Three Weeks Page 6

  CHAPTER VI

  Rain, rain, rain! That was not an agreeable sound to wake to when onehad not had more than a few hours' sleep, and one's only hope of theday was to see one's lady again.

  So Paul thought despairingly. What would happen? No lake, or mountainclimb, was possible--but see her he must. After that kiss--thatdivine, enthralling, undreamed-of kiss. What did it mean? Did shelove him? He loved her, that was certain. The poor feeble emotion hehad experienced for Isabella was completely washed out and gone now.

  He felt horribly ashamed of himself when he thought about it. Hisparents were perfectly right, of course; they had known best, andfortunately Isabella had not perhaps believed him, and was not aperson of deep feeling anyway.

  But the extreme discomfort of the thought of her made him toss in hisbed. What ought he to do? Rush away from Lucerne? To what good? Thedie was cast, and in any case he was not bound to Isabella in anyway. But at least he ought to write to her and tell her he had made amistake. That was the only honest thing to do. A terrible duty, andhe must brace himself up to accomplish it.

  He breakfasted in his sitting-room, his thoughts scourging him thewhile, and afterwards, with a bulldog determination, he faced thewriting-table and began.

  He tore up at least three sheets to start with--no Greek lines ofpunishment in his boyhood had ever appeared such a task as this. Hefound himself scribbling profiles on the paper, chiselled profileswith inky hair--but no words would come.

  "Dear Isabella," he wrote at last. No--"My dear Isabella," then hepaused and bit the pen. "I feel I ought to tell you something hashappened to me. I see my parents were right when--" "Oh! dash it all,"he said to himself, "it's a beastly sneaking thing to do to put itlike that," and he scratched the paragraph out and began again. "Ihave made a mistake in my feelings for you; I know now that they werethose of a brother--" "O Lord, what am I to say next, it does soundbald, this!" The poor boy groaned and ran his hands through his curlyhair, then seized the pen again, and continued--"as such I shall loveyou always, dear Isabella. Please forgive me if I have caused you anypain. It was all my fault, and I feel a beastly cad.--Your veryunhappy PAUL."

  This was not a masterpiece! but it would have to do. So he copied itout on a fresh piece of paper. Then, when it was all finished andaddressed he ran down and posted it himself in the hall, with some ofthe emotions Alexander may have experienced when he burnt his ships.

  The clock struck eleven. At what time would he see thelady--_his_ lady he called her now. Some instinct told him shedid not wish the hotel people to be aware of their acquaintance. Hefelt it wiser not to send a note. He must wait and hope.

  Rain or not, he was too English to stay indoors all day. So out hewent and into the town. The quaint bridge pleased him; he tried tothink how she would have told him to use his eyes. He must not bestupid, he said to himself, and already he began to perceive newmeanings in things. Coming back, he chanced to stop and look in atthe fur shop under the hotel. There were some nice skins there, andwhat caught his attention most was a really splendid tiger. Amagnificent creature the beast must have been. The deepest, mostperfectly marked, largest one he had ever seen. He stood for some timeadmiring it. An infinitely better specimen than his lady had over hercouch. Should he buy it for her? Would she take it? Would it pleaseher to think he had remembered it might be what she would like?

  He went into the shop. It was not even dear as tigers go, and hisparents had given him ample money for any follies.

  "Confound it, Henrietta! The boy must have his head!" Sir CharlesVerdayne had said. "He's my son, you know, and you can't expect tocure him of one wench unless you provide him with shekels to buyanother." Which crudely expressed wisdom had been followed, and Paulhad no worries where his banking account was concerned.

  He bought the tiger, and ordered it to be sent to his roomsimmediately.

  Then there was lunch to be thought of. She would not be thereprobably, but still he had a faint hope.

  She was not there, nor were any preparations made for her; but whenone is twenty-three and hungry, even if deeply in love, one musteat. The English people had the next table beyond the sacred one ofthe lady. The girl was pretty and young, and laughing. But what adoll! thought Paul. What a meaningless wax doll! Not worth--not wortha moment's glancing at.

  And the pink and white fluffy girl was saying to herself: "There isPaul Verdayne again. I wish he remembered he had met me at the DeCourcys', though we weren't introduced. I must get Percy to scrape upa conversation with him. I wish mamma had not made me wear this greenalpaca to-day." But Paul's blue eyes gazed through and beyond her, andsaw her not. So all this prettiness was wasted.

