The Diva's Ruby Read online

  CHAPTER V

  Mr. Van Torp knew no more about Bayreuth than about Samarkand, beyondthe fact that at certain stated times performances of Wagner's operaswere given there with as much solemnity as great religious festivals,and that musical people spoke of the Bayreuth season in a curiouslyreverent manner. He would have been much surprised if any one had toldhim that he often whistled fragments of _Parsifal_ to himself andliked the sound of them; for he had a natural ear and a good memory,and had whistled remarkably well when he was a boy.

  The truth about this seemingly impossible circumstance was really verysimple. In what he called his cow-punching days, he had been for sixmonths in company with two young men who used to whistle softlytogether by the hour beside the camp fire, and none of the other'boys' had ever heard the strange tunes they seemed to like best, butVan Torp had caught and remembered many fragments, almostunconsciously, and he whistled them to himself because they gave him asensation which no 'real music' ever did. Extraordinary natures, likehis, are often endowed with unnoticed gifts and tastes quite unlikethose of most people. No one knew anything about the young men whowhistled Wagner; the 'Lost Legion' hides many secrets, and the twowere not popular with the rest, though they knew their business anddid their work fairly well. One of them was afterwards said to havebeen killed in a shooting affray and the other had disappeared aboutthe same time, no one knew how, or cared, though Mr. Van Torp thoughthe had recognised him once many years later. They were neitherAmericans nor Englishmen, though they both spoke English well, andnever were heard to use any other language. But that is common enoughwith emigrants to the United States and elsewhere. Every one who hasbeen to sea in an American vessel knows how the Scandinavian sailorsinsist on speaking English amongst themselves, instead of their ownlanguage.

  Mr. Van Torp was fond of music, quite apart from his admiration forthe greatest living lyric soprano, and since it was his fancy to go toBayreuth in the hope of seeing her, he meant to hear Wagner'smasterpiece, and supposed that there would not be any difficulty aboutsuch a simple matter, nor about obtaining the sort of rooms he wasaccustomed to, in the sort of hotel he expected to find where so manyrich people went every other year. Any one who has been to the holyplace of the Wagnerians can imagine his surprise when, after infinitedifficulty, he found himself, his belongings and his man deposited inone small attic room of a Bavarian tanner's house, with onefeather-bed, one basin and one towel for furniture.

  'Stemp,' said Mr. Van Torp, 'this is a heathen town.'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'I suppose I'm thought close about money,' continued the millionaire,thinking aloud, 'but I call five dollars a day dear, for this room,don't you?'

  'Yes, sir, I do indeed! I call it downright robbery. That's what Icall it, sir.'

  'Well, I suppose they call it business here, and quite a good businesstoo. But I'd like to buy the whole thing and show 'em how to run it.They'd make more in the end.'

  'Yes, sir. I hope you will, sir. Beg pardon, sir, but do you think itwould cost a great deal?'

  'They'd ask a great deal, anyway,' answered the millionairethoughtfully. 'Stemp, suppose you get me out some things and then takea look around, while I try to get a wash in that--that tea-servicethere.'

  Mr. Van Torp eyed the exiguous basin and jug with some curiosity andmuch contempt. Stemp, impassive and correct under all circumstances,unstrapped a valise, laid out on the bed what his master might need,and inquired if he wished anything else.

  'There isn't anything else,' answered Mr. Van Torp, gloomily.

  'When shall I come back, sir?'

  'In twenty-five minutes. There isn't half an hour's wash in thatsoup-plate, anyway.'

  He eyed the wretched basin with a glance that might almost havecracked it. When his man had gone, he proceeded to his toilet, such asit was, and solaced himself by softly whistling as much of the 'GoodFriday' music as he remembered, little dreaming what it was, or thathis performance was followed with nervous and almost feverish interestby the occupant of the next room in the attic, a poor musician who hadsaved and scraped for years to sit at the musical feast during threedays.

  'E sharp!' cried an agonised voice on the other side of the closeddoor, in a strong German accent. 'I know it is E sharp! I know it!'

  Mr. Van Torp stopped whistling at once, lowered his razor, and turneda mask of soapsuds in the direction whence the sound came.

  'Do you mean me?' he inquired in a displeased tone.

  'I mean who whistles the "Good Friday" music,' answered the voice. 'Itell you, I know it is E sharp in that place. I have the score. Ishall show you if you believe not.'

  'He's mad,' observed Mr. Van Torp, beginning to shave again. 'Are youa lunatic?' he asked, pausing after a moment. 'What's the matter withyou anyhow?'

  'I am a musician, I tell you! I am a pianist!'

  'It's the same thing,' said Mr. Van Torp, working carefully on hisupper lip, under his right nostril.

  'I shall tell you that you are a barbarian!' retorted the voice.

  'Well, that doesn't hurt,' answered Mr. Van Torp.

  He heard a sort of snort of scorn on the other side and there wassilence again. But before long, as he got away from his upper lip withthe razor, he unconsciously began to whistle again, and he must havemade the same mistake as before, for he was interrupted by a deepgroan of pain from the next room.

