Stephen Hudson 
 
 Kurt
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OP 
 CALIFORNIA 
 SAN DIEGO
 
 3 1822 01017 5479 
 
 Pft 
 
 JZzz
 
 RICHARD KURT
 
 LONDON : MARTIN SECKKR (LTD.) 1919
 
 RICHARD KURT 
 
 BY STEPHEN I^UDSON 
 
 LONDON 
 MARTIN SECKER 
 
 XVII BUCKINGHAM STREET 
 ADELPHI
 
 TO 
 M. P.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAOK 
 
 PART I. ELINOR 7 
 
 PART II. VIRGINIA 101
 
 PART I 
 ELINOR
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 ADA KURT'S straight, black-clad figure was deeply sunk in a 
 softly cushioned arm-chair. As her brother Richard entered 
 the drawing-room she, with some difficulty, was dispensing tea 
 to her younger sister, a bright schoolgirl of seventeen, whose hair, 
 in a long thick plait, reached to her waist. Richard had a special 
 affection for Olivia, due perhaps to his being ten years older, and, 
 while she helped Ada with the heavy silver tea-kettle, she stole 
 a shy, subdued glance at him. He noticed her naturally happy 
 face was suffused and stained with the ready tears of childhood, 
 and he felt how grateful such relief would have been to himself, 
 dry-eyed ever since the telegram announced his mother's death. 
 
 Events had crowded swiftly on one another in the last forty- 
 eight hours. As sometimes happens in times of sudden change 
 or rapid development, a chasm of ages seemed to lie between him 
 and his life at Ouchy. It was as though he had traversed great 
 distances, and behind and beyond, time appeared to stretch 
 indefinite and remote. 
 
 At his heart lay an indescribable oppression. This gulf between 
 him and the past was unbridged by the hurried sequence of those 
 necessary acts which had filled the two intervening days. The 
 happening of every hour filled his memory with vivid detail, 
 crowding out everything unconnected with his mother's death. 
 His confused arrival in the fog the crowded station the friendly 
 porter, the home-coming and the ringing of the bell, the hushed 
 whisper of the servant, the very departure of the cabman, had 
 burnt in upon his mind an ineffaceable memory which, like a scar, 
 disfigured his mental outlook and made of existence a dream and 
 of himself an echo. When he thought at all his mind distorted 
 into unnecessary ugliness the harmless movements and actions 
 that the business of the living demanded. 
 
 His father had met him on his arrival and had shown the lack 
 
 of understanding to which Richard was accustomed, asking his 
 
 son if he wished to visit the death-chamber. The latter had replied 
 
 with a " No " the curtness of which would have been tempered 
 
 9
 
 10 RICHARD KURT 
 
 had he realised its effect. He saw his mother too clearly living 
 to permit the destruction of an illusion which time alone could 
 with gradual mercy dispel, and he shrank from seeing that which 
 was no more her whom he had greatly loved. 
 
 A kindly word from his father a glance of sympathy, a mere 
 pressure from the hand which had lain so heavily on him all these 
 years, might have opened the floodgates of Richard's heart to 
 him suffering the agony of one who for the moment thinks he 
 is deprived of all in life. But Mr Kurt had never understood his 
 son, and at this poignant moment his attitude of cold aloofness 
 struck at Richard's very soul like the thrust of a traitor's 
 sword. 
 
 At the funeral he had avoided the expressions of sympathy, 
 shrinking away from the crowd of mourners whose conventional 
 phrases his imagination interpreted as veiled reproaches for un- 
 filial conduct. These people, many of them mere social acquaint- 
 ances, were entirely ignorant of his shortcomings, and, had they 
 known these, their indifferent opinion would in any case have 
 been more lenient than his nature would allow him to suppose or 
 desire. To his morbid sensitiveness a word, a look, became a 
 blow. And how he suffered from the singing of the hymns and 
 the funeral flowers ! Now he was in the familiar drawing-room 
 with his mother's portrait looking down on him the picture he 
 had always known, painted when he was a baby almost, which 
 in his boyhood and longer was the one thing he cared for of all 
 his home contained. 
 
