Part 21 (1/2)
”Don't pay any attention,” said Caesar, quite aloud; ”these middle-cla.s.s people are often very rude.”
Mlle. de Sandoval gave Caesar a look half startled and half reproving; and he explained, smiling:
”I was telling Mlle. Cadet a funny story.”
Mme. Dawson and her daughters soon became friends with the most distinguished persons in the hotel; only the Marchesa Sciacca, the Maltese, avoided them as if they inspired her with profound contempt.
In a few days the Countess Brenda and Caesar's friends.h.i.+p pa.s.sed beyond the bonds of friends.h.i.+p; but in the course of time it cooled off again.
_INFLUENCE OF THE INCLINATION OF THE EARTH'S AXIS ON WHAT IS CALLED LOVE_
One evening, when the Countess Brenda's daughter had left Rome to go with her father to a villa they owned in the North, the Countess and Caesar had a long conversation in the salon. They were alone; a great tenor was singing at the Costanzi, and the whole hotel was at the theatre. The Countess chatted with Caesar, she reclining in a chaise longue, and he seated in a low chair. That evening the Countess was feeling in a provocative humour, and she made fun of Caesar's mode of life and his ideas, not with the phrases and the manners of a great lady, but with the boldness and spice of a woman of the people.
The angle that the earth's axis makes with the trajectory of the ecliptic, and which produces those absurd phenomena that we Spaniards call seasons, determined at that period the arrival of spring, and spring had no doubt shaken the Countess Brenda's nerves.
Spring gave cooling inflexions to the lady's voice and made her express herself with warmth and with a shamelessly libertine air.
No doubt the core of her personality was joyful, provoking, and somewhat licentious.
Her eyes flashed, and on her lips there was a sensual expression of challenge and mockery.
Caesar, that evening, without knowing why, was dull at expressing himself, and depressed. Some of the Countess's questions left him in a stupid unreadiness.
”Poor child; I am sorry for you,” she suddenly said.
”Why?”
”Because you are so weak; you have such an air of exhaustion. What do you do to make you like this? I am sure you ought to be given some sort of iron tonic, like the anaemic girls.”
”Do you really think I am so weak?” asked Caesar.
”Isn't it written all over you?”
”Well, anyway, I am stronger than you, Countess.”
”In a discussion, perhaps. But otherwise.... You have no strength except in your brains.”
”And in my hands. Give me your hand.”
The Countess gave him her hand and Caesar pressed it tighter and tighter.
”You are strong after all,” she said.
”That is nothing. You wait,” and Caesar squeezed the Countess's hand until he made her give a sharp scream. A servant entered the salon.
”It's nothing,” said the Countess, getting up; ”I seemed to have turned my foot.”
”I will take you to your room,” exclaimed Caesar, offering her his arm.