The Primadonna Read online

  CHAPTER VII

  Two days later Margaret was somewhat surprised by an informalinvitation to dine at the Turkish Embassy. The Ambassador had latelybeen transferred to London from Paris, where she had known him throughLogotheti and had met him two or three times. The latter, as aFanariote Greek, was a Turkish subject, and although he had once toldMargaret that the Turks had murdered his father in some insurrection,and though he himself might have hesitated to spend much time inConstantinople, he nevertheless maintained friendly relations withthe representatives of what was his country; and for obvious reasons,connected with Turkish finance, they treated him with markedconsideration. On general principles and in theory Turks and Greekshate each other; in practice they can live very amicably side by side.In the many cases in which Armenians have been attacked and killed bythe Turks no Greek has ever been hurt except by accident; on the otherhand, none has lifted a hand to defend an Armenian in distress,which sufficiently proves that the question of religion has not beenconcerned at all.

  Margaret accepted the Ambassador's invitation, feeling tolerably sureof meeting Logotheti at the dinner. If there were any other women theywould be of the meteoric sort, the fragments of former social planetsthat go on revolving in the old orbit, more or less divorced,bankrupt, or otherwise unsound, though still smart, the kind of womenwho are asked to fill a table on such occasions 'because theywon't mind'--that is to say, they will not object to dining with aprimadonna or an actress whose husband has become nebulous and whosereputation is mottled. The men, of whom there might be several, wouldbe either very clever or overpoweringly noble, because all geniusesand all peers are supposed to like their birds of paradise a littlehigh. I wonder why. I have met and talked with a good many menof genius, from Wagner and Liszt to Zola and some still livingcontemporaries, and, really, their general preference for highlycorrect social gatherings has struck me as phenomenal. There are evennoblemen who seem to be quite respectable, and pretend that they wouldrather talk to an honest woman at a dinner party than drink bumpers ofbrut champagne out of Astarte's satin slipper.

  Mustapha Pasha, the Turkish Ambassador, was a fair, pale man of fifty,who had spiritual features, quiet blue eyes, and a pleasant smile. Hishands were delicately made and very white, but not effeminate. He hadbeen educated partly in England, and spoke English without difficultyand almost without accent, as Logotheti did. He came forward to meetMargaret as she entered the room, and he greeted her warmly, thankingher for being so good as to come at short notice.

  Logotheti was the next to take her hand, and she looked at himattentively when her eyes met his, wondering whether he, too, wouldthink her changed. He himself was not, at all events. Mustapha Pasha,a born Musalman and a genuine Turk, never arrested attention in anEnglish drawing-room by his appearance; but Constantino Logotheti, theGreek, was an Oriental in looks as well as in character. His beautifuleyes were almond-shaped, his lips were broad and rather flat, and thesmall black moustache grew upwards and away from them so as not tohide his mouth at all. He had an even olive complexion, and any judgeof men would have seen at a glance that he was thoroughly sound andas strong as a professional athlete. His coat had a velvet collar; asingle emerald stud, worth several thousand pounds, diffused a greenrefulgence round itself in the middle of his very shiny shirt front;his waistcoat was embroidered and adorned with diamond buttons, histrousers were tight, and his name, with those of three or four otherEuropean financiers, made it alternately possible or impossible forimpecunious empires and kingdoms to raise money in England, France andGermany. In matters of business, in the East, the Jew fears the Greek,the Greek fears the Armenian, the Armenian fears the Persian, andthe Persian fears only Allah. One reason why the Jews do not care toreturn to Palestine and Asia Minor is that they cannot get a livingamongst Christians and Mohammedans, a plain fact which thoseeminent and charitable European Jews who are trying to draw theirfellow-believers eastward would do well to consider. Even in Europethere are far more poor Jews than Christians realise; in Asia thereare hardly any rich ones. The Venetians were too much for Shylock,and he lost his ducats and his daughter; amongst Christian Greeks,Christian Armenians, and Musalman Persians, from Constantinople toTiflis, Teheran, Bagdad and Cairo, the poor man could not have savedsixpence a year.

  This is not a mere digression, since it may serve to defineLogotheti's position in the scale of the financial forces.

  Margaret took his hand and looked at him just a little longer than shehad looked at Mustapha Pasha. He never wrote to her, and never tookthe trouble to let her know where he was; but when they met his timewas hers, and when he could be with her he seemed to have no otherpre-occupation in life.