 His mind at this moment was in a condition so susceptible 
 that the sound of Ada's shrill voice caused a violent start so 
 violent that he half fell back against someone who had noiselessly 
 entered the room. It was his father. 
 
 Ada had said : " How is Elinor ? " Father and son exchanged 
 glances but no word passed, and Ada continued : " Do have a 
 cup of tea, papa. I know you must want it." 
 
 Ada was a young woman who combined a talent for interference 
 and tactless speech with an iconoclastic disregard of other people's 
 feelings. Superficially sharp, she allowed herself an indulgence 
 in spiteful remarks which belied her fundamental kindness of 
 heart. She accompanied a practical and severe manner with 
 acts and words of astonishing levity, which shocked strangers and 
 were a constant source of embarrassment to her family. 
 
 It was not her fault that Mr Kurt entered at just that moment, 
 but it was characteristic of her to add her small weight to Richard's 
 load of remorseful sorrow. He knew that his wife's name had,
 
 ELINOR 11 
 
 since the quarrel, been barely if at all mentioned in the family, 
 and he felt the terrible discordance of its sudden interposition at 
 such a time. Must every chance circumstance, every luckless 
 word, conspire to widen the breach between him and his father ? 
 Dare he never hope for it to be healed ? Could not even their 
 dear one's death bring them together ? These thoughts came 
 upon him in an incoherent rush as he mechanically took a cup 
 of tea. There was a brief and pregnant silence. Then Ada's 
 voice smote upon it. 
 
 There are people who seem to think that tension can be 
 relieved by purposeless and irrelevant speech. Ada was one 
 of these. 
 
 " Who's going to reply to all those ? " She pointed to a great 
 heap of envelopes. "I suppose Olivia and I will have to." 
 
 Richard sat helpless. 
 
 " I dare say Richard will assist you." 
 
 His father's tone was not sarcastic, but to Richard his words 
 were always suspect irrationally so, but this came of the years 
 of estrangement. 
 
 " Certainly I will do so if the girls wish," he said simply. 
 
 As he spoke there entered the room a person whom he rose to 
 meet with a certain deference ; this was his uncle, his father's 
 younger brother. 
 
 Two brothers could hardly offer a greater contrast than William 
 and Frederick Kurt. William was considerably above middle 
 height, slight and well proportioned. He wore a short, square- 
 cut beard which, originally red, had turned gradually, with years, 
 to a golden-grey. The hair, though thinned, was yet uncommonly 
 plentiful for a man approaching sixty, and curled away from its 
 central parting in large, crisp, grey -brown waves above a forehead 
 unusually high and broad and white. The eyes, nearly always 
 averted save for swift glances, were dark and small and very 
 piercing ; the mouth was intensely flexible, with full but not thick 
 red lips showing through the hair. When he spoke he had a way 
 of turning his head sideways. The habitual pose was that of 
 concentrated attention. One felt that nothing escaped him. 
 The arms were usually held behind the back, one hand resting 
 easily in the other ; occasionally one would be used sparingly 
 for gesture ; the hands were noticeable, they were slender and 
 symmetrical, with long fingers, and were covered with red hair.
 
 12 RICHARD KURT 
 
 William Kurt rose as his brother entered and went to meet him, 
 and the two stood talking for a moment in low tones. Thus one 
 could best observe the difference in height, build and gesture. 
 Frederick was short, of square stout build, clean-shaved but for a 
 trifle of whisker. His dark grey hair was thicker, the curls were 
 closer, the lips thinner. The eyes were of lighter colour and the 
 pose lacked William's grace. The head was equally small and 
 well shaped, but the forehead was wanting in distinction, and the 
 neck was thick. The one pronounced thing about the man was 
 a look of firmness and decision ; in his voice, in his manner of 
 standing, in his look of contemptuous inattention, one read self- 
 confidence and self-esteem. He seemed the embodiment of 
 dogmatic strength, an epitome of self-reliance. 
 