  'Not feeling very well?' he inquired in a tone of dry jocularity.'Stomach upset?'

  'E sharp!' screamed the wretched pianist.

  Van Torp could hear him dancing with rage, or pain.

  'See here, whoever you are, don't call names! I don't like it. See?I've paid for this room and I'm going on whistling if I like, and justas long as I like.'

  'You say you make noises you like?' cried the infuriated musician.'Oh, no! You shall not! There are rules! We are not in London, sir, weare in Bayreuth! If you make noises, you shall be thrown out of thehouse.'

  'Shall I? Well, now, that's a funny sort of a rule for a hotel, isn'tit?'

  'I go complain of you,' retorted the other, and Mr. Van Torp heard adoor opened and shut again.

  In a few minutes he had done all that the conditions would permit inthe way of making himself presentable, and just as he left the room hewas met by Stemp, the twenty-five minutes being just over.

  'Very good, sir. I'll do what I can, sir,' said the excellent man, asMr. Van Torp pointed to the things that lay about.

  As he went out, he recognised the voice of his neighbour, who wastalking excitedly in voluble German, somewhere at the back of thehouse.

  'He's complaining now,' thought Mr. Van Torp, with something like asmile.

  He had already been to the best hotel, in the hope of obtaining rooms,and he had no difficulty in finding it again. He asked for Madame daCordova. She was at home, for it was an off-day; he sent in his card,and was presently led to her sitting-room. Times had changed. Sixmonths earlier he would have been told that there had been a mistakeand that she had gone out.

  She was alone; a letter she had been writing lay unfinished on thequeer little desk near the shaded window, and her pen had fallenacross the paper. On the round table in the middle of the small bareroom there stood a plain white vase full of corn-flowers and poppies,and Margaret was standing there, rearranging them, or pretending to doso.

  She was looking her very best, and as she raised her eyes and greetedhim with a friendly smile, Mr. Van Torp thought she had never been sohandsome before. It had not yet occurred to him to compare her withLady Maud, because for some mysterious natural cause the beautifulEnglishwoman who was his best friend had never exerted even theslightest feminine influence on his being; he would have carried herin his arms, if need had been, as he had carried the Tartar girl, andnot a thrill of his nerves nor one faster beat of his heart would havedisturbed his placidity; she knew it, as women know such things, andthe knowledge made her quite sure that he was not really thecoarse-grained and rather animal son of nature that many people saidhe was, the sort
of man to whom any one good-looking woman is much thesame as another, a little more amusing than good food, a little lesssatisfactory than good wine.

  But the handsome singer stirred his blood, the touch of her handelectrified him, and the mere thought that any other man should evermake her his own was unbearable. After he had first met her he hadpursued her with such pertinacity and such utter ignorance of women'sways that he had frightened her, and she had frankly detested him fora time; but he had learned a lesson and he profited by it with thatastounding adaptability which makes American men and women just whatthey are.

  Margaret held out her hand and he took it; and though its touch andher friendly smile were like a taste of heaven just then, he pressedher fingers neither too much nor too little, and his face betrayed noemotion.

  'It's very kind of you to receive me, Miss Donne,' he said quietly.

  'I think it's very kind of you to come and see me,' Margaret answered.'Come and sit down and tell me how you got here--and why!'

  'Well,' he answered slowly, as they seated themselves side by side onthe hard green sofa, 'I don't suppose I can explain, so that you'llunderstand, but I'll try. Different kinds of things brought me. Iheard you were here from Lady Maud, and I thought perhaps I might havean opportunity for a little talk. And then--oh, I don't know. I'veseen everything worth seeing except a battle and _Parsifal_, and as itseemed so easy, and you were here, I thought I'd have a look at theopera, since I can't see the fight.'

  Margaret laughed a little.

  'I hope you will like it,' she said. 'Have you a good seat?'

  'I haven't got a ticket yet,' answered Mr. Van Torp, in blissfulignorance.

  'No seat!' The Primadonna's surprise was almost dramatic. 'But how inthe world do you expect to get one now? Don't you know that the seatsfor _Parsifal_ are all taken months beforehand?'

  'Are they really?' He was very calm about it. 'Then I suppose I shallhave to get a ticket from a speculator. I don't see anything hardabout that.'

  'My dear friend, there are no speculators here, and there are notickets to be had. You might as well ask for the moon!'

  'I can stand, then. I'm not afraid of getting tired.'

  'There are no standing places at all! No one is allowed to go in whohas not a seat. A week ago you might possibly have picked up one inMunich, given up by some one at the last moment, but such chances arejumped at! I wonder that you even got a place to sleep!'

  'Well, it's not much of a place,' said Mr. Van Torp, thoughtfully.'There's one room the size of a horsebox, one bed, one basin, onepitcher and one towel, and I've brought my valet with me. I'veconcluded to let him sleep while I'm at the opera, and he'll sit upwhen I want to go to bed. Box and Cox. I don't know what he'll sit on,for there's no chair, but he's got to sit.'

  Margaret laughed, for he amused her.