  And directly after lunch he returned to his sitting room. The tigerwould probably have arrived, and he wanted to further examine it. Yes,it was there. He pulled it out and spread it over the floor. What asplendid creature--it reminded him in some way of her--his lady.

  Then he went into his bedroom and fetched a pair of scissors, andproceeded to kneel on the floor and pare away the pinked-out blackcloth which came beyond the skin. It looked banal, and he knew shewould not like that.

  Oh! he was awaking! this beautiful young Paul.

  He had scarcely finished when there was a tap at the door, and Dmitryappeared with a note. The thin, remembered paper thrilled him, and hetook it from the servant's hand.

  "Paul--I am in the devil's mood to-day. About 5 o'clock come to me bythe terrace steps."

  That was all--there was no date or signature. But Paul's heart beatin his throat with joy.

  "I want the skin to go to Madame," he said. "Have you any means ofconveying it to her without the whole world seeing it go?"

  The stately servant bowed. "If the Excellency would help him to foldit up," he said, "he would take it now to his own room, and fromthence to the _appartement numero 3_."

  It is not a very easy thing to fold up a huge tiger-skin into a brownpaper parcel tied with string. But it was accomplished somehow andDmitry disappeared noiselessly with it and an answer to the note:

  "I will be there, sweet lady.

  "Your own PAUL."

  And he was.

  A bright fire burnt in the grate, and some palest orchid-mauve silkcurtains were drawn in the lady's room when Paul entered from theterrace. And loveliest sight of all, in front of the fire, stretchedat full length, was his tiger--and on him--also at fulllength--reclined the lady, garbed in some strange clinging garment ofheavy purple crepe, its hem embroidered with gold, one white armresting on the beast's head, her back supported by a pile of thevelvet cushions, and a heap of rarely bound books at her side, whilebetween her red lips was a rose not redder than they--an almostscarlet rose. Paul had never seen one as red before.

  The whole picture was barbaric. It might have been some painter'sdream of the Favourite in a harem. It was not what one would expect tofind in a sedate Swiss hotel.

  She did not stir as he stepped in, dropping the heavy curtains afterhim. She merely raised her eyes, and looked Paul through and through.Her whole expression was changed; it was wicked and dangerous and_provocante_. It seemed quite true, as she had said--she wasevidently in the devil's mood.

  Paul bounded forward, but she raised one hand to stop him.

  "No! you must not come near me, Paul. I am not safe to-day. Notyet. See, you must sit there and we will talk."

  And she pointed to a great chair of Venetian workmanship and wonderfulold velvet which was new to his view.

  "I bought that chair in the town this morning at the curiosity shop onthe top of Weggisstrasse, which long ago was the home of the Venetianenvoy here--and you bought me the tiger, Paul. Ah! that was good. Mybeautiful tiger!" And she gave a movement like a snake, of joy to feelits fur under her, while she stretched out her hands and caressed thecreature where the hair turned white and black at the side, and wasdeep and soft.

  "Beautiful one! beautiful one!" she purred. "And I know all yourfeelings and your passions, and now I have got your skin--for the joy
of my skin!" And she quivered again with the movements of a snake.

  It is not difficult to imagine that Paul felt far from calm duringthis scene--indeed he was obliged to hold on to his great chair toprevent himself from seizing her in his arms.

  "I'm--I'm so glad you like him," he said in a choked voice. "I thoughtprobably you would. And your own was not worthy of you. I found thisby chance. And oh! good God! if you knew how you are making mefeel--lying there wasting your caresses upon it!"

  She tossed the scarlet rose over to him; it hit his mouth.

  "I am not wasting them," she said, the innocence of a kitten in herstrange eyes--their colour impossible to define to-day. "Indeed not,Paul! He was my lover in another life--perhaps--who knows?"

  "But I," said Paul, who was now quite mad, "want to be your lover inthis!"

  Then he gasped at his own boldness.

  With a lightning movement she lay on her face, raised her elbows onthe tiger's head, and supported her chin in her hands. Perfectlystraight out her body was, the twisted purple drapery outlining herperfect shape, and flowing in graceful lines beyond--like a serpent'stail. The velvet pillows fell scattered at one side.

  "Paul--what do you know of lovers--or love?" she said. "My baby Paul!"