 There was an indefinable foreign air about the two difficult to 
 analyse or describe. Apart from the readiness with which they 
 dropped into French, German or Italian, there was nothing in 
 manner, expression or gesture which one could identify as un- 
 English. In spite of this it permeated their being and caused 
 in both brothers a certain lack of conformity which drew 
 attention to them. This was heightened, in the case of William, 
 by a natural distinction of appearance, by the carrying of the 
 shapely head, and by a manner which to women was caressing 
 and to men courteous and urbane. 
 
 As they exchanged low-spoken words each seemed to avoid 
 the other's eyes with a noticeable persistence. 
 
 There was no purpose in this. It was a habit, significant only 
 to those who seek that welcome responsiveness which expression 
 gives. In each man's case it was the unconscious symbol of an 
 habitual reserve, enabling him to mask his feelings and protect 
 his heart against sentiment or appeal. The brothers had for 
 each other a love passing that of women. Yet at this moment of 
 almost tragic intensity, from no single outward act, gesture or 
 expression could any stranger have imagined the passionate 
 sympathy that united them. 
 
 111 
 
 In the shadows of the large London drawing-room, the obscurity 
 of which was accentuated by the disposal of furniture and screens, 
 cabinets and palms, in the mistaken taste of the period, all the 
 members of the family were now assembled, their forms dimly 
 outlined in the recesses. Mrs Kurt had always disliked bright
 
 ELINOR 13 
 
 illuminations, and the use of wall brackets was restricted to 
 occasions of dinner-parties or receptions. 
 
 The three electric lamps, heavily shaded, hardly did more than 
 cause a fitful halo in their immediate neighbourhood. One of 
 them upon the table where the tea things were laid illuminated 
 Ada's small hands and lap, but left her face and figure a vaguely 
 distinguishable outline reddened on the side near the fire. The 
 other girl was whispering to Eichard in a far corner by the grand 
 piano ; Mr Kurt stood with bis back to the fire. A letter he was 
 holding rustled. He spoke, and again Richard started, waiting 
 motionless and expectant, listening intently. His uncle had 
 joined the silent group and stood by Olivia, stroking her hair. 
 
 " Children," his father said, " I wanted to tell you that your 
 mother left no will. She had as I think you all know nothing 
 to leave you but the memory of her love and such few personal 
 belongings jewellery, I mean, and knick-knacks which later on 
 you girls shall divide. This letter ! " he paused and choked back 
 the sob that rose in his throat " with the thoughtfulness she 
 always had for me for you all she left in her writing-table 
 drawer. It contains little almost nothing that I need read to 
 you. Some day when I am gone some of you may care to 
 read it. It is a record of the love the unceasing constant love 
 that was was always which will be with me till the end. 
 Besides this she only adds some wishes which needless to say 
 I shall respect. She wants for you, Ada her eldest daughter, 
 to have her pearls my marriage present to her and to you, 
 Richard " he paused again, but this time there was an evident 
 reluctance in his voice, an effort to say something unpleasant to 
 himself " she leaves her portrait with these words : ' It may 
 serve to remind my boy of how much he once loved his mother.' 
 That is all." The words came spasmodically, almost gaspingly 
 his emotion was evident impressive, moving. 
 
 Richard tried to speak but the words would not come. He 
 just remained there gazing stupidly towards his father, who, 
 with an oblique glance in his son's direction, left the room. 
 
 His uncle looked at him. The clean-cut, rather hard face 
 softened. Bending, he put his arm about his nephew's shoulder. 
 " Never mind ; be a man ! " he said. There was kindly sympathy 
 in the tone and Richard looked up gratefully. 
 
 "My father never understood," he answered sadly ; "he never 
 understood." 
 
 Frederick Kurt pursed his lips, sighing through the closed teeth, 
 then slowly followed his brother downstairs.
 
 14 RICHARD KURT 
 
 IV 
 
 " What are you going to do, Richard ? " The question came, 
 of course, from Ada. " Are you going back to Elinor, or will she 
 come and join you ? " 
 
 " I don't know, Ada : I've had no time to think. And I must 
 talk to the Governor and see what he wishes." 
 
