The Diva's Ruby Read online

  CHAPTER VI

  In the sanctuary of Wagnerians the famous lyric Diva was a somewhatless important personage than in any of those other places which arecalled 'musical centres.' Before the glories of the great Brunhilde,or the supreme Kundry of the day, the fame of the 'nightingalesoprano' paled a little, at least in the eyes of more than half thepeople who filled the Bayreuth theatre. But she did not pass unnoticedby any means. There were distinguished conductors of Wagner's musicwho led the orchestra for other operas too; there were Kundrys andBrunhildes who condescended to be Toscas sometimes, as a pure matterof business and livelihood, and there were numberless people in theaudience who preferred _Cavalleria Rusticana_ to the _Meistersinger_or the _Goetterdaemmerung_, but would not dare to say so till they wereat a safe distance; and all these admired the celebrated Cordova,except the few that were envious of her, and who were not many.Indeed, for once it was the other way. When Margaret had come back toher own room after hearing _Parsifal_ the first time, she had sat downand hidden her face in her hands for a few moments, asking herselfwhat all her parts were worth in the end compared with Kundry, andwhat comparison was possible between the most beautiful of Italian orFrench operas and that one immortal masterpiece; for she thought, andrightly perhaps, that all the rest of Wagner's work had been but apreparation for that, and that _Parsifal_, and _Parsifal_ alone, hadset the genius of music beside the genius of poetry, an equal, atlast, upon a throne as high. On that night the sound of her own voicewould have given her no pleasure, for she longed for another tone init; if by some impossible circumstance she had been engaged to sing asJuliet that night, she would have broken down and burst into tears.She knew it, and the knowledge made her angry with herself, yet fornothing she could think of would she have foregone the second hearingof _Parsifal_, and the third after that; for she was a musician first,and then a great singer, and, like all true musicians, she was swayedby music that touched her, and never merely pleased by it. For her nointermediate condition of the musical sense was possible betweencriticism and delight; but beyond that she had found rapture now, andever afterwards she would long to feel it again. Whether, if her voicehad made it possible to sing the part of Kundry, she could have liftedherself to that seventh heaven by her own singing, only the greatKundrys and Parsifals can tell. In lyric opera she knew the keen joyof being both the instrument and the enthralled listener; perhaps astill higher state beyond that was out of any one's reach, but shecould at least dream of it.

  She took Van Torp with her to the performance the next day, afterimpressing upon him that he was not to speak, not to whisper, not toapplaud, not to make any sound, from the moment he entered the theatretill he left it for the dinner interval. He was far too happy with herto question anything she said, and he obeyed her most scrupulously.Twenty-four hours earlier she would have laughed at the idea that hispresence beside her at such a time could be not only bearable, butsympathetic, yet that seemed natural now. The Diva and the ex-cowboy,the accomplished musician and the Californian miner, the sensitive,gifted, capricious woman and the iron-jawed money-wolf had found thatthey had something in common. Wagner's last music affected them in thesame way.

  Such things are not to be explained, and could not be believed if theydid not happen again and again before the eyes of those who know howto see, which is quite a different thing from merely seeing.Margaret's sudden liking for the man she had once so thoroughlydisliked had begun when he had whistled to her. It grew while he satbeside her in the darkened theatre. She was absorbed by the music, theaction, and the scene, and at this second hearing she could follow thenoble poem itself; but she was subconscious of what her neighbourfelt. He was not so motionless merely because she had told him that hemust sit very still; he was not so intent on what he heard and saw,merely to please her; it was not mere interest that held him, stillless was it curiosity. The spell was upon him; he was entranced, andMargaret knew it.

  Even when they left the theatre and drove back to the hotel, he wassilent, and she was the first to speak. Margaret hated the noise andconfusion of the restaurant near the Festival Theatre.

  'You have enjoyed it,' she said. 'I'm glad I brought you.'

  'I've felt something I don't understand,' Van Torp answered gravely.

  She liked the reply for its simplicity. She had perhaps expected thathe would summon up his most picturesque language to tell her how muchpleasure the music had given him, or that he would perhaps laugh athimself for having been moved; but instead, he only told her that hedid not understand what he had felt; and they walked on withoutanother word.

  'Go and get something to eat,' she said when they reached the hotel,'and I'll meet you here in half an hour. I don't care to talk either.'

  He only nodded, and lifted his hat as she went up the steps; butinstead of going to eat, he sat down on a bench outside, and waitedfor her there, reflecting on the nature of his new experience.

