Part 50 (1/2)
Her first reception of his coming was rea.s.suring enough. At his mention of St. Petersburg, however, she frowned.
”I do not think so,” she answered, in French. ”You are mistaken. I do not know St. Petersburg.”
”Then it was in Paris,” Bernadine continued, with conviction. ”Madame is Parisian, without a doubt.”
She shook her head, smiling.
”I do not think that I remember meeting you, Monsieur,” she replied, doubtfully, ”but perhaps--”
She looked up, and her eyes dropped before his. He was certainly a very personable looking man, and she had spoken to no one for so many months.
”Believe me, Madame, I could not possibly be mistaken,” Bernadine a.s.sured her, smoothly. ”You are staying here for long?”
She shrugged her shoulders.
”Heaven knows!” she declared. ”My husband he has, I think, what you call the wander fever. For myself, I am tired of it. In Rome we settle down, we stay five days, all seems pleasant, and suddenly my husband's whim carries us away without an hour's notice. The same thing at Monte Carlo, the same in Paris. Who can tell what will happen here? To tell you the truth, Monsieur,” she added, a little archly, ”I think that if he were to come back at this moment, we should probably leave England to-night.”
”Your husband is very jealous?” Bernadine whispered, softly.
She shrugged her shoulders.
”Partly jealous, and partly, he has the most terrible distaste for acquaintances. He will not speak to strangers himself, or suffer me to do so. It is sometimes--oh! it is sometimes very triste.”
”Madame has my sympathy,” Bernadine a.s.sured her. ”It is an impossible life--this. No husband should be so exacting.”
She looked at him with her round, blue eyes, a touch of added color in her cheeks.
”If one could but cure him!” she murmured.
”I would ask your permission to sit down,” Bernadine remarked, ”but I fear to intrude. You are afraid, perhaps, that your husband may return.”
She shook her head.
”It will be better that you do not stay,” she declared. ”For a moment or two he is engaged. He has an appointment in his room with a gentleman, but one never knows how long he may be.”
”You have friends in London, then,” Bernadine remarked, thoughtfully.
”Of my husband's affairs,” the woman said, ”there is no one so ignorant as I. Yet since we left our own country, this is the first time I have known him willingly speak to a soul.”
”Your own country,” Bernadine repeated, softly. ”That was Russia, of course. Your husband's nationality is very apparent.”
The woman looked a little annoyed with herself. She remained silent.
”May I not hope,” Bernadine begged, ”that you will give me the pleasure of meeting you again?”
She hesitated for a moment.
”He does not leave me,” she replied. ”I am not alone for five minutes during the day.”
Bernadine scribbled the name by which he was known in that locality, on a card, and pa.s.sed it to her.