,in order not to show his emotion. "You, too, must realize that I thinkthe same--that I acknowledge my error--because I--because I, for sometime--have been in love with you!... Well, I have said it! Now laugh ifyou like."

  She did not feel like laughing. She gave a slight exclamation, looked athim for a moment, and turned away as though avoiding the questioningglance in his eyes. She had had a presentiment that this was coming,sooner or later, but her breath was taken away on actually hearing it!

  There was a long silence.

  "What is your answer?" the famous Prince Lubimoff, adored by so manywomen, finally asked with timidity.

  Alicia looked at him again.

  "Aren't you joking? Isn't it a mere whim inspired by the beauty of thisafternoon--so poetic?"

  Michael protested with a gesture. How could she take as a caprice thegrave decision that he had finally reached after so long and difficult adebate within, the way one evolves a truly great decision!

  "If I were like most women, I would reply: 'How many women have you saidthe same thing to?' But such a question is stupid. One may have said: 'Ilove you,' to a woman, in all sincerity and some time later repeat thesame words to another, with still more sincerity. I'm not going to askyou t
o how many you have said what you have just said to me. Perhaps younever said it to any one before. To fulfill your desires it wasn'tnecessary to exert yourself, playing a comedy of deep affection: theysought you passionately; like a Sultan, you needed only to throw yourhandkerchief as a signal.... But when it comes to me! Remember, Michael:as children we hated each other; later on, when I was willing, you werenot. And now we are beginning to grow old! Now that I possess only theremains of what I once was and haven't the same freedom any longer,since I have--you know what...! It is absurd, and that is why I laugh.No: never!"

  It was the Prince's turn to speak. They had hated each other, that wastrue, and now he considered that hate as fortunate. What a misfortunefor both of them if marriage had united their two enormous fortunes andtheir two prides, more enormous still.

  "We would have separated a week later; perhaps the same day," Michaelcontinued. "I even suspect that I would have beaten you."

  "And I you," said the Duchess. "No place would have been large enough tohold us both. It would have been necessary for one of us to give in tothe other. And neither one of us would have thought of making such asacrifice."

  "I might say the same," he continued, "about the night when we dinedtogether. I am glad of my absurd and ridiculous conduct on thatoccasion. Had I given in, there would be an invincible barrier betweenus now; we would never have met again, and we would not be here sayingto each other what we are saying now."

  She assented.

  "We would not be here, that is certain. You would have kept a frightfulmemory of me; I know very well what I was like then. Neither would Ihave sought you out, even though my life depended on it. Thanks to yourflight that evening we can still be friends, eternal friends, brothersif you like; but why do you talk to me about love? It doesn't belong toour age. The time has passed. What do you see in me now that you did notwhen I was young?"

  "I see your misfortune."

  The voice of the Prince sounded grave and deeply sincere as he saidthis.

  He had reflected for a long time, before answering, when he had askedhimself the same question as Alicia's. He was sure that he had begun tolove her the day when she had come to Villa Sirena to confess her ruinand to ask him to forget her debt to him. Poor Duchess de Delille,accustomed to spending millions each year, the proprietress of preciousmines, and having to live by gambling like an adventuress!...Afterwards, beside her bed, seeing her tears, and listening to the greatsecret of her life, the hidden motherhood that had made her weep, he hadbecome definitely conscious of this love. During the last few days,seeing her victorious in the Casino, his love had been clouded; he caredless for her. Later, finding her ruined and sick with sadness, hisaffection was renewed; and to help her, he had even become a gambler,he, who was incapable of doing this even for his own salvation!

  "You can't understand me; you are a woman. Often in my life, other womenhave said to me, after some unexplainable act of theirs: 'It is uselessto try: men can never succeed in understanding us.' I say the same: Awoman cannot understand a man either. I love you now because you inspirepity in me, and pity leads to tenderness and tenderness is true love,love such as I have never felt before. Each one loves in his own way.The majority of women need to feel proud when they love; the person theylove must arouse the envy of others through being brave, handsome,wealthy or talented. Man almost always loves through pity, throughtender compassion inspired by woman. He never feels more in love thanwhen a woman's head reclines against his breast with the abandon ofweakness; and when his hand is buried in her hair, it finds a tinydelicate head--smaller than he had ever imagined--a head that is filledwith divine words, irresistible charms, and noble impulses, but whichrarely has that force of thought which makes man superior to her. Heradorable arms are not strong enough to protect her. And man, seeing herso lovely and so weak, feels his passion increase with pity and thedesire to protect her."

