CHAPTER XI.
THE COUNTESS EXPLAINS, AND SHOWS ME A PICTURE.
It was a full week since I had last waited on my cruel mistress, and Ihoped, though with no great confidence, that this intermission of myvisits might temper and moderate her scorn. I had besides taken toheart Culverton's advice as well as that of my cousin. For I was ingreat trepidation lest she should take me at my word, and carelesslybid me adieu, and so caught eagerly at any hint that seemed likely tohelp me, however trivial it might be, and from whatever source itcame.
Consequently I had had my own hair cropped, and had purchased acumbersome full-bottomed peruke of the latest mode. With that on myhead, and habited in a fine new brocaded coat of green velvet andlemon-coloured silk breeches and stockings, I went timidly to confrontmy destiny. How many times did I walk up and down before her house, orever I could summon courage to knock! How many phrases and dignifiedreproaches did I con over and rehearse, yet never one that seemedother than offensive and ridiculous! What in truth emboldened me inthe end to enter was a cloud of dust which a passing carriage causedto settle on my coat. If I hesitated much longer, I reflected, all mybravery would be wasted, and dusting myself carefully with myhandkerchief, I mounted the steps. Otto Krax opened the door, andpreceded me up the staircase.
But while we were still ascending the steps, Mademoiselle Durette camefrom the parlour which gave on to the landing.
"Very well, Otto," she said, "I will announce Mr. Buckler."
She waited until the man had descended the stairs, and then turned tome with a meaning smile.
"She is alone. Take her by surprise!"
With that she softly turned the handle of the door, and opened it justso far as would enable me to slip through. I heard the voice of Ilgasinging sweetly in a low key, and my heart trembled and jumped withinme, so that I hesitated on the threshold.
"I have no patience with you," said Mademoiselle Durette, in anexasperated whisper. "Cowards don't win when they go a-wooing. Haven'tyou learnt that? Ridicule her, if you like, as she does you--abuseher, do anything but gape like a stock-fish, with a white face asthough all your blood had run down into the heels of your shoes!"
She pushed me as she spoke into the room, and noiselessly closed thedoor. The Countess was seated at a spinnet in the far corner of theroom, and sang in her native tongue. The song, I gathered, was aplaint, and had a strange and outlandish melancholy, the voice nowlifting into a wild, keening note, now sinking abruptly to a drearymonotone. It oppressed me with a peculiar sadness, making the singerseem very lonely and far-away; and I leaned silently against the wall,not daring to interrupt her. At last the notes began to quaver, thevoice broke once and twice; she gave a little sob, and her head fellforward on her hands.
An inrush of pity swept all my diffidence away. I stepped hastilyforward with outstretched hands. At the sound she sprang to her feetand faced me, the colour flaming in her cheeks.
"Madame," cried I, "if my intrusion lacks ceremony, believe me----"
But I got no further in my protestations. For with a sneer upon herlips and a biting accent of irony,
"So," she broke in, looking me over, "the crow has turned into acockatoo." And she rang a bell which stood upon the spinnet. I stoppedin confusion, and not knowing what to say or do, remained foolishlyshifting from one foot to the other, the while Ilga watched me with amalicious pleasure. In a minute Otto Krax came to the door. "How comesit," she asked sternly, "that Mr. Buckler enters unannounced? Have Ino servants?"
The fellow explained that Mademoiselle Durette had taken the duty toherself.
"Send Mademoiselle Durette to me!" said the Countess.
I was ready to sink through the floor with humiliation, and busied mywits in a search for a plausible excuse. I had not found one when theFrenchwoman appeared.
Countess Lukstein repeated her question.
Mademoiselle Burette was no readier than myself, and glanced with afrightened air from me to her mistress, and back again from hermistress to me. Remembering what she had said on the landing about myirresolution, I felt my shame doubled.
"Madame," I stammered out, "the fault is in no wise your companion's.The blame of it should fall on me."
"Oh!" said she, "really?" And turning to Mademoiselle Durette, shebegan to clap her hands. "I believe," she exclaimed in a mockexcitement, "that Mr. Buckler is going to make me a present of asuperb cockatoo. Clemence, you must buy a cage and a chain for itsleg!"
Clemence stared in amazement, as well she might, and I, stung to apassion,
"Nay," I cried, and for once my voice rang firmly. "By the Lord, youcount too readily upon Mr. Buckler's gift. Mr. Buckler has come tooffer you no present, but to take his leave for good and all."