  'I suppose you're exaggerating a little bit,' she said. 'It's notreally quite so bad as that, is it?'

  'It's worse. There's a lunatic in the next room who calls me E. Sharpthrough the door, and has lodged a complaint already because Iwhistled while I was shaving. It's not a very good hotel. Who is E.Sharp, anyway? Maybe that was the name of the last man who occupiedthat room. I don't know, but I don't like the idea of having a madGerman pianist for a neighbour. He may get in while I'm asleep andthink I'm the piano, and hammer the life out of me, the way they do.I've seen a perfectly new piano wrecked in a single concert by afellow who didn't look as if he had the strength to kick a mosquito.They're so deceptive, pianists! Nervous men are often like that, andmost pianists are nothing but nerves and hair.'

  He amused her, for she had never seen him in his present mood.

  'E sharp is a note,' she said. 'On the piano it's the same as Fnatural. You must have been whistling something your neighbour knew,and you made a mistake, and nervous musicians really suffer if onedoes that. But it must have been something rather complicated, to havean E sharp in it! It wasn't "Suwanee River," nor the "Washington Post"either! Indeed I should rather like to know what it was.'

  'Old tunes I picked up when I was cow-punching, years ago,' answeredMr. Van Torp. 'I don't know where they came from, for I never asked,but they're not like other tunes, that's certain, and I like them.They remind me of the old days out West, when I had no money andnothing to worry about.'

  'I'm very fond of whistling, too,' Margaret said. 'I study all myparts by whistling them, so as to save my voice.'

  'Really! I had no idea that was possible.'

  'Quite. Perhaps you whistle very well. Won't you let me hear the tunethat irritated your neighbour the pianist? Perhaps I know it, too.'

  'Well,' said Mr. Van Torp, 'I suppose I could. I should be a littleshy before you,' he added, quite naturally. 'If you'll excuse me, I'lljust go and stand before the window so that I can't see you. Perhaps Ican manage it that way.'

  Margaret, who was bored to the verge of collapse on the off-days,thought him much nicer than he had formerly been, and she liked hisperfect simplicity.

  'Stand anywhere you like,' she said, 'but let me hear the tune.'

  Van Torp rose and went to the window and she looked quietly at hissquare figure and his massive, sandy head and his strong neck.Presently he began to whistle, very softly and perfectly in tune. Manya street-boy could do as well, no doubt, and Mrs. Rushmore would havecalled it a vulgar accomplishment, but the magnificent Primadonna wastoo true a musician, as well as a singer, not to take pleasure in asweet sound, even if it were produced by a street-boy.

  But as Mr. Van Torp went on, she opened her eyes very wide and heldher breath. There was no mistake about it; he was whistling longpieces from _Parsifal_, as far as it was possible to convey an idea ofsuch music by such means. Margaret had studied it before coming toBayreuth, in order to understand it better; she had now already heardit once, and had felt the greatest musical emotion of her life--onethat had stirred other emotions, too, strange ones quite new to her.

  She held her breath and listened, and her eyes that had been wide openin astonishment, slowly closed again in pleasure, and presently, whenhe reached the 'Good Friday' music, her own matchless voice floatedout with her unconscious breath, in such perfect octaves with his highwhistling that at first he did not understand; but when he did, therough hard man shivered suddenly and steadied himself against thewindow-sill, and Margaret's voice went on alone, with faintly breathedwords and then without them, following the instrumentation to the endof the scene, beyond what he had ever heard.

  Then there was silence in the room, and neither of the two moved forsome moments, but at last Van Torp turned, and came back.

  'Thank you,' he said, in a low voice.

  Margaret smiled and passed her hand over her eyes quickly, as if todispel a vision she had seen. Then she spoke.

  'Do you really not know what that music is?' she asked. 'Really,really?'

  'Oh, quite honestly I don't!'

  'You're not joking? You're not laughing at me?'

  'I?' He could not understand. 'I shouldn't dare!' he said.

  'You've been whistling some of _Parsifal_, some of the most beautifulmusic that ever was written--and you whistle marvellously, for it'sanything but easy! Where in the world did you learn it? Don't tell methat those are "old tunes" you picked up on a Californian ranch!'

  'It's true, all the same,' Van Torp answered.

  He told her of the two foreigners who used to whistle together in theevenings, and how one was supposed to have been shot and the other haddisappeared, no one had known whither, nor had cared.

  'All sorts of young fellows used to drift out there,' he said, 'andone couldn't tell where they came from, though I can give a guess atwhere some of them must have been, since I've seen the world. Therewere younger sons of English gentlemen, fellows whose fathers weregenuine lords, maybe, who had not brains enough to get into the armyor the Church. There were cashiered Prussian officers, and Frenchmenwho had most likely killed women out of jealousy, and Sicilianbandits, and broken Society men from New York. Ther
e were all sorts.And there was me. And we all spoke different kinds of English and haddifferent kinds of tastes, good and bad--mostly bad. There was onlyone thing we could all do alike, and that was to ride.'

  'I never thought of you as riding,' Margaret said.

  'Well, why should you? But I can, because I was just a common cow-boyand had to, for a living.'

