Part 18 (1/2)
”But--but why?” she stammered.
”I can't tell you why. Only take my advice and leave her alone.”
”But I thought her delightful,” protested Diana. ”And”--wistfully--”I haven't many friends in London.”
”Miss de Gervais isn't quite all she seems. And your art should be your friend--you don't need any other.”
Diana laughed.
”You talk like old Baroni himself! But indeed I do want friends--I haven't nearly reached the stage when art can take the place of nice human people.”
Miss Lermontof regarded her dispa.s.sionately.
”That's only because you're young--horribly young and warm-hearted.”
”You talk as if you yourself were a near relation of Methuselah!”--laughing.
”I'm thirty-five,” returned Olga, ”And that's old enough to know that nine-tenths of your 'nice human people' are self-seeking vampires living on the generosity of the other tenth. Besides, you have only to wait till you come out professionally and you can have as many so-called friends as you choose. You'll scarcely need to lift your little finger and they'll come flocking round you. I don't think”-- looking at her speculatively--”that you've any conception what your voice is going to do for you. You see, it isn't just an ordinary good voice--it's one of the exceptional voices that are only vouchsafed once or twice in a century.”
”Still, I think I should like to have a few friends--now. _My_ friend, I mean--not just the friends of my voice!”--with a smile.
”Well, don't include Miss de Gervais in the number--or Max Errington either.”
She watched Diana's sudden flush, and shrugging her shoulders, added sardonically:--
”I suppose, however, it's useless to try and stop a marble rolling down hill. . . . Well, later on, remember that I warned you.”
Diana stared into the fire for a moment in silence. Then she asked with apparent irrelevance:--
”Is Mr. Errington married?”
”He is not.” Diana's heart suddenly sang within her.
”Nor,” continued Miss Lermontof keenly, ”is there any likelihood of his ever marrying.”
The song broke off abruptly.
”I should have thought,” said Diana slowly, ”that he was just the kind of man who _would_ marry. He is”--with a little effort--”very delightful.”
Miss Lermontof got up to go.
”You have a saying in England: _All is not gold that glitters_. It is very good sense,” she observed.
”Do you mean”--Diana's eyes were suddenly apprehensive--”do you mean that he has done anything wrong--dishonourable?”
”I think,” replied Olga Lermontof incisively, ”that it would be very dishonourable of him if he tried to--to make you care for him.”
She moved towards the door as she spoke, and Diana followed her.
”But why--why do you tell me this?” she faltered.