  "No," she said. "Woman, too, knows the meaning of compassionate love. Aman for whom she feels indifference suddenly interests her, when shesees that he is unhappy; and a woman, who hates her lover one day,returns to him the next, when she feels that he is in danger. She neverspeaks more tenderly than when she says, 'My poor little boy!'"

  The Prince assented with a gesture. That was all very well. Butimmediately he returned to the subject which interested him.

  "To-day we both know misfortune; I, as well as you, since I have lostwhat distinguished me from other men, and which I shall never perhapsrecover. But your situation is still worse; you are a woman, you arepoorer, and I feel attracted to you and tell you what I never would havetold you if, shut up within our own pride, we had both kept our formerplaces in the world."

  He went on talking in a soothing tone almost in her ear, coming closerto her, and breathing the perfume of the fur boa around her neck, whichseemed to have concentrated in itself the perfume of her whole body.

  He repeated what he had thought in the nights when he had struggled withhis former dread; thoughts that he had vigorously resumed shortlybefore, as he was sitting silently by her side in the carriage. Hetalked of the future. They might still be happy; the love he offered herwas of the quiet, lasting kind; an autumnal love, a love that would befor all time, with no dramatic complications, peaceful, tranquil,sweetly uneventful, like the long winter evenings beside a fire.

  She laughed with a pained expression.

  "You forget who I am; you talk as though the past did not exist, asthough you were not yourself and as though all the stories that weighagainst my name did not exist. If some one else were to make me thisproposal, who knows!... I am weary and the thought of a quiet futureattracts me. But you!... With you it would be impossible: It would enddisastrously. I prefer that we be friends, without any thought of love.It is safer and more lasting."

  On seeing his look of dismay, Alicia went on talking. She was not afraidof living with him because of what people might say. It is true that shehad a husband, who now in the throes of a senile passion would refuse togrant her a divorce. But what did she care for an obstacle like that, orfor what people would say about it!... She had done more daring thingsin her life!

  "It is simply that I do not want to. Don't ask me why: I could notexplain it to you; or I should say, you would not understand me. Irepeat what other women have said to you: 'You are a man, and cannotunderstand women.' No, I don't want to. I shall speak more plainly:Another man might succeed in interesting me--I don't know. We are soweak! Our wills play us such strange tricks! But with you, no.... Weknow each other too well: It is impossible."

  Michael spoke in a tone of sadness and chagrin.

  "I don't interest you: that is easy to see."

  Alicia once more laughed heartily and with one of her hands she tappedthose of the Prince which were clasped together.

  "Silly! Do you really think I don't care for you at all. If I feltindifferent toward you would I have sought you formerly, and would I behere with you now?"

  He was disconcerted. "Well, then?" And he made an effort to discoverwhat obstacle stood in the way of his desire. If it was on account ofwhat had happened in her past life, he had forgotten it. He, PrinceLubimoff, had had many affairs that it was better not to recall.

  "Let's not talk about the past at all. You are a different woman. Iknow what your life has been during the last few years; besides, theother morning you told me what you have been since your son began tolive by your side. I take you from the time you recognized theseriousness of life, on seeing beside you a man formed from your ownflesh and blood. I have forgotten the Venus of former years, the Helenof the 'old man on the wall.' I desire you, seeing you as you areto-day, the Venus Sorrowful, weeping, suffering and in need ofconsolation and care that will sustain and sweeten life."

  She stopped smiling. Her lips trembled with a pitiful expression ofgratitude; her eyes were moist with tears.

