Part 25 (1/2)
Our young man was all critical attention again. ”'Desperate'?”
”The letter of a woman so scared that she'll do anything. I may be a great brute, but her scare amuses me.”
”You're in the position of Olivier de Jalin in _Le Demi-Monde_,”
Waterville remarked.
”In _Le Demi-Monde_?” Littlemore was not quick at catching literary allusions.
”Don't you remember the play we saw in Paris? Or like Don Fabrice in _L'Aventuriere_. A bad woman tries to marry an honourable man, who doesn't know how bad she is, and they who do know step in and push her back.”
”Yes, it comes to me. There was a good deal of lying,” Littlemore recalled, ”all round.”
”They prevented the marriage, however-which is the great thing.”
”The great thing if your heart's set! One of the active parties was the intimate friend of the man in love, the other was his son. Demesne's nothing at all to me.”
”He's a very good fellow,” said Waterville.
”Then go and talk to him.”
”Play the part of Olivier de Jalin? Oh I can't. I'm not Olivier. But I think I do wish he'd corner me of himself. Mrs. Headway oughtn't really to be allowed to pa.s.s.”
”I wish to heaven they'd let me alone,” Littlemore murmured ruefully and staring a while out of the window.
”Do you still hold to that theory you propounded in Paris? Are you willing to commit perjury?” Waterville asked.
”a.s.suredly I can refuse to answer questions-even that one.”
”As I told you before, that will amount to a condemnation.”
Longmore frowningly debated. ”It may amount to what it pleases. I guess I'll go back to Paris.”
”That will be the same as not answering. But it's quite the best thing you can do. I've really been thinking it out,” Waterville continued, ”and I don't hold that from the point of view of social good faith she's an article we ought to contribute-!” He looked at the matter clearly now from a great elevation; his tone, the expression of his face, betrayed this lofty flight; the effect of which, as he glanced down at his didactic young friend, Littlemore found peculiarly irritating.
He s.h.i.+fted about. ”No, after all, hanged if they shall drive me away!”
he exclaimed abruptly; and he walked off while his companion wondered.
X
The morning after this the elder man received a note from Mrs. Headway-a short and simple note, consisting merely of the words: ”I shall be at home this afternoon; will you come and see me at five? I've something particular to say to you.” He sent no answer to the question, but went to the little house in Chesterfield Street at the hour its mistress had proposed.
”I don't believe you know what sort of a woman I _am_!” she began as soon as he stood before her.
”Oh Lord!” Littlemore groaned as he dropped into a chair. Then he added: ”Please don't strike up _that_ air!”
”Ah, but it's exactly what I've wanted to say. It's very important. You don't know me-you don't understand me. You think you do-but you don't.”
”It isn't for the want of your having told me-many many times!” And Littlemore had a hard critical smile, irritated as he was at so austere a prospect. The last word of all was decidedly that Mrs. Headway was a dreadful bore. It was always the last word about such women, who never really deserved to be spared.
She glared at him a little on this; her face was no longer the hospitable inn-front with the showy sign of the Smile. The sign had come down; she looked sharp and strained, almost old; the change was complete. It made her serious as he had never seen her-having seen her always only either too pleased or too disgusted. ”Yes, I know; men are so stupid. They know nothing about women but what women tell them. And women tell them things on purpose to see how stupid they can be. I've told you things like that just for amus.e.m.e.nt when it was dull. If you believed them it was your own fault. But now I want you really to know.”
”I don't want to know. I know enough.”