by Elinor Glyn
CHAPTER XV
It was a beautiful apartment that Dmitry had found for them on the GrandCanal in Venice, in an old palace looking southwest. A convenient door ina side canal cloaked the exit and entry of its inhabitants from curiouseyes--had there been any to indulge in curiosity; but in Venice there is agood deal of the feeling of live and let live, and the _dolce far niente_of the life is not conducive to an over-anxious interest in the doings ofone's neighbours.
Money and intelligence can achieve a number of things in a short space oftime, and Dmitry had had both at his command, so everything, including a_chef_ from Paris and a retinue of Italian servants, was ready when on theTuesday evening Paul arrived at the station.
What a wonderland it seemed to him, Venice! A wonderland where wasawaiting him his heart's delight--more passionately desired than everafter three days of total abstinence.
As after the Friday afternoon he had spent more or less in hiding in theterrace-room, his lady had judged it wiser for him not to come at all toLucerne, and on the Saturday had met him at a quiet part of the shore ofthe lake, beyond the landing-steps of the _funiculaire,_ and for a fewshort hours they had cruised about on the blue waters--but her sweetesttenderness and ready wit had not been able entirely to eliminate thefeeling of unrest which troubled them. And then there were the nights, themiserable evenings and nights of separation. On the Sunday she haddeparted to Venice, and after she had gone, Paul had returned for one dayto Lucerne, leaving again on the Monday, apparently as unacquainted withMadame Zalenska as he had been the first night of his arrival.
He had not seen her since Saturday. Three whole days of anguishinglonging. And now in half an hour at least she would be in his arms. Thejourney through the beautiful scenery from Lucerne had been got through atnight--all day from Milan a feverish excitement had dominated him, andprevented his taking any interest in outward surroundings. A magneticattraction seemed drawing him on--on--to the centre of light and joy--hislady's presence.
Dmitry and an Italian servant awaited his arrival; not an instant's delayfor luggage called a halt. Tompson and the Italian were left for that, andPaul departed with his trusty guide.
It was about seven o'clock, the opalescent lights were beginning to showin the sky, and their reflection in the water, as he stooped his tall headto enter the covered gondola. It was all too beautiful and wonderful totake in at once, and then he only wanted wings the sooner to arrive, noteyes to see the passing objects. Afterwards the strange soft cry of thegondoliers and the sights appealed to him; but on this first evening everythrob of his being was centred upon the one moment when he should hold hisbeloved one to his heart.
He could hardly contain his impatience, and walk sedately beside Dmitrywhen they ascended the great stone staircase--he felt like bounding upthree steps at a time. Dmitry had been respectfully silent. Madame waswell--that was all he would say. He opened the great double door with alatch-key, and Paul found himself in vast hall almost unfurnished but forsome tapestry on the walls, and a huge gilt marriage-chest, and a coupleof chairs. It was ill lit, and there was something of decay and gloom inits aspect.
On they went, through other doors to a salon, vast and gloomy too, andthen the glory and joy of heaven seemed to spring upon Paul's view whenthe shrine of the goddess was reached--a smaller room, whose windows facedthe Grand Canal, now illuminated by the setting sun in all its splendour,coming in shafts from the balcony blinds. And among the quaintest and mostold-world surroundings, mixed with her own wonderful personal notes ofluxury, his lady rose from the tiger couch to meet him.
His lady! His Queen!
And, indeed, she seemed a queen when at last he held her at arms'-lengthto look at her. She was garbed all ready for dinner in a marvellousgarment of shimmering purple, while round her shoulders a scarf ofbrilliant pale emerald gauze, all fringed with gold, fell in two longends, and on her neck and in her ears great emeralds gleamed--apear-shaped one of unusual brilliancy fell at the parting of her wavesof hair on to her white smooth forehead. But the colour of her eyes hecould not be sure of--only they were two wells of love and passiongazing into his own.
All the simplicity of the Buergenstock surroundings was gone. The flowerswere in the greatest profusion, rare and heavy-scented; the pillows of thecouch were more splendid than ever; cloths of gold and silver andwonderful shades of orange and green velvet were among the purple ones healready knew. Priceless pieces of brocade interwoven with gold covered thescreens and other couches; and, near enough to pick up when she wantedthem, stood jewelled boxes of cigarettes and bonbons, and stands ofperfume.
Her expression, too, was altered. A new mood shone there; and later, whenPaul learnt the history of the wonderful women of _cinquecento_ Venice, itseemed as if something of their exotic voluptuous spirit now lived in her.
This was a new queen to worship--and die for, if necessary. He dimly felt,even in these first moments, that here he would drink still deeper of themysteries of life and passionate love.
_"Beztzenny-moi,"_ she said, "my priceless one. At last I have you againto make me _live_. Ah! I must know it is really you, my Paul!"
They were sitting on the tiger by now, and she undulated round and allover him, feeling his coat, and his face, and his hair, as a blind personmight, till at last it seemed as if she were twined about him like aserpent. And every now and then a narrow shaft of the glorious dyingsunlight would strike the great emerald on her forehead, and give forthsparks of vivid green which appeared reflected again in her eyes. Paul'shead swam, he felt intoxicated with bliss.
"This Venice is for you and me, my Paul," she said. "The air is full oflove and dreams; we have left the slender moon behind us in Switzerland;here she is nearing her full, and the summer is upon us with all herrichness and completeness--the spring of our love has passed."Her voice fell into its rhythmical cadence, as if she were whispering aprophecy inspired by some presence beyond.