 " I don't think he cares one way or the other. You can't very 
 well expect him to, can you ? " 
 
 The shrill biting tone was more than Richard could bear. 
 
 " Won't you ever learn to keep quiet, Ada ? " There was a note 
 of anger in his voice. " Can't you see that your questions are 
 annoying me '*. How can I have any plans yet ? " 
 
 " Oh, well I'll say nothing. I don't see what you've got to 
 be so touchy for. You resent it when one takes no interest, and 
 when one does you're offended. He's pretty hard to please, isn't 
 he, Olivia ? " She turned to her sister, who was looking over the 
 constantly increasing pile of condolence letters. 
 
 Olivia was fond of Richard and felt for him ; she knew he was 
 suffering. 
 
 " I think you're beastly to him, Ada," she said, " that's what 
 I think. Dear old Dick, let's go and leave her alone." 
 
 His schoolgirl sister went over to him and patted his head. 
 He kissed her and put his arm round her. 
 
 " Oh, Ada doesn't mean it, Olivia. It's only because her 
 nerves are upset, I know that. I was rather rude, and I want to 
 talk to you both. God knows when I shall see you again." He 
 spoke gloomily, gazing into the fire. " Has the Governor given 
 you any idea of what you're going to do ? " 
 
 " Well, Olivia will go back to Dresden, that's certain, anyhow." 
 Olivia made a face at her sister. " As for me, I shall have a lot 
 to see to here, at present settling up things." 
 
 Richard wondered what "settling up" Ada would do. He 
 could think of nothing but household bills, which he thought the 
 housekeeper attended to. 
 
 " And then perhaps we shall go abroad." 
 
 " Why not to the villa ? " suggested Richard. 
 
 " Oh, no poor papa said he could never bear it again 
 now. He said that this morning after breakfast and again 
 after the funeral. He wouldn't be able to face it alone, nor 
 could I." 
 
 Richard considered a moment. " Well, I don't know. When
 
 ELINOR 15 
 
 a man has a habit, with no resources except that and business, it 
 seems to me he is bound to miss it." 
 
 " That's just like you, Richard, and your everlasting carping 
 at papa." Ada became violent, as she always did if her ideas or 
 suggestions were called into question. " Of course we know 
 what you mean, don't we, Olivia ? But you're quite mistaken. 
 Papa doesn't care a pin for the gambling, really. He only does it 
 to pass the time down there. You always think it's so amusing 
 being stuck down at Monte Carlo all the winter for months and 
 months. But it isn't, 1 can tell you, and, if it hadn't been for 
 darling mother, papa would never have gone there. I'm jolly 
 glad he is going to give it up." 
 
 " So shall I be, if he does," said Richard. " For his sake, not 
 mine." 
 
 " Why for his sake especially ? " 
 
 " Because that sort of thing kills in the end. No man can 
 stand burning the candle at both ends indefinitely. Something's 
 got to break. The Governor's a hard worker and he's a nervous, 
 highly -strung man. He's up at seven, worrying about business 
 and writing letters till he goes to the rooms, then lunch and letters 
 again, then back to the rooms till they close, except for dinner, 
 and every day the same thing. I tell you no one can stand it. 
 Mother couldn't- she would be with us still but for that." 
 
 Ada said nothing, she knew it was true. She had seen it going 
 on for the last ten years. In spite of her outward apparent hard- 
 ness she had strong affections. She had been her mother's 
 constant companion, her nurse, ever since her health had broken. 
 How often had Ada begged her not to go to the rooms. None 
 knew better than Ada that the vile atmosphere, the excitement of 
 that accursed place, had shortened her mother's life. 
 