  'It's intensely interesting--what a strange life you have had! Tell memore about yourself, won't you?'

  'There's not much to tell, it seems to me,' said Van Torp. 'From beinga cow-boy I turned into a miner, and struck a little silver, and Isold that and got into nickel, and I made the Nickel Trust what it is,more by financing it than anything else, and I got almost all of it.And now I've sold the whole thing.'

  'Sold the Nickel Trust?' Margaret was quite as much surprised as LadyMaud had been.

  'Yes. I wasn't made to do one thing long, I suppose. If I were, Ishould still be a cow-boy. Just now, I'm here to go to _Parsifal_, andsince you say those tunes are out of that opera, I daresay I'm goingto like it very much.'

  'It's all very uncanny,' Margaret said thoughtfully. 'I wonder whothose two men were, and what became of the one who disappeared.'

  'I've a strong impression that I saw him in New York the other day,'Van Torp answered. 'If I'm right, he's made money--doing quite well, Ishould think. It wouldn't surprise me to hear he'd got together amillion or so.'

  'Really? What is he doing? Your stories grow more and moreinteresting!'

  'If he's the fellow we used to call Levi Longlegs on the ranch, he's aRussian now. I'm not perfectly sure, for he had no hair on his facethen, and now he has a beard like a French sapper. But the eyes andthe nose and the voice and the accent are the same, and the age wouldabout correspond. Handsome man, I suppose you'd call him. His name isKralinsky just at present, and he's found a whole mine of rubiessomewhere.'

  'Really? I love rubies. They are my favourite stones.'

  'Are they? That's funny. I've got an uncut one in my pocket now, ifyou'd like to see it. I believe it comes from Kralinsky's mine, too,though I got it through a friend of yours, two or three days ago.'

  'A friend of mine?'

  He was poking his large fingers into one of the pockets of hiswaistcoat in search of the stone.

  'Mr. Logotheti,' he said, just as he found it. 'He's discovered ahandsome young woman from Tartary or somewhere, who has a few rubiesto sell that look very much like Kralinsky's. This is one of them.'

  He had unwrapped the stone now and he offered it to her, holding itout in the palm of his hand. She took it delicately and laid it in herown, which was so white that the gem shed a delicatepomegranate-coloured light on the skin all round it. She admired it,turned it over with one finger, held it up towards the window, andlaid it in her palm again.

  But Van Torp had set her thinking about Logotheti and the Tartar girl.She put out her hand to give back the ruby.

  'I should like you to keep it, if you will,' he said. 'I shan't forgetthe pleasure I've had in seeing you like this, but you'll forget allabout our meeting here--the stone may just make you remember itsometimes.'

  He spoke so quietly, so gently, that she was taken off her guard, andwas touched, and very much surprised to feel that she was. She lookedinto his eyes rather cautiously, remembering well how she hadformerly seen something terrifying in them if she looked an instanttoo long; but now they made her think of the eyes of a largeaffectionate bulldog.

  'You're very kind to want to give it to me,' she answered after amoment's hesitation, 'but I don't like to accept anything so valuable,now that I'm engaged to be married. Konstantin might not like it. Butyou're so kind; give me any little thing of no value that you have inyour pocket, for I mean to remember this day, indeed I do!'

  'I gave nothing for the ruby,' said Van Torp, still not taking it fromher, 'so it has no value for me. I wouldn't offer you anything thatcost me money, now, unless it was a theatre for your own. Perhaps thething's glass, after all; I've not shown it to any jeweller. The girlmade me take it, because I helped her in a sort of way. When I wantedto pay for it she tried to throw it out of the window. So I had toaccept it to calm her down, and she went off and left no address, andI thought I'd like you to have it, if you would.'

  'Are you quite, quite sure you did not pay for it?' Margaret asked.'If we are going to be friends, you must please always be veryaccurate.'

  'I've told you exactly what happened,' said Van Torp. 'Won't you takeit now?'

  'Yes, I will, and thank you very much indeed. I love rubies, and thisis a beauty, and not preposterously big. I think I shall have it setas it is, uncut, and only polished, so that it will always be itself,just as you gave it to me. I shall think of the "Good Friday" musicand the Chimes, and this hideous little room, and your cleverwhistling, whenever I look at it.'

  'You're kind to-day,' said Mr. Van Torp, after a moment's debate as towhether he should say anything at all.

  'Am I? You mean that I used to be very disagreeable, don't you?' Shesmiled as she glanced at him. 'I must have been, I'm sure, for youused to frighten me ever so much. But I'm not in the least afraid ofyou now!'

  'Why should any one be afraid of me?' asked Van Torp, whose mere smilehad been known to terrify Wall Street when a 'drop' was expected.

  Margaret laughed a little, without looking at him.

  'Tell me all about the Tartar girl,' she said, instead of answeringhis question.