  "I know enough to know I know nothing yet which is worth knowing," hesaid confusedly. "But--but--don't you understand, I want you to teachme--"

  "You are so sweet, Paul! when you plead like that I am taking in everybit of you. In your way as perfect as this tiger. But we musttalk--oh! such a great, great deal--first."

  A rage of passion was racing through Paul, his incoherent thoughtswere that he did not want to talk--only to kiss her--to devour her--tostrangle her with love if necessary.

  He bit the rose.

  "You see, Paul, love is a purely physical emotion," she continued. "Wecould speak an immense amount about souls, and sympathy, andunderstanding, and devotion. All beautiful things in their way, andpossible to be enjoyed at a distance from one another. All the thingswhich make passion noble--but without love--which _is_ passion--thesethings dwindle and become duties presently, when the hystericalexaltation cools. Love is _tangible_--it means to be close--close--tobe clasped--to be touching--to be One!"

  Her voice was low--so concentrated as to be startling in contrast tothe drip of the rain outside, and her eyes--half closed andgleaming--burnt into his brain. It seemed as if strange flames ofgreen darted from their pupils.

  "But that is what I want!" Paul said, unsteadily.

  "Without counting the cost? Tears and--cold steel--and blood!" shewhispered. "Wait a while, beautiful Paul!"

  He started back chilled for a second, and in that second she changedher position, pulling the cushions around her, nestling into them anddrawing herself cosily up like a child playing on a mat in front ofthe fire, while with a face of perfect innocence she looked up as shedrew one of her great books nearer, and said in a dreamy voice:

  "Now we will read fairy-tales, Paul."

  But Paul was too moved to speak. These rapid changes were too much forhim, greatly advanced though he had become in these short days sincehe had known her. He leant back in his chair, every nerve in his bodyquivering, his young fresh face almost pale.

  "Paul," she cooed plaintively, "to-morrow I shall be reasonable again,perhaps, and human, but to-day I am capricious and wayward, andmustn't be teased. I want to read about Cupid and Psyche from thiswonderful 'Golden Ass' of Apuleius--just a simple tale for a wetday--and you and--me!"

  "Read then!" said Paul, resigned.

  And she commenced in Latin, in a chanting, tender voice. Paul hadforgotten most of the Latin he knew, but he remembered enough to beaware that this must be as easy as English to her as it flowed alongin a rich rhythmic sound.

  It soothed him. He seemed to be dreaming of flowery lands and runningstreams. After a while she looked up again, and then with one of hersudden movements like a graceful cat, she was beside him leaning fromthe back of his chair.

  "Paul!" she whispered right in his ear, "am I being wicked for youto-day? I cannot help it. The devil is in me--and now I must sing."

  "Sing then!" said Paul, maddened with again arising emotion.

  She seized a guitar that lay near, and began in a soft voice in somelanguage he knew not--a cadence of melody he had never heard, but onewhose notes made strange quivers all up his spine. An exquisitepleasure of sound that was almost pain. And when he felt he could bearno more, she flung the instrument aside, and leant over his chairagain--caressing his curls with her dainty fingers, and purringunknown strange words in his ear.

  Paul was young and unlearned in many things. He was completelyenthralled and under her dominion--but he was naturally no weakling ofbody or mind. And this was more than he could stand.

  "_You_ mustn't be teased. My God! it is you who are maddeningme!" he cried, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Do you think I am astatue, or a table, or chair--or inanimate like that tiger there? I amnot, I tell you!" and he seized her in his arms, raining kisses uponher which, whatever they lacked in subtlety, made up for in theirpassion and strength. "Some day some man will kill you, I suppose, butI shall be your lover--first!"

  The lady gasped. She looked up at him in bewildered surprise, as achild might do who sets a light to a whole box of matches inplay. What a naughty, naughty toy to burn so quickly for such a littlestrike!

  But Paul's young, strong arms held her close, she could not struggleor move. Then she laughed a laugh of pure glad joy.

  "Beautiful, savage Paul," she whispered. "Do you love me? Tell methat?"

  "Love you!" he said. "Good God! Love you! Madly, and you know it,darling Queen."

  "Then," said the lady in a voice in which all the caresses of theworld seemed melted, "then, sweet Paul, I shall teach you many things,and among them I shall teach you how--to--LIVE."

  And outside the black storm made the darkness fall early. And insidethe half-burnt logs tumbled together, causing a cloud of goldensparks, and then the flames leapt up again and crackled in the grate.