  'I came over from Paris to-day,' he said. 'When may I come and seeyou?'

  That was always the first question, for he never wasted time.

  'To-morrow, if you like. Come late--about seven.'

  The Ambassador was on her other side. A little knot of men and onelady were standing near the fire in an expectant sort of way, ready tobe introduced to Margaret. She saw the bony head of Paul Griggs, andshe smiled at him from a distance. He was talking to a very handsomeand thoroughbred looking woman in plain black velvet, who had the mostperfectly beautiful shoulders Margaret had ever seen.

  Mustapha Pasha led the Primadonna to the group.

  'Lady Maud,' he said to the beauty, 'this is my old friend Senorita daCordova. Countess Leven,' he added, for Margaret's benefit.

  She had not met him more than three times, but she did not resentbeing called his old friend. It was well meant, she thought.

  Lady Maud held out her hand cordially.

  'I've wanted to know you ever so long,' she said, in her sweet lowvoice.

  'That's very kind of you,' Margaret answered.

  It is not easy to find a proper reply to people who say they have longhoped to meet you, but Griggs came to the rescue, as he shook hands inhis turn.

  'That was not a mere phrase,' he said with a smile. 'It's quite true.Lady Maud wanted me to give her a letter to you a year ago.'

  'Indeed I did,' asseverated the beauty, nodding, 'but Mr. Griggs saidhe didn't know you well enough!'

  'You might have asked me,' observed Logotheti. 'I'm less cautious thanGriggs.'

  'You're too exotic,' retorted Lady Maud, with a ripple in her voice.

  The adjective described the Greek so well that the others laughed.

  'Exotic,' Margaret repeated the word thoughtfully.

  'For that matter,' put in Mustapha Pasha with a smile, 'I can hardlybe called a native!'

  The Countess Leven looked at him critically.

  'You could pass for one,' she said, 'but Monsieur Logotheti couldn't.'The other men, whom Margaret did not know, had been listening insilence, and maintained their expectant attitude. In the pause whichfollowed Lady Maud's remark the Ambassador introduced them in foreignfashion: one was a middle-aged peer who wore gold-rimmed spectaclesand looked like a student or a man of letters; another was the mostsuccessful young playwright of the younger generation, and he wore avery good coat and was altogether well turned out, for in his heart heprided himself on being the best groomed man in London; a third wasa famous barrister who had a crisp and breezy way with him that madeflat calms in conversation impossible. Lastly, a very disagreeableyoung man, who seemed a mere boy, was introduced to the Primadonna.

  'Mr. Feist,' said the Ambassador, who never forgot names.

  Margaret was aware of a person with an unhealthy complexion, thickhair of a dead-leaf brown colour, and staring blue eyes that made herthink of glass marbles. The face had an unnaturally youthful look, andyet, at the same time, there was something profoundly vicious aboutit. Margaret wondered who in the world the young man might be and whyhe was at the Turkish Embassy, apparently invited there to meet her.She at once supposed that in spite of his appearance he must have someclaim to celebrity.

  'I'm a great admirer of yours, Senorita,' said Mr. Feist in a womanishvoice and with a drawl. 'I was in the Metropolitan
in New York whenyou sang in the dark and prevented a panic. I suppose that was aboutthe finest thing any singer ever did.'

  Margaret smiled pleasantly, though she felt the strongest repulsionfor the man.

  'I happened to be on the stage,' she said modestly. 'Any of the otherswould have done the same.'

  'Well,' drawled Mr. Feist, 'may be. I doubt it.'

  Dinner was announced.

  'Will you keep house for me?' asked the Ambassador of Lady Maud.

  'There's something rather appropriate about your playing Ambassadresshere,' observed Logotheti.

  Margaret heard but did not understand that her new acquaintance wasa Russian subject. Mustapha Pasha held out his arm to take her in todinner. The spectacled peer took in Lady Maud, and the men straggledin. At table Lady Maud sat opposite the Pasha, with the peer on herright and the barrister on her left. Margaret was on the right of theAmbassador, on whose other side Griggs was placed, and Logothetiwas Margaret's other neighbour. Feist and the young playwright weretogether, between Griggs and the nobleman.

