CHAPTER IX
THE WINNING HAND
But Lydie d'Aumont had not gone five paces before she heard a quick,sharp call, followed by the rustle of silk on the marble floor.
The next moment she felt a firm, hot grip on her wrist, and her lefthand was forcibly drawn away from her face, whilst an eager voicespoke quick, vehement words, the purport of which failed at first toreach her brain.
"You shall not go, Mlle. d'Aumont," were the first coherent wordswhich she seemed to understand--"you cannot--it is not just, not fairuntil you have heard!"
"There is nothing which I need hear," interrupted Lydie coldly, themoment she realized that it was Irene de Saint Romans who wasaddressing her; "and I pray you to let me go."
"Nay! but you shall hear, you must!" rejoined the other withoutreleasing her grasp on the young girl's wrist. Her hand was hot, andher fingers had the strength of intense excitement. Lydie could notfree herself, strive how she might.
"Do you not see that this is most unfair?" continued Irene with greatvolubility. "Am I to be snubbed like some kitchen wench caught kissingbehind doorways? Look at milady Eglinton and her ill-natured sneer.I'll not tolerate it, nor your looks of proud contempt! I'llnot--I'll not! Gaston! Gaston!" she now exclaimed, turning to deStainville, who was standing, silent and sullen, whilst he saw hiswife gradually lashing herself into wrathful agitation at his ownindifference and Lydie's cold disdain. "If you have a spark of courageleft in you, tell that malicious _intrigante_ and this scornful minxthat if I were to spend the whole evening in the boudoir _entete-a-tete_ with you, aye! and behind closed doors if I chose whoshall have a word to say, when I am in the company of my own husband?"
"Your husband!"
The ejaculation came from Lady Eglinton's astonished lips. Lydie hadnot stirred. She did not seem to have heard, and certainly Irene'striumphant announcement left her as cold, as impassive as before. Whatdid it matter, after all, what special form Gaston's lies to her hadassumed? Nothing that he or Irene said or did could add to hisbaseness and infamy.
"Aye, my husband, milady!" continued the other more calmly, as shefinally released Lydie's wrist and cast it, laughing, from her. "I amcalled Mme. la Comtesse de Stainville, and will be called so in thefuture openly. Now you may rejoin your guests, Mlle. d'Aumont; myreputation stands as far beyond reproach as did your own before youspent a mysterious half hour with my husband behind the curtains of analcove."
She turned to de Stainville, who, in spite of his wife's provocativeattitude, had remained silent, cursing the evil fate which had playedhim this trick, cursing the three women who were both the cause andthe witnesses of his discomfiture.
"Your arm, Gaston!" she said peremptorily; "and you, Benedict, callyour master's coach and my chair. Mlle. d'Aumont, your servant. If Ihave been the means of dissipating a happy illusion, you may curse menow, but you will bless me to-morrow. Gaston has been false to you--heis not over true to me--but he is my husband, and as such I must claimhim. For the sake of his schemes, of his ambitions, I kept ourmarriage a secret so that he might rise to higher places than I hadthe power to give him. When your disdainful looks classed me with aflirty kitchen-wench I rebelled at last. I trust that you are proudenough not to vent your disappointment on Gaston; but if you do, 'tisno matter; I'll find means of consoling him."
She made the young girl a low and sweeping curtesy in the mostapproved style demanded by the elabourate etiquette of the time. Therewas a gleam of mocking triumph in her eyes, which she did not attemptto conceal, and which suddenly stung Lydie's pride to the quick.
It is strange indeed that often at a moment when a woman's wholehappiness is destroyed with one blow, when a gigantic cataclysmrevolutionises with one fell swoop her entire mode of thought, dispelsall her dreams and shatters her illusions, it is always the tiny finalpin-prick which causes her the most acute pain and influences thewhole of her subsequent conduct.
It was Irene's mocking curtsey which roused Lydie from her mentaltorpor, because it brought her--as it were--in actual physical contactwith all that she would have to endure openly in the future, as apartfrom the hidden misery of her heart.
Gaston's shamed face was no longer the only image which seared hereyes and brain. The world, her own social world, seemed all at once toreawaken before her. That world would sneer even as Irene deStainville sneered; it would laugh at and enjoy her own discomfiture.She--Lydie d'Aumont--the proud and influential daughter of the PrimeMinister of France, whom flatterers and sycophants approached mentallyon bended knees, for whom suitors hardly dared even to sigh, she hadbeen tricked and fooled like any silly country mouse whose vanity hadled to her own abasement.
