To all appearances he had not changed since those early days ofmatrimony, when his young wife dazzled London society by her wit and byher beauty, and he was one of the many satellites that helped to bringinto bold relief the brilliance of her presence, of her sallies and ofher smiles.
His friends alone, mayhap--and of these only an intimate few--hadunderstood that beneath that self-same lazy manner, those shy andawkward ways, that half-inane, half-cynical laugh, there now lurked anundercurrent of tender and passionate happiness.
That Lady Blakeney was in love with her own husband, nobody could failto see, and in the more frivolous cliques of fashionable London thisextraordinary phenomenon had oft been eagerly discussed.
"A monstrous thing, of a truth, for a woman of fashion to adore her ownhusband!" was the universal pronouncement of the gaily-decked littleworld that centred around Carlton House and Ranelagh.
Not that Sir Percy Blakeney was unpopular with the fair sex. Far be itfrom the veracious chronicler's mind even to suggest such a thing. Theladies would have voted any gathering dull if Sir Percy's witty salliesdid not ring from end to end of the dancing hall, if his new satin coatand 'broidered waistcoat did not call for comment or admiration.
But that was the frivolous set, to which Lady Blakeney had neverbelonged.
It was well known that she had always viewed her good-natured husbandas the most willing and most natural butt for her caustic wit; she stillwas fond of aiming a shaft or two at him, and he was still equally readyto let the shaft glance harmlessly against the flawless shield of hisown imperturbable good humour, but now, contrary to all precedent, toall usages and customs of London society, Marguerite seldom was seen atrouts or at the opera without her husband; she accompanied him to allthe races, and even one night--oh horror!--had danced the gavotte withhim.
Society shuddered and wondered! tried to put Lady Blakeney's suddeninfatuation down to foreign eccentricity, and finally consoled itselfwith the thought that after all this nonsense could not last, and thatshe was too clever a woman and he too perfect a gentleman to keep upthis abnormal state of things for any length of time.
In the meanwhile, the ladies averred that this matrimonial love was avery one-sided affair. No one could assert that Sir Percy was anythingbut politely indifferent to his wife's obvious attentions. His lazy eyesnever once lighted up when she entered a ball-room, and there were thosewho knew for a fact that her ladyship spent many lonely days in herbeautiful home at Richmond whilst her lord and master absented himselfwith persistent if unchivalrous regularity.
His presence at the Gala had been a surprise to everyone, for allthought him still away, fishing in Scotland or shooting in Yorkshire,anywhere save close to the apron strings of his doting wife. He himselfseemed conscious of the fact that he had not been expected at thisend-of-summer fete, for as he strolled forward to meet his wife andJuliette Marny, and acknowledge with a bow here and a nod there the manygreetings from subordinates and friends, there was quite an apologeticair about his good-looking face, and an obvious shyness in his smile.
But Marguerite gave a happy little laugh when she saw him coming towardsher.
"Oh, Sir Percy!" she said gaily, "and pray have you seen the show? I vow'tis the maddest, merriest throng I've seen for many a day. Nay! but forthe sighs and shudders of my poor little Juliette, I should be enjoyingone of the liveliest days of my life."
She patted Juliette's arm affectionately.
"Do not shame me before Sir Percy," murmured the young girl, casting shyglances at the elegant cavalier before her, vainly trying to find in theindolent, foppish personality of this society butterfly, some trace ofthe daring man of action, the bold adventurer who had snatched her andher lover from out the very tumbril that bore them both to death.
"I know I ought to be gay," she continued with an attempt at a smile, "Iought to forget everything, save what I owe to..."
Sir Percy's laugh broke in on her half-finished sentence.
"Lud! and to think of all that I ought not to forget!" he said loudly."Tony here has been clamouring for iced punch this last half-hour, and Ipromised to find a booth wherein the noble liquid is properly dispensed.Within half an hour from now His Royal Highness will be here. I assureyou, Mlle. Juliette, that from that time onwards I have to endure thequalms of the damned, for the heir to Great Britain's throne alwayscontrives to be thirsty when I am satiated, which is Tantalus' torturemagnified a thousandfold, or to be satiated when my parched palate mostrequires solace; in either case I am a most pitiable man."
