CHAPTER XVIII
There was for the moment a dead silence. The soft patter of cards nolonger fell upon the table. The eyes of every one were turned upon thenewcomers. And he, leaning upon his stick, looked only for one person,and having found her, took no heed of any one else.
"Lucille!"
She rose from her seat and stood with hands outstretched towards him,her lips parted in a delightful smile, her eyes soft with happiness.
"Victor, welcome! It is like you to have found me, and I knew that youwould come."
He raised her fingers to his lips--tenderly--with the grace of a prince,but all the affection of a lover. What he said to her none could hear,for his voice was lowered almost to a whisper. But the colour stainedher cheeks, and her blush was the blush of a girl.
A movement of the Duchess recalled him to a sense of his social duty. Heturned courteously to her with extended hand.
"I trust," he said, "that I may be forgiven my temporary fit ofaberration. I cannot thank you sufficiently, Duchess, for your kindinvitation."
Her answering smile was a little dubious.
"I am sure," she said "that we are delighted to welcome back amongst usso old and valued a friend. I suppose you know every one?"
Mr. Sabin looked searchingly around, exchanging bows with those whosefaces were familiar to him. But between him and the Prince of SaxeLeinitzer there passed no pretense at any greeting. The two men eyed oneanother for a moment coldly. Each seemed to be trying to read the otherthrough.
"I believe," Mr. Sabin said, "that I have that privilege. I see,however, that I am interrupting your game. Let me beg you to continue.With your permission, Duchess, I will remain a spectator. There are manythings which my wife and I have to say to one another."
The Prince of Saxe Leinitzer laid his cards softly upon the table. Hesmiled upon Mr. Sabin--a slow, unpleasant smile.
"I think," he said slowly, "that our game must be postponed. It is apity, but I think it had better be so."
"It must be entirely as you wish," Mr. Sabin answered. "I am at yourservice now or later."
The Prince rose to his feet.
"Monsieur le Due de Souspennier," he said, "what are we to conclude fromyour presence here this evening?"
"It is obvious," Mr. Sabin answered. "I claim my place amongst you."
"You claim to be one of us?"
"I do!"
"Ten years ago," the Prince continued, "you were granted immunity fromall the penalties and obligations which a co-membership with us mightinvolve. This privilege was extended to you on account of certain greatoperations in which you were then engaged, and the object of whichwas not foreign to our own aims. You are aware that the period of thatimmunity is long since past."
Mr. Sabin leaned with both hands upon his stick, and his face was likethe face of a sphinx. Only Lucille, who knew him best of all thosethere, saw him wince for a moment before this reminder of his greatfailure.
"I am not accustomed," Mr. Sabin said quietly, "to shirk my share of thework in any undertaking with which I am connected. Only in this case Iclaim to take the place of the Countess Lucille, my wife. I request thatthe task, whatever it may be which you have imposed upon her, may betransferred to me."
The Prince's smile was sweet, but those who knew him best wondered whatevil it might betoken for his ancient enemy.
"You offer yourself, then, as a full member?"
"Assuredly!"
"Subject," he drawled, "to all the usual pains and privileges?"
"Certainly!"
The Prince played with the cards upon the table. His smooth, fair facewas unruffled, almost undisturbed. Yet underneath he was wonderingfiercely, eagerly, how this might serve his ends.
"The circumstances," he said at last, "are peculiar. I think that weshould do well to consult together--you and I, Felix, and Raoul here."
The two men named rose up silently. The Prince pointed to a smallround table at the farther end of the apartment, half screened off by acurtained recess.
"Am I also," Mr. Sabin asked, "of your company?"
The Prince shook his head.
"I think not," he said. "In a few moments we will return."
Mr. Sabin moved away with a slight enigmatic gesture. Lucille gatheredup her skirts, making room for him by her side on a small sofa.
"It is delightful to see you, Victor," she murmured. "It is delightfulto know that you trusted me."
Mr. Sabin looked at her, and the smile which no other woman had everseen softened for a moment his face.
"Dear Lucille," he murmured, "how could you ever doubt it? There was aday, I admit, when the sun stood still, when, if I had felt inclined toturn to light literature, I should have read aloud the Book of Job. Butafterwards--well, you see that I am here."
She laughed.
"I knew that you would come," she said, "and yet I knew that it wouldbe a struggle between you and them. For--the Prince--" she murmured,lowering her voice, "had pledged his word to keep us apart."
Mr. Sabin raised his head, and his eyes traveled towards the figure ofthe man who sat with his back to them in the far distant corner of theroom.
"The Prince," he said softly, "is faithful to his ancient enmities."
Lucille's face was troubled. She turned to her companion with a littlegrimace.
