CHAPTER VII
Two hours later Sylvia Bailey was having luncheon with Anna Wolsky in thePension Malfait.
The two hostelries, hers and Anna's, were in almost absurd contrast theone to the other. At the Villa du Lac everything was spacious, luxurious,and quiet. M. Polperro's clients spent, or so Sylvia supposed, much oftheir time in their own rooms upstairs, or else in the Casino, while manyof them had their own motors, and went out on long excursions. They werecosmopolitans, and among them were a number of Russians.
Here at the Pension Malfait, the clientele was French. All was loudtalking, bustle, and laughter. The large house contained several youngmen who had daily work in Paris. Others, like Madame Wolsky, were atLacville in order to indulge their passion for play, and quite a numberof people came in simply for meals.
Among these last, rather to Sylvia's surprise, were Monsieur and MadameWachner, the middle-aged couple whom Anna Wolsky had pointed out ashaving been at Aix-les-Bains the year before, at the same time as shewas herself.
The husband and wife were now sitting almost exactly opposite Anna andSylvia at the narrow table d'hote, and again a broad, sunny smile lit upthe older woman's face when she looked across at the two friends.
"We meet again!" she exclaimed in a guttural voice, and then in French,addressing Madame Wolsky, "This is not very much like Aix-les-Bains, isit, Madame?"
Anna shook her head.
"Still it is a pretty place, Lacville, and cheaper than one would think."She leant across the table, and continued in a confidential undertone:"As for us--my husband and I--we have taken a small villa; he has grownso tired of hotels."
"But surely you had a villa at Aix?" said Anna, in a surprised tone.
"Yes, we had a villa there, certainly. But then a very sad affairhappened to us--" she sighed. "You may have heard of it?" and she fixedher small, intensely bright eyes inquiringly on Anna.
Anna bent her head.
"Yes, I heard all about it" she said gravely. "You mean about your friendwho was drowned in the lake? It must have been a very distressing thingfor you and your husband."
"Yes, indeed! He never can bear to speak of it."
And Sylvia, looking over at the man sitting just opposite to herself, sawa look of unease come over his sallow face. He was eating his omelettesteadily, looking neither to the right nor to the left.
"Ami Fritz!" cried his wife, turning suddenly to him, and this time shespoke English, "Say, 'How d'you do,' to this lady! You will remember thatwe used to see 'er at Aix, in the Casino there?"
"Ami Fritz" bowed his head, but remained silent.
"Yes," his wife went on, volubly, "that sad affair made Aix veryunpleasant to us! After that we spent the winter in various pensions,and then, instead of going back to Aix, we came 'ere. So far, I am quitesatisfied with Lacville."
Though she spoke with a very bad accent and dropped her aitches, herEnglish was quick and colloquial.
"Lacville is a cosy, 'appy place!" she cried, and this time she smiledfull at Sylvia, and Sylvia told herself that the woman's face, if veryplain, was like a sunflower,--so broad, so kindly, so good-humoured!
When dejeuner was over, the four had coffee together, and the melancholyMonsieur Wachner, who was so curiously unlike his bright, vivacious wife,at last broke into eager talk, for he and Anna Wolsky had begun todiscuss different gambling systems. His face lighted up; it was easyto see what interested and stimulated this long, lanky man whose wifeaddressed him constantly as "Ami Fritz."
"Now 'e is what the English call 'obby-'orse riding," she exclaimed, witha loud laugh. "To see 'im in all 'is glory you should see my Fritz atMonte Carlo!" she was speaking to Sylvia. "There 'as never been a systeminvented in connection with that devil-game, Roulette, that L'Ami Fritzdoes not know, and that 'e 'as not--at some time or other--played more to'is satisfaction than to mine!" But she spoke very good-humouredly. "'Ecannot ring many changes on Baccarat, and I do not often allow 'im toplay downstairs. No, no, that is too dangerous! That is for children andfools!"
Sylvia was still too ignorant of play to understand the full significanceof Madame Wachner's words, but she was vaguely interested, though shecould not understand one word of the eager talk between Anna and the man.
"Let us leave them at it!" exclaimed the older woman, suddenly. "It willbe much nicer in the garden, Madame, for it is not yet too 'ot for out ofdoors. By the way, I forgot to tell you my name. That was very rude ofme! My name is Wachner--Sophie Wachner, at your service."
"And my name is Bailey--Sylvia Bailey."
"Ah, I thought so--you are a Mees!"
"No," said Sylvia gravely, "I am a widow."
Madame Wachner's face became very serious.
"Ah," she said, sympathetically, "that is sad--very sad for one so youngand so beautiful!"
Sylvia smiled. Madame Wachner was certainly a kindly, warm-hearted sortof woman.
They walked out together into the narrow garden, and soon Madame Wachnerbegan to amuse her companion by lively, shrewd talk, and they spent apleasant half hour pacing up and down.
The Wachners seemed to have travelled a great deal about the world andespecially in several of the British Colonies.