  Margaret glanced round the table at the people and wondered aboutthem. She had heard of the barrister and the novelist, and the peer'sname had a familiar sound that suggested something unusual, though shecould not quite remember what it was. It might be pictures, or thenorth pole, or the divorce court, or a new idiot asylum; it wouldnever matter much. The new acquaintances on whom her attention fixeditself were Lady Maud, who attracted her strongly, and Mr. Feist,who repelled her. She wished she could speak Greek in order to askLogotheti who the latter was and why he was present. To judge byappearances he was probably a rich young American who travelled andfrequented theatres a good deal, and who wished to be able to saythat he knew Cordova. He had perhaps arrived lately with a letterof introduction to the Ambassador, who had asked him to the firstnondescript informal dinner he gave, because the man would not havefitted in anywhere else.

  Logotheti began to talk at once, while Mustapha Pasha plunged into apolitical conversation with Griggs.

  'I'm much more glad to see you than you can imagine,' the Greek said,not in an undertone, but just so softly that no one else could hearhim.

  'I'm not good at imagining,' answered Margaret. 'But I'm glad you arehere. There are so many new faces.'

  'Happily you are not shy. One of your most enviable qualities is yourself-possession.'

  'You're not lacking in that way either,' laughed Margaret. 'Unless youhave changed very much.'

  'Neither of us has changed much since last year. I only wish youwould!'

  Margaret turned her head to look at him.

  'So you think I am not changed!' she said, with a little pleasedsurprise in her tone.

  'Not a bit. If anything, you have grown younger in the last twoyears.'

  'Does that mean more youthful? More frisky? I hope not!'

  'No, not at all. What I see is the natural effect of vast success on avery, nice woman. Formerly, even after you had begun your career,you had some doubts as to the ultimate result. The future made yourestless, and sometimes disturbed the peace of your face a little,when you thought about it too much. That's all gone now, and you areyour real self, as nature meant you to be.'

  'My real self? You mean, the professional singer!'

  'No. A great artist, in the person of a thoroughly nice woman.'

  Margaret had thought that blushing was a thing of the past with her,but a soft colour rose in her cheeks now, from sheer pleasure at whathe had said.

  'I hope you don't think it impertinent of me to tell you so,' saidLogotheti with a slight intonation of anxiety.

  'Impertinent!' cried Margaret. 'It's the nicest thing any one has saidto me for months, and thank goodness I'm not above being pleased.'

  Nor was Logotheti above using any art that could please her. Hisinstinct about women, finding no scruples in the way, had led him intopresent favour by the shortest road. It is one thing to say brutallythat all women like flattery; it is quite another to foresee just whatform of flattery they will like. People who do not know professionalartistic life from the inner side are much too ready to cry out thatfirst-class professionals will swallow any amount of undiscriminatingpraise. The ability to judge their own work is one of the gifts whichplace them above the second class.

  'I said what I thought,' observed Logotheti with a sudden air ofconscientious reserve. 'For once in our acquaintance, I was notthinking of pleasing you. And then I was afraid that I had displeasedyou, as I so often have.'

  The last words were spoken with a regret that was real.

  'I have forgiven you,' said Margaret quietly; 'with conditions!' sheadded, as an afterthought, and smiling.

  'Oh, I know--I'll never do it again.'

  'That's what a runaway horse seems to say when he walks quietly home,with his head down and his ears limp, after nearly breaking one'sneck!'

  'I was a born runaway,' said Logotheti meekly, 'but you have curedme.'

  In the pause that followed this speech, Mr. Feist leaned forward andspoke to Margaret across the table.

  'I think we have a mutual friend, Madame,' he said.

  'Indeed?' Margaret spoke coolly; she did not like to be called'Madame' by people who spoke English.

  'Mr. Van Torp,' explained the young man.

  'Yes,' Margaret said, after a moment's hesitation, 'I know Mr. VanTorp; he came over on the same steamer.'

  The others at the table were suddenly silent, and seemed to belistening. Lady Maud's clear eyes rested on Mr. Feist's face.

  'He's quite a wonderful man, I think,' observed the latter.

  'Yes,' assented the Primadonna indifferently.

  'Don't you think he is a wonderful man?' insisted Mr. Feist, with hisdisagreeable drawl.

  'I daresay he is,' Margaret answered, 'but I don't know him verywell.'

  'Really? That's funny!'

  'Why?'

  'Because I happen to know that he thinks everything of you, MadameCordova. That's why I supposed, you were intimate friends.'