Half an hour ago in the fullness of her newly-found happiness she hadflaunted her pride and her love before those who hated and envied her.To-morrow--nay, within an hour--this humiliating scene would be thetalk of Paris and Versailles. Lydie's burning ears seemed even now tohear the Pompadour retailing it with many embellishments, which wouldbring a coarse laugh to the lips of the King and an ill-natured jestto those of her admirers; she could hear the jabbering crowd, couldfeel the looks of compassion or sarcasm aimed at her as soon at thistit-bit of society scandal had been bruited abroad.
The scene itself had become real and vivid to her; the marblecorridor, the flickering candles, the flunkey's impassive face; sheunderstood that the beautiful woman before her was in fact and deedthe wife of Gaston de Stainville. She even contrived to perceive thehumour of Lady Eglinton's completely bewildered expression, the blankastonishment of her round, bulgy eyes, and close to her she saw "lepetit Anglais," self-effaced as usual, and looking almost as guilty,as shamefaced as Gaston.
Lydie turned to him and placed a cool, steady hand upon his sleeve.
"Madame la Comtesse de Stainville," she then said with perfect calm,"I fear me I must beg of your courtesy to tarry awhile longer, whilstI offer you an explanation to which I feel you are entitled. Just nowI was somewhat surprised because your news was sudden--and it is myturn to ask your pardon, although my fault--if fault there be--restson a misapprehension. M. le Comte de Stainville's amours or hismarriage are no concern of mine. True, he begged for my influence andfawned upon my favour just now, for his ambition soared to the post ofHigh Controller of the Finances of France. That appointment rests withthe Duc, my father, who no doubt will bestow it on him whom he thinksmost worthy. But it were not fair to me, if you left me now thinkingthat the announcement of your union with a gentleman whose father wasthe friend of mine could give me aught but pleasure. Permit me tocongratulate you, Madame, on the choice of a lord and master, ahelpmeet no doubt. You are indeed well matched. I am all the moreeager to offer you my good wishes as I have been honoured to-nightwith a proposal which has greatly flattered me. My lord the Marquis ofEglinton has asked me to be his wife!"
Once more she turned her head toward the young Englishman andchallenged a straight look from his eyes. He did not waver and she wassatisfied. Her instinct had not misled her, for he expressed noastonishment, only a sort of dog-like gratitude and joy as, havingreturned her gaze quite firmly, he now slowly raised his arm bringingher hand on a level with his lips.
Lady Eglinton also displayed sufficient presence of mind not to showany surprise. She perhaps alone of all those present fully realizedthat Lydie had been wounded to the innermost depths of her heart, andthat she herself owed her own and her son's present triumph to therevolt of mortified pride.
What Gaston thought and felt exactly it were difficult to say. He heldwomen in such slight esteem, and his own vanity was receiving sosevere a blow, that, no doubt, he preferred to think that Lydie, likehimself, had no power of affection and merely bestowed her heart therewhere self-interest called.
Irene, on the other hand, heaved a sigh of relief; the jealoussuspicions which had embittered the last few days were at lastdispelled. Hers was a simple, shallow nature that did not care to lookbeyond the obvious. She certainly appeared quite pleased at Lydie'sannouncement, and if remorse at
her precipitancy did for one briefsecond mar the fullness of her joy, she quickly cast it from her, nothaving yet had time to understand the future and more seriousconsequences of her impulsive avowal.
She wanted to go up to Lydie and to offer her vapid expressions ofgoodwill, but Gaston, heartily tired of the prolongation of thisscene, dragged her somewhat roughly away.
From the far distance there came the cry of the flunkeys.
"The chair of Mlle. de Saint Romans!"
"The coach of M. le Comte de Stainville!"
M. Benedict, resplendent in purple and white, reappeared at the end ofthe corridor, with Irene's hood and cloak. Gaston, with his wife onhis arm, turned on his heel and quickly walked down the corridor.
Milady, puzzled, bewildered, boundlessly overjoyed yet fearing totrust her luck too far, had just a sufficient modicum of tact left inher to retire discreetly within the boudoir.