I made her a dignified bow and stepped towards the door.
"What do you mean?" she asked sharply.
"That I ride homewards this afternoon."
She shot a glance at Mademoiselle Durette, who slipped obediently outof the room.
"And why?" she asked, with an innocent assumption of surprise, comingtowards me. "Why?"
"What, madame!" I replied, looking her straight in the face. "Surelyyour ingenuity can find a reason."
"My ingenuity?" She spoke in the same accent of wonderment. "Myingenuity? Mr. Buckler, you take a tone----" She came some pacesnearer to me and asked very gently: "Am I to blame?"
The humility of the question, and a certain trembling of the lips thatuttered it, well-nigh disarmed me; but I felt that did I answer her,did I venture the mildest reproach, I should give her my presentadvantage.
"No, no," I replied, with a show of indifference; "my own people needme."
She took another step, and spoke with lowered eyes. "Are there nopeople who need you here?"
I forgot my part.
"You mean----" I exclaimed impulsively, when a movement which she madebrought me to a stop. For she drew back a step, and picking up her fanfrom a little table, began to pluck nervously at the feathers. Heraction recalled to my mind her behaviour at the Duke's Theatre andElmscott's commentary thereon.
"None that I know of," I resumed, "for even those whom I counted myfriends find me undeserving of even common civility."
"Civility! Civility!" she cried out in scorn. "'Tis the very proof andattribute of indifference--the crust one tosses carelessly to thefirst-comer because it costs nothing."
"But I go fasting even for that crust."
"Not always," she replied softly, shooting a glance at me. "Notalways, Mr. Buckler; and have you not found at times some butter onthe bread?"
She smiled as she spoke, but I hardened my heart against her andvouchsafed no answer. For a little while she stood with her eyes uponthe ground, and then:
"Oh, very well, very well!" she said petulantly, and turning away fromme, flung the fan on to the table. The table was of polished mahogany,and the fan slid across its surface and dropped to the floor. Istepped forward, and knelt down to pick it up.
"What, Mr. Buckler!" she said bitterly, turning again to me, "youcondescend to kneel. Surely it is not you; it must be some one else."
I thought that I had never heard sarcasm so unjust, for in truthkneeling to her had been my chief occupation this many a day, and Ireplied hotly, bethinking me of Marston and the episode which I hadwitnessed in the Park.
"Indeed, madame, and you may well think it strange, for have I notseen you drop your fan in order to deceive the man who picks it up?"With that I got to my feet and laid the fan on the table.
She flushed very red, and exclaimed hurriedly:
"All that can be explained."
"No doubt! no doubt!" I replied. "I have never doubted the subtlety ofmadame's invention."
She drew herself up with great pride, and bowed to me.
I walked to the door. As I opened it, I turned to take one last lookat the face which I had so worshipped. It was very white; even thelips were bloodless, and oddly enou
gh I noticed that she wore a loosewhite gown as on the occasion of our first meeting.
"Adieu," I said, and stepped behind the door.
From the other side of it her voice came to me quietly:
"Does this prove the sword to be lath or steel?"
I shut the door, and went slowly down the stairs, slowly and yet moreslowly. For her last question drummed at my heart.
"Lath or steel?" Was I playing a man's part, or was I the merebond-slave of a petty pride? "That can be explained," she had said.What if it could? Then the sword would be proved lath indeed! Just tosalve my vanity I should have wasted my life--and only _my_ life? Isaw her lips trembling as the thought shot through me.
What if those walks with my rival beneath my window had been devisedin some strange way for a test--a woman's test and touchstone to essaythe metal of the sword, a test perhaps intelligible to a woman, thoughan enigma to me? If only I knew a woman whom I could consult!
My feet lagged more and more, but I reached the bottom of the stairsin the end. The hall was empty. I looked up towards the landing with awild hope that she would come out and lean over the balustrade, as onthe evening when Elmscott first brought me to the house. But there wasno stir or movement from garret to cellar. I might have stood in thehall of the Sleeping Palace. From a high window the sunlight slantedathwart the cool gloom in a golden pillar, and a fly buzzed againstthe pane. I crossed the hall, and let myself out into the noonday. Thedoor clanged behind me with a hollow rattle; it sounded to my hearinglike the closing of the gates of a tomb, and I felt it was myself thatlay dead behind it.