 Her brother suddenly remembered Olivia. " I forgot the kid 
 was there," he said. " Don't think I'm running the Governor 
 down, dear." Richard had a certain sense of duty to his younger 
 sister, whom he looked upon as a baby, and the thought that his 
 careless words might create a wrong impression in her mind 
 troubled him. " I'm not in the Governor's good books, I never 
 have been, but he has always been the kindest and best of fathers 
 to you girls, and it is not for me to criticise him. All I mean is, 
 that if he chucks it he'll be wise, and I hope he will for his own 
 sake and for yours." 
 
 Richard had an opinion, which he did not mention, of the 
 influence the Monte Carlo atmosphere was likely to have on young 
 impressionable girls. It was not without misgiving that he had
 
 16 RICHARD KURT 
 
 noticed the deterioration in Ada's character, increasingly mani- 
 fested by her language and her manners. His rare visits to the 
 family villa, when he had occasionally gone to spend a few days 
 with his mother, had had for him a feverish attraction. He had 
 experienced, to his undoing, the glamour and fascination of the 
 gambler's paradise. He had sought and found there, during the 
 numbered days while his resources lasted, an antidote to ennui 
 which his intelligence recognised as an insidious and dangerous 
 poison. At heart he condemned the attractions to which he 
 yielded, and generally despised the life he lived as much as the 
 people amongst whom he spent it. 
 
 When Richard went upstairs to dress for dinner he found in 
 his room the letter he had expected. 
 
 With a sinking of the heart he tore open the large square 
 envelope. 
 
 DEAR RICHARD [it ran], You must have had an awful time, 
 you might have sent me a line. I have no idea what is going to 
 happen. Has anything changed, or is this sort of existence to go 
 on? 
 
 Gaston left yesterday his leave was up. He's awfully keen 
 on our going to Brussels where he's in the F.O. We might as well 
 do that as anything else if your charming father is, as I fully 
 expect, not going to stump up. 
 
 All the old cats are awfully down on me. I am sure I don't 
 know what I've done but I don't care. I'm not very well, and 
 am getting awfully sick of this place. All the decent people are 
 gone or going. I write because you asked me to, but there's 
 nothing to say. ELINOR. 
 
 As he folded the letter, meditating his reply, Richard's thoughts 
 reverted to Ouchy. He could see the capricious, black-haired, 
 graceful Elinor exposed to the spiteful insinuations of those 
 amorphous females whose chief delectation consisted in disparag- 
 ing those whose attractions they envied. A glow of aft'ection 
 possessed him. The prospect of what lay before him, the inter- 
 view with his father, the ill-natured references to his wife he 
 knew he would have to swallow, caused a reaction towards her 
 that the coldness and querulousness of her letter only increased. 
 " Poor little woman," he thought, " all alone there without me 
 to protect her," and, as he finished dressing, he pictured Elinor 
 sitting in solitary elegance at her table in the Beau Rivage 
 Restaurant.
 
 ELINOR 17 
 
 The dining-rooin at Bruton Street was all that remained of 
 a fine Adam interior. Nineteenth-century requirements had 
 necessitated the closing of a bow window and its consequent 
 lighting from above, but its original beauty of proportion as well 
 as its chief decorative feature, the dull-gold Corinthian pillars 
 which supported the dome-shaped ceiling, had not been interfered 
 with. The room was reached from the open hall, wainscoted in 
 the modern style with mahogany, by a corridor with bookcases 
 on either side and a writing-table exposed to draughts. This 
 was called by Mr Kurt the library. 
 
 It was here that Richard found himself after a dinner which 
 had not raised his spirits. His sisters had left the table as quickly 
 as they could, It had never been his father's custom to linger 
 over his wine, of which he drank sparingly. Even on occasions 
 of entertainment his habit was too austere to permit of that 
 mellow kindling of the heart which a good glass of wine can effect. 
 It was characteristic of the man that his excesses had not the 
 human touch that inclines the critic to indulgence. 
 
 Father, uncle and son took their coffee in silence. Richard 
 helped himself to a glass of brandy, regretting the liqueur-glasses 
 were of the old thimble-sized variety instead of the modern wine- 
 tasters he was accustomed to ; he felt a delicacy about replenish- 
 ing his glass. All three were smokers ; there was some comfort 
 in that. At last he saw by his father's face that he was preparing 
 to speak ; Richard settled himself in a large leather arm-chair and 
 waited. 
 