  She would not have been the thoroughly feminine woman she was--farmore feminine, in the simple human sense, than Lady Maud--if she hadnot felt satisfaction in having tamed the formidable money-wolf sothat he fawned at her feet; but perhaps she was even more pleased, oramused, than she thought she could be by any such success. The man wasso very much stronger and rougher than any other man with whom she hadever been acquainted, and she had once believed him to be such athorough brute, that this final conquest flattered her vanity. Themore dangerous the character of the wild beast, the greater the meritof the lion-tamer who subdues him.

  'Tell me about this handsome Tartar girl,' she said again.

  Van Torp told her Baraka's history, as far as he knew it fromLogotheti.

  'I never heard such an amusing set of stories as you are telling meto-day,' she said.

  'That particular one is Logotheti's,' he answered, 'and he canprobably tell you much more about the girl.'

  'Is she really very pretty?' Margaret asked.

  'Well,' said Van Torp, quoting a saying of his favourite great man,'for people who like that kind of thing, I should think that would bethe kind of thing they'd like.'

  The Primadonna smiled.

  'Can you describe her?' she asked.

  'Did you ever read a fairy story about a mouse that could turn into atiger when it liked?' inquired the American in a tone of profoundmeditation, as if he were contemplating a vision which Margaret couldnot see.

  'No,' said she, 'I never did.'

  'I don't think I ever did, either. But there might be a fairy storyabout that, mightn't there?' Margaret nodded, with an expression ofdispleased interest, and he went on: 'Well, it describes Miss Barrackto a T. Yes, that's what I call her. She's put "Barak" on her businesscard, whatever that means in a Christian language; but when I foundout it was a girl, I christened her Miss Barrack. People have to havenames of some kind if you're going to talk about them. But that's adigression. Pardon me. You'd like a description of the young person.I'm just thinking.'

  'How did you find out she was a girl?' Margaret asked, and her tonewas suddenly hard.

  Mr. Van Torp was not prepared for the question, and felt veryuncomfortable for a moment. In his conversation with women he wasalmost morbidly prudish about everything which had the remotestconnexion with sex. He wondered how he could convey to Margaret theinformation that when he had been obliged to carry the pretended boyacross the room, he had been instantly and palpably convinced that hewas carrying a girl.

  'It was a question of form, you see,' he said awkwardly.
<
br />   'Form? Formality? I don't understand.' Margaret was really puzzled.

  'No, no!' Mr. Van Torp was actually blushing. 'I mean his form--or herform----'

  'Oh, her figure? You merely guessed it was a girl in boy's clothes?'

  'Certainly. Yes. Only, you see, he had a kind of fit--the boy did--andI thought he was going to faint, so I picked him up and carried him toa sofa, and--well, you understand, Miss Donne. I knew I hadn't got aboy in my arms, that's all.'

  'I should think so!' assented the Englishwoman--'I'm sure I should!When you found out she was a girl, how did she strike you?'

  'Very attractive, I should say; very attractive,' he repeated withmore emphasis. 'People who admire brunettes might think her quitefascinating. She has really extraordinary eyes, to begin with, thoselong fruity Eastern eyes, you know, that can look so far to the rightand left through their eyelashes. Do you know what I mean?'

  'Perfectly. You make it very clear. Go on, please.'

  'Her eyes--yes.' Mr. Van Torp appeared to be thinking again. 'Well,there was her complexion, too. It's first-rate for a dark girl. Everbeen in a first-class dairy? Do you know the colour of Alderney creamwhen it's ready to be skimmed? Her complexion's just like that, andwhen she's angry, it's as if you squeezed the juice of about one redcurrant into the whole pan of cream. Not more than one, I shouldthink. See what I mean?'

  'Yes. She must be awfully pretty. Tell me more. Has she nice hair?Even teeth?'

  'I should think she had!' answered Mr. Van Torp, with even moreenthusiasm than he had shown yet. 'They're as small and even and whiteas if somebody had gone to work and carved them all around half a newbilliard ball, not separate, you understand, but all in one piece.Very pretty mouth they make, with those rather broiled-salmon-colouredlips she has, and a little chin that points up, as if she could holdher own. She can, too. Her hair? Well, you see, she's cut it short, tobe a boy, but it's as thick as a beaver's fur, I should say, andpretty black. It's a silky kind of hair, that looks alive. You knowwhat I mean, I daresay. Some brunettes' hair looks coarse and dusky,like horsehair, but hers isn't that kind, and it makes a sort ofreflection in the sun, the way a young raven's wing-feathers do, ifyou understand.'

  'You're describing a raving beauty, it seems to me.'

  'Oh, no,' said the American innocently. 'Now if our friend Griggs, thenovelist, were here, he'd find all the right words and things, but Ican only tell you just what I saw.'

  'You tell it uncommonly well!' Margaret's face expressed anything butpleasure. 'Is she tall?'

  'It's hard to tell, in men's clothes. Three inches shorter than I am,maybe. I'm a middle-sized man, I suppose. I used to be five feet tenin my shoes. She may be five feet seven, not more.'

  'But that's tall for a woman!'

  'Is it?' Mr. Van Torp's tone expressed an innocent indifference.

  'Yes. Has she nice hands?'