It was in New Zealand that Madame Wachner had learnt to speak English:"My 'usband, 'e was in business there," she said vaguely.
"And you?" she asked at last, fixing her piercing eyes on the prettyEnglishwoman, and allowing them to travel down till they rested on themilky row of perfectly-matched pearls.
"Oh, this is my first visit to France," answered Sylvia, "and I amenjoying it very much indeed."
"Then you 'ave not gambled for money yet?" observed Madame Wachner. "InEngland they are too good to gamble!" She spoke sarcastically, but Sylviadid not know that.
"I never in my life played for money till last week, and then I wonthirty francs!"
"Ah! Then now surely you will join the Club?"
"Yes," said Sylvia a little awkwardly. "I suppose I shall join the Club.You see, my friend is so fond of play."
"I believe you there!" cried the other, familiarly. "We used to watchMadame Wolsky at Aix--my 'usband and I. It seems so strange that therewe never spoke to 'er, and that now we seem to know 'er already somuch better than we did in all the weeks we were together at Aix! Butthere"--she sighed a loud, heaving sigh--"we 'ad a friend--a dear youngfriend--with us at Aix-les-Bains."
"Yes, I know," said Sylvia, sympathisingly.
"You know?" Madame Wachner looked at her quickly. "What is it that youknow, Madame?"
"Madame Wolsky told me about it. Your friend was drowned, was he not? Itmust have been very sad and dreadful for you and your husband."
"It was terrible!" said Madame Wachner vehemently. "Terrible!"
* * * * *
The hour in the garden sped by very quickly, and Sylvia was rather sorrywhen it came to be time to start for the Casino.
"Look here!" cried Madame Wachner suddenly. "Why should not L'Ami Fritzescort Madame Wolsky to the Casino while you and I take a pretty drive?I am so tired of that old Casino--and you will be so tired of it soon,too!" she exclaimed in an aside to Sylvia.
Sylvia looked questioningly at Anna.
"Yes, do take a drive, dear. You have plenty of time, for I intend tospend all this afternoon and evening at the Casino," said Madame Wolsky,quickly, in answer to Sylvia's look. "It will do quite well if you comethere after you have had your tea. My friend will never go without herafternoon tea;" she turned to Madame Wachner.
"I, too, love afternoon tea!" cried Madame Wachner, in a merry tone."Then that is settled! You and I will take a drive, and then we will 'avetea and then go to the Casino."
Mrs. Bailey accompanied her friend upstairs while Anna put on her thingsand got out her money.
"You will enjoy a drive on this hot day, even with that funny old woman,"said Madame Wolsky, affectionately. "And meanwhile I will get yourmembership card made out for the Club. If you like to do so, you might
have a little gamble this evening. But I do not want my sweet Englishfriend to become as fond of play as I am myself"--there crept a sad noteinto her voice. "However, I do not think there is any fear of that!"
When the two friends came downstairs again, they found Monsieur andMadame Wachner standing close together and speaking in a low voice. Asshe came nearer to them Sylvia saw that they were so absorbed in eachother that they did not see her, and she heard the man saying in a low,angry voice, in French: "There is nothing to be done here at all, Sophie!It is foolish of us to waste our time like this!" And then Madame Wachneranswered quickly, "You are always so gloomy, so hopeless! I tell youthere _is_ something to be done. Leave it to me!"
Then, suddenly becoming aware that Sylvia was standing beside her, theold woman went on: "My 'usband, Madame, always says there is nothing tobe done! You see, 'e is tired of 'is last system, and 'e 'as not yetinvented another. But, bah! I say to 'im that no doubt luck will cometo-day. 'E may find Madame Wolsky a mascot." She was very red and lookeddisturbed.
"I 'ave asked them to telephone for an open carriage," Madame Wachneradded, in a better-humoured tone. "It will be here in three or fourminutes. Shall we drive you first to the Casino?" This question she askedof her husband.
"No," said Monsieur Wachner, harshly, "certainly not! I will walk in anycase."
"And I will walk too," said Anna, who had just come up. "There is no needat all for us to take you out of your way. You had better drive at onceinto the open country, Sylvia."
And so they all started, Madame Wolsky and her tall, gaunt, morosecompanion, walking, while Sylvia and Madame Wachner drove off in theopposite direction.
The country immediately round Lacville is not pretty; the little opencarriage was rather creaky, and the horse was old and tired, and yetSylvia Bailey enjoyed her drive very much.
Madame Wachner, common-looking, plain, almost grotesque in appearancethough she was, possessed that rare human attribute, vitality.
Sometimes she spoke in French, sometimes in English, changing from theone to the other with perfect ease; and honestly pleased at havingescaped a long, dull, hot afternoon in the Casino, the older woman setherself to please and amuse Sylvia. She thoroughly succeeded. A clevergossip, she seemed to know a great deal about all sorts of interestingpeople, and she gave Sylvia an amusing account of Princess MathildeBonaparte, whose splendid chateau they saw from their little carriage.