  "No," she said in a humble voice. "It is impossible for that veryreason. My son! How my son has changed me! I know what all this lovemeans. We are
not two children to be deceived by dreams of purity andtalk about the soul and heaven, while our bodies are drawn together by anatural impulse. If I accept your love, I know what that means at once,perhaps before the dawning of a new day. Can you imagine such a thing?My son,--I don't know where he is, perhaps he is dead. At least he issuffering at the present moment hardships which a beggar woman would notallow a son of hers to suffer, and I, in the meantime, abandoning myselfto a great love, to a passion such that it would absorb all my time andthoughts, as though I were still in my early youth.... Oh, no! Howshameful! I know what love between us fatally demands, and it frightensme. I feel powerless in the face of things which formerly seemed to meas nothing. You have spoken the truth: I am a different woman."

  The Prince regained hope on learning the nature of the obstacle. Her sonwas still alive: he was sure of it, He had written to the King of Spainand to influential friends of his in Paris; he had even sent letters toGermany through diplomatic channels. They might find him any moment; hewould succeed in returning him to his mother's side. Why should the poorboy stand in the way of both their futures? Her son knew life; the yearsthat he had spent with his mother had familiarized him with theirregularities which are so common in the world of the fortunate. Hewould not consider it unusual for her, submitting to a marriage that wasnot a lie, to rebuild her life discreetly with a man whom she had knownsince her youth. Besides, he would love him like a younger brother. Hecould count on influential friends capable of helping the boy if hewanted to work. When he died what was left of his fortune would go tohim.

  Alicia clasped one of his hands with the tenderness of gratitude. "Howgood you are!" But suddenly she dried her tears, and her eyes shone witha glow of energy that seemed to reflect her struggle with herself, andshe continued, in a firm tone:

  "No, no. I don't want to. I am looking to the immediate future: to whatwould happen to us if I gave in to your glowing words; I can see myson--or I should say, I cannot see him, I don't know what has become ofhim, I don't know whether or not he is alive. I tell you no. It isuseless for you to insist."

  There was a long silence. A soldier passed with his head bandagedbeneath his _kepis_ and a flower behind his ear. He was smiling at ared-faced girl, who was leaning on his arm. They were both humming atune. The Prince and the Duchess separated slightly on the bench, andremained in silence, he, looking on the ground, absorbed and frowning,she, with her eyes on the horizon line, following the slow progress ofthe schooners, the sails of which were filling with the breeze thatannounced the coming twilight.

  The obstinacy with which Michael kept his eyes riveted on the groundcaused Alicia to make a mistake. Her ankles showed somewhat owing to herposture and her short skirt; trim ankles with the whiteness of her skinvisible through the meshes of snuff-colored silk.

  "You are looking at my stockings?" she asked, her mood suddenly changingfrom sadness to gaiety. "Look. What you see on the side there is notembroidery, it is darning. My maid mends them nicely. What can youexpect? We are poor."

  And doubtless, for the sake of amusing her frowning companion, she wenton to enumerate in gay tones the various difficulties arising from herpoverty. Oh, the war, with the terrible cost of living! Silk stockingswere so bad! One got holes in them after putting them on once, and theycame only at fabulous prices. She preferred to prolong the existence ofthose that she had kept since the days of her wealth, because they werestronger. She might say the same of her dresses. It had been two yearssince her wardrobe had received any replenishing, so frequent before.

  "We are poor," she repeated, with mock solemnity. "Besides, we are fondof gambling, and, like all gamblers, we lose thousands of francs andeconomize on the little things that make life pleasant."

  She had been waiting for an enormous stroke of luck after which shewould stop playing and begin to think again of the wardrobe.

  But the Prince, by his gestures and the expression on his face gave herto understand how little he was interested in these confidences. It wasuseless for her to try and change the conversation. Michael, offended byAlicia's negative reply, was still absorbed in his question. Perhapswith another man she would have shown herself more clement.