Lydie suddenly found herself alone in this wide corridor with the manwhom she had so impulsively dragged into her life. She looked roundher somewhat helplessly, and her eyes encountered those of her futurelord fixed upon hers with that same air of dog-like gentleness whichshe knew so well and which always irritated her.
"Milor," she said very coldly, "I must thank you for your kindcooperation just now. That you expressed neither surprise norresentment does infinite credit to your chivalry."
"If I was a little surprised, Mademoiselle," he said, haltingly, "Iwas too overjoyed to show it, and--and I certainly felt noresentment."
He came a step nearer to her. But for this she was not prepared, anddrew back with a quick movement and a sudden stiffening of her figure.
"I hope you quite understood milor, that there is no desire on my partto hold you to this bond," she said icily. "I am infinitely gratefulto you for the kind way in which you humoured my impulse to-night, andif you will have patience with me but a very little while, I promiseyou that I will find an opportunity for breaking, without too great aloss of dignity, these bonds which already must be very irksome toyou."
"Nay, Mademoiselle," he said gently, "you are under a misapprehension.Believe me, you would find it well-nigh impossible to--to--er--toalter your plans now without loss of dignity, and--er--er--I assureyou that the bonds are not irksome to me."
"You would hold me to this bargain, then?"
"For your sake, Mademoiselle, as well as mine, we must now both beheld to it."
"It seems unfair on you, milor."
"On me, Mademoiselle?"
"Yes, on you," she repeated, with a thought more gentleness in hervoice; "you are young, milor; you are rich--soon you will regret thesense of honour which ties you to a woman who has only yielded herhand to you out of pique! Nay, I'll not deceive you," she addedquickly, noting the sudden quiver of the kind little face at herstinging words. "I have no love for you, milor--all that was young andfresh, womanly and tender in my heart was buried just here to-night."
And with a mournful look she glanced round at the cold marble of thewalls, the open door to that boudoir beyond, the gilded sconces whichsupported the dimly-burning candles. Then, smitten with suddenremorse, she said eagerly, with one of those girlish impulses whichrendered her domineering nature so peculiarly attractive:
"But if I can give you no love, milor, Heaven and my father'sindulgence have given me something which I know men hold far greaterof importance than a woman's heart. I have influence, boundlessinfluence, as you know--the State appointed Controller of Finance willbe the virtual ruler of France, his position will give him powerbeyond the dreams of any man's ambition. My father will gladly givethe post to my husband and--"
But here a somewhat trembling hand was held deprecatingly toward her.
"Mademoiselle, I entreat you," said Lord Eglinton softly, "for thesake of your own dignity and--and mine, do not allow your mind todwell on such matters. Believe me, I am fully conscious of the honourwhich you did me just now in deigning to place your trust in me. ThatI have--have loved you, Mlle. Lydie," he added, with a nervous quiverin his young voice, "ever since I first saw you at this Court I--Icannot deny; but"--and here he spoke more firmly, seeing that onceagain she seemed to draw away from him, to stiffen at his approach,"but that simple and natural fact need not trouble you. I could nothelp loving you, for you are more beautiful than anything on earth,and you cannot deem my adoration an offence, though you are as coldand pure as the goddess of chastity herself. I have seen Catholicskneeling at the shrine of the Virgin Mary; their eyes were fixed up toher radiant image, their lips murmured an invocation or sometimes ahymn of praise. But their hands were clasped together; they never evenraised them once toward that shrine which they had built for her, andfrom which she smiled whilst listening coldly to their prayers. Mlle.d'Aumont, you need have no mistrust of my deep respect for you; youare the Madonna and I the humblest of your worshippers. I am proud tothink that the name I bear will be the shrine wherein your pride willremain enthroned. If you have need of me in the future you mustcommand me, but though the law of France will call me your husband andyour lord, I will be your bondsman and serve you on my knees; andthough my very soul aches for the mere touch of your hand, my lipswill never pollute even the hem of your gown." His trembling voice hadsunk down to a whisper. If she heard or not he could not say. From faraway there came to his ears the tender melancholy drone of theinstruments playing the slow movement of the gavotte. His Madonna hadnot stirred, only her hand which he so longed to touch trembled alittle as she toyed with her fan.
And, like the worshippers at the Virgin's shrine, he bent his knee andknelt at her feet.
PART II
THE STATESMAN
Petticoat Rule Page 9