  The others had listened hitherto in a sort of mournful silence,distinctly bored. Lady Maud's eyes now turned to Margaret, but thelatter still seemed perfectly indifferent, though she was wishing thatsome one else would speak. Griggs turned to Mr. Feist, who was next tohim.

  'You mean that he is a wonderful man of business, perhaps,' he said.

  'Well, we all know he's that, anyway,' returned his neighbour. 'He'snot exactly a friend of mine, not exactly!' A meaning smile wrinkledthe unhealthy face and suddenly made it look older. 'All the same, Ithink he's quite wonderful. He's not merely an able man, he's a man ofpowerful intellect.'

  'A Nickel Napoleon,' suggested the barrister, who was bored to deathby this time, and could not imagine why Lady Maud followed theconversation with so much interest.

  'Your speaking of nickel,' said the peer, at her elbow, 'reminds me ofthat extraordinary new discovery--let me see--what is it?'

  'America?' suggested the barrister viciously.

  'No,' said his lordship, with perfect gravity, 'it's not that. Ah yes,I remember! It's a process for making nitric acid out of air.'

  Lady Maud nodded and smiled, as if she knew all about it, but her eyeswere again scrutinising Mr. Feist's face. Her neighbour, whose hobbywas applied science, at once launched upon a long account of theinvention. From time to time the beauty nodded and said that she quiteunderstood, which was totally untrue, but well meant.

  'That young man has the head of a criminal,' said the barrister on herother side, speaking very low.

  She bent her head very slightly, to show that she had heard, and shecontinued to listen to the description of the new process. By thistime every one was talking again. Mr. Feist was in conversation withGriggs, and showed his profile to the barrister, who quietly studiedthe retreating forehead and the ill-formed jaw, the latter plainlydiscernible to a practised eye, in spite of the round cheeks. Thebarrister was a little mad on the subject of degeneracy, and knew thatan unnaturally boyish look in a grown man is
one of the signs of it.In the course of a long experience at the bar he had appeared indefence of several 'high-class criminals.' By way of comparing Mr.Feist with a perfectly healthy specimen of humanity, he turned to lookat Logotheti beside him. Margaret was talking with the Ambassador, andthe Greek was just turning to talk to his neighbour, so that theireyes met, and each waited for the other to speak first.

  'Are you a judge of faces?' asked the barrister after a moment.

  'Men of business have to be, to some extent,' answered Logotheti.

  'So do lawyers. What should you say was the matter with that one?'

  It was impossible to doubt that he was speaking of the only abnormalhead at the table, and Logotheti looked across the wide table at Mr.Feist for several seconds before he answered.

  'Drink,' he said in an undertone, when he had finished hisexamination.

  'Yes. Anything else?'

  'May go mad any day, I should think,' observed Logotheti.

  'Do you know anything about him?'

  'Never saw him before.'

  'And we shall probably never see him again,' said the Englishman.'That's the worst of it. One sees such heads occasionally, but onevery rarely hears what becomes of them.'

  The Greek did not care a straw what became of Mr. Feist's head, for hewas waiting to renew his conversation with Margaret.

  Mustapha Pasha told her that she should go to Constantinople some dayand sing to the Sultan, who would give her a pretty decoration indiamonds; and she laughed carelessly and answered that it might bevery amusing.

  'I shall be very happy to show you the way,' said the Pasha. 'Wheneveryou have a fancy for the trip, promise to let me know.'

  Margaret had no doubt that he was quite in earnest, and would enjoythe holiday vastly. She was used to such kind offers and knew how tolaugh at them, though she was very well aware that they were not madein jest.

  'I have a pretty little villa on the Bosphorus,' said the Ambassador,'If you should ever come to Constantinople it is at your disposal,with everything in it, as long as you care to use it.'

  'It's too good of you!' she answered. 'But I have a small house of myown here which is very comfortable, and I like London.'

  'I know,' answered the Pasha blandly; 'I only meant to suggest alittle change.'

  He smiled pleasantly, as if he had meant nothing, and there was apause, of which Logotheti took advantage.

  'You are admirable,' he said.

  'I have had much more magnificent invitations,' she answered. 'Youonce wished to give me your yacht as a present if I would only makea trip to Crete--with a party of archaeologists! An archduke onceproposed to take me for a drive in a cab!'