  She realized that she must return to the subject which interested hercompanion, and said with masculine frankness:

  "I know what is the matter with you. I am going to forget we belong todifferent sexes and talk to you like a comrade, just as I talked to youthat night in my study. I know the life you are leading; I know also allabout the 'enemies of women': a silly idea. What you need, after severalmonths of living alone like a maniac, is a woman. Choose from thoseabout you; you can find them whenever you like, younger and morebeautiful than I, who am beginning to see myself as I am. Why do youchoose me? Why do you disturb my tranquillity, now that I have forgottenall about such things?"

  The Prince smiled bitterly at the suggested remedy. He had often thoughtof it. The censor that he kept within had repeated the same advice:"Find a female, and it will all pass away immediately; a woman whoinspires only a momentary interest; no women and no love complications.Do what you recommended to Castro." He had frequented the Casino withthe resolute air of a slaughter-house man about to choose his prey fromthe flock. He would glance over the troop of girls in the gamblingrooms, who kept one eye on the green baize, while with the other theywatched the men who were walking about behind them.

  He felt physically attracted by certain women; by one, because of herfeatures, by another, because of her figure or stature, and by some,because of their strange ugliness or stimulating irregularity of formand feature, which affected his nerves much as sharp or biting foodaffects the palate. He had had only to make a sign or say a brief wordto many who, seeing themselves noticed by that famous person, smiledready to follow him. But suddenly he felt the dislike which is inspiredby things repeated to the point of satiety, and by the emptiness ofwhat is familiar to the point of weariness. He could not expect anythingnew; he was horrified at the thought of the vain prattle of an unknownwoman desirous of appearing interesting; of the lies inspired by asudden and false sentimentality; and by the gross animalism of thepairing which would end the tiresome preliminaries. No; he couldn't.Only once, with a desperate energy of a patient gulping down adisgusting medicine, he had followed one of these beautiful animals, andshortly afterwards he felt disgusted with his baseness and ashamed ofhis backsliding.

  "It is you; you and no one else," he said gloomily. "You, or no one."

  Alicia replied in the same grave tone. She knew by experience what thismeant "We desire with greater eagerness what is impossible for us toobtain; we single out as unique whatever is beyond our grasp."

  But these reasonings exasperated Lubimoff to the extent of making himunjust.

  "I know you," he said, drawing nearer on the bench, as he gazed at hermore closely, with angry, passionate eyes. "I know what you women arelike; you're all vain and revengeful. You can't forget the evening youwanted me and I was not willing, and now you are taking delight in mytorment; you enjoy making me suffer."

  "Oh, Michael!" she interrupted, in a tone of protest.

  The Prince continued to express his rancour, and his indignation stirredAlicia more than the humble question of a few moments before. It was thedesperate pleading of a patient who is past recovery and desires toreturn to normal life.

  "I love you.... I need you. I'll get you!"

  Above the promontory of Cap-d'Ail the orange-colored globe of the sunwas descending. Its lower edge was already touching the undulating lineof garden and buildings. For a moment its rays were concentrated in asheaf seen through the colonnade of a pergola, as though showing itselfthrough an arch of triumph before dying. A dark azure light seemed toemerge from the sea driving the fading gold of the afternoon from thegardens.

  "No!... No, I won't!"

  Alicia's voice suddenly broke the vibrant silence with the tremulousnessof surprise, and immediately changed to a long gasp, as though somethingwere weighing on her lips. Michael h
ad thrown both his arms around hershoulders, mastering her, drawing her breast forward, pressing itagainst his own. His lips sought hers, but she made an effort to resist,by turning away with a violent straining of her neck. Finally the moanof protest ceased. Both heads remained motionless.

  "Michael ... Michael!" she sighed, freeing herself for a moment from thecaress. But a moment later she submitted again to those lips whichpursued hers so eagerly.

  She spoke in a tone of surrender. She was suddenly back in her pastlife, trembling at the contact of all those foreign things which seemedabsolutely new through long continence. His ardent lips had overpoweredher, awakened her from a dream that had lasted for years, in a sleeplonger and deeper than Michael's.

  She forgot everything around her. Her eyes were still open but thevision of the sea, the golden sunset in the sky, and even the pineboughs forming a canopy above their heads, had disappeared from hergaze.