  Like most successful men, he looked on all theories as trash, goodenough to amuse clever idlers, but never to be taken intoconsideration in real life. He never asked about the principle onwhich any invention was founded; his first and only question was,'Will it work?'

  Considering himself as the raw material, and the theatre he had justleft as the mill, he was forced to admit that _Parsifal_ 'worked.'

  'It works all right,' he inwardly soliloquised. 'If that's what itclaims to do, it does it.'

  When he had reached this business-like conclusion, his large lipsparted a little, and as his breath passed between his closed teeth, itmade soft little hissing sounds that had a suggestion of music inthem, though they were not really whistled notes; his sandy lasheshalf veiled his eyes and he saw again what he had lately seen: theKing borne down to the bath that would never heal his wound, and thedead swan, and the wondering Maiden-Man brought to answer for hisbow-shot, the wild Witch-Girl crouching by the giant trees, and thelong way that led upward through the forest, and upward ever, to theHall of the Knights, and last of all, the mysterious Sangreal itself,glowing divinely in the midst.

  He did not really understand what he had seen and saw again as he halfclosed his eyes. That was the reason why he accepted it passively, ashe accepted elemental things. If he could by any means have toldhimself what illusion it was all intended to produce upon his sightand hearing, he would have pulled the trick to pieces, mentally, in amoment, and what remained would have been the merely pleasantrecollection of something very well done, but not in itself differentfrom other operas or plays he had heard and seen elsewhere, nothingmore than an 'improvement on _Lohengrin_,' as he would probably havecalled it.

  But this was something not 'more,' but quite of another kind, and itaffected him as the play of nature's forces sometimes did; it waslike the brooding of the sea, the rising gale, the fury of the storm,like the leaden stillness before the earthquake, the awful heave ofthe earth, the stupendous crash of the doomed city, the long rollingrumble of falling walls and tumbling houses, big with sudden death; oragain, it was like sad gleams of autumn sunshine, and the coldcathedral light of primeval forests in winter, and then it was thespring stirring in all things, the rising pulse of mating nature, theburst of May-bloom, the huge glow of the earth basking in the fullsummer sun.

  He did not know, and no one knew, what nature meant by those things.How could nature's meaning be put into words? And so he did notunderstand what he had felt, nor could he see that it might havesignificance. What was the 'interpretation' of a storm, of anearthquake, or of winter and summer? God, perhaps; perhaps just'nature.' He did not know. Margaret had told him the story of theopera in the evening; he had followed it easily enough and could notforget it. It was a sort of religious fairy-tale, he thought, and hewas ready to believe that Wagner had made a good poem of it, even agreat poem. But it was not the story that could be told, which hadmoved him; it was nothing so easily defined as a poem, or a drama, ora piece of music. A far more cultivated man than he could ever becomemight sit through the performance and feel little or nothing, of
thathe was sure; just as he could have carried beautiful Lady Maud in hisarms without feeling that she was a woman for him, whereas theslightest touch of Margaret Donne, the mere fact of being near her,made the blood beat in his throat.

  That was only a way of putting it, for there was no sex in the musiche had just heard. He had sat so close to Margaret that their armsconstantly touched, yet he had forgotten that she was there. If themusic had been _Tristan and Isolde_ he could not have been unaware ofher, for a moment, for that is the supreme sex-music of Wagner's art.But this was different, altogether different, though it was evenstronger than that.

  He forgot to look at his watch. Margaret came out of the hotel,expecting to find him waiting for her within the hall, and prepared tobe annoyed with him for taking so long over a meal. She stood on thestep and looked about, and saw him sitting on the bench at a littledistance. He raised his eyes as she came towards him and then rosequickly.

  'Is it time?' he asked.

  'Yes,' she said. 'Did you get anything decent to eat?'

  'Yes,' he answered vaguely. 'That is, now I think of it, I forgotabout dinner. It doesn't matter.'

  She looked at his hard face curiously and saw a dead blank, the blankthat had sometimes frightened her by its possibilities, when the eyesalone came suddenly to life.

  'Won't you go in and get a biscuit, or a sandwich?' she asked after amoment.

  'Oh, no, thanks. I'm used to skipping meals when I'm interested inthings. Let's go, if you're ready.'

  'I believe you are one of nature's Wagnerites,' Margaret said, asthey drove up the hill again, and she smiled at the idea.

