The Man and the Moment

Chapter 6

More than a week went by, and it seemed quite natural now to Lord

Fordyce to shape his days according to the plans of the American party,

and when they met at the Schlossbrunn in the morning at half-past seven,

and he and Mr. Cloudwater and the Princess had drunk their tumblers of

water together, their custom was to go on down to the town and there

find Sabine, who had bought their slices of ham and their rolls, and

awaited them at the end of the Alte Weise with the pink paper bags, and

then the four proceeded to walk to the Kaiser Park to breakfast.

This meal was so merry, Mrs. Howard tantalizing the others by having

cream in her coffee and sugar upon her wild strawberries, while they

were only permitted to take theirs plain.

During the stroll there it was Sabine's custom persistently to adhere to

the side of Mr. Cloudwater, leaving the other two tte--tte--and,

delightful as Lord Fordyce found the Princess, this irritated him. He

discovered himself, as the days advanced, to be experiencing a distinct

longing to know what was passing in that little head, whose violet eyes

looked out with so much mystery and shadow in their depths. He could not

tell himself that she avoided him; she was always friendly and casual

and perfectly at her ease, but no extra look of pleasure or welcome for

him personally ever came into her face, and never once had he been able

to speak to her really alone. Mr. Cloudwater and the two ladies drove

back from breakfast each day, and he was left to take his exercises and

his bath. Now and then he had encountered the Princess in the near woods

just before luncheon, returning from the Kaiserbad, but Mrs. Howard

never--and when he inquired how she spent her time, she replied however

she happened to fancy, which gave him no clue as to where he might find

her--and with all her frank charm, she was not a person to whom it was

easy to put a direct question. Lord Fordyce began to grow too interested

for his peace of mind. When he realized this, he got very angry with

himself. He had never permitted a woman to be anything but a mild

recreation in his life, and at forty it was a little late to begin to

experience something serious about one.

They often motored in the afternoon to various resorts not too far

distant, and there took tea; and for two whole days it had been wet and,

except at meals, the ladies had lain _perdues_.

However fate was kind on a Saturday morning, and allowed Lord Fordyce

to chance upon Mrs. Howard, right up at the Belvedere in the far woods,

looking over the valley. She was quite alone, and her slender figure was

outlined against the bright sunlight as she leaned on the balustrade

gazing down at the exquisite scene.

Henry could have cried aloud in joy, "At last!" but he restrained

himself, and instead only said a casual "Hullo!" Mrs. Howard turned and

looked at him, and answered his greeting with frank cordiality.

"Have you never been here before? I think it is one of the most lovely

spots in the whole woods, and at this time there is never any one--what

made you penetrate so far?"

"Good fortune! The jade has been unkind until now."

They leant on the balustrade together.

"I always like being up on a high mountain and looking down at things,

don't you?" she said.

"No, not always--one feels lonely--but it is nice if one is with a

suitable companion. How have you, at your age, managed to become

self-sufficing?"

"Circumstance, I expect, has taught me the beauty of solitude. I spend

months alone in Brittany."

"And what do you do--read most of the time?"

He was so enchanted that she was not turning the conversation into banal

things, he determined not to say anything which would cause her again

to draw down the blind of bland politeness.

"Yes, I read a great deal. You see, Moravia and I were at a convent

together, and there, beyond teaching us to spell and to write and do a

few sums and learn a garbled version of French history, a little music,

and a great deal of embroidery, they left us totally ignorant--one must

try to supply the deficiencies oneself. It is appalling to remain

ignorant once one realizes that one is."

"Knowledge on any subject is interesting--did you begin generally--or

did you specialize?"

"I always wanted to be just--and to understand things. The whole of life

and existence seemed too difficult--I think I began trying to find some

key to that and this opened the door to general information, and so

eventually, perhaps, one specializes."

He was wise enough not to press the question into what her specializing

ran. He adored subtleties, and he noted with delight that she was not so

completely indifferent as usual. If he could keep her attention for a

little while, they might have a really interesting investigation of each

other's thoughts.

"I like thinking of things, too--and trying to discover their meanings

and what caused them. We are all, of course, the victims of heredity."

"That may be," she agreed, "but the will can control any heredity. It

can only manifest itself when we let ourselves drift. The tragedy of it

is that we have drifted too far sometimes before we learn that we could

have directed the course if we had willed. Ignorance is seemingly the

most cruel foe we have to encounter, because we are so defenseless, not

knowing he is there."

She sighed unconsciously and looked out over the beautiful tree-tops,

down to where the Kaiser Park appeared like a little doll's chlet set

among streams and pastures green.

Lord Fordyce was much moved. She was prettier and sweeter than he had

even fancied she would be could he ever contrive to find her all alone.

He watched her covertly; the exquisite peachy skin with its pure color,

and her soft brown hair dressed with a simplicity which he thought

perfection, all appealed to him, and those strange violet eyes rather

round and heavily lashed with brown-shaded lashes, darker at the tips.