  'If I remember,' said Logotheti, 'I offered you the owner with theyacht. But I fancy you thought me too "exotic," as Countess Levencalls me.'

  'Oh, much!' Margaret laughed again, and then lowered her voice, 'bythe bye, who is she?'

  'Lady Maud? Didn't you know her? She is Lord Creedmore's daughter, oneof seven or eight, I believe. She married a Russian in the diplomaticservice, four years ago--Count Leven--but everybody here calls herLady Maud. She hadn't a penny, for the Creedmores are poor. Leven wassupposed to be rich, but there are all sorts of stories about him, andhe's often hard up. As for her, she always wears that black velvetgown, and I've been told that she has no other. I fancy she gets a newone every year. But people say--'

  Logotheti broke off suddenly.

  'What do they say?' Margaret was interested.

  'No, I shall not tell you, because I don't believe it.'

  'If you say you don't believe the story, what harm can there be intelling it?'

  'No harm, perhaps. But what is the use of repeating a bit of wickedgossip?'

  Margaret's curiosity was roused about the beautiful Englishwoman.

  'If you won't tell me, I may think it is something far worse!'

  'I'm sure you could not imagine anything more unlikely!'

  'Please tell me! Please! I know it's mere idle curiosity, but you'veroused it, and I shall not sleep unless I know.'

  'And that would be bad for your voice.'

  'Of course! Please--'

  Logotheti had not meant to yield, but he could not resist her winningtone.

  'I'll tell you, but I don't believe a word of it, and I hope you willnot either. The story is that her husband found her with Van Torpthe other evening in rooms he keeps in the Temple, and there was anenvelope on the table addressed to her in his handwriting, in whichthere were four thousand one hundred pounds in notes.'

  Margaret looked thoughtfully at Lady Maud before she answered.

  'She? With Mr. Van Torp, and taking money from him? Oh no! Not withthat face!'

  'Besides,' said Logotheti, 'why the odd hundred? The story gives toomany details. People never know as much of the truth as that.'

  'And if it is true,' returned Margaret, 'he will divorce her, and thenwe shall know.'

  'For that matter,' said the Greek contemptuously, 'Leven would not beparticular, provided he had his share of the profits.'

  'Is it as bad as that? How disgusting! Poor woman!'

  'Yes. I fancy she is to be pitied. In connection with Van Torp, may Iask an indiscreet question?'

  'No question you can ask me about him can be indiscreet. What is it?'

  'Is it true that he once asked you to marry him and you refused him?'

  Margaret turned her pale face to Logotheti with a look of genuinesurprise.

  'Yes. It's true. But I never told any one. How in the world did youhear it?'

  'And he quite lost his head, I heard, and behaved like a madman--'

  'Who told you that?' asked Margaret, more and more astonished, and notat all pleased.

  'He behaved so strangely that you ran into the next room and boltedthe door, and waited till he went away--'

  'Have you been paying a detective to watch me?'

  There was anger in her eyes for a moment, but she saw at once that shewas mistaken.

  'No,' Logotheti answered with a smile, 'why should I? If a detectivetold me anything against you I should not believe it, and no one couldtell me half the good I believe about you!'

  'You're really awfully nice,' laughed Margaret, for she could not helpbeing flattered. 'Forgive me, please!'

  'I would rather that the Nike of Samothrace should think dreadfulthings of me than that she should not think of me at all!'

  'Do I still remind you of her?' asked Margaret.

  'Yes. I used to be quite satisfied with my Venus, but now I want theVictory from the Louvre. It's not a mere resemblance. She is you, andas she has no face. I see yours when I look at her. The other day Istood so long on the landing where she is, that a watchman took me foran anarchist waiting to deposit a bomb, and he called a policeman, whoasked me my name and occupation. I was very near being arrested--onyour account again! You are destined to turn the heads of men ofbusiness!'

  At this point Margaret became aware that she and Logotheti weretalking in undertones, while the conversation at the table had becomegeneral, and she reluctantly gave up the idea of again asking where hehad got his information about her interview with Mr. Van Torp in NewYork. The dinner came to an end before long, and the men went out withthe ladies, and began to smoke in the drawing-room, standing round thecoffee.

  Lady Maud put her arm through Margaret's.

  'Cigarettes are bad for your throat, I'm sure,' she said, 'and I hatethem.'

