Part 17 (1/2)

Whither the commonplace adventure was leading them neither knew. For his part pity compelled superst.i.tious sentiment to the payment, in some vague manner, of a long-standing obligation. She had also given him very rare sympathy that afternoon, and he was grateful. But things ended there, in a sort of blind alley.

For her part, she let herself go with the current of destiny into which, by strange hazard, she had drifted. She had the humility which is the fiercest form of pride. Although she clung desperately to him, as to the spar that alone could save her from drowning, although the feminine within her was drawn to his kind and simple manliness, and although her heart was touched by his grief at the loss of the dog, yet never for a moment did she count upon the ordinary romantic _denouement_ of such a situation. The idea came involuntarily into her mind. Into the mind of what woman of her upbringing would not the idea come? But she banished it savagely. Who was she, waste rag of a woman, to attract a man? And even had she retained the vivid beauty and plenitude of her maidenhood, it would have been just the same. Elodie Figa.s.so had never sold herself. No. All that side of things was out of the question. She wished, however, that he was less of an enigmatic, though kindly, sphinx.

Over their modest supper of sandwiches and Cotes du Rhone wine, in an inside corner of the Cafe des Negociants--it was all the cafe could offer, and besides she swore to a plentiful dinner--they discussed their respective forlorn positions. Adroitly she tacked away from her own concerns towards his particular dilemma. If he shrank from training another dog and yet distrusted a solo performance, what was he going to do? Take a partner like his friend--she forgot the name--yes, Bakkus, on whom perhaps he couldn't rely, and who naturally would demand half his salary?

”Never again,” Andrew declared, feeling better after a draught of old Hermitage. ”The only thing I can think of is to engage a competent a.s.sistant.”

Then Elodie's swift brain conceived a daring idea.

”You would have to train the a.s.sistant.”

”Of course. But,” he added in a dismal tone, ”most of the a.s.sistants I have seen are abysmally stupid. They are dummies. They give nothing of themselves, for the performer to act up to.”

”In fact,” said Elodie, trying hard to steady her voice, ”you want someone entirely in sympathy with you, who can meet you half-way--like Prepimpin.”

”Precisely,” said Andrew. ”But where can I find a human Prepimpin?”

She abandoned knife and fork and, with both arms resting on the table, looked across at him, and it suddenly struck him that her great dark eyes, intelligent and submissive, were very much like the eyes of Prepimpin. And so, womanlike, she conveyed the Idea from her brain to his.

He said very thoughtfully, ”I wonder--”

”What?”

”What have you done on the stage? What can you do? Tell me. Unfortunately I have never seen you.”

She could sing--not well now, because her voice had suffered--but still she sang true. She had a musical ear. She could accompany anyone on the piano, _pas trop mal_. She could dance. Oh, to that she owed her first engagement. She had also learned to play the castagnettes and the tambourine, _a l'Espagnole_. And she was accustomed to discipline....

As she proceeded with the unexciting catalogue of her accomplishments she lost self-control, and her eyes burned and her lips quivered and her voice shook in unison with the beatings of a desperately anxious heart. Our Andrew, although an artist dead set on perfection and a shrewd man of business, was young, pitiful and generous. The pleading dog's look in Elodie's eyes was too much for him. He felt powerless to resist. His brain worked swiftly, devising all kinds of artistic possibilities. Besides, was not Fate accomplis.h.i.+ng itself by presenting this solution of both their difficulties?

”I wonder whether you would care to try the experiment?”

With an effort of feminine duplicity she put on a puzzled and ingenuous expression.

”What experiment?”

He was somewhat taken aback: surely he must have misinterpreted her pleading. From the dispenser of fortune, he became the seeker of favours.

”I know it's not much of a position to offer you,” said he, almost apologetically, ”but if you care to accept it----”

”Of your a.s.sistant?” she asked, as though the idea had never entered her head.

”Why, yes. If you will consent to a month of very hard work. You would have to learn a little elementary juggling. You would have to give me instantaneous replies in act and speech. But if you would give yourself up to me I could teach you.”

”But, _mon pauvre Andre_,” she said, with an astonished air, ”this is the last thing I ever dreamed of. I am so ignorant. I should put you to shame.”

”Oh no, you wouldn't,” said he, confidently. ”I know my business. Wait.

_Les affaires sont les affaires_. I should have to give you a little contract. Let us see. For the remainder of my tour--ten weeks--ten francs a day with hotel _en pension_ and railway fares.”

To Elodie, independent waif in theatre-land, this was wealth beyond her dreams. She stretched both hands across the table.

”Do you mean that? It is true? And, if I please you, you will keep me always?”