  Suddenly she saw them all once more, and at the same time she drew backher shoulders repelling him.

  "No, I won't.... Stop! They might see us. How crazy of us!"

  The Prince was an athlete, but his emotion weakened him. Besides, hisenergy was scattered in the double effort of trying to master the womanand at the same time of enjoying her caress in the overwhelming fury ofpassion. She bent and straightened several times, with all thesuppleness of a reptile, finally succeeding in escaping from the chainof his arms, as she gave a sigh of weariness and relief.

  Lubimoff, coming to himself again, saw Alicia standing in front of him,smoothing her disordered clothing, and raising her hands to her hair, toher tilted hat and her boa, which was slipping from her shoulders.

  "Let us go," she said, with angry brevity.

  And the Prince followed her, crestfallen, repenting his violence. Afterwalking a few steps, she seemed moved by his silence, which showed hisrepentance, and smiled again:

  "It is quite evident that from now on I must not see you alone. I forgotthat you were a sailor, accustomed to making port in a hurry withoutcaring to lose any time." They walked along slowly, in a tranquillitylike that of the serene twilight.

  On leaving the gardens, they found themselves cut off by the Museum.Must they return by the way they had come? Michael discovered on oneside of the building a rustic stairway cut at intervals in the rock, thehollows of which were filled with brick steps. It descended to the edgeof the sea in various flights of stairs, and at the farther end, a walkfollowing the edge of the coast led to the harbor.

  She hesitated for a moment at the archway of the entrance.

  "I warn you," she said, shaking her finger at Michael, "that if youreturn to your old tricks, I shall call for help. Do you promise meyou'll be good? Word of honor?... All right; go on ahead: I don't trustyou."

  He went ahead down the stairway to explore. The walls of the Museumseemed to expand as they continued to descend. Besides the building withits roof at their feet, there was a second building below, rising withits stone walls pierced by large windows, from the rocky slopes. At aturn of the path, the Prince faltered to wait for his companion. She wasslowly descending, maintaining a distance of several steps between them.Her feet were higher than Lubimoff's head, and it was only necessary forthe latter to raise his eyes slightly to see the stockings the darningin which Alicia had explained.

  With the lightness of a spring released, he slipped up the various stepsthat separated them.

  "Michael! I'll shout!" she exclaimed on seeing him coming, and she heldout her hands to repel him, trying at the same time to flee.

  With his arms he had embraced the lower part of that adorable body. Hecould not climb any further; Alicia's hands repulsed his head with anervous violence. And he in passionate madness pressed his lips to herfeet and her ankles, kissing her skirts wherever he could reach them.

  She was angry at feeling that she could not stir and would be unable toescape.

  "Let me go! It's ridiculous! Stop!"

  The Prince's hat rolled down the steps, knocked off by a blow from herslender hands, as, blindly, she defended herself.

  This incident brought him to his senses. Yes; as a matter of fact, itwas ridiculous. And as he saw that Alicia intended to retrace her steps,returning to the garden, Michael to inspire her confidence ran down thestairway without turning his head, to see whether she was following him.

  They met at the edge of the sea, on the wide path that wound among theloose rocks bordered with foam, and the nearly vertical walls of thecliff. The flat places and hollows in the stone had been made use of, onthis promontory, that had so few soft surfaces, to construct the fewhouses that sheltered the families of the employees in Monaco. Along theupper edge of the cliff appeared the green line bordering the loftygardens and cut at intervals by the old works of fortification.

  They were the sloping bastions, with sentry posts, like those one seesin old engravings or in stage settings. Huge stone facings with Latinletters sang the praises of the various sovereign Princes, who had builtthese costly works of defense, now antiquated and worthless. Lubimoffexpected to see appear from these sentry posts a grenadier in a whiteuniform with scarlet facings, wearing, above his black mustache andpowdered wig, a golden miter.