The type was not intense or of a studious mould. Circumstance must

indeed have formed an exotic character to have grafted such deep meaning

in their innocent depths. She went on presently, not remarking his

silence.

"It is heredity which makes my country women so nervous and unstable as

a rule. You don't like them, as I know," and she smiled, "and I think,

from your point of view, you are right. You see, we are nearly all

mushroom growths, sprung up in a night--and we have not had time for

poise, or the acceptance with calmness of our good fortune. We are as

yet unbalanced by it, and don't know what we want."

"You are very charming," and he looked truthful, and at that moment felt

so.

"Yes, I know--we can be more charming than any other women because we

have learnt from all the other nations and play which ever part we wish

to select."

"Yes," he admitted, rather too quickly--and her rippling laugh rang out.

He had hardly ever heard her laugh, and it enchanted him, even though he

was nettled at her understanding of his thought.

"It remains for men to make us desire to play the same part always--if

they find it agreeable."

Again he said "Yes"--but this time slowly.

"Now you Englishmen have the heredity of absolute phlegm to fight. While

we ought to be trying to counteract jumping from one rle to another,

you ought to try to teach yourselves that versatility is a good thing,

too, in its way."

"I am sure it is. I wish you would teach me to understand it--but you

yourself seem to be restful and stable. How have you achieved this?"

"By studying the meaning of things, I suppose, and checking myself every

time I began to want to do the restless things I saw my countrywomen

doing. We have wonderful wills, you know, and if we want a thing

sufficiently, we can get anything. That is why Moravia says we make such

successful great ladies in the different countries we marry into. Your

great ladies, if they are nice, are great naturally, and if they are

not, they often fail, even if they are born aristocrats. We do not often

fail, because we know very well we are taking on a part, and must play

it to the very best of our ability all the time--and gradually we play

it better than if it were natural."

"What a little cynic! 'Out of the mouths of babes'!" and he laughed.

"I am not at all a cynic! It is the truth I am telling you. I admire and

respect our methods far more than yours, which just 'growed' like

Topsy!"

"But cynicism and truth are, unfortunately, synonymous. Only you are too

young, and ought not to know anything about either!"

"I like to know and do things I ought not to!" Her eyes were merry.

"Tell me some more about your countrywomen. I'm awfully interested, and

have always been too frightened of their brilliancy to investigate

myself."

"We are not nearly so bothered with hearts as Europeans--heredity again.

Our mothers and fathers generally sprang from people working too hard to

have great emotions--then we arrive, and have every luxury poured upon

us from birth; and if we have hardy characters we weather the deluge and

remain very decent citizens."

"And if you have not?"

"Why, naturally the instincts for hard work, which made our parents

succeed, if they remain idle must make some explosion. So we grow

restless in our palaces, and get fads and nerves and quaint

diseases--and have to come to Carlsbad--and talk to sober Englishmen!"

The look of mischief which she vouchsafed him was perfectly adorable. He

was duly affected.

"You take us as a sort of cure!"

"Yes----!"

"How do you know so much about us and our faults? I gathered, from what

you said last night at dinner, that you have never been in England but

once, for a month, when you were almost a child."

"The rarest specimens come abroad," and a dimple showed in her left

cheek, "and I read about you in your best novels--even your authors

unconsciously give you away and show your selfishness and arrogance and

self-satisfaction."

"Shocking brutes, aren't we?"

"Perfectly."

Then they both laughed, and Sabine suggested it was time they returned

to luncheon.

"It is quite two miles from here, and Mr. Cloudwater, although the

kindest dear old gentleman, begins to get hungry at one o'clock."

So they turned and sauntered downwards through the lovely green woods,

with the warm hum of insects and the soft summer, glancing sunshine. And

all of you who know the beauties of Carlsbad, or indeed any other of

those Bohemian spas, can just picture how agreeable was their walk, and

how conducive to amiable discussion and the acceleration of friendship.

Henry tried to get her to tell him some more of the secrets of her

countrywomen, but she would not be serious. She was in a merry mood, and

turned the fire into the enemy's camp, making him disclose the ways of

Englishmen.

"I believe you like us as a rule because we are such casual creatures!"

he said at last, "rather indifferent about _petits soins_, and apt to

seize what we desire, or take it for granted."

A sudden shadow came into her face which puzzled him, and she did not

answer, but went on to talk of Brittany and the place which she had

bought. Hronac--just a weird castle perched right upon a rock above a

fishing village, with the sea dashing at its base and the spray rising

right to her sitting-room windows.

"I have to go across a causeway to my garden upon the main land--and

when it is very rough, I get soaking wet--it is the wildest place you

ever saw."

"What on earth made you select it?" Lord Fordyce asked. "You, who look

like a fresh rose, to choose a grim brigand's stronghold as a

residence!"

"It suited my mood on the day I first saw it--and I bought it the

following week. I make up my mind in a minute as to what I want."