"We will drink deep of the cup of delight, my lover, and bathe in thewine of the gods. We shall feast on the tongues of nightingales, and reston couches of flowers. And thou shalt cede me thy soul, beloved, and Iwill give thee mine--"
But the rest was lost in the meeting of their lips.
* * * * *
They dined on the open loggia, its curtains drawn, hiding them from theview of the palaces opposite, but not preventing the soft sounds of thesingers in the gondolas moored to the poles beneath from reaching theirears. And above the music now and then would come the faint splash ofwater, and the "Stahi"--"Preme" of some moving gondolier.
The food was of the richest, beginning with strange fishes and quantitiesof _hors d'oeuvres_ that Paul knew not, accompanied by _vodka_ in severalforms. And some of the _plats_ she would just taste, and some sendinstantly away.
And all the while a little fountain of her own perfume played from a groupof sportive cupids in silver, while the table in the centre was piled withred roses. Dmitry and two Italian footmen waited, and everything was donewith the greatest state. A regal magnificence was in the lady's air andmien. She spoke of the splendours of Venice's past, and let Paul feel theatmosphere of that subtle time of passion and life. Of here a love-scene,and there a murder. Of wisdom and vice, and intoxicating emotion, allblended in a kaleidoscope of gorgeousness and colour.
And once again her vast knowledge came as a fresh wonder to Paul--nosmallest detail of history seemed wanting in her talk, so that he livedagain in that old world and felt himself a Doge.
When they were alone at last, tasting the golden wine, she rose and drewhim to the loggia balustrade. Dmitry had drawn back the curtains andextinguished the lights, and only the brilliant moon lit the scene; asplendid moon, two nights from the full. There she shone straight downupon them to welcome them to this City of Romance.
What loveliness met Paul's view! A loveliness in which art and natureblended in one satisfying whole.
"Darling," he said, "this is better than the Buergenstock. Let us go out
onthe water and float about, too."
It was exceedingly warm these last days of May, and that night not azephyr stirred a ripple. A cloak and scarf of black gauze soon hid thelady's splendour, and they descended the staircase hand in hand to thewaiting open gondola.
It was a new experience of joy for Paul to recline there, and drift awaydown the stream, amidst the music and the coloured lanterns, and thewonderful, wonderful spell of the place.
The lady was silent for a while, and then she began to whisper passionatewords of love. She had never before been thus carried away--and he mustsay them to her--as he held her hand--burning words, inflaming theimagination and exciting the sense. It seemed as if all the other nightsof love were concentrated into this one in its perfect joy.
Who can tell of the wild exaltation which filled Paul? He was no longerjust Paul Verdayne, the ordinary young Englishman; he was a god--and thiswas Olympus.
"Look, Paul!" she said at last. "Can you not see Desdemona peeping fromthe balcony of her house there? And to think she will have no happinessbefore her Moor will strangle her to-night! Death without joys. Ah! thatis cruel. Some joys are well worth death, are they not, my lover, as youand I should know?"
"Worth death and eternity," said Paul. "For one such night as this withyou a man would sell his soul."
It was not until they turned at the opening of the Guidecca to return totheir palazzo that they both became aware of another gondola followingthem, always at the same distance behind--a gondola with two solitaryfigures in it huddled on the seats.
The lady gave a whispered order in Italian to her gondolier, who came to asudden stop, thus forcing the other boat to come much nearer before it,too, arrested its course. There a moonbeam caught the faces of the men asthey leant forward to see what had occurred. One of them was Dmitry, andthe other a younger man of the pure Kalmuck type whom Paul had never seen.
"Vasili!" exclaimed the lady, in passionate surprise. "Vasili! and theyhave not told me!"
She trembled all over, while her eyes blazed green flames of anger andexcitement. "If it is unnecessary they shall feel the whip for this."
Her cloak had fallen aside a little, disclosing a shimmer of purplegarment and flashing emeralds. She looked barbaric, her raven brows knit.It might have been Cleopatra commanding the instant death of an offendingslave.
It made Paul's pulses bound, it seemed so of the picture and the night.All was a mad dream of exotic emotion, and this was just an extra note.
But who was Vasili? And what did his presence portend? Something fatefulat all events.
The lady did not speak further, only by the quiver of her nostrils and thegleam in her eyes he knew how deeply she was stirred.
Yes, one or the other would feel the whip, if they had been over-zealousin their duties!
It seemed out of sheer defiance of some fate that she decided to go oninto the lagoon when they passed San Georgio. It was growing late, andPaul's thoughts had turned to greater joys. He longed to clasp her in hisarms, to hold her, and prove her his own. But she sat there, her smallhead held high, and her eyes fearless and proud--thus he did not dare toplead with her.
But presently, when she perceived the servants were no longer following,her mood changed, the sweetness of the serpent of old Nile fell upon her,and all of love that can be expressed in whispered words and tenderhand-clasps, she lavished upon Paul, after ordering the gondolier tohasten back to the palazzo. It seemed as if she, too, could not containher impatience to be again in her lover's arms.
"I will not question them to-night," she said when they arrived, and shesaw Dmitry awaiting her on the steps. "To-night we will live and love atleast, my Paul. Live and love in passionate bliss!"
But she could not repress the flash of her eyes which appeared toannihilate the old servant. He fell on his knees with the murmured wordsof supplication:
_"O Imperatorskoye!"_ And Paul guessed it meant Imperial Highness, and agreat wonder grew in his mind.
Their supper was laid in the loggia again, and under the windows themusicians still played and sang a gentle accompaniment to their sighs oflove.
But later still Paul learnt what fiercest passion meant, making othermemories as moonlight unto sunlight--as water unto wine.