  She led the Primadonna away through a curtained door to a small roomfurnished according to Eastern ideas of comfort, and she sat down on alow, hard divan, which was covered with a silk carpet. The walls werehung with Persian silks, and displayed three or four texts from theKoran, beautifully written in gold on a green ground. Two small inlaidtables stood near the divan, one at each end, and two deep Englisheasy-chairs, covered with red leather, were placed symmetricallybeside them. There was no other furniture, and there were no gimcracksabout, such as Europeans think necessary in an 'oriental' room.


  With her plain black velvet, Lady Maud looked handsomer than ever inthe severely simple surroundings.

  'Do you mind?' she asked, as Margaret sat down beside her. 'I'm afraidI carried you off rather unceremoniously!'

  'No,' Margaret answered. 'I'm glad to be quiet, it's so long since Iwas at a dinner-party.'

  'I've always hoped to meet you,' said Lady Maud, 'but you're quitedifferent from what I expected. I did not know you were really soyoung--ever so much younger than I am.'

  'Really?'

  'Oh, yes! I'm seven-and-twenty, and I've been married four years.'

  'I'm twenty-four,' said Margaret, 'and I'm not married yet.'

  She was aware that the clear eyes were studying her face, but she didnot resent their scrutiny. There was something about her companionthat inspired her with trust at first sight, and she did not evenremember the impossible story Logotheti had told her.

  'I suppose you are tormented by all sorts of people who ask things,aren't you?'

  Margaret wondered whether the beauty was going to ask her to sing fornothing at a charity concert.

  'I get a great many begging letters, and some very amusing ones,' sheanswered cautiously. 'Young girls, of whom I never heard, writeand ask me to give them pianos and the means of getting a musicaleducation. I once took the trouble to have one of those requestsexamined. It came from a gang of thieves in Chicago.'

  Lady Maud smiled, but did not seem surprised.

  'Millionaires get lots of letters of that sort,' she said. 'Think ofpoor Mr. Van Torp!'

  Margaret moved uneasily at the name, which seemed to pursue her sinceshe had left New York; but her present companion was the first personwho had applied to him the adjective 'poor.'

  'Do you know him well?' she asked, by way of saying something.

  Lady Maud was silent for a moment, and seemed to be considering thequestion.

  'I had not meant to speak of him,' she answered presently. 'I likehim, and from what you said at dinner I fancy that you don't, so weshall never agree about him.'

  'Perhaps not,' said Margaret. 'But I really could not have answeredthat odious man's question in any other way, could I? I meant tobe quite truthful. Though I have met Mr. Van Torp often since lastChristmas, I cannot say that I know him very well, because I have notseen the best side of him.'

  'Few people ever do, and you have put it as fairly as possible. WhenI first met him I thought he was a dreadful person, and now we'reawfully good friends. But I did not mean to talk about him!'

  'I wish you would,' protested Margaret. 'I should like to hear theother side of the case from some one who knows him well.'

  'It would take all night to tell even what I know of his story,' saidLady Maud. 'And as you've never seen me before you probably would notbelieve me,' she added with philosophical calm. 'Why should you? Theother side of the case, as I know it, is that he is kind to me, andgood to people in trouble, and true to his friends.'

  'You cannot say more than that of any man,' Margaret observed gravely.

  'I could say much more, but I want to talk to you about other things.'

  Margaret, who was attracted by her, and who was sure that the storyLogotheti had told was a fabrication, as he said it was, wished thather new acquaintance would leave other matters alone and tell her whatshe knew about Van Torp.

  'It all comes of my having mentioned him accidentally,' said LadyMaud. 'But I often do--probably because I think about him a gooddeal.'

  Margaret thought her amazingly frank, but nothing suggested itself inthe way of answer, so she remained silent.

  'Did you know that your father and my father were friends at Oxford?'Lady Maud asked, after a little pause.

  'Really?' Margaret was surprised.

  'When they were undergrads. Your name is Donne, isn't it? MargaretDonne? My father was called Foxwell then. That's our name, you know.He didn't come into the title till his uncle died, a few years ago.'

  'But I remember a Mr. Foxwell when I was a child,' said Margaret. 'Hecame to see us at Oxford sometimes. Do you mean to say that he wasyour father?'

  'Yes. He is alive, you know--tremendously alive!--and he remembers youas a little girl, and wants me to bring you to see him. Do you mindvery much? I told him I was to meet you this evening.'