  'I didn't notice her hands. Oh, yes, I remember!' he exclaimed,suddenly correcting himself. 'I did notice them. She held up that rubyto the light and I happened to look at her fingers. Small, well-shapedfingers, tapering nicely, but with a sort of firm look about them thatyou don't often see in a woman's hands. You've got it, too.'

  'Have I?' Margaret looked down at her right hand. 'But, of course,hers are smaller than mine,' she said.

  'Well, you see, Orientals almost all have very small hands andfeet--too small, I call them--little tiny feet like mice.'

  Margaret's own were well-shaped, but by no means small.

  'The girl is in London, you say?' Her tone made a question of thestatement.

  'She was there two days ago, when I left. At least, she had been tosee me that very morning. Almost as soon as she was gone I went out,and in the first shop I looked into I met Logotheti. It was Pinney's,the jeweller's, I remember, for I bought a collar stud. We came awaytogether and walked some time, and he told me the Tartar girl's story.I asked him to dine to-day, but I was obliged to leave town suddenly,and so I had to put him off with a note. I daresay he's still inLondon.'

  'I daresay he is,' Margaret repeated, and rising suddenly she went tothe window.

  Mr. Van Torp rose too, and thought of what he should say in taking hisleave of her, for he felt that he had stayed long enough. Strange tosay, too, he was examining his not very sensitive conscience toascertain whether he had said anything not strictly true, but heeasily satisfied himself that he had not. If all was fair in love andwar, as the proverb said, it was certainly permissible to make use ofthe plain truth.

  The Primadonna was still looking out of the window when the dooropened and her English maid appeared on the threshold. Margaret turnedat the sound.

  'What is it?' she asked quietly.

  'There's Mr. Van Torp's man, ma'am,' answered Potts. 'He wants tospeak to his master at once.'

  'You had better tell him to come up,' Margaret answered. 'You may justas well see him here without going all the way downstairs,' she said,speaking to Van Torp.

  'You're very kind, I'm sure,' he replied; 'but I think I'd better begoing anyway.'

  'No, don't go yet, please! There's something else I want to say. Seeyour man here while I go and speak to Mrs. Rushmore. Send Mr. VanTorp's man up, Potts,' she added, and left the room.

  The American walked up and down alone for a few moments. Then theimpassive Stemp was ushered in by the maid, and the door was shutagain.

  'Well?' inquired Mr. Van Torp. 'Has anything happened?'

  'Yes, sir,' Stemp answered. 'They have turned us out of the house,sir, and your luggage is in the street. Where shall I have it taken,sir?'

  'Oh, they've turned us out, have they? Why?'

  'Well, sir, I'm afraid it's partly my fault, but there must be somemisunderstanding, for I'm quite sure I didn't whistle in your room,sir.'

  'So am I, Stemp. Quite sure. Go on. What happened?'

  'Well, sir, you hadn't been gone more than ten minutes when somebodyknocked, and there was the landlord, if that's what he calls himself,and a strange German gentleman with him, who spoke English. Rathershabby-looking, sir, I thought him. He spoke most uncivilly, and saidI was driving him half crazy with my whistling. I said I hadn'twhistled, and he said I had, and the landlord talked German at me, asit were, sir. I said again I hadn't whistled, and he said I had, theshabby gentleman, I mean, speaking most uncivilly, sir, I assure you.So when I saw that they doubted my word, I put them out and fastenedthe door, thinking this was what you would have ordered, sir, if you'dbeen there yourself, but I'm afraid I did wrong.'

  'No, Stemp. You didn't do wrong.'

  'Thank you, sir.'

  'I suppose, though, that when you put them out they didn't exactlywant to go, did they?'

  'No, sir, but I had no trouble with them.'

  'Any heads broken?'

  'No, sir, I was careful of that. I sent the landlord downstairs first,as he was a fat man and not likely to hurt himself, and the shabbygentleman went down on top of him quite comfortably, so he did nothurt himself either. I was very careful, sir, being in a foreigncountry.'

  'What happened next? They didn't come upstairs again and throw youout, I suppose.'

  'No, sir. They went and got two of these German policemen with swords,and broke into the room, and told me we must move at once. I didn'tlike to resist the police, sir. It's sometimes serious. The Germangentleman wanted them to arrest me, so I offered to pay any fine therewas for having been hasty, and we settled for two sovereigns, which Ithought dear, sir, and I'd have gone to the police station rather thanpay it, only I knew you'd need my services in this heathen town, sir.I'm highly relieved to know that you approve of that, sir. But theysaid we must turn out directly, just the same, so I re-packed yourthings and got a porter, and he's standing over the luggage in thestreet, waiting for orders.'

  'Stemp,' said Mr. Van Torp, 'I'd been whistling myself, before youcame in, and the lunatic in the next room had already been fussingabout it. It's my fault.'

  'Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.'

  'And it wil
l be my fault if we have to sleep in a cab to-night.'

  The door opened while he was speaking, and Margaret heard the lastwords as she entered the room.

  'I'm sorry,' she said, 'I thought you had finished. I could not helphearing what you said about sleeping in a cab. That's nonsense, youknow.'