  'Well,' he answered slowly, 'there's one thing, if you don't mind mytelling you. It's rather personal. Perhaps I'd better not.'

  The Primadonna was silent for a few moments, and did not look at him.

  'Tell me,' she said suddenly.

  'It's this. I don't know how long the performance lasted, but while itwas going on I forgot you were close beside me. You might just as wellnot have been there. It's the first time since I ever knew you thatI've been near you without thinking about you all the time, and Ihadn't realised it till I was sitting here by myself. I hope you don'tmind my telling you?'

  'It only makes me more glad that I brought you,' Margaret saidquietly.

  'Thank you,' he answered; but he was quite sure that the same thingcould not happen again during the Second Part.

  Nevertheless, it happened. For a little while, they were man andwoman, sitting side by side and very near, two in a silent multitudeof other men and women; but before long he was quite motionless, hiseyes were fixed again and he had forgotten her. She saw it andwondered, for she knew how her presence moved him, and as his handslay folded on his knee, a mischievous girlish impulse almost made her,the great artist, forget that she was listening to the greatest musicin the world and nearly made her lay her hand on his, just to seewhat he would do. She was ashamed of it, and a little disgusted withherself. The part of her that was Margaret Donne felt the disgust; thepart that was Cordova felt the shame, and each side of her nature wasrestrained at a critical moment. Yet when the 'Good Friday' musicbegan, she was thinking of Van Torp and he was unconscious of herpresence.

  It could not last, and soon she, too, was taken up into the artificialparadise of the master-musician and borne along in the gale of goldenwings, and there was no passing of time till the very end; and thepeople rose in silence and went out under the summer stars; and allthose whom nature had gifted to hear rightly, took with them memoriesthat years would scarcely dim.

  The two walked slowly back to the town as the crowd scattered on footand in carriages. It was warm, and there was no moon, and one couldsmell the dust, for many people were moving in the same direction,though some stopped at almost every house and went in, and most ofthem were beginning to talk in quiet tones.

  Margaret stepped aside from the road and entered a narrow lane, andVan Torp followed her in silence.

  'This leads out to the fields,' she said. 'I must breathe the freshair. Do you mind?'

  'On the contrary.'

  "She was aware of his slight change of position without turning her eyes."]

  He said nothing more, and she did not speak, but walked on withouthaste, dilating her nostrils to the sweet smell of grass that reachedher already. In a little while they had left the houses behind them,and they came to a gate that led into a field.

  Van Torp was going to undo the fastening, for there was no lock.

  'No,' she said, 'we won't go through. I love to lean on a gate.'

  She rested her crossed arms on the upper rail and Van Torp did thesame, careful that his elbow should not touch hers, and they bothstared into the dim, sweet-scented meadow. He felt her presence nowand it almost hurt him; he could hear his slow pulse in his ears, hardand regular. She did not speak, but the night was so still that hecould hear her breathing, and at last he could not bear the warmsilence any longer.

  'What are you thinking about?' he asked, trying to speak lightly.

  She waited, or hesitated, before she answered him.

  'You,' she said, after a time.

  He moved involuntarily, and then drew a little further away from her,as he might have withdrawn a foot from the edge of a precipice, out ofcommon caution. She was aware of his slight change of position withoutturning her eyes.

  'What made you say what you did to Mrs. Rushmore yesterday afternoon?'she asked.

  'About you?'

  'Yes.'

  'She asked me, point-blank, what I thought of Logotheti,' Van Torpanswered. 'I told her that I couldn't give her an unbiassed opinion ofthe man you meant to marry, because I had always hoped to marry youmyself.'

  'Oh--was that the way it happened?'

  'Mrs. Rushmore could hardly have misunderstood me,' said Van Torp,gathering the reins of himself, so to say, for anything that mighthappen.

  'No. But it sounds differently when you say it yourself.'

  'That was just what I said, anyhow,' answered Van Torp. 'I didn'tthink she'd go and tell you right away, but since she has, I don'tregret having said that much.'

  'It was straightforward, at all events--if it was all true!' There wasthe faintest laugh in her tone as she spoke the last words.

  'It's true, right enough, though I didn't expect that I should betalking to you about this sort of thing to-night.'

  'The effect on Mrs. Rushmore was extraordinary, positivelyfulminating,' Margaret said more lightly. 'She says I ought to breakoff my engagement at once, and marry you! Fancy!'

  'That's very kind of her, I'm sure,' observed Mr. Van Torp.