  They walked slowly along in the twilight. Above them shone the orangelight of the setting sun, casting a mild red glow on the jutting rocks,the trees, and the white and yellow facades of the buildings. At theedge of the sea, the shadow was a deep blue shade, like moonlightshadow. The sky, blood-red in the West, was invisible for them behindthe rocky cliffs of Monaco. They could see it only in the direction ofItaly, and there it was growing darker and denser every minute,preparing for the first luminous piercing of the stars.

  They met various fishermen who were returning home loaded down withbaskets and nets.

  Alicia felt worried in certain bends of the path so completelydeserted. Later, on seeing a house or a passerby approaching, sheresumed the conversation. What she was afraid of was stopping along theway, and sitting down with the Prince on the little parapet borderingthe seashore. In the meantime they continued walking!

  Without protesting, she allowed Lubimoff to put his arm in hers, leaningupon it. He expressed such deep humility! He seemed repentant for theliberties he had taken; and asked her forgiveness with a pale smile.Besides, he talked to her about her son with soothing optimism. All herfears were unfounded; her son would return: he was sure of it. She wouldreceive good news almost any moment, perhaps that very night.

  Her George was a man, and no matter how much he might love his mother,some day he would fall in love with another woman whom he would care formore deeply, and would build up a separate existence, like all the rest.

  "And you, who may still consider yourself young, you, who have the rightto long years of happiness, do you want to give up everything like anold woman? Why? Why be in a hurry about that?"

  She bowed her head without knowing what to reply, and her emotion wassuch, that she made not the slightest movement when his arm freed itselffrom hers and encircled her waist. Thus they walked along, closelylinked, forming a single body, taking step after step mechanically,without watching where they were going. With his eyes fixed on hers, heclosely watched her face, hoping for a glance, or a monosyllable thatwould mean acceptance. Alicia was afraid of meeting those imploringeyes, and turned her own away.

  "Tell me yes," Michael murmured, "tell me that you will. It isn't fornothing that we have met; it is not for nothing that you sought me out.We shall rebuild our lives that have been so nearly wrecked by ourvanity and pride. Let us be, although it is rather late, what we oughtto be to one another."

  "No," sighed Alicia. "I can't.... My son!..."

  And immediately afterwards she hastened to murmur, as though repenting:

  "Yes; perhaps ... later ... but not now. How shameful! When my mind isat ease, when I don't feel this worry that is killing me. I love you; isthat enough? I love you."

  These two words sufficed the Prince. He, who had gone to the fartheste
xtreme of domination with so many women without ever feeling satisfied,contented himself with these brief words, which sounded in his ears likehappy music.

  Instinctively, his arm dropped below her waist, while his other arm drewher head to one of his shoulders.

  There was a kiss, a long kiss, without either of them pausing in theirwalk. Alicia offered no resistance, and shortly afterwards, her lips,animated by a feverish awakening, responded to his kiss, making it morepassionate, more vibrant and endless. She no longer felt any fear; theywere walking along, and it was impossible for her lover to repeat theliberties he had dared to take in the garden. Moreover, she inwardlyconfessed, with a certain shame, the delight aroused in her by thatviolence.

  "I love you!" she sighed, without knowing what she was saying. "I loveyou; but not that, no! Let us love each other like children. It isridiculous at our age--but so sweet."

  At that moment Lubimoff's spirit was like her own. This simple kissseemed to him the greatest pleasure he had ever known. Life opened upenchantments of which he had never dreamed. It seemed to him that hewas gazing on the most beautiful landscape in the world. Howinteresting were the old fortifications! What a great man Albert ofMonaco was to build that lonely asphalt path, so that he might walkalong it with his lips pressing the lips of a woman.

  They walked along as though they were intoxicated, in a continual zigzagbetween the parapet and the wall of the cliff, their lips pressing,their eyes almost touching, as though nothing existed beyond them, andthey actually imagined that they were walking in a straight line. From adistance one would have thought they were two adversaries struggling,staggering, as they jostled each other in the fight.

  Suddenly mastered by desire, he stopped and refused to go on.

  "No, no!"

  Her will still shaken by her recent emotion, Alicia protested at thisdanger, but she forced herself to reiterate her refusal.

  His lips had separated from hers. There was an aggressive gleam in hishalf-shut eyes. His hands fell upon her hips, and clinched like claws.