"He would have me believe," she murmured, "that he is faithful to otherthings besides his enmities."
Mr. Sabin smiled.
"I am not jealous," he said softly, "of the Prince of Saxe Leinitzer!"
As though attracted by the mention of his name, which must, however,have been unheard by him, the Prince at that moment turned round andlooked for a moment towards them. He shot a quick glance at Lady Carey.Almost at once she rose from her chair and came across to them.
"The Prince's watch-dog," Lucille murmured. "Hateful woman! She is boundhand and foot to him, and yet--"
Her eyes met his, and he laughed.
"Really," he said, "you and I in our old age might be hero and heroineof a little romance--the undesiring objects of a hopeless affection!"
Lady Carey sank into a low chair by their side. "You two," she said,with a slow, malicious smile, "are a pattern to this wicked world. Don'tyou know that such fidelity is positively sinful, and after three yearsin such a country too?"
"It is the approach of senility," Mr. Sabin answered her. "I am an oldman, Lady Muriel!"
She shrugged her shoulders.
"You are like Ulysses," she said. "The gods, or rather the goddesses,have helped you towards immortality."
"It is," Mr. Sabin answered, "the most delicious piece of flattery Ihave ever heard."
"Calypso," she murmured, nodding towards Lucille, "is by your side."
"Really," Mr. Sabin interrupted, "I must protest. Lucille and Iwere married by a most respectable Episcopalian clergyman. We havedocumentary evidence. Besides, if Lucille is Calypso, what aboutPenelope?"
Lady Carey smiled thoughtfully.
"I have always thought," she said, "that Penelope was a myth. In yourcase I should say that Penelope represents a return to sanity--to theordinary ways of life."
Mr. Sabin and Lucille exchanged swift glances. He raised his eyebrows.
"Our little idyll," he said, "seems to be the sport and buffet ofevery one. You forget that I am of the old world. I do not understandmodernity."
"Ulysses," she answered, "was of the old world, yet he was a wanderer inmore senses of the word than one. And there have been times--"
Her eyes sought his. He ignored absolutely the subtlety of meaning whichlurked beneath the heavy drooping eyelids.
"One travels through life," he answered, "by devious paths, and a littlewandering in the flower-gardens by the way is the lot of every one.But when the journey is over, one's taste for wandering has gone--well,Ulysses finished his days at the hearth of Penelope."
She rose and walked away. Mr. Sabin sat still and watched her as thoughlistening to the soft sweep of her gown upon th
e carpet.
"Hateful woman!" Lucille exclaimed lightly. "To make love, and suchlove, to one's lawful husband before one's face is a little crude, don'tyou think?"
He shook his head.
"Too obvious," he answered. "She is playing the Prince's game. Dear me,how interesting this will be soon."
She nodded. A faint smile of bitterness had stolen into her tone.
"Already," she said, "you are beginning to scent the delight of theatmosphere. You are stiffening for the fight. Soon--"
"Ah, no! Don't say it," he whispered, taking her hand. "I shall neverforget. If the fight seems good to me it is because you are the prize,and after all, you know, to fight for one's womenkind is amongst theprimeval instincts."
Lady Carey, who had been pacing the room restlessly, touching anornament here, looking at a picture there, came back to them and stoodbefore Mr. Sabin. She had caught his last words.
"Primeval instincts!" she exclaimed mockingly. "What do you know aboutthem, you of all men, a bundle of nerves and brains, with a motor fora heart, and an automatic brake upon your passions? Upon my word, Ibelieve that I have solved the mystery of your perennial youth. You havefound a way of substituting machinery for the human organ, and you arewound up to go for ever."
"You have found me out," he admitted. "Professor Penningram of Chicagowill supply you too with an outfit. Mention my name if you like. It is awonderful country America."
The Prince came over to them, fair and bland with no trace upon hissmooth features or in his half-jesting tone of any evil things.
"Souspennier," he said, holding out his hand, "welcome back once more toyour old place. I am happy to say that there appears to be no reason whyyour claim should not be fully admitted."
Mr. Sabin rose to his feet.
"I presume," he said, "that no very active demands are likely to be madeupon my services. In this country more than any other I fear that thepossibilities of my aid are scanty."
The Prince smiled.
"It is a fact," he said, "which we all appreciate. Upon you at presentwe make no claim."
There was a moment's intense silence. A steely light glittered in Mr.Sabin's eyes. He and the Prince alone remained standing. The Duchess ofDorset watched them through her lorgnettes; Lady Carey watched toowith an intense eagerness, her eyes alight with mingled cruelty andexcitement. Lucille's eyes were so bright that one might readily believethe tears to be glistening beneath.