Madame Wachner also showed the most sympathetic interest in Sylvia andSylvia's past life. Soon the Englishwoman found herself telling her newacquaintance a great deal about her childhood and girlhood--somethingeven of her brief, not unhappy, married life. But she shrank back, bothmentally and physically, when Madame Wachner carelessly observed, "Ah,but soon you will marry again; no doubt you are already engaged?"
"Oh, no!" Sylvia shook her head.
"But you are young and beautiful. It would be a crime for you not to getmarried again!" Madame Wachner persisted; and then, "I love beauty," shecried enthusiastically. "You did not see me, Madame, last week, but I sawyou, and I said to my 'usband, 'There is a very beautiful person come toLacville, Fritz!' 'E laughed at me. 'Now you will be satisfied--now youwill 'ave something to look at,' 'e says. And it is quite true! When Icome back that night I was very sorry to see you not there. But we willmeet often now," she concluded pleasantly, "for I suppose, Madame, thatyou too intend to play?"
That was the second time she had asked the question.
"I shall play a little," said Sylvia, blushing, "but of course I do notwant to get into the habit of gambling."
"No, indeed, that would be terrible! And then there are not many who canafford to gamble and to lose their good money." She looked inquiringly atSylvia. "But, there," she sighed--her fat face became very grave--"it isextraordinary 'ow some people manage to get money--I mean those 'oo aredetermined to play!"
And then, changing the subject, Madame Wachner suddenly began to tellher new acquaintance all about the tragic death by drowning of her andher husband's friend at Aix-les-Bains the year before. She now spoke inFrench, but with a peculiar guttural accent.
"I never talk of it before Fritz," she said quickly, "but, of course,we both often think of it still. Oh, it was a terrible thing! We weredevoted to this young Russian friend of ours. He and Fritz worked anexcellent system together--the best Fritz ever invented--and for a littlewhile they made money. But his terribly sad death broke our luck"--sheshook her head ominously.
"How did it happen?" said Sylvia sympathetically.
And then Madame Wachner once again broke into her h-less English.
"They went together in a boat on Lake Bourget--it is a real lake, thatlake, not like the little fishpond 'ere. A storm came on, and the boatupset. Fritz did his best to save the unfortunate one, but 'e could notswim. You can imagine my sensations? I was in a summer-'ouse, tremblingwith fright. Thunder, lightning, rain, storm, all round! Suddenly I seeFritz, pale as death, wet through, totter up the path from the lake.'Where is Sasha?' I shriek out to 'im. And 'e shake 'is 'eaddespairingly--Sasha was in the lake!"
The speaker stared before her with a look of vivid terror on her face. Itwas almost as if she saw the scene she was describing--nay, as if she sawthe pale, dead face of the drowned man. It gave her companion a coldfeeling of fear.
"And was it long before they found him?" asked Sylvia in a low tone.
"They never did find 'im," said Madame Wachner, her voice sinking to awhisper. "That was the extraordinary thing--Sasha's body was never found!Many people thought the money 'e 'ad on 'is person weighed 'im down, kept'im entangled in the weeds at the bottom of the lake. Did not your friendtell you it made talk?"
"Yes," said Sylvia.
"'E 'ad not much money on 'is person," repeated Madame Wachner, "butstill there was a good deal more than was found in 'is bed-room. That, ofcourse, was 'anded over to the authorities. They insisted on keeping it."
"But I suppose his family got it in the end?" said Sylvia.
"No. 'E 'ad no family. You see, our friend was a Russian nobleman, buthe had also been a Nihilist, so 'e 'ad concealed 'is identity. It wasfortunate for us that we 'ad got to know an important person in thepolice; but for that we might 'ave 'ad much worry"--she shook her head."They were so much annoyed that poor Sasha 'ad no passport. But, as Isaid to them--for Fritz quite lost 'is 'ead, and could say nothing--not'alf, no, not a quarter of the strangers in Aix 'as passports, though, ofcourse, it is a good and useful thing to 'ave one. I suppose, Madame,that _you_ 'ave a passport?"
She stopped short, and looked at Sylvia with that eager, inquiring lookwhich demands an answer even to the most unimportant question.
"A passport?" repeated Sylvia Bailey, surprised. "No, indeed! I've nevereven seen one. Why should I have a passport?"
"When you are abroad it is always a good thing to 'ave a passport," saidMadame Wachner quickly. "You see, it enables you to be identified. Itgives your address at 'ome. But I do not think that you can get onenow--no, it is a thing that one must get in one's own country, or, at anyrate," she corrected herself, "in a country where you 'ave resided a longtime."
"What is your country, Madame?" asked Sylvia. "Are you French? I supposeMonsieur Wachner is German?"
Madame Wachner shook her head.
"Oh, 'e would be cross to 'ear that! No, no, Fritz is Viennese--a gayViennese! As for me, I am"--she waited a moment--"well, Madame, I am whatthe French call '_une vraie cosmopolite_'--oh, yes, I am a truecitizeness of the world."