  'Well,' said Mr. Van Torp, 'they've just turned us out of the one roomwe had because I whistled _Parsifal_ out of tune.'

  'You didn't whistle it out of tune,' Margaret answered, to Stemp'sgreat but well-concealed astonishment. 'I know better. Please haveyour things brought here at once.'

  'Here?' repeated Mr. Van Torp, surprised in his turn.

  'Yes,' she answered, in a tone that forestalled contradiction. 'Ifnothing else can be had you shall have this room. I can do withoutit.'

  'You're kindness itself, but I couldn't do that,' said Mr. Van Torp.'Bring our things to this hotel, anyway, Stemp, and we'll see whathappens.'

  'Yes, sir.'

  Stemp disappeared at once, and his master turned to Margaret again.

  'Nothing will induce me to put you to such inconvenience,' he said,and his tone was quite as decided as hers had been.

  She smiled.

  'Nothing will induce me to let a friend of mine be driven from pillarto post for a lodging while I have plenty of room to spare!'

  'You're very, very kind, but----'

  'But the mouse may turn into a tiger if you contradict it,' she saidwith a light laugh that thrilled him with delight. 'I remember yourdescription of the Tartar girl!'

  'Well, then, I suppose the hyaena will have to turn into a small woollylamb if you tell him to,' answered Mr. Van Torp.

  'Yes,' laughed Margaret. 'Be a small, woolly lamb at once, please, avery small one!'

  'Knee-high to a kitten; certainly,' replied the millionairesubmissively.

  'Very well. I'll take you with me to hear _Parsifal_ to-morrow, if youobey. I've just asked Mrs. Rushmore if it makes any difference toher, and she has confessed that she would rather not go again, for ittires her dreadfully and gives her a headache. You shall have herseat. What is it? Don't you want to go with me?'

  "Margaret gazed at him in surprise while she might have counted ten."]

  Mr. Van Torp's face had hardened till it looked like a mask, he staredfirmly at the wall, and his lips were set tightly together. Margaretgazed at him in surprise while she might have counted ten. Then hespoke slowly, with evident effort, and in an odd voice.

  'Excuse me, Miss Donne,' he said, snapping his words out. 'I'm sograteful that I can't speak, that's all. It'll be all right in asecond.'

  A huge emotion had got hold of him. She saw the red flush risesuddenly above his collar, and then sink back before it reached hischeeks, and all at once he was very pale. But not a muscle of his facemoved, not a line was drawn; only his sandy eyelashes quivered alittle. His hands were thrust deep into the pockets of his jacket, butthe fingers were motionless.

  Margaret remembered how he had told her more than once that she wasthe only woman the world held for him, and she had thought it wasnonsense, rather vulgarly and clumsily expressed by a man who was notmuch better than an animal where women were concerned.

  It flashed upon her at last that what he had said was literally true,that she had misjudged an extraordinary man altogether, as many peopledid, and that she was indeed the only woman in the whole world whocould master and dominate one whom many feared and hated, and whomshe had herself once detested beyond words.

  He was unchanging, too, whatever else he might be, and, as sheadmitted the fact, she saw clearly how fickle she had been in her ownlikes and dislikes, except where her art was concerned. But even as tothat, she had passed through phases in which she had been foolishenough to think of giving up the stage in the first flush of her vastsuccess.

  While these thoughts were disturbing her a little, Mr. Van Torprecovered himself; his features relaxed, his hands came out of hispockets, and he slowly turned towards her.

  'I hope you don't think me rude,' he said awkwardly. 'I feel things agood deal sometimes, though people mightn't believe it.'

  They were still standing near together, and not far from the doorthrough which Margaret had entered.

  'It's never rude to be grateful, even for small things,' she answeredgently.

  She left his side, and went again to the window, where she stood andturned from him, looking out. He waited where he was, glad of themoments of silence. As for her, she was struggling against a generousimpulse, because she was afraid that he might misunderstand her if shegave way to it. But, to do her justice, she had never had muchstrength to resist her own instinctive generosity when it moved her.

  'Lady Maud told me long ago that I was mistaken about you,' she saidat last, without looking at him. 'She was right and I was quitewrong. I'm sorry. Don't bear me any grudge. You won't, will you?'

  She turned now, rather suddenly, and found him looking at her with asort of hunger in his eyes that disappeared almost as soon as hers metthem.

  'No,' he answered, 'I don't bear you any grudge, I never did, and Idon't see how I ever could. I could tell you why, but I won't, becauseyou probably know, and it's no use to repeat what once displeasedyou.'

  'Thank you,' said Margaret, she scarcely knew why.

  Her handsome head was a little bent, and her eyes were turned to thefloor as she passed him going to the door.

  'I'm going to see the manager of the hotel,' she said. I'll be backdirectly.'

  'No, no! Please let me----'

  But she was gone, the door was shut again, and Mr. Van Torp was leftto his own very happy reflections for a while.

  Not for long, however. He was still standing before the table staringat the corn-flowers and poppies without consciously seeing them whenhe was aware of the imposing presence of Mrs. Rushmore, who hadentered softly during his reverie and was almost at his elbow.

