Part 26 (1/2)

”Is it permitted to know the object of the charity we are going to a.s.sist so well?” said Moricourt.

Lady Chaloner, dimly aware that Mrs. Birkett was becoming very uncomfortable, although she did not clearly distinguish whether the peculiar expression to be observed on the latter's face came from irritation or embarra.s.sment, hastily said--

”It is not a charity exactly. It is for the English Church at Schleppenheim. This is Mrs. Birkett, the wife of the clergyman,”

indicating Mrs. Birkett.

”Ah!” said Moricourt, ”the English Church,” and he bowed to Mrs. Birkett as though making the acquaintance of that honoured inst.i.tution. Princess Hohenschreien also included herself in the introduction, and bowed with a good-natured smile of absolute indifference to Mrs. Birkett and to all that she represented.

”Well, now then, seriously,” said Lady Chaloner, ”do you undertake the Cafe Chantant, Madeline?”

”Not the whole of it, my dear lady,” said the Princess. ”That really is too much to ask. M. Moricourt and I will act a play.”

”How long does the play last?” said Lady Chaloner.

”How long did we say it took?” said the Princess to her companion. ”It depends upon how often Moricourt forgets his part. When we rehea.r.s.ed it last night he waited quite ten minutes in the middle of it.”

”I must remind you,” said Moricourt, ”that I was pausing to admire ...

the beautiful feathers in your hat.”

”Oh! well, that is different,” said the Princess. ”I think that explanation is satisfactory--but otherwise----” And she filled up the sentence with a telling glance, to which Moricourt replied with a look of fervent admiration.

”Well, how long does it take, then?” said Lady Chaloner, with a smile of strange indulgence, Mrs. Birkett thought, for a lady so highly placed, and of such solid dignity.

”Oh! about half an hour,” said Moricourt; ”perhaps three-quarters.”

”Is that all?” said Lady Chaloner, in some consternation. ”The Cafe Chantant goes on for how long did you say, Mrs. Birkett?”

This piece of statistics Mrs. Birkett was able to furnish.

”From six till ten, I think you said, Lady Chaloner,” she said, reading from her list.

”Heavens!” said the Princess, ”you don't expect us, I hope, to go on from six till ten. We had better do the Nibelungen Ring at once. I will be Brunnhilde--and I tell you what,” turning to Moricourt, ”you shall be the big lizard who comes in and says 'bow-wow,' or whatever it is. Mr.

Wentworth!” and she called to Wentworth who was strolling along with an air of being at peace with himself and the universe. ”What is it that lizards do?”

”If they are small,” said Wentworth, ”they run up a wall in the sun, or they run over your feet, and if they are big----”

”You fall over their feet, I suppose,” said the Princess.

”But a lizard at a Cafe Chantant,” said Moricourt, ”what does he do?”

”At a Cafe Chantant? He sings, of course,” said Wentworth.

”No no,” said the Princess, with again her resonant laugh. ”I don't know much about botany, but I am sure lizards don't sing.”

”Then in that case,” said Moricourt, ”Wentworth must. He can sing; I have heard him.”

”Can you, Mr. Wentworth? How well can you sing?” said the Princess with artless candour.

”Well,” said Wentworth, ”that is rather difficult to say. I don't sing quite as well as Mario perhaps, but a little better than ... a lizard.”