Max
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CHAPTER XXVI
At ten o'clock, punctual to the moment, Blake walked up the Escalier deSainte-Marie. All day a curious agitation compounded of elation andimpatience had lifted him as upon wings, but now that the hour hadarrived, doubt amounting almost to reluctance assailed his spirit. Hewalked slowly, looking about him as though the way were strange; outsidethe house in the rue Mueller he paused and glanced up at the fifth floor,suddenly daunted, suddenly thrilled by the faint light coming mistilythrough the open windows of the _salon_ and the studio.
What would she be like--this sister of Max? He strove ineffectually tomaterialize the portrait, but it eluded him. Only the soul of the womanseemed to have place in his imagination--the soul, seen through thequestioning eyes.
Still a victim to the strange, new reticence, he entered the opendoorway and began the familiar ascent. Here again the thought of thewoman obsessed him. How must this place appear to her? His thoughtstouched the varying scenes of Max's story--scenes of the girl's freeyouth and sumptuous, exotic after-life. None fitted accurately with arue Mueller. Of a certainty she, as well as the boy, must have theadventuring spirit!
His senses stirred, routing his diffidence, and under their spur he ranup the remaining steps, only pausing at the fifth floor as a light voicehailed him out of the dusk, a little flitting figure darted from theshadows, and Jacqueline, brimming with suppressed excitement, caught himby the arm.
"Monsieur Edouard!"
He laughed in recognition and greeting. "Well, Jacqueline! Always theair of the grand secret! Always the air of the little bird that hasdiscovered the topmost bough of the tree! What is it to-night?"
His feelings were running riot; it was agreeable to spend them inbadinage. But Jacqueline slapped his hand in reproof.
"No pleasantries, monsieur! The affair is serious."
He smiled; he lowered his voice to the tone of hers. "You have avisitor, then, Jacqueline, to this fifth floor of yours?"
Jacqueline nodded her blonde head, and again her excitement brimmed fullmeasure.
"Monsieur, she is here--the sister of M. Max! The princess!" Shewhispered the last word--a whisper delicious, tremulous with the weightof actual romance.
Blake heard it, and his own heart stirred to a joyous youthfulsensation. It was so naive, so charming, so absolutely French.
"The princess!" he whispered back in just the expected tone."Jacqueline, is she beautiful?"
Jacqueline threw up her hands, invoked heaven with her eyes, earth withher shrugging shoulders.
"Monsieur, she is ravishing!"
Blake's expressive answer was to put her gently aside and step towardMax's door.
But she was after him with a little cry. "Monsieur, not yet! I mustdeliver my message! The message of M. Max!"
"Of M. Max?"
"But yes, monsieur!" Her hands, her whole body expressed apology andeager explanation. "M. Max has been called away--upon a business of muchimportance. M. Max desires his profoundest, his most affectionateexcuses--and will monsieur place him under a debt never possible ofrepayment by entering the _appartement_--by entertaining the princessduring his absence?"
Blake stared "In the name of Heaven--"
But Jacqueline's white hands again made free with his arm.
"Monsieur, Heaven will arrange! Heaven is bountiful in these affairs!"
"But I don't understand. He has gone upon business, you say? He neverhad any business."
Jacqueline laughed and clapped her hands. "Do not be too sure, monsieur!He is growing up, is M. Max!" She gave another little twittering laughof sheer delight.
"Come, monsieur! The princess is alone. It is not gallant to keep a ladywaiting!"
"But you don't understand, Jacqueline. It is impossible--impossible thatI should intrude--"
"It is no intrusion, monsieur! I have explained everything tomadame--and she expects you!" She flitted past him to the door, threw itopen and dropped him a pretty, impertinent curtsy.
"Now, monsieur!" she commanded; and Blake, half amused, half resentful,saw nothing for it but to obey.
He stepped across the threshold; he heard Jacqueline laugh again softlyand close the door; then he stood, a prey to profound trepidation.
He stood for a moment, hesitating between flight and advance, then shameat his weakness forced him to go forward and open the _salon_ door.
As he opened it, another change took place within him; his diffidenceforsook him, his excitement was allayed as, by a restraining hand, hewas dominated by a peculiar clarity of vision.
This accentuated keenness of observation came into action even in amaterial sense; as he passed into the familiar room, each objectappealed to him in its appointed place--in its just and proper value.The quaint odd articles of furniture that he and Max had chosen incompany! The pictures that he had hung upon the white walls at Max'sbidding! The Russian _samovar_, the books, the open cigarette-box, eachof which spoke and breathed of Max!
Every object came to him clearly in the quiet light of the lamp upon thebureau; it seemed like the setting of a play, where the atmosphere hadbeen carefully created, the details definitely woven into a perfectchain.
He stood, looking upon the silent room, wondering what wouldhappen--convinced that something must happen; and at last, with the samequietness--the same intense naturalness, perfect as extreme art--aslight sound came from the balcony and a woman stepped into the subduedlight.
She stepped into the quiet lamplight and paused; and Blake's firstsubconscious feeling was that, miraculously, the empty room had taken onlife and meaning--that this sudden, gracious presence filled andpossessed it absolutely and by right divine.
She seemed very tall as she stood looking down into the room, her richhair crowning her head, her young figure clothed in white and wrapped ina cloak of soft mysterious gray that fell from her shoulders simply, yetwith the dignity of a royal mantle.
She stood for a full minute, looking at him, almost it seemed sharinghis own uncertainty; then, with a little gesture that irresistiblyconjured Max, she stepped into the room--and into his life.
"Monsieur," she said, very softly, "I am the sister of Max; you are hisfriend. It is surely meant that we know each other!"