"You must let me motor past and look at it," he pleaded, "and when my

twenty-one days of drinking this uninteresting water is up, I intend

going back in my car to Paris, and from there down to see Mont St.

Michel."

"You shall not only look at it--you may even come in--if you are nice

and do not bore me between now and then," and she glanced up at him

slyly. "I have an old companion, Madame Imogen Aubert--who lives with me

there--and she always hopes I shall one day have visitors!"

Lord Fordyce promised he would be a pure sage, and if she would put him

on probation, and really take pains to sample his capabilities of not

boring in a few more walks, he would come up for judgment at Hronac

when it was her good pleasure to name a date.

"I shall be there toward the middle of August. After we leave here, the

Princess and dear Cloudie go to Italy with her little son, the baby

Torniloni: he is such a darling, nearly three years old--he is at

Hronac now with his nurses."

"And you go back to Brittany alone?"

"Yes----"

"Then I shall come, too."

"If, at the end of your cure, you have not bored me!"

By this time they had got down to the Savoy gate--and there found

Moravia and Mr. Cloudwater waiting for them on the balcony--clamoring

for lunch.

Princess Torniloni gave a swift, keen glance at the two who had

entered, but she did not express the thought which came to her.

"It is rather hard that Sabine, who does not want him and is not free to

have him, should have drawn him instead of me."

That night in the restaurant there came in and joined their party one of

those American men who are always to be met with in Paris or Aix or

Carlsbad or Monte Carlo, at whatever in any of these places represents

the Ritz Hotel, one who knew everybody and everything, a person of no

particular s*x, but who always would make a party go with his stories

and his gaiety, and help along any hostess. Cranley Beaton was this

one's name. The Cloudwater party were all quite glad to welcome him and

hear news of their friends. One or two decent people had arrived that

afternoon also, and Moravia felt she could be quite amused and wear her

pretty clothes. Sabine hated the avalanches of dinners and lunches and

what not this would mean. Her sense of humor was very highly developed,

and she often laughed in a fond way over her friend, who was, in her

search for pleasure, still as keen as she had been in convent days.

"You do remain so young, Morri!" she told her, as they linked arms going

up to bed. Their rooms were on the first floor, and they disdained the

lift. "Do you remember, you used to be the mother to all of us at St.

Anne's--and now I am the mother of us two!"

"You are an old, wise-headed Sibyl--that is what you are, darling!" the

Princess returned. "I wish I could ever know what has so utterly changed

you from our convent days," and she sighed impatiently. "Then you were

the merriest madcap, ready to tease any one and to have any lark, and

for nearly these four years since we have been together again you have

been another person--grave and self-possessed. What are you always

thinking of, Sabine?"

They had reached their sitting-room, and Mrs. Howard went to the window

and opened it wide.

"I grew up in one year, Moravia--I grew a hundred years old, and all the

studies which I indulge in at Hronac teach me that peace and poise are

the things to aim at. I cannot tell you any more."

"I did not mean to probe into your secrets, darling," the Princess

exclaimed hastily. "I promised you I never would when you came to me

that November in Rome--we were both miserable enough, goodness knows! We

made the bargain that there should be no retrospects. And your angelic

goodness to me all that time when my little Girolamo was born, have made

me your eternal debtor. Why, but for you, darling, he might have been

snatched from me by the hateful Torniloni family!"

"The sweet cherub!"

Then their conversation turned to this absorbing topic, the perfections

of Girolamo! and as it is hardly one which could interest you or me, my

friend, let us go back to the smoking-room and listen to a conversation

going on between Cranley Beaton and Lord Fordyce. The latter, with great

skill, had begun to elicit certain information he desired from this

society register!

"Yes, indeed," Mr. Beaton was saying. "She is a peach--The husband"--and

he looked extremely wise. "Oh! she made some frightful msalliance out

West, and they say he's shut in a madhouse or home for inebriates. Her

entrance among us dates from when she first appeared in Paris, about

three years ago, with Princess Torniloni. She is awfully rich and

awfully good, and it is a real pity she does not divorce the ruffian and

begin again!"

"She is not free, then?" and Lord Fordyce felt his heart sink. "I

thought, probably, she had got rid of any encumbrance, as it is fairly

easy over with you."

"Why, she could in a moment if she wanted to, I expect," Mr. Beaton

assured his listener. "She hasn't fancied anyone else yet; when she

does, she will, no doubt."

"Her husband is an American, then?"

"Why, of course--didn't I tell you she came from the West? Why, I

remember crossing with her. She was in deep mourning--in the summer of

1908. She never spoke to anyone on board, and it was about eighteen

months after that I was presented to her in Paris. She gets prettier

every day."

Lord Fordyce felt this was true.

"So she could be free if she fancied anyone, you think?" he hazarded

casually, as though his interest in the subject had waned--and when Mr.

Beaton had answered, "Yes--rather," Lord Fordyce got up and sauntered

off toward bed.

"One has to be up so early in the morning, here," he remarked agreeably.

"See you to-morrow at the Schlossbrunn?--Good-night!"