Part 33 (1/2)
”I happen to know Luxembourg very well. My brother, strangely enough, is one of the Prince's tenants.”
”Oh, then, you of course know my future home,” exclaimed Liane, suddenly interested.
”Yes, very well. The chateau is a fine old place perched high up, overlooking a beautiful fertile valley,” her hostess replied. ”I once went there a few years ago, when the old Prince was alive, and I well remember being charmed by the romantic quaintness of its interior.
Inside, one is back three centuries; with oak panelling, old oak furniture, great old-fas.h.i.+oned fireplaces with cosy corners, and narrow windows, through which long ago archers shed their flights of arrows.
There is a dungeon, too; and a dark gloomy prison-chamber in one of the round turrets. It is altogether a most delightful old place.”
”Gloomy, I suppose?” observed Liane thoughtfully.
”Well, life amid such old-world surroundings as those could scarcely be quite as bright or enjoyable as Nice or Paris, but it is nevertheless a magnificent and well-preserved relic of a bygone age. Without doubt it is one of the finest of feudal chateaux in Europe.”
”Are any of the rooms modern?”
”None,” Madame replied. ”It seems to have been the hobby of the Princes d'Auzac to preserve intact its ancient character. You will be envied as the possessor of such a fine old place. I shall be delighted to come and see you when you are settled--if I may.”
”Certainly. I, too, shall be delighted,” Liane answered mechanically.
”In a place like that one will require a constant supply of visitors to make life at all endurable. It is, I fear, one of those grey, forbidding-looking old places as full of rats as it is of traditions.”
”I don't know about the rats,” her hostess answered, laughing heartily.
”But there are, I know, many quaint and curious legends connected with the place. My brother told me some.”
”What were they about?”
”Oh, about the tyranny of the d'Auzacs who, in the middle ages, ravaged the Eiffel and the Moselle valley, and more than once attacked the town of Treves itself. In those days the name of d'Auzac was synonymous of all that was cruel and brutal; but the family have become civilised since then, and,” she added, looking towards Zertho, who was laughing with her two daughters, ”the Prince scarcely looks a person to be feared.”
”No,” observed Liane, with a forced smile. To her also the name of d'Auzac was synonymous of cunning, brutality, and unscrupulousness. She pictured to herself the great mountain stronghold, a grim, grey relic of an age of barbarism, the lonely dreary place peopled by ghosts of an historic past, that was to be her home, in which she was to live with this man who held her enthralled. Then she shuddered.
Her hostess noticed it, wondered, but attributed it to the draught from the open window. To her it was inconceivable that any girl could refuse Prince Zertho's offer of marriage. He was one of the most eligible of men, his polished manner had made him a favourite everywhere, and one heard his wealth discussed wherever one visited. Either of her own daughters would, she knew, be only too pleased to become Princess.
Liane, although nothing of a coquette, was nevertheless well enough versed in the ways of the world to be tactful when occasion required, and at this moment strenuously strove not to betray her world-weariness.
Although consumed by grief and despair she nevertheless smiled with feigned contentment, and a moment later with an air so gay and flippant that none would guess the terrible dread which was wearing out her young life, joined in the light amusing chatter with Madame's daughters.
”We saw you at Monte Carlo last night,” one of the girls exclaimed, suddenly, addressing Zertho.
”Did you?” he answered, with a start. ”I really saw nothing of you.”
”We were quite close to you,” observed her sister, ”You were sitting with Captain Brooker, and were having quite a run of good fortune when, suddenly, you both jumped up and disappeared like magic. We tried to attract your attention, but you would not glance in our direction.
Before we could get round to you you had gone. Why did you leave so quickly?”
”We wanted to catch our train,” Zertho answered, a lie ever ready upon his lips. ”We had only three minutes, and just managed to scramble in.”
”Did you notice a fine, handsome-looking woman at the table, a woman in blue dress trimmed with silver?” asked Madame Bertholet.
Zertho again started. In a second, however, he recovered his self-possession.
”I am afraid I did not,” he replied with a smile.
”I was too intent upon the game. Besides,” and he paused, glancing at Liane, ”female beauty ought not to attract me now.”
They all laughed in chorus.