  'I don't think so. I like it less and less, the more I think of it.'

  'Well, I'm sorry, but I suppose it's natural, since you've concludedto marry him, and it can't be helped. I wasn't going to say anythingagainst him, and I wouldn't say anything for him, so there was nothingto do but to explain, which I did. I'm sorry you think I did wrong,but I should give the same answer again.'

  'Mrs. Rushmore thinks that Konstantin is a designing foreigner becausehe's a Greek man of business, and that you are perfection because youare an American business man.'

  'If I'm perfection, that's not the real reason,' said Van Torp,snatching at his first chance to steer out of the serious current; butMargaret did not laugh.

  'You are not perfection, nor I either,' she answered gravely. 'You arefamous in your way, and people call me celebrated in mine; but so faras the rest is concerned we are just two ordinary human beings, and ifwe are going to be friends we must understand each other from thefirst, as far as we can.'

  'I'll try to do my share,' said Van Torp, taking her tone.

  'Very well. I'll do mine. I began by thinking you were amusing, when Ifirst met you. Then you frightened me last winter, and I hated you.Not only that, I loathed you--there's no word strong enough for what Ifelt. When I saw you in the audience, you almost paralysed my voice.'

  'I didn't know it had been as bad as that,' said Mr. Van Torp
quietly.

  'Yes. It was worse than I can make you understand. And last spring,when you were in so much trouble, I believed every word that was saidagainst you, even that you had murdered your partner's daughter incold blood to get rid of her, though that looked as incredible tosensible people as it really was. It was only when I saw how Lady Maudbelieved in you that I began to waver, and then I understood.'

  'I'm glad you did.'

  'So am I. But she is such a good woman herself that nobody can bereally bad in whom she believes. And now I'm changed still more. Ilike you, and I'm sure that we shall be friends, if you will make meone promise and keep it.'

  'What is it?'

  'That you will give up all idea of ever marrying me, no matter whathappens, even if I broke----'

  'It's no use to go on,' interrupted Van Torp, 'for I can't promiseanything like that. Maybe you don't realise what you're asking, butit's the impossible. That's all.'

  'Oh, nonsense!' Margaret tried to laugh lightly, but it was a failure.

  'No, it's very far from nonsense,' he replied, almost sternly. 'Sinceyou've spoken first, I'm going to tell you several things. One is,that I accepted the syndicate's offer for the Nickel Trust so as to befree to take any chance that might turn up. It had been open sometime, but I accepted it on the day I heard of your engagement. That'sa big thing. Another is, that I played a regular trick on Logotheti soas to come and see you here. I deliberately asked him to dine with melast night in London. I went right home, wrote a note to him,antedated for yesterday afternoon, to put him off, and I left it to besent at the right hour. Then I drove to the station, and here I am.You may call that pretty sharp practice, but I believe all's fair inlove and war, and I want you to understand that I think so. There'sone thing more. I won't give up the hope of making you marry me whileyou're alive and I am, not if you're an old woman, and I'll put up allI have in the game, including my own life and other people's, if itcomes to that. Amen.'

  Margaret bent her head a little and was silent.

  'Now you know why I won't promise what you asked,' said Van Torp inconclusion.

  He had not raised his voice; he had not laid a heavy stress on halfhis words, as he often did in common conversation; there had beennothing dramatic in his tone; but Margaret had understood well enoughthat it was the plain statement of a man who meant to succeed, andwhose strength and resources were far beyond those of ordinarysuitors. She was not exactly frightened; indeed, since her dislike forhim had melted away, it was impossible not to feel a womanlysatisfaction in the magnitude of her conquest; but she also feltinstinctively that serious trouble and danger were not far off.

  'You have no right to speak like that,' she said rather weakly, aftera moment.

  'Perhaps not. I don't know. But I consider that you have a right toknow the truth, and that's enough for me. It's not as if I'd made upmy mind to steal your ewe-lamb from you and put myself in its place.Logotheti is not any sort of a ewe-lamb. He's a man, he's got plentyof strength and determination, he's got plenty of money--even what Ichoose to call plenty. He says he cares for you. All right. So do I.He says he'll marry you. I say that I will. All right again. You'rethe prize put up for the best of two fighting men. You're not thefirst woman in history who's been fought for, but, by all that's holy,there never was one better worth it, not Helen of Troy herself!'