  "I won't: I told you I won't! Come!"

  She struggled in his arms with the agility of a gymnast, and in breakingfree from his grasp there was a sound of tearing clothes.

  "Look, you villain! Look what you've done!"

  She was standing motionless, a few steps away, with her fur boa fallingfrom one of her shoulders, while at the other she was looking for thetear that her dress had just suffered.

  Michael, behind her, saw that one sleeve was almost torn away, giving aglimpse of her white flesh, and the seductive hollow under her arm.

  He repented his violence, and the clumsiness of his hands, which likethose of a drunken sailor broke what he caressed.

  Once more Alicia took pity on his childish embarrassment.

  "No, don't worry about that. It is a dress I have had for two years: itis so old, that it tears just by looking at it. That is one of theinconveniences of walking with a beggar."

  But she finally became worried by this tear which was so visible. Shewas going to enter Monte Carlo on foot or by street car. What wouldpeople say, seeing her in such a state!

  "A pin: have you got a pin?"

  This request increased the remorse of the Prince. Where could a man finda pin? While Alicia was feeling for one without avail, he thought ofreturning to the Museum or scaling the rocks to one of those houseswhere the employees of the Prince live. He would have given a hundredfrancs for a pin--but he remembered that his pockets were empty.

  He began to search his clothes while she searched hers, although he wascertain that it would be useless.

  Suddenly he smiled triumphantly.

  "Here is your pin."

  It was from his necktie! A famous pearl, admired by the women, and whichhe had never been willing to give away, because it was a gift of thePrincess Lubimoff.

  He was obliged to mend the tear at the shoulder himself, sighing withvexation.

  "You don't know how," said Alicia laughing. "Look out that you don'tprick me. How clumsy!"

  But he finally felt glad of his clumsiness. He had to touch her nakedarm with his fingers; and he quivered as he touched the soft skin, whichpreserved in its velvety shadows a certain mystery of passion.

  "Look out!" she called. "Don't go back to your old tricks: I shall getangry. It is all right as it is. Come on!"

  She threw her scarf over the clumsy repair, and the pearl, which stoodout against it, with odd magnificence. They were walking along oncemore, without any new attempted audacities on Michael's part. The lastincident had made him circumspect. Inwardly he called himself names,considering himself a savage, incapable of living among real ladies.

  As they reached the last bend they left the azure shade of the cliff.Above their heads extended the last angle of the bulwarks, and a stonesentry post; across the harbor, with its mouth flanked by twoilluminated towers, and on the opposite bank rose the heights of MonteCarlo, with its huge buildings, and its glistening cupolas, which werereflecting the last rosy fire of the twilight.

  They both halted instinctively. In the middle of the harbor, the yacht,the white yacht of the Prince of Monaco, lay motionless, tugging at herbuoy. Beside the nearby dock a few latine rigged boats were pitching,moving their single mast, and a Spanish steamer, displaying its neutralflag, was unloading sacks of rice, and barrels of wine. The presence ofvarious groups of men gathered in front of the boat made them prudent.They were no longer alone. Once more they had entered the life of theCity.

  "How short the road was!" exclaimed the Prince.

  She thought the same. "Yes; how short!"

  They could no longer walk together. It was necessary to say good-bythere, far from the crowd.

  Alicia held out both hands.

  "Nothing more?" sighed Michael.

  The Duchess hesitated a moment. Then, with the agility of a young girl,as though she were still the wild Amazon of the Bois de Boulogne, shesprang for his open arms.

  "There, there, and there!"

  There were three rapid fiery kisses, that only lasted for a second;three kisses that made Lubimoff think he had never felt one in all hislife, since he had never experienced the quivering that swept his bodyfrom head to feet.

  "More! Give me more!"

  She laughed at his imploring look.

  "Enough folly. Another time, who knows!--For the present I am worriedagain. I am afraid to enter my house: I feel terror and hope. Oh, thenews that I may receive at any moment! Tell me; do you really think thatnothing has happened to him? Do you think he may come back?"

 

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