Part 31 (2/2)
”I have not yet sufficiently considered the matter,” she replied, with her eyes still fixed on him. ”At present I'm inclined to think that it is. But I must have time to reflect. One cannot refuse such an offer without due consideration.”
”Then you are inclined to accept,” he observed, blankly.
She hesitated. Slowly she rose from the settee, crossed to the window and pushed open the sun-shutters, allowing the golden sunset to stream into the room from over the clear blue-green sea.
”Yes,” she answered, standing gazing out upon the far-off horizon where the white-sailed racing yachts, Ailsa and Britannia, were pa.s.sing, ”I am inclined to accept.”
”Very well,” he stammered, sitting rigid and immovable. ”My future is entirely in your hands.”
She pa.s.sed her hand wearily across her brow. With the sunset falling full upon her, he saw how heavy-eyed she was, and how artificial was the complexion that had looked so well in the dreamy half-light when the jalousies had been closed. Yes. She no doubt bore traces of a faded beauty, but she was old; there were lines in her brow, and crows' feet showed at the corners of her eyes. She was _pa.s.see_, and all the vivacity and coquettishness she had shown had been carefully feigned to a.s.sume an appearance of youth. The thought of it nauseated him.
Again she turned towards him. Her momentary gravity had vanished, and she commenced a commonplace conversation. At last, however, he rose to go, but she would not hear of it.
”No; remain here and dine,” she said, in a low, persuasive tone.
”Afterwards we can go over to Monte Carlo for an hour or so, and you can catch the yellow _rapide_ back to Nice at eleven.”
”But you must really excuse me. I--”
”I will take no excuse,” she said, laughing. ”You must remain,” and she rang for the servant and told him that m'sieur would dine.
Together they stood at the open window watching the succession of lights and shadows upon the purple mountains, how the rose of the afterglow grew deeper over the sea until it faded, and the streak of gold and orange died out behind the distant rocks of Cap d'Aggio. Then the mists rose, creeping slowly up the mountain sides, the dusk deepened, a chill wind blew in from the sea, and just as they closed the windows the door opened and the man announced dinner.
The table, set for two in a cosy little salle-a-manger, glittered with its cut-gla.s.s and s.h.i.+ning plate, and was rendered bright by its shaded candles and small silver repousse stands filled with choice flowers.
Throughout the meal she was gay and vivacious, speaking but little of herself and carefully avoiding all references to Liane. He found her a pleasant hostess, unusually well-informed for a woman. They discussed art and literature, and in all her criticisms she exhibited a wide and intimate knowledge of men and things. Then, when they rose, she opened a door at the further end of the room and he found himself in a s.p.a.cious conservatory, where she invited him to smoke while she dressed to go to the Casino.
Half an hour later she reappeared in a handsome gown of pale blue silk, the corsage trimmed with narrow braiding of silver; a costume which suited her admirably, yet so daring was it that he could not disguise from himself the suggestion that it was the dress of a demi-mondaine.
Her hair had been redressed by her maid, and as he placed about her shoulders her small black cape of lace and feathers, he mumbled an apology that he was not able to dress.
”What does it matter? I invited you,” she said, with a gay laugh.
”Come.”
Together they entered the open carriage awaiting them, and descending the long winding road to the sh.o.r.e, drove rapidly through La Condamine, and ascended the steep incline which brought them round to the main entrance to the Casino.
The night was brilliant, and the broad Place, with its palms and flowers, its gay, laughing crowd of promenaders, and its showy Cafe de Paris, where the band was playing Mattei's ”Non e ver,” lay bright as day beneath the moonbeams and electric rays. As they entered, Mariette handed him her cape, which he deposited for her in the cloakroom, then both pa.s.sed through a crowd of habitues of the rooms. Several men around bowed to her, and she greeted them with a smile.
”You appear to be well-known here,” he laughed, as the well-guarded doors opened to them.
”I suppose I am,” she answered vaguely. ”When I am lonely I come here and play. It is the only recreation I have.”
The rooms were hot and crowded. The monotonous cry of the croupiers, the incessant clicking of the roulette-ball, the jingle of coin, and the faint odour of perfume were in striking contrast to the quiet of the road along which they had just driven, but walking side by side they pa.s.sed through one room after another until they reached that fine square salon, with its huge canvas representing a peaceful pastoral scene occupying the whole of the opposite wall, the ”trente-et-quarante”
room.
There was not quite so large a crowd here, but the stakes were higher, a louis being the minimum. Mariette saw a player rise from his chair at the end of the table and instantly secured the vacant seat, then turning to her companion with a gay laugh, said,--
”I am going to tempt Fortune for half an hour.”
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