  'I should be very glad indeed,' said Margaret.

  'He would come to see you,' said Lady Maud, rather apologetically,'but he sprained his ankle the other day. He was chivvying a catthat was after the pheasants at Creedmore--he's absurdly young, youknow--and he came down at some hurdles.'

  'I'm so sorry! Of course I shall be delighted to go.'

  'It's awfully good of you, and he'll be ever so pleased. May I comeand fetch you? When? To-morrow afternoon about three? Are you quitesure you don't mind?'

  Margaret was quite sure; for the prospect of seeing an old friend ofher father's, and one whom she herself remembered well, was pleasantjust then. She was groping for something she had lost, and the merestthread was worth following.

  'If you like I'll sing for him,' she said.

  'Oh, he simply hates music!' answered Lady Maud, with unconsciousindifference to the magnificence of such an offer from the greatestlyric soprano alive.

  Margaret laughed in spite of herself.

  'Do you hate music too?' she asked.

  'No, indeed! I could listen to you for ever. But my father is quitedifferent. I believe he hears half a note higher with one ear thanwith the other. At all events the effect of music on him is dreadful.He behaves like a cat in a thunderstorm. If you want to please him,talk to him about old bindings. Next to shooting he likes bindingsbetter than anything in the world--in fact he's a capital bookbinderhimself.'

  At this juncture Mustapha Pasha's pale and spiritual face appearedbetween the curtains of the small room, and he interrupted theconversation by a single word.

  'Bridge?'

  Lady Maud was on her feet in an instant.

  'Rather!'

  'Do you play?' asked the Ambassador, turning to Margaret, who rosemore slowly.

  'Very badly. I would rather not.'

  The diplomatist looked disappointed, and she noticed his expression,and suspected that he would feel himself obliged to talk to herinstead of playing.

  'I'm very fond of looking on,' she added quickly, 'if you will let mesit beside you.'

  They went back to the drawing-room, and presently the celebratedSenorita da Cordova, who was more accustomed to being the centre ofinterest than she realised, felt that she was nobody at all, asshe sat at her host's elbow watching the game through a cloud ofsuffocating cigarette smoke. Even old Griggs, who detested cards,had sacrificed himself in order to make up the second table. As forLogotheti, he was too tactful to refuse a game in which every one knewhim to be a past master, in order to sit out and talk to her the wholeevening.

  Margaret watched the players with some little interest at first. Thedisagreeable Mr. Feist lost and became even more disagreeable, andMargaret reflected that whatever he might be he was certainly not anadventurer, for she had seen a good many of the class. The Ambassadorlost even more, but with the quiet indifference of a host who playsbecause his guests like that form of amusement. Lady Maud and thebarrister were partners, and seemed to be winning a good deal; thepeer whose hobby was applied science revoked and did dreadful thingswith his trumps, but nobody seemed to care in the least, except thebarrister, who was no respecter of persons, and had fought his way tocelebrity by terrorising juries and bullying the Bench.

  At last Margaret let her head rest against the back of her comfortablechair, and when she closed her eyes because the cigarette smoke madethem smart, she forgot to open them again, and went sound asleep; forshe was a healthy young person, and had eaten a good dinner, and onevenings when she did not sing she was accustomed to go to bed at teno'clock, if not earlier.

  No one even noticed that she was sleeping, and the game went on tillnearly midnight, when she was awakened by the sound of voices, andsprang to her feet with t
he impression of having done somethingterribly rude. Every one was standing, the smoke was as thick as ever,and it was tempered by a smell of Scotch whisky. The men looked moreor less tired, but Lady Maud had not turned a hair.

  The peer, holding a tall glass of weak whisky and soda in his hand,and blinking through his gold-rimmed spectacles, asked her if she weregoing anywhere else.

  'There's nothing to go to yet,' she said rather regretfully.

  'There are women's clubs,' suggested Logotheti.

  'That's the objection to them,' answered the beauty with more sarcasmthan grammatical sequence.

  'Bridge till all hours, though,' observed the barrister.

  'I'd give something to spend an evening at a smart women's club,' saidthe playwright in a musing tone. 'Is it true that the Crown Prince ofPersia got into the one in Mayfair as a waiter?'

  'They don't have waiters,' said Lady Maud. 'Nothing is ever true. Imust be going home.'