  The last few words came with a sort of stormy rush, and he turnedround suddenly, and stood with his back against the gate, thrustinghis hands deep into his coat-pockets, perhaps with the idea of keepingthem quiet; but he did not come any nearer to her, and she felt shewas perfectly safe, and that a much deeper and more lasting power hadhold of him than any mere passionate longing to take her in his armsand press his iron lips on hers against her will. She began tounderstand why he was what he was, at an age when many successful menare still fighting for final success. He was a crown-grasper, likeJohn the Smith. Beside him Logotheti was but a gifted favourite offortune. He spoke of Helen, but if he was comparing his rival withParis he himself was more like an Ajax than like good King Menelaus.

  Margaret was not angry; she was hardly displeased, but she was reallyat a loss what to say, and she said the first sensible thing thatsuggested itself and that was approximately true.

  'I'm sorry you have told me all this. We might have spent these nexttwo days very pleasantly together. Oh, I'm not pretending what I don'tfeel! It's impossible for a woman like me, who can still be free, notto be flattered when such a man as you cares for her in earnest, andsays the things you have. But, on the other hand, I'm engaged to bemarried to another man, and it would not be loyal of me to let youmake love to me.'

  'I don't mean to,' said Van Torp stoutly. 'It won't be necessary. If Inever spoke again you wouldn't forget what I've told you--ever! Whyshould I say it again? I don't want to, until you can say as much tome. If it's time to go, hitch the lead to my collar and take me home!I'll follow you as quietly as a spaniel, anywhere!'

  'And what would happen if I told you not to follow me, but to go homeand lie down in your kennel?' She laughed low as she moved away fromthe gate.

  'I'm not sure,' answered Van Torp. 'Don't.'

  The last word was not spoken at all with an accent of warning, but itwas not said in a begging tone either. Margaret's short laugh followedit instantly. He took the cue she offered, and went on speaking in hisordinary manner.

  'I'm not a bad dog if you don't bully me, and if you feed me atregular hours and take me for a walk now and then. I don't pretend I'mcut out for a French pet, because I'm not. I'm too big for a lap-dog,and too fond of sport for the drawing-room, I suppose. A good usefuldog generally is, isn't he? Maybe I'm a little quarrelsome with otherdogs, but then, they needn't come bothering around!'

  Margaret was amused, or pretended to be, but she was also thinkingvery seriously of the future, and asking herself whether she ought tosend for Logotheti at once, or not. Van Torp would certainly notleave Bayreuth at a moment's notice, at her bidding, and if he stayedshe could not now refuse to see him, with any show of justice. Shethought of a compromise, and suddenly stood still in the lane.

  'You said just now that you would not say over again any of thosethings you have told me to-night. Do you mean that?'

  'Yes, I mean it.'

  'Then please promise that you won't. That's all I ask if you are goingto spend the next two days here, and if I am to let you see me.'

  'I promise,' Van Torp answered, without hesitation.

  She allowed herself the illusion that she had both done the rightthing and also taken the position of command; and he, standing besideher, allowed himself to smile at the futility of what she wasrequiring of him with so much earnestness, for little as he knew ofwomen's ways he was more than sure that the words he had spoken thatnight would come back to her again and again; and more than that hecould not hope at present. But she could not see his face clearly.

  'Thank you,' she said. 'That shall be our compact.'

  To his surprise, she held out her hand. He took it with wonderfulcalmness, considering what the touch meant to him, and he returneddiscreetly what was meant for a friendly pressure. She was so wellsatisfied now that she did not think it necessary to telegraph toLogotheti that he might start at once, though even if she had done soimmediately he could hardly have reached Bayreuth till the afternoonof the next day but one, when the last performance of _Parsifal_ wouldbe already going on; and she herself intended to leave on the morningafter that.

  She walked forward in silence for a few moments, and the lights of thetown grew quickly brighter.

  'You will come in and have some supper with us, of course,' she saidpresently.

  'Why, certainly, since you're so kind,' answered Van Torp.

  'I feel responsible for your having forgotten to dine,' she laughed.'I must make it up to you. By this time Mrs. Rushmore is probablywondering where I am.'

  'Well,' said the American, 'if she thinks I'm perfection, she knowsthat you're safe with me, I suppose, even if you d
o come home a littlelate.'

  'I shall say that we walked home very slowly, in order to breathe theair.'

  'Yes. We've walked home very slowly.'

  'I mean,' said Margaret quickly, 'that I shall not say we have beenout towards the fields, as far as the gate.'

