Three Weeks
Page 8
CHAPTER VIII
Next day they went to the Buergenstock to stay. It was all arranged withconsummate simplicity. Paul was to start for a climb, he told his valet,and for a week they would leave Lucerne. Mme. Zalenska was not very well,it appeared, and consented to try, at the suggestion of the amiablemanager--inspired by Dmitry--a few days in higher air. There would not bea soul in their hotel on top of the Buergenstock probably, and she couldhave complete rest.
They did not arrive together, Paul was the first. He had not seen her.Dmitry had given him his final instructions, and he awaited her comingwith passionate impatience.
He had written to her, on awaking, a coherent torrent of love,marvellously unlike the letter which had gone to poor Isabella only a fewdays before. In this to his lady he had said he could not bear it _now_,the uncertainty of seeing her, and had suggested the Buergenstock crudely,without any of the clever details which afterwards made it possible.
He--Paul Verdayne, not quite twenty-three years old, and English--tosuggest without a backward thought or a qualm that a lady whom he hadknown five days should come and live with him and be his love! None of hisfriends accustomed to his bashful habits would have believed it. Only hisfather perhaps might have smiled.
As for the Lady Henrietta, she would have fainted on the spot. But fortunefavoured him--they did not know.
No excitement of the wildest day's hunting had ever made his pulses boundlike this! Dmitry had arranged everything. Paul was a young Englishsecretary to Madame, who had much writing to do. And in any case it is notthe affair of respectable foreign hotels to pry into their clients'relationship when a large suite has been engaged.
Paul's valet, the son of an old retainer of the family, was an honestfellow, and devoted to his master--but Sir Charles Verdayne had decided tomake things doubly sure.
"Tompson," he had said, the morning before they left, "however Mr.Verdayne may amuse himself while you are abroad, your eyes and mouth areshut, remember. No d----d gossip back to the servants here, or in hotels,or houses--and, above all, no details must ever reach her Ladyship. If hegets into any thundering mess let me know--but mum's the word, d'yunderstand, Tompson?"
"I do, Sir Charles," said Tompson, stolidly.
And he did, as events proved.
The rooms on the Buergenstock looked so simple, so unlike the sitting-roomat Lucerne! Just fresh and clean and primitive. Paul wandered throughthem, and in the one allotted to himself he came upon Anna--Madame's maid,whom Dmitry had pointed out to him--putting sheets as fine as gossamer onhis bed; with the softest down pillows. How dear of his lady to think thusof him!--her secretary.
The tiger--his tiger--had arrived in the sitting-room, and some simplecushions of silk; sweet-peas and spring flowers decorated the vases--therewere no tuberoses, or anything hot-house, or forced.
The sun blazed in at the windows, the green trees all washed and freshfrom the rain gladdened his eye, and down below, a sapphire lake reflectedthe snow-capped mountains. What a setting for a love-dream. No wonder Paultrod on air!
The only possible crumpled rose-leaves were some sentences in the lady'sreply to his impassioned letter of the morning:
"Yes, I will come, Paul--but only on one condition, that you never ask mequestions as to who I am, or where I am going. You must promise me to takelife as a summer holiday--an episode--and if fate gives us this great joy,you must not try to fetter me, now or at any future time, or control mymovements. You must give me your word of honour for this--you will neverseek to discover who or what was your loved one--you must never try tofollow me. Yes, I will come for now--when I have your assurance--but Iwill go when I will go--in silence."
And Paul had given his word. He felt he could not look ahead. He must justlive in this gorgeous joy, and trust to chance. So he awaited her,thrilling in all his being.
About tea time she drove up in a carriage--she and Dmitry having come thelong way round.
And was it not right that her secretary should meet and assist her out,and conduct her to her apartments?
How beautiful she looked, all in palest grey, and somehow the things had ayounger shape. Her skirt was short, and he could see her small and slenderfeet, while a straw hat and veil adorned her black hair. Everything wassimple, and as it should be for a mountain top and unsophisticatedsurroundings.
Tea was laid out on the balcony, fragrant Russian tea, and when Dmitry hadlit the silver kettle lamp he retired and left them alone in peace.
"Darling!" said Paul, as he folded her in his arms--"darling!--darling!"
And when she could speak the lady cooed back to him:
"So sweet a word is that, my Paul. Sweeter in English than in any otherlanguage. And you are glad I have come, and we shall live a little and bequite happy here in our pretty nest, all fresh and not a bit too grand--isit not so? Oh! what joys there are in life; and oh! how foolish just tomiss them."