As I passed beneath the window, something hard dropped upon the crownof my hat, and bounced thence to the ground at my feet. I picked itup. It was a crust of bread. For a space I stood looking at it beforeI understood. Then I rushed back to the entrance. The door stood open,but the hall was empty and silent as when I left it. I sprang up thestairs, and in my haste missed my footing about halfway up, and rolleddown some half-a-dozen steps. The crash of my fall echoed up the wellof the staircase, and from behind the parlour door I heard some onelaugh. I got on to my legs, and burst into the room.
Ilga was seated before a frame of embroidery very demure and busy. Shepaid no heed to me, keeping her head bent over her work until I hadapproached close to the frame. Then she looked up with her eyessparkling.
"How dare you?" she asked, in a mock accent of injury.
"I don't know," I replied meekly.
She bent once more over her embroidery.
"Humours are the prerogative of my sex," she said.
"I set you apart from it."
"Is that why you cannot trust me even a little?"
The gentle reproach made me hot with shame. I had no words to answerit. Then she laughed again, bending closer over her frame, in a lowjoyous note that gradually rose and trilled out sweet as music from athrush.
"And so," she said, "you came all trim and spruce in your fine newclothes to show me what my discourtesy had lost me! What a child youare! And yet," she rose suddenly, her whole face changing, "and yet,are you a child? Would God I knew!" She ended with a passionate cry,clasping her hands together upon her breast; but before I could makehead or tail of her meaning she was half-way through another mood."Ah!" she cried, "you have brought my courtesy back with you." I hadnot noticed until then that I still held the crust in my hand. "Youshall swallow it as a penance."
"Madame!" I laughed.
"Hush! you shall eat it. Yes, yes!" with a pretty imperious stamp ofthe foot. "Now! Before you speak a word!"
I obeyed her, but with some difficulty, for the crust was very dry.
"You see," she said, "courtesy is not always so tasteful a morsel. Itsticks in the throat at times;" and crossing to a sideboard, shefilled a goblet from a decanter of canary and brought it to me.
"You will pledge me first," I entreated.
Her face grew serious, and she balanced the cup doubtfully in herhand.
"Of a truth," she said, "of a truth I will." She raised it slowly toher lips; but at that moment the door opened.
"Oh!" cried Mademoiselle Durette, with a start of surprise, "I fanciedthat Mr. Buckler had gone," and she was for whipping out of the roomagain, but Ilga called to her. The astonishment of the Frenchwomanmade one point clear to me concerning which I felt some curiosity. Imean that 'twas not she who had set the hall-door open for my return.
"Clemence!" said the Countess, setting down the wine untasted, as Inoticed with regret, "will you bid Otto come to me? I ransacked Mr.Buckler's rooms, and it is only fair that I should show him my poortreasures in return."
She handed a key to Otto, and bade him unlock a Japan cabinet whichstood in a corner. He drew out a tray heaped up with curiosities,medals and trinkets, and bringing it over, laid it on a table in thewindow.
"I have bought them all since I came to London. You shall tell mewhether I have been robbed."
"You come to the worst appraiser in the world," said I, "for theseornaments tell me nothing of their value though much of yourindustry."
"I have a great love for these trifles," said she, though her actionseemed to belie her words, for she tossed and rattled them hither andthither upon the tray with rapid jerks of her fingers which would havemade a virtuoso shiver. "They hint so much of bygone times, and tellso provokingly little."
"Their example, at all events, affords a lesson in discretion," Ilaughed.
"Which our poor sex is too trustful to learn, and yours toodistrustful to forget."
There was a certain accent of appeal in her voice, very tender andsweet, as though she knew my story and was ready to forgive it. Had webeen alone I believe that I should have blurted the whole truth out;only Otto Krax stood before me on the opposite side of the table,Mademoiselle Durette was seated in the room behind.
Ilga had ceased to sort the articles, and now began to point outparticular trinkets, describing their purposes and antiquity and theshops where she had discovered them. But I paid small heed to herwords; that question--did she know?--pressed too urgently upon mythoughts. A glance at the stolid indifference of Otto Krax served toreassure me. Through him alone could suspicion have come, and I feltcertain that he had as yet not recognised me.
Besides, I reflected, had she known, it was hardly in nature that sheshould have spoken so gently. I dismissed the suspicion from my mind,and turned me again to the inspection of the tray.