  'I don't see any harm if we have,' observed Mr Van Torp indifferently.

  'Harm? No! Don't you understand? Mrs. Rushmore is quite capable ofthinking that I have already--how shall I say?----' she stopped.

  'Taken note of her good advice,' he said, completing the sentence forher.

  'Exactly! Whereas nothing could be further from my intention, as youknow. I'm very fond of Mrs. Rushmore,' Margaret continued quickly, inorder to get away from the dangerous subject she had felt obliged toapproach; 'she has been a mother to me, and heaven knows I needed one,and she has the best and kindest heart in the world. But she is soanxious for my happiness that, whenever she thinks it is at stake, sherushes at conclusions without the slightest reason, and then it's veryhard to get them out of her dear old head!'

  'I see. If that's why she thinks me perfection, I'll try not todisappoint her.'

  They reached the hotel, went upstairs, and separated on the landing toget ready for supper. Margaret went to her own room, and beforejoining Mrs. Rushmore she wrote a message to Alphonsine, her theatremaid, who was visiting her family in Alsatia. Margaret generallytelegraphed her instructions, because it was much less trouble than towrite. She inquired whether Alphonsine would be ready to join her inParis on a certain day, and she asked for the address of a wig-makerwhich she had forgotten.

  On his side of the landing, Mr. Van Torp found Stemp waiting to dresshim, and the valet handed him a telegram. It was from Captain Brown,and had been re-telegraphed from London.

  'Anchored off Saint Mark's Square to-day, 3.30 P.M. Quick passage. Nostop. Coaling to-morrow. Ready for sea next morning.'

  Mr. Van Torp laid the message open on the table in order to saveStemp the trouble of looking for it afterwards.

  'Stemp,' he asked, as he threw off his coat and kicked off his dustyshoes, 'were you ever sea-sick?'

  'Yes, sir,' answered the admirable valet, but he offered no moreinformation on the subject.

  During the silence that followed, neither wasted a second. It is nojoke to wash and get into evening dress in six minutes, even with thehelp of a body-servant trained to do his work at high speed.

  'I mean,' said Van Torp, when he was already fastening his collar,'are you sea-sick nowadays?'

  'No, sir,' replied Stemp, in precisely the same tone as before.

  'I don't mean on a twenty-thousand-ton liner. Black cravat. Yes. Imean on a yacht. Fix it behind. Right. Would you be sea-sick on asteam yacht?'

  'No, sir.'

  'Sure?'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'Then I'll take you. Tuxedo.'

  'Thank you, sir.'

  Stemp held up the dinner-jacket; Mr. Van Torp's solid arms slippedinto the sleeves, he shook his sturdy shoulders, and pulled the jacketdown in front while the valet 'settled' the back. Then he faced roundsuddenly, like a soldier at drill.

  'All right?' he inquired.

  Stemp looked him over carefully from head to foot in the glare of theelectric light.

  'Yes, sir.'

  Van Torp left the room at once. He found Mrs. Rushmore slowly movingabout the supper-table, more imposing than ever in a perfectly newblack tea-gown and an extremely smart widow's cap. Mr. Van Torpthought she was a very fine old lady indeed. Margaret had not enteredyet; a waiter with smooth yellow hair stood by a portable sideboard onwhich there were covered dishes. There were poppies and corn-flowersin a plain white jar on the table. Mrs. Rushmore smiled at thefinancier; it would hardly be an exaggeration to say that she beamedupon him. They had not met alone since his first visit on the previousafternoon.

  'Miss Donne is a little late,' she said, as if the fact were verypleasing. 'You brought her back, of course.'

  'Why, certainly,' said Mr. Van Torp with an amiable smile.

  'You can hardly have come straight from the theatre,' continued thelady, 'for I heard the other people in the hotel coming in fullytwenty minutes before you did.'

  'We walked home very slowly,' said Mr. Van Torp, still smilingamiably.

  'Ah, I see! You went for a little walk to get some air!' She seemeddelighted.

  'We walked home very slowly in order to breathe the air,' said Mr. VanTorp--'to breathe the air, as you say. I have to thank you very muchfor giving me your seat, Mrs. Rushmore.'

  'To tell the truth,' replied the good lady, 'I was very glad to letyou take my place. I cannot say I enjoy that sort of music myself. Itgives me a headache.'