  'This is Mr. Van Torp, I presume,' she said gravely, inclining herhead. 'I am Mrs. Rushmore. You have perhaps heard Miss Donne speak ofme.'

  'I'm very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Rushmore,' said the American,bowing low. 'I've often heard Miss Donne speak of you with thegreatest gratitude and affection.'

  'Certainly,' Mrs. Rushmore answered with gravity, and as sheestablished herself on the sofa she indicated a chair not far fromher.

  It was only proper that Margaret should always speak of her withaffection and gratitude. Mr. Van Torp sat down on the chair to whichshe had directed rather than invited him; and he prepared to be boredto the full extent of the bearable. He had known the late Mr. Rushmorein business; Mr. Rushmore had been a 'pillar' of various things,including honesty, society, and the church he went to, and he hadalways bored Mr. Van Torp extremely. The least that could be expectedwas that the widow of such an estimable man should carry on thetraditions of her deeply lamented husband. In order to help herpolitely to what seemed the inevitable, Mr. Van Torp mentioned him.

  'I had the pleasure of knowing Mr. Rushmore,' he said in the propertone of mournfully retrospective admiration. 'He was sincerelylamented by all our business men.'

  'He was,' assented the widow, as she would have said Amen in church,in the right place, and with much the same solemn intonation.

  There was a moment's pause, during which the millionaire was trying tothink of something else she might like to hear, for she was Margaret'sfriend, and he wished to make a good impression. He was therefore notprepared to hear her speak again before he did, much less for thesubject of conversation she introduced at once.

  'You know our friend Monsieur Logotheti, I believe?' she inquiredsuddenly.

  'Why, certainly,' answered Van Torp, brightening at once at themention of his rival, and at once also putting on his moral armour ofcaution. 'I know him quite well.'

  'Indeed? Have you known many Greeks, may I ask?'

  'I've met one or two in business, Mrs. Rushmore, but I can't say I'veknown any as well as Mr. Logotheti.'

  'You may think it strange that I should ask
you about him at our firstmeeting,' said the good lady, 'but I'm an American, and I cannot helpfeeling that a fellow-countryman's opinion of a foreigner is veryvaluable. You are, I understand, an old friend of Miss Donne's, thoughI have not had the pleasure of meeting you before, and you haveprobably heard that she has made up her mind to marry MonsieurLogotheti. I am bound to confess, as her dear mother's oldest friend,that I am very apprehensive of the consequences. I have the gravestapprehensions, Mr. Van Torp.'

  'Have you really?' asked the millionaire with caution, butsympathetically. 'I wonder why!'

  'A Greek!' said Mrs. Rushmore sadly. 'Think of a Greek!'

  Mr. Van Torp, who was not without a sense of humour, was inclined toanswer that, in fact, he was thinking of a Greek at that very moment.But he abstained.

  'There are Greeks and Greeks, Mrs. Rushmore,' he answered wisely.

  'That is true,' answered the lady, 'but I should like your opinion, asone of our most prominent men of business--as one who, if I may sayso, has of late triumphantly established his claim to respect.' Mr.Van Torp bowed and waved his hand in acknowledgment of this highpraise. 'I should like your opinion about this--er--this Greekgentleman whom my young friend insists upon marrying.'

  'Really, Mrs. Rushmore----'

  'Because if I thought there was unhappiness in store for her I wouldsave her, if I had to marry the man myself!'

  Mr. Van Torp wondered how she would accomplish such a feat.

  'Indeed?' he said very gravely.

  'I mean it,' answered Mrs. Rushmore.

  There was a moment's silence, during which Mr. Van Torp revolvedsomething in his always active brain, while Mrs. Rushmore looked athim as if she expected that he would doubt her determination to dragLogotheti to the matrimonial altar and marry him by sheer strength,rather than let Margaret be his unhappy bride. But Mr. Van Torp saidsomething quite different.

  'May I speak quite frankly, though we hardly know each other?' heasked.

  'We are both Americans,' answered the good lady, with a grand nationalair. 'I should not expect anything but perfect frankness of you.'

  'The truth is, Mrs. Rushmore, that ever since I had the pleasure ofknowing Miss Donne, I have wanted to marry her myself.'

  'You!' cried the lady, surprised beyond measure, but greatly pleased.

  'Yes,' said Mr. Van Torp quietly, 'and therefore, in my position, Ican't give you an unbiassed opinion about Mr. Logotheti. I reallycan't.'

  'Well,' said Mrs. Rushmore, 'I am surprised!'

  While she was still surprised Mr. Van Torp tried to make some running,and asked an important question.

  'May I ask whether, as Miss Donne's oldest friend, you would lookfavourably on my proposal, supposing she were free?'

  Before Mrs. Rushmore could answer, the door opened suddenly, and shecould only answer by an energetic nod and a look which meant that shewished Mr. Van Torp success with all her excellent heart.

  'It's quite settled!' Margaret cried as she entered. 'I've brought thedirector to his senses, and you are to have the rooms they werekeeping for a Russian prince who has not turned up!'