Part 27 (1/2)
The proposal, he reflected, was one that required careful consideration, for he could not dispute the fact that he really feared her. He knew she could wreck his life.
”What is your answer?” she asked, watching his thoughtful face narrowly, and noticing with satisfaction his perplexity.
”I cannot give one now. I must think,” he replied.
”Very well. Think well over the matter and its consequences before acting rashly. I fancy you will come to the same conclusion as myself-- that a policy of silence is wisest.” Turning to the young man beside her, she said, ”Come, Pierre, we will return and leave him to his solitary reflection.”
Rouillier laughed at the other's discomfiture, and turned upon his heel.
”_Bon jour, monsieur_,” she said, addressing the artist, making a stiff curtsey, which he acknowledged with an impatient gesture.
Then she joined her companion, and they retraced their steps through the fir plantation towards the drowsy little town.
”Your nerve and ingenuity are really marvellous, Valerie,” exclaimed Pierre enthusiastically, when they were out of hearing. ”I should never have thought of such a scheme. We have got out of an ugly situation very neatly indeed.”
”Yes,” replied she confidently. ”_Qu'il fa.s.se ce qu'il lui plaira_.
He's afraid to utter a word to Hugh.”
And they both laughed gaily.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
LIPS FORSWORN.
The great ballroom of the Casino at Spa was filled with a cosmopolitan well-dressed crowd, who glided over its polished floor to the strain of a seductive waltz. The huge salon, with its white and gold decorations, its glittering chandeliers, its carved pilasters, and its enormous mirrors, was brightly lit, and presented a gay, dazzling appearance, the showy dresses of the women lending additional colour and animation to the scene of gay revelry.
Amid the ever-s.h.i.+fting crowd Valerie and Hugh, both excellent dancers, whirled lightly around, the smiling faces of both denoting perfect happiness.
Her evening gown, of pale pink filmy gauze, that bore the unmistakable stamp of the Rue de la Paix, suited her admirably, trimmed as it was in daring contrast, that upon a less handsome woman would have been voted hideous. Her diamond necklet sparkled and flashed under the glare of electricity, and this--although really only paste--was regarded with envious eyes by more than one woman in the room. As she leaned lightly upon the arm of the wealthy young Englishman, he thought he had never seen her beauty shown to greater advantage, and could not refrain from expressing his admiration in terms of flattery.
Although one of the most engaging little corners of Europe is a.s.suredly the well-wooded, umbrageous dell in which nestles pleasantly the antique and old-fas.h.i.+oned watering-place, yet it cannot be denied that Spa itself has lost much of the gaiety and flaring splendour which characterised it in the wild gaming days of the past. In the Salle Levoz, where the gilding is faded and the hangings ragged, lords, dukes, and seigneurs of Louis XIV's time, junketed, gave their fetes, and danced minuets; while in the disused Vauxhall the older glories of b.a.l.l.s, ridottos, and gambling went on night after night during the last century. But nowadays Monte Carlo attracts the knight of industry and the systematic gambler. Nevertheless, Spa remains pleasant and pastoral, notwithstanding the existence of survivals that speak mutely of its departed grandeur.
It is essentially picturesque, with its miniature Place, its imposing Pouhon, or ”pump room,” its gay Casino, its luxurious _Etabliss.e.m.e.nt_, its glaring Hotel de Flandre, its ”Orange,” and other pleasant houses of entertainment. Close by are the charming promenades under thickly planted rows of trees, quaintly termed the ”Seven-o'clock” and ”Four-o'clock” walks. Here crowds of visitors languidly wander, sit under the trees, or halt in groups listening to the music from the bands in the kiosks.
Spa is still popular with all cla.s.ses of visitors, from the English n.o.bility to the shopkeeping element of Louvain, Brussels, and other contiguous towns; and the administration of the Casino appear untiring in their efforts to provide them with amus.e.m.e.nt in the form of fetes, dramatic performances, concerts, b.a.l.l.s, and other means of enjoyment and dissipation.
It was at one of the latter entertainments that Valerie and Hugh were amusing themselves, she having introduced him to Adolphe Chavoix.
When the dance concluded they strolled together through the wide corridor hung with pictures, crossed the reading-room, and walked out upon the balcony overlooking the Place Pierre-le-Grand, where they found the pseudo-Comte Chaulin-Serviniere leaning upon the bal.u.s.trade, smoking.
”Ah!” he exclaimed, as they advanced, ”you, too, are tired of that close atmosphere. Faugh! I found it stifling.”
”You don't dance, M'sieur le Comte, and therefore can't enjoy it,”
replied Valerie mischievously.
”Well, well, perhaps that's so,” he replied. ”But, by the way,” he continued, turning to Hugh, ”why don't you try your luck at the tables?”
”Oh yes, Hugh,” said Valerie, as if suddenly struck by the excellence of the suggestion; ”let's have a few games. It would be a pleasant change.
Shall we?”
”I've no objection,” Trethowen answered.