  Margaret entered at this point in a marvellous 'creation' of Chinesecrape, of the most delicate shade of heliotrope. Her dressmaker calledit also a tea-gown, but Mr. Van Torp would have thought it 'quiteappropriate' for a 'dinner-dance' at Bar Harbor.

  'My dear child,' said Mrs. Rushmore, 'how long you were in gettingback from the theatre! I began to fear that something had happened!'

  'We walked home very slowly,' said Margaret, with a pleasant smile.

  'Ah? You went for a little walk to get some air?'

  'We just walked home very slowly, in order to breathe the air,'Margaret answered innocently.

  It dawned on Mr. Van Torp that the dignified Mrs. Rushmore was notquite devoid of a sense of humour. It also occurred to him that herrepetition of the question to Margaret, and the latter's answer, musthave revealed to her the fact that the two had agreed upon what theyshould say, since they used identically the same words, and that theytherefore had an understanding about something they preferred toconceal from her. Nothing could have given Mrs. Rushmore such profoundsatisfaction as this, and it revealed itself in her bright smiles andher anxiety that both Margaret and Van Torp should, if possible,over-eat themselves with the excellent things she had been at pains toprovide for them and for herself. For she was something of an epicureand her dinners in Versailles were of good fame, even in Paris.

  Great appetites are generally silent, like the sincerest affections.Margaret was very hungry, and Mr. Van Torp was both hungry and verymuch in love. Mrs. Rushmore was neither, and she talked pleasantlywhile tasting each delicacy with critical satisfaction.

  'By the bye,' she said at last, when she saw that the millionaire wasbacking his foretopsail to come to anchor, as Captain Brown might haveexpressed it, 'I hope you have not had any further trouble about yourrooms, Mr. Van Torp.'

  'None at all, that I know of,' answered the latter. 'My man told menothing.'

  'The Russian prince arrived this evening while you were at thetheatre, and threatened the director with all sorts of legalconsequences because the rooms he had ordered were occupied. He turnsout to be only a count after all.'

  'You don't say so,' observed Mr. Van Torp, in an encouraging tone.

  'What became of him?' Margaret asked, without much interest.

  'Did Potts not tell you, my dear? Why, Justine assisted at the wholeinterview and came and told me at once.'

  Justine was Mrs. Rushmore's Parisian maid, who always knew everything.

  'What happened?' inquired Margaret, still not much interested.

  'He arrived in an automobile,' answered Mrs. Rushmore, and she paused.

  'What old Griggs calls a sudden-death-cart,' Mr. Van Torp put in.

  'What a shocking name for it!' cried Mrs. Rushmore. 'And you arealways in them, my dear child!' She looked at Margaret. 'Asudden-death-cart! It quite makes me shiver.'

  'Griggs says that all his friends either kill or get killed in them,'explained the American.

  'My throat-doctor says motoring is very bad for the voice, so I'vegiven it up,' Margaret said.

  'Really? Thank goodness your profession has been of some use to you atlast, my dear!'

  Margaret laughed.

  'Tell us about the Russian count,' she said. 'Has he found lodgings,or is he going to sleep in his motor?'

&nb
sp; 'My dear, he's the most original man you ever heard of! First hewanted to buy the hotel and turn us all out, and offered any price forit, but the director said it was owned by a company in Munich. Then hesent his secretary about trying to buy a house, while he dined, butthat didn't succeed either. He must be very wealthy, or else quitemad.'

  'Mad, I should say,' observed Mr. Van Torp, slowly peeling a peach.'Did you happen to catch his name, Mrs. Rushmore?'

  'Oh, yes! We heard nothing else all the afternoon. His name isKralinsky--Count Kralinsky.'

  Mr. Van Torp continued to peel his peach scientifically andeconomically, though he was aware that Margaret was looking at himwith sudden curiosity.

  'Kralinsky,' he said slowly, keeping his eyes on the silver blade ofthe knife as he finished what he was doing. 'It's not an uncommonname, I believe. I've heard it before. Sounds Polish, doesn't it?'

  He looked up suddenly and showed Margaret the peeled peach on hisfork. He smiled as he met her eyes, and she nodded so slightly thatMrs. Rushmore did not notice the movement.

  'Did you ever see that done better?' he asked with an air of triumph.

  'Ripping!' Margaret answered. 'You're a dandy dab at it!'

  'My dear child, what terrible slang!'

  'I'm sorry,' said Margaret. 'I'm catching all sorts of Americanexpressions from Mr. Van Torp, and when they get mixed up with myEnglish ones the result is Babel, I suppose!'