Just below my eyes lay a miniature of a girl, painted very delicatelyupon a thin oval slip of ivory. The face was dark in complexion, withblack hair, the nose a trifle tip-tilted, and the lips full and red,but altogether a face very alluring and handsome. I was most struck,however, with the freshness of the colours; amongst those old curiosthe portrait shone like a gem. I took it up, and as I did so, OttoKrax leaned forward.
"Otto!" said Ilga sharply, "you stand between Mr. Buckler and thelight."
The servant moved obediently from the window.
"This," said I, "hath less appearance of antiquity than the rest ofyour purchases."
"It was given to me," she replied. "The face is beautiful?"
Now it had been my custom of late to consider a face beautiful or notin proportion to its resemblance to that of Countess Lukstein. So Ilooked carefully at the miniature, and thence to Ilga. She was gazingclosely at me with parted lips, and an odd intentness in herexpression. I noticed this the more particularly, for that her eyes,which were violet in their natural hue, had a trick of growing darkwhen she was excited or absorbed.
"Why!" I exclaimed, in surprise. "One might think you fancy meacquainted with the lady."
"Well," she replied, laying a hand upon her heart, "what if Idid--fancy that?" She stressed the word "fancy" with something of asneer.
"Nay," said I, "the face is strange to me."
"Are you sure?" she asked. "Look again! Look again, Mr. Buckler!"
Disturbed by this recurrence of her irony, I fixed my eyes, as shebade me, upon the picture, and strangely enough, upon a
closerscrutiny I began gradually to recognise it; but in so vague and dim afashion, that whether the familiarity lay in the contour of thelineaments or merely in the expression, I could by no effort of memorydetermine.
"Well?" she asked, with a smile which had nothing amiable or pleasantin it. "What say you now?"
"Madame," I returned, completely at a loss, "in truth I know not whatto say. It may be that I have seen the original. Indeed, I must thinkthat is the case----"
"Ah!" she cried, interrupting me as one who convicts an opponent aftermuch debate, and then, in a hurried correction: "so at least I wasinformed."
"Then tell me who informed you!" I said earnestly, for I commenced toconsider this miniature as the cause of her recent resentment andscorn. "For I have only seen this face--somewhere--for a moment. Ofone thing I am sure. I have never had speech with it."
"Never?" she asked, in the same ironical tone. "Look yet a third time,Mr. Buckler! For your memory improves with each inspection."
She suddenly broke off, and "Otto!" she cried sternly--it was almost ashout.
The fellow was standing just behind my shoulder, and I swung round andeyed him. He came a step forward, questioning his mistress with alook.
"Replace the tray in the cabinet!"
I kept the miniature in my hand, glancing ever from it to the Countessand back again in pure wonder and conjecture.
"Madame," I said firmly, "I have never had speech with the lady ofthis picture."
She looked into my eyes as though she would read my soul.
"It is God's truth!"
She signed a dismissal to Otto. Clemence Durette rose and followed theservant, and I thought that I had never fallen in with any one whoshowed such tact and discretion in the matter of leaving a room.
The Countess remained stock-still, facing me.
"And yet I have been told," she said, nodding her head with each word,"that she was very dear to you."
"Then," I replied hotly, "you were told a lie, a miserable calumny. Iunderstand! 'Tis that that has poisoned your kind thoughts of me."
She turned away with a slight shrug of the shoulders.
"Oh, believe that!" I exclaimed, falling upon a knee and holding herby the hem of her dress. "You must believe it! I have told you what mylife has been. Look at the picture yourself!" and I forced it into herhands. "What do you read there? Vanity and the love of conquest. Gazeinto the eyes! What do they bespeak? Boldness that comes from thehabit of conquest. Is it likely that such a woman would busy her headabout an awkward, retiring student?"
"I am not so sure," she replied thoughtfully, though she seemed torelent a little at my vehemence; "women are capricious. You yourselfhave been complaining this morning of their caprice. And it might bethat--I can imagine it--and for that very reason."
"Oh, compare us!" I cried. "Compare the painted figure there with me!You must see it is impossible."
She laid a hand upon each of my shoulders as I knelt, and bent overme, staring into my eyes.
"I have been told," said she, "that the lady was so dear to you thatfor her sake you fought and killed your rival in love."
"You have been told that?" I answered, in sheer incredulity; and thena flame of rage against my traducer kindling in my heart, I sprang tomy feet.
"Who told you?"
"I may not disclose his name."