  Margaret was only too glad to go too. When they were downstairs sheheard a footman ask Lady Maud if he should call a hansom for her. Heevidently knew that she had no carriage.

  'May I take you home?' Margaret asked.

  'Oh, please do!' answered the beauty with alacrity. 'It's awfully goodof you!'

  It was raining as the two handsome women got into the singer'scomfortable brougham.

  'Isn't there room for me too?' asked Logotheti, putting his head inbefore the footman could shut the door.

  'Don't be such a baby,' answered Lady Maud in a displeased tone.

  The Greek drew back with a laugh and put up his umbrella; Lady Maudtold the footman where to go, and the carriage drove away.

  'You must have had a dull evening,' she said.

  'I was sound asleep most of the time,' Margaret answered. 'I'm afraidthe Ambassador thought me very rude.'

  'Because you went to sleep? I don't believe he even noticed it. And ifhe did, why should you mind? Nobody cares what anybody does nowadays.We've simplified life since the days of our fathers. We think more ofthe big things than they did, and much less of the little ones.'

  'All the same, I wish I had kept awake!'

  'Nonsense!' retorted Lady Maud. 'What is the use of being famous ifyou cannot go to sleep when you are sleepy? This is a bad world asit is, but it would be intolerable if one had to keep up one'sschool-room manners all one's life, and sit up straight and spellproperly, as if Society, with a big S, were a governess that couldsend us to bed without our supper if we didn't!'

  Margaret laughed a little, but there was no ripple in Lady Maud'sdelicious voice as she made these singular statements. She wasprofoundly in earnest.

  'The public is my schoolmistress,' said Margaret. 'I'm so used tobeing looked at and listened to on the stage that I feel as if peoplewere always watching me and criticising me, even when I go out todinner.'

  'I've no right at all to give you my opinion, because I'm nobody inparticular,' answered Lady Maud, 'and you are tremendously famous andall that! But you'll make yourself miserable for nothing if you getinto the way of caring about anybody's opinion of you, except on thestage. And you'll end by making the other people uncomfortable too,because you'll make them think that you mean to teach them manners!'

  'Heaven forbid!' Margaret laughed again.

  The carriage stopped, and Lady Maud thanked her, bade her good-night,and got out.

  'No,' she said, as the footman was going to ring the bell, 'I have alatch-key, thank you.'

  It was a small house in Charles Street, Berkeley Square, and thewindows were quite dark. There was not even a light in the hall whenMargaret saw Lady Maud open the front door and disappear within.

  Margaret went over the little incidents of the evening as she drovehome alone, and felt better satisfied with herself than she had beensince Lushington's visit, in spite of having deliberately gone tosleep in Mustapha Pasha's drawing-room. No one had made her feel thatshe was changed except for the better, and Lady Maud, who was mostundoubtedly a smart woman of the world, had taken a sudden fancy toher. Margaret told herself that this would be impossible if she wereever so little vulgarised by her stage life, and in this reflectionshe consoled herself for what Lushington had said, and nursed herresentment against him.

  The small weaknesses of celebrities are sometimes amazing. There was amoment that evening, as she stood before her huge looking-glass beforeundressing and scrutinised her face in it, when she would have givenher fame and her fortune to be Lady Maud, who trusted to a passinghansom or an acquaintance's carriage for getting home from an Embassy,who let herself into a dark and cheerless little house with alatch-key, who was said to be married to a slippery foreigner, andabout whom the gossips invented unedifying tales.

  Margaret wondered whether Lady Maud would ever think of changingplaces with her, to be a goddess for a few hours every week, to havemore money than she could spend on herself, and to be pursued withrequests for autographs and grand pianos, not to mention invitationsto supper from those supernal personages whose uneasy heads wearcrowns or itch for them; and Senorita da Cordova told herself ratherpetulantly that Lady Maud would rather starve than be the mostsuccessful soprano that ever trilled on the high A till the houseyelled with delight, and the royalties held up their stalking-glassesto watch the fluttering of her throat, if perchance they might see howthe pretty noise was made.

  But at this point Margaret Donne was a little ashamed of herself, andwent to bed; and she dreamt that Edmund Lushington had suddenly takento wearing a little moustache, very much turned up and flattened onhis cheeks, and a single emerald for a stud, which cast a greenishrefulgence round it upon a shirt-front that was hideously shiny;and the effect of these changes in his appearance was to make himperfectly odious.