Part 16 (1/2)

And love? If a man's love fell short of the desire for marriage, well, it didn't amount to a row of pins. Besides, even where there could be a love quite true without the possibility of marriage, she had seen enough of the world to know the unhappinesses that could happen to women. No. Andre must not think she was cold or prudish. She had set out to be merely reasonable.

To Andre the girl's apology for preserving her chast.i.ty seemed perfectly natural. In her world it was somewhat of an eccentric feat.

”_Et puis, enfin._” And then, at last, came the conquering male, a singer in a light opera touring company in the chorus of which she was engaged. He was young, handsome--played secondary parts; one of the great ones, in fact, in her limited theatrical hierarchy. He fell in love with her. She, flattered, responded. Of course, he suggested setting up house together, then and there. But she had her aforesaid little principles.

His infatuation, however, was such that he consented to run the terrific gauntlet of French matrimonial procedure. Why people in France go to the nerve-racking trouble of getting married Heaven only knows. Camels can gallop much more easily through needles' eyes. Anybody can be born in France, anybody can die; against these phenomena the form-multiplying and ream-writing _Ad-min-is-tra-tion_ is powerless. But when you come to the intermediate business of world population, then bureaucracy steps in and plays the very devil. Elodie and Raoul Marescaux desired to be married.

In England they would have got a special license, or gone to a registry office, and the thing would have been over. But in France, Monsieur and Madame Marescaux, and Madame Figa.s.so, and the _huissier_ Boudin, who insisted on coming forward although he was not legally united to Madame, and lawyers representing each family, were set all agog, and there were meetings and quarrels, and delays--Elodie had not a cent to her dowry--which of course was the stumbling-block--with the final result that nothing was done which might not have been done at once, namely, that the pair were doubly married--once by Monsieur le Maire and then by Monsieur le Cure.

For a few months she was happy. Then the handsome Raoul became enamoured of a fresh face. Then Elodie fell ill, oh, so ill, they thought she was going to die. And during her illness and slow recovery Raoul became enamoured of every fresh face he saw. A procession. If it had been one, said Elodie philosophically, she could perhaps have arranged matters. But they had been endless. And what little beauty she had her illness had taken away, so her only weapon was gone; and Raoul jeered at her and openly flaunted his infidelities in her presence. When she used beyond a certain point the ready tongue with which Providence had endowed her, she was soundly beaten.

”_Le goujat!_” cried Andrew. Ah! It was a life of h.e.l.l. But they had kept nominally together, in the same companies, she singing in the chorus, he playing his second roles. And then there came a day when he obtained an engagement in the Opera at Buenos Ayres. She was to accompany him. Her berth was booked, her luggage packed. He said to her, ”I have to go away for a day or two on business. Meet me at the boat train for Havre on Wednesday.” She went to the Gare St. Lazare on Wednesday to find that the boat train had gone on Tuesday. _Un sale tour_--eh? Did ever anyone hear of such a dirty trick? And later she learned that her berth was occupied by a little modiste of the Place de la Madeleine with whom he had run away.

That was two years ago. Since then she had not heard of him; and she wished never to hear of him again.

”And you have been supporting yourself all the time, on the stage?”

”Yes, I have lived. But it has been hard. My illness affected my voice. No one wants me very much. But still”--she smiled wanly--”I can manage. And now, you. I saw you yesterday at the Palace. They know me there and give me my _entree_. You have had a _beau succes_. You are famous. I am so glad.”

Modestly he depreciated the fame, but acknowledged the success which was due to her encouragement. He told her of the racehorse Elodie and his lucky inspiration. For the first time she laughed and clapped her hands.

”Oh, I am flattered! Yes, and greatly touched. Now I know that you have remembered me. But if the horse had lost wouldn't you have pested against me? Say?”

Andrew replied soberly: ”I could not possibly have lost. I knew it would win, just as I know that five minutes hence the sun will continue to s.h.i.+ne.

I had faith in your star, Elodie.”

”My star--it's not worth very much, my star.”

”It has been to me,” said Andrew.

They talked on. By dint of questioning she learned most of his not over-eventful history. He told her of Horatio Bakkus, and of the season on the sands, when first he realized her original idea of exploiting his figure; of Prepimpin in his prime and their wanderings about Europe. And now alas! there was no longer a Prepimpin.

”But how will you give the performance this evening without him?” she asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. He had not given a thought to that yet. It was the loss of his friend that wrung his heart.

”You are so gentle and sympathetic. Why is it that no woman has loved you?”

”Perhaps because I've not found a woman I could love,” said he.

She did not pursue the subject, but sighed and looked somewhat drearily in front of her. It was then that he became aware of the cruel treatment that the years had inflicted on her youth. He knew that she was under thirty, yet she looked older. The colour had gone from her olive skin, leaving it sallow; her cheeks were drawn; haggard lines appeared beneath her eyes; her cheekbones and chin were prominent. It struck him that she might be fighting a hard battle against poverty. She looked underfed. He asked her.

”Have you an engagement here in Avignon?”

She shook her head. No, she was resting.

”How long have you been out?”

She couldn't tell. Many weeks. And prospects for the immediate future? The Tournee Tardieu was coming next Monday to Avignon. She knew the manager.

Possibly he would give her a short engagement.

”And if he doesn't?”