"Indeed, _yes_," said Paul.
Then they played with the tea, and she showed him how he was to drink itwith lemon. She was sweet as a girl, and said no vague, startling things;it was as if she were a young bride, and Paul were complete master andlord! Wild happiness rushed through him. How had he ever endured the timebefore he had met her?
When they had finished they went out. She must walk, she said, and Paul,being English, must want exercise! Oh! she knew the English and theirexercise! And of course she must think of everything that would be for thepleasure of her lover Paul.
And he? You old worn people of the world, who perhaps are reading, thinkwhat all this was to Paul--his young strong life vibrating to passionatejoys, his imagination kindled, his very being uplifted and thrilled withhappiness! His charming soul expanded, he found himself saying gracioustender phrases to her. Every moment he was growing more passionately inlove, and in each new mood she seemed the more divine. Not one trace ofher waywardness of the day before remained. Her eyes, as they glanced athim from under her hat, were bashful and sweet, no look of the devil toprovoke a saint. She talked gently.
He must take her to the place where she had peeped at him through thetrees. And--
"Oh! Paul!" she said. "If you had known that day, how you tempted me,looking up at me, your whole soul in your eyes! I had to run, run, run!"
"And now I have caught you, darling mine," said Paul. "But you were wrong.I had no soul--it is you who are giving me one now."
They sat on the bench where he had sat. She was getting joy out of thecolour of the moss, the tints of the beeches, every little shade and shapeof nature, and letting Paul see with her eyes.
And all the while she was nestling near him like a tender ring-dove to hermate. Paul's heart swelled with exultation. He felt good, as if he couldbe kind to every one, as if his temper were a thing to be ashamed of, andall his faults, as if for ever he must be her own true knight anddefender, and show her he was worthy of this great gift and joy. And ah!how could he put into words his tender worshipping love?
So the afternoon faded into evening, and the young crescent moon began toshow in the sky--a slender moon of silver, only born the night before.
"See, this is our moon," said the lady, "and as she waxes, so will ourlove wax--but now she is young and fresh and fair, like it. Come, my Paul.Let us go to our house; soon we shall dine, and I want to be beautiful foryou."
So they went in to their little hotel.
She was all in white when Paul found her in their inner salon, where theywere to dine alone, waited on only by Dmitry. Her splendid hair was boundwith a fillet of gold, and fell in two long strands, twisted with gold,nearly to her knees. Her garment was soft and clinging, and unlike anygarment he had ever seen. They sat on a sofa together, the table in frontof them, and they ate slowly and whispered much--and before Paul couldtaste his wine, she kissed his glass and sipped from it and made him dothe same with hers. The food was of the simplest, and the only thingsexotic were the great red strawberries at the end.
Dmitry had left them, placing the coffee on t
he table as he went, and abottle of the rare golden wine.
Then this strange lady grew more tender still. She must lie in Paul'sarms, and he must feed her with strawberries. And the thought came to himthat her mouth looked as red as they.
To say he was intoxicated with pleasure and love is to put it as it was.It seemed as if he had arrived at a zenith, and yet he knew there would bemore to come. At last she raised herself and poured out the yellowwine--into one glass.
"My Paul," she said, "this is our wedding might, and this is our weddingwine. Taste from this our glass and say if it is good."
And to the day of his death, if ever Paul should taste that wine again, amad current of passionate remembrance will come to him--and still morepassionate regret.
Oh! the divine joy of that night! They sat upon the balcony presently, andElaine in her worshipping thoughts of Lancelot--Marguerite wooed byFaust--the youngest girl bride--could not have been more sweet or tenderor submissive than this wayward Tiger Queen.
"Paul," she said, "out of the whole world tonight there are only you and Iwho matter, sweetheart. Is it not so? And is not that your English wordfor lover and loved--'sweetheart'?"
And Paul, who had never even heard it used except in a kind of joke, nowknew it was what he had always admired. Yes, indeed, it was"sweetheart"--and she was his!
"Remember, Paul," she whispered when, passion maddening him, he claspedher violently in his arms--"remember--whatever happens--whatevercomes--for now, to-night, there is no other reason in all of this butjust--I love you--I love you, Paul!"
"My Queen, my Queen!" said Paul, his voice hoarse in his throat.
And the wind played in softest zephyrs, and the stars blazed in the sky,mirroring themselves in the blue lake below.
Such was their wedding night.
Oh! glorious youth! and still more glorious love!