 "I want to say as little as possible, Richard." His father's 
 voice was measured. " I am glad your uncle can hear what I 
 have to say. He feels as I do about you your future concerns 
 him almost as it does me. He has felt for me and for your 
 mother in the terrible mortifications and disappointments we 
 have suffered on your account. I don't want to go over old 
 ground. I desire on this day to bury the past. I want to try 
 and believe that at last now you will realise all the sorrow 
 you have caused us, and that by the grave of your mother" he 
 stopped and regarded Richard fixedly, then continued " by the 
 grave of your mother you will at last determine to mend your 
 ways. From the time you first went to school, as a boy of eight, 
 you have been a constant source of " 
 
 " I thought I beg your pardon I thought you were not going
 
 18 RICHARD KURT 
 
 back to the past." Richard's voice sounded harsh, provocative. 
 In reality he was choking back the emotion his father's words 
 had aroused. 
 
 " I did say so and I meant it," his father continued, " but, to 
 make you understand all your poor mother and I have suffered, 
 I must refer to the early beginning of your career. However, I 
 will leave the past." 
 
 Again he stopped speaking, and with a deliberation that 
 seemed to Richard astonishing in a man who protested so much 
 feeling he lighted a fresh cigarette. 
 
 " Out of consideration for your feelings I will not allude to 
 the heartless wickedness of your behaviour to the mother who 
 all her life " 
 
 " Listen, sir. If you say another word about my mother I 
 shall leave the room. I don't want now to say anything to 
 distress you, but I can't stand your mentioning her and I 
 won't." 
 
 Richard's voice rose as he spoke ; he looked defiantly at his 
 father. 
 
 " I am well aware, Richard, that no words of mine are 
 likely to affect you. I had little hope of it when I determined 
 at great personal sacrifice at this, the saddest moment of 
 my life to try once more for the last time to appeal to 
 you. I see that, as always, you consider yourself a victim 
 a martyr." 
 
 " Why do you say that ? By what right do you insult me ? 
 Because I am dependent on you, I suppose." 
 
 The violent, impulsive words followed each other in quick 
 staccato tones. 
 
 His father's voice took a resigned, pained inflection. 
 
 " Yes, Richard, you are dependent on me, and you can thank 
 God that I am your father instead of another who would long 
 ago have washed his hands of you." 
 
 " You talk to me as if I had been a criminal. What have I 
 done ? Why do you treat me like this ? Anyhow I'm not 
 going to listen to you any more. Talk to my uncle talk to my 
 sisters don't talk to me. You hate me you've always hated 
 me ever since I was born. All I ask you is to leave me in peace 
 I have had enough." 
 
 The excited, angry words welled up. He felt outraged to his 
 very soul. His impetuous feelings were uppermost. His over- 
 charged nerves were on edge. He flung out of the room and up 
 the stairs.
 
 ELINOR 19 
 
 VI 
 
 MY DARLING ELINOR, There is nothing to be done with 
 these people. I only want one thing, to get away from them all. 
 Of course the Governor had to jaw, on this day of all others. 
 Equally, of course, I got in a rage. Consequence, bathos. Now I 
 suppose I'm hopelessly in the cart. I know you'll blame me for 
 being such a fool, but I couldn't help it. Anyhow, I've had all 
 I can stand. Get ready to join me in Brussels. It's an easy 
 night journey via Bale. I'll leave to-morrow. Wire what day 
 you'll be there and if you want cash or can manage. Be as 
 economical as you can, money's very scarce, and this dishes every 
 chance of my raising any. 
 
 Dear little girl, I am so sorry for all the trouble I cause you. 
 News when we meet. You know you're all I care about. 
 
 As ever, yours, RICHARD. 
 
 Taking the letter he knocked at his sister's door across the 
 passage. Fortunately she was still awake, the light shone under 
 the door. " Awfully sorry to disturb you, Ada," he said, " but 