"But you shall," said I, stepping in front of her. "You shall tell me!He has lied to you foully, and you owe him therefore no considerationor respect. He has lied concerning me. I have a clear right to knowhis name, that I may convince you of the lie, and reckon with him forhis slander. Confront us both, and yourself be present as the judge!"
Of a sudden she held out her hand to me.
"Your sincerity convinces me. I need no other proof, and I crave yourpardon for my suspicion."
I looked into her face, amazed at the sudden change. But there was nomistaking her conviction or the joy which it occasioned her. I saw alight in her eyes, dancing and sparkling, which I had never envisagedbefore, and which filled me with exquisite happiness.
"Still," I said, as I took her hand, "I would fain prove my words toyou."
"Can you not trust me at all?"
She had a wonderful knack of putting me in the wrong when I was on theside of the right, and before I could find a suitable reply sheslipped out of my grasp, and crossing the room, took in her hand thecup of wine.
"Now," said she, "I will pledge you, Mr. Buckler;" which she did veryprettily, and handed the cup to me. As I raised it to my lips,however, an idea occurred to me.
"It is you who refuse to pledge me," she said.
"Nay, nay," said I, and I drained the cup. "But I have just guessedwho my traducer is."
She looked perplexed for a moment.
"You have guessed who----" she began, in an accent of wonder.
"Who gave you the picture," I explained.
She stared at me in pure astonishment.
"You can hardly have guessed accurately, then," she remarked.
"Surely," said I, "it needs no magician to discover the giver. I knowbut one man in London who can hope to gain aught by slandering me toyou."
Ilga gave a start of alarm. It seemed almost as though I were tellingher news, as though she did not know herself who gave her the picture;and for the rest of my visit she appeared absent and anxious. This wasparticularly mortifying to me, since I thought the occasion too apt tobe lost, and I was minded to open my heart to her. Indeed, I began thepreface of a love-speech in spite of her preoccupation, but stickingfor lack of encouragement after half-a-dozen words or so, I perceivedthat she was not even listening to what I said. Consequently I took myleave with some irritation, marvelling at the flighty waywardness of awoman's thoughts, and rather inclined to believe that the properestage for a man to marry was his ninetieth year, for then he mightperchance have sufficient experience to understand some portion of hiswife's behaviour and whimsies.
My mortification was not of a lasting kind, for Ilga came out on tothe landing while I was still descending the stairs.
"You do not know who gave me the picture," she said, entreating me;and she came down two of the steps.
"It would be exceeding strange if I did not," said I, stopping.
"You would seek him out and----" she began.
"I had that in my mind," said I, mounting two of the steps.
"Then you do not know him. Say you do not! There could be but oneresult, and I fear it."
A knock on the outer door rang through the hall; this time we took twosteps up and down simultaneously.
"Swords!" she continued, "for you would fight?"
I nodded.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, "swords are no true ordeal. Skill--it is skill,not justice, which directs the thrust."
I fancied that I comprehended the cause of her fear, and I laughedcheerfully.
"I have few good qualities," said I, "but amongst those few you mayreckon some proficiency with the sword." I ascended two steps.
"So," she replied, with an indefinable change of tone, "you areskilled in the exercise?" But she stood where she was.
Otto Krax came from the inner part of the house and crossed to thedoor.
"It is my one qualification for a courtier."
Since Ilga had omitted to take the two steps down, I deemed it rightto take four steps up.
She resumed her tone of entreaty.
"But chance may outwit skill; does--often."
We heard the chain rattle on the door as Krax unfastened it. Ilga bentforward hurriedly.
"You do not know the man!" and in a whisper she added: "For mysake--you do not!"
There were only four steps between us. I took them all in one spring.
"For your sake, is it?" and I caught her hand.
"Hush!" she said, disengaging herself. Marston's voice sounded in theentrance. "You do not know! Oh, you do not!" she beseeched in shakingtones. Then she drew back quickly, and leaned against the balustrade.I looked downwards.
Otto was ushering in Marston, and the pair stoodat the foot of the staircase. I glanced back at the Countess. Therewere tears in her eyes.
"Madame!" said I, "I have forgotten his name."
With a bow, I walked down the steps as Marston mounted them.
"'Tis a fine day," says I, coming to a halt when we were level.
"Is it?" says he, continuing the ascent.
"It seems to me wonderfully bright and clear," said the Countess fromthe head of the stairs.