Part 19 (2/2)
”To paint her?”
”To paint her portrait.”
”Oh I see. I daresay she'd do for that.”
Mr. Nash showed further amus.e.m.e.nt. ”If that's your opinion of her you're not very complimentary to the art he aspires to practise.”
”He aspires to practise?” she echoed afresh.
”Haven't you talked with him about it? Ah you must keep him up to it!”
Julia Dallow was conscious for a moment of looking uncomfortable; but it relieved her to be able to demand of her neighbour with a certain manner: ”Are you an artist?”
”I try to be,” Nash smiled, ”but I work in such difficult material.”
He spoke this with such a clever suggestion of mysterious things that she was to hear herself once more pay him the attention of taking him up. ”Difficult material?”
”I work in life!”
At this she turned away, leaving him the impression that she probably misunderstood his speech, thinking he meant that he drew from the living model or some such plat.i.tude: as if there could have been any likelihood he would have dealings with the dead. This indeed would not fully have explained the abruptness with which she dropped their conversation.
Gabriel, however, was used to sudden collapses and even to sudden ruptures on the part of those addressed by him, and no man had more the secret of remaining gracefully with his conversational wares on his hands. He saw Mrs. Dallow approach Nick Dormer, who was talking with one of the ladies of the emba.s.sy, and apparently signify that she wished to speak to him. He got up and they had a minute's talk, after which he turned and took leave of his fellow-visitors. She said a word to her brother, Nick joined her, and they then came together to the door. In this movement they had to pa.s.s near Nash, and it gave her an opportunity to nod good-bye to him, which he was by no means sure she would have done if Nick hadn't been with her. The young man just stopped; he said to Nash: ”I should like to see you this evening late. You must meet me somewhere.”
”Well take a walk--I should like that,” Nash replied. ”I shall smoke a cigar at the cafe on the corner of the Place de l'Opera--you'll find me there.” He prepared to compa.s.s his own departure, but before doing so he addressed himself to the duty of a few civil words to Lady Agnes. This effort proved vain, for on one side she was defended by the wall of the room and on the other rendered inaccessible by Miriam's mother, who clung to her with a quickly-rooted fidelity, showing no symptom of desistance. Nash declined perforce upon her daughter Grace, who said to him: ”You were talking with my cousin Mrs. Dallow.”
”To her rather than with her,” he smiled.
”Ah she's very charming,” Grace said.
”She's very beautiful.”
”And very clever,” the girl continued.
”Very, very intelligent.” His conversation with Miss Dormer went little beyond this, and he presently took leave of Peter Sherringham, remarking to him as they shook hands that he was very sorry for him. But he had courted his fate.
”What do you mean by my fate?” Sherringham asked.
”You've got them for life.”
”Why for life, when I now clearly and courageously recognise that she isn't good?”
”Ah but she'll become so,” said Gabriel Nash.
”Do you think that?” Sherringham brought out with a candour that made his visitor laugh.
”_You_ will--that's more to the purpose!” the latter declared as he went away.
Ten minutes later Lady Agnes subst.i.tuted a general, vague a.s.sent for all further particular ones, drawing off from Mrs. Rooth and from the rest of the company with her daughters. Peter had had very little talk with Biddy, but the girl kept her disappointment out of her pretty eyes and said to him: ”You told us she didn't know how--but she does!” There was no suggestion of disappointment in this.
Sherringham held her hand a moment. ”Ah it's you who know how, dear Biddy!” he answered; and he was conscious that if the occasion had been more private he would have all lawfully kissed her.
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