"In either case you contrive to talk a deal of nonsense, Sir Percy,"said Marguerite gaily.
"What else would your ladyship have me do this lazy, hot afternoon?"
"Come and view the booths with me," she said. "I am dying for a sight ofthe fat woman and the lean man, the pig-faced child, the dwarfs andthe giants. There! Monsieur Deroulede," she added, turning to the youngFrenchman who was standing close beside her, "take Mlle. Juliette tohear the clavecin players. I vow she is tired of my company."
The gaily-dressed group was breaking up. Juliette and Paul Derouledewere only too ready to stroll off arm-in-arm together, and Sir AndrewFfoulkes was ever in attendance on his young wife.
For one moment Marguerite caught her husband's eye. No one was withinearshot.
"Percy," she said.
"Yes, m'dear."
"When did you return?"
"Early this morning."
"You crossed over from Calais?"
"From Boulogne."
"Why did you not let me know sooner?"
"I could not, dear. I arrived at my lodgings in town, looking adisgusting object.... I could not appear before you until I had washedsome of the French mud from off my person. Then His Royal Highnessdemanded my presence. He wanted news of the Duchesse de Verneuil, whom Ihad the honour of escorting over from France. By the time I had told himall that he wished to hear, there was no chance of finding you at home,and I thought I should see you here."
Marguerite said nothing for a moment, but her foot impatiently tappedthe ground, and her fingers were fidgeting with the gold fringe of herscarf. The look of joy, of exquisite happiness, seemed to have suddenlyvanished from her face; there was a deep furrow between her brows.
She sighed a short, sharp sigh, and cast a rapid upward glance at herhusband.
He was looking down at her, smiling good-naturedly, a triflesarcastically perhaps, and the frown on her face deepened.
"Percy," she said abruptly.
"Yes, m'dear."
"These anxieties are terrible to bear. You have been twice over toFrance within the last month, dealing with your life as lightly as ifit did not now belong to me. When will you give up these mad adventures,and leave others to fight their own battles and to save their own livesas best they may?"
She had spoken with increased vehemence, although her voice was scarceraised above a whisper. Even in her sudden, passionate anger she was onher guard not to betray his secret. He did not reply immediately, butseemed to be studying the beautiful face on which heartbroken anxietywas now distinctly imprinted.
Then he turned and looked at the solitary booth in the distance, acrossthe frontal of which a large placard had been recently affixed, bearingthe words: "Come and see the true representation of the guillotine!"
In front of the booth a man dressed in ragged breeches, with Phrygiancap on his head, adorned with a tri-colour cockade, was vigorouslybeating a drum, shouting volubly the while:
"Come in and see, come in and see! the only realistic presentation ofthe original guillotine. Hundreds perish in Paris every day! Come andsee! Come and see! the perfectly vivid performance of what goes onhourly in Paris at the present moment."
Marguerite had followed the direction of Sir Percy's eyes. She too waslooking at the booth, she heard the man's monotonous, raucous cries. Shegave a slight shudder and once more looked imploringly at her husband.His face--though outwardly as lazy and calm as before--had a strange setlook about the mout
h and firm jaw, and his slender hand, the hand of adandy accustomed to handle cards and dice and to play lightly with thefoils, was clutched tightly beneath the folds of the priceless Mechlinfrills.
It was but a momentary stiffening of the whole powerful frame, aninstant's flash of the ruling passion hidden within that very secretivesoul. Then he once more turned towards her, the rigid lines of his facerelaxed, he broke into a pleasant laugh, and with the most elaborate andmost courtly bow he took her hand in his and raising her fingers to hislips, he gave the answer to her questions:
"When your ladyship has ceased to be the most admired woman in Europe,namely, when I am in my grave."
Chapter VI: For the Poor of Paris