Part 14 (1/2)
”I'm sure I don't know,” said Gorman. ”I haven't seen her for weeks.
She's yachting in the Mediterranean with her father. If I were you I'd give up Miss Donovan and look out for a queen.”
”Thank you,” said Goldsturmer. ”But if I give up Miss Donovan I think I shall not buy the pearls from Madame Ypsilante. There are, alas, few queens.”
Gorman was not, after all, more than five minutes late for dinner. The King was waiting for him, but without any sign of impatience. Madame Ypsilante entered the room a minute or two later.
She was wearing a purple velvet dress which struck Gorman as a very regal garment. Round her neck was a magnificent rope of pearls. Gorman had no doubt that they were those of which Goldsturmer had spoken.
They were finer than any he had ever seen. It was easy to believe that there was no other such necklace in the world and that only a queen should wear them. But they suited Madame Ypsilante. She would, so far as her appearance went, have made a very fine queen.
During dinner the conversation was about Paris. The King spoke of pleasant adventures there, of the life he and Madame had lived, of the delight of having money to spend, really enough of it, in a city like Paris. He told his stories well, his vehemently idiomatic English emphasizing his points. He became lyrical in his appreciation of the joys of life. When dessert was on the table and port took the place of champagne he lapsed into a philosophic mood.
”The d.a.m.ned G.o.ds of life,” he said, ”are blind of one eye. They are lame and they limp. They are left-handed. They give the oof, the dollars, the shekels, and do not give the power to enjoy. The Americans--your Donovan, for example. What does he know of pleasure?
The English of your middling cla.s.ses. What is Paris to them? They have money but no more. Those left-handed G.o.ds have given a useless gift.
On me and on Corinne they have bestowed the power, the knowledge, the skill to enjoy; and we, d.a.m.n it all, have no money.”
The King sighed deeply. Madame Ypsilante had tears in her eyes. She was in full sympathy with the King's new mood. Gorman was astonished.
The price which Mr. Donovan had paid for the crown of Salissa was a large one. Even after ten thousand pounds had been spent on Madame Ypsilante's pearls there was a sum left which it would be difficult to spend in a few weeks.
”Surely,” he said, ”you haven't got rid of all the money yet? You can't have spent it in the time. I didn't think you could be hard up again so soon. Even when I heard that Madame wanted to sell her pearls----”
”Sell my pearls!” said Madame. ”But never! Never, never!!”
There were no tears in her eyes then. The mood of self-pity induced by the King's reflections on left-handed G.o.ds had pa.s.sed away. She looked fierce as a tigress when she shot out her next question to Gorman.
”Who has said that I wish to sell my pearls? Who has said it? I demand. I insist: Tell me his name and I will at once kill him. I shall pluck out his heart and dogs shall eat it.”
Gorman did not care whether Goldsturmer's heart was eaten by dogs or not. He did want to understand how it came that the astute Jew expected to have the pearls offered to him. It was plain that Madame Ypsilante did not want to sell them and that she had not suggested the sale.
”It was Goldsturmer,” said Gorman, ”who told me. He seemed to think that Miss Donovan might buy them.”
Madame at once knocked down two wine-gla.s.ses and a vase of flowers.
”That cursed offspring of the litter of filthy Jews who make Hamburg stink! Tell him that I will pull out his hair, his teeth, his eyes, but that never, never will that American miss touch one of my pearls.
I will not sell, will not, will not.”
The King looked round. He satisfied himself that the waiters had left the room.
”Alas,” he said, ”alas, my poor Corinne! But consider. There is an English proverb: the horse needs must trot along, trot smart, when it is the devil who drives.”
”He is the devil, that Emperor,” said Madame. ”But not for any Emperor will I part with one single pearl.”
”Look here,” said Gorman. ”There's evidently been some mistake about Goldsturmer and the pearls. I don't profess to understand what's happening, but if I'm to help you in any way----”
”You are to help d.a.m.nably,” said the King. ”Are you not our friend?”
”In that case,” said Gorman, ”before I go a step further into the matter I must know what on earth the Emperor has got to do with Madame's pearls.”
”The Emperor,” said Madame Ypsilante, ”is a devil.”
”Take another gla.s.s of port,” said the King. ”No? Then light a cigar. If you will light a cigar and fill for yourself a gla.s.s of brandy--also for Corinne--I will tell you about the Emperor.”