  'I've not heard Mr. Van Torp use any slang expressions yet, my dear,'said Mrs. Rushmore, almost severely.

  'You will,' Margaret retorted with a laugh. 'What became of CountKralinsky? I didn't mean to spoil your story.'

  'My dear, he's got the Pastor to give up his house, by offering him ahundred pounds for the poor here.'

  'It's cheap,' observed Mr. Van Torp. 'The poor always are.'

  'You two are saying the most dreadful things to-night!' cried Mrs.Rushmore.

  'Nothing dreadful in that, Mrs. Rushmore,' objected the millionaire.'There's no investment on earth like charity.'

  'We are taught that by charity we lay up treasures in heaven,' saidthe good lady.

  'Provided it's not mentioned in the newspapers,' retorted Mr. VanTorp. 'When it is, we lay up treasures on earth. I don't like tomention other men in that connexion, especially as I've done the samething myself now and then, just to quiet things down; but I supposesome names will occur to you right away, don't they? Where is thePastor going to sleep, now that the philanthropist has bought himout?'

  'I really don't know,' answered Mrs. Rushmore.

  'Then he's the real philanthropist,' said Van Torp. 'If he understoodthe power of advertisement, and wanted it, he'd let it be known thathe was going to sleep on the church steps without enough blankets, forthe good of the poor who are to have the money, and he'd get everybodyto come and look at him in his sleep, and notice how good he was.Instead of that, he's probably turned in under the back stairs, in thecoal-hole, without saying anything about it. I don't know how itstrikes you, Mrs. Rushmore, but it does seem to me that theclergyman's the real philanthropist after all!'

  'Indeed he is, poor man,' said Margaret, a good deal surprised at VanTorp's sermon on charity, and wondering vaguely whether he was talkingfor effect or merely saying what he really thought.

  An effect certainly followed.

  'You put it very sensibly, I'm sure,' said Mrs. Rushmore, 'though ofcourse I should not have looked for anything else from afellow-countryman I respect. You startled me a little at first, whenyou said that the poor are always cheap! Only that, I assure you.'

  'Well,' answered the American, 'I never was very good at expressingmyself, but I'm glad we think alike, for I must say I value youropinion very highly, Mrs. Rushmore, as I had learned to value theopinion of your late husband.'

  'You're very kind,' she said, in a grateful tone.

  Margaret was not sure that she was pleased as she realised how easilyVan Torp played upon her old friend's feelings and convictions, andshe wondered whether he had not already played on her own that night,in much the same way. But with the mere thought his words and hisvoice came back to her, with his talk about the uselessness of everrepeating what he had said that once, because he knew she could neverforget it. And her young instinct told her that he dealt with theelderly woman precisely as if she were a man, with all the ease thatproceeded from his great knowledge of men and their weaknesses; butthat with herself, in his ignorance of feminine ways, he could only bequite natural.

  He left them soon after supper, and gave himself up to Stemp,pondering over what he had accomplished in two days, and also aboutanother question which had lately presented itself. When he was readyto send his valet to bed he sat down at his table and wrote atelegram:

  'If you can find Barak, please explain that I was mistaken. Kralinskyis not in New York, but here in Bayreuth for some days, lodging at thePastor's house.'

  This message was addressed to Logotheti at his lodgings in London, andVan Torp signed it and gave it to Stemp to be sent at once. Logothetinever went to bed before two o'clock, as he knew, and might verypossibly get the telegram the same night.

  When his man was gone, Van Torp drew his chair to the open window andsat up a long time thinking about what he had just done; for though heheld that all was fair in such a contest, he did not mean to doanything which he himself thought 'low-down.' One proof of this oddsort of integrity was that the telegram itself was a fair warning ofhis presence in Bayreuth, where Logotheti knew that Margaret was stillstopping.

  As for the rest, he was quite convinced that it was Kralinsky himself,the ruby merchant, who had suddenly appeared at Bayreuth, and thatthis man was no other than the youth he had met long ago as a cow-boyin the West, who used to whistle _Parsifal_ with his companion inexile, and who, having grown rich, had lost no time in coming toEurope for the very purpose of hearing the music he had always lovedso well. And that this man had robbed the poor Tartar girl, Mr. VanTorp had no manner of doubt; and he believed that he had probablypromised her marriage and abandoned her; and if this were true, tohelp her to find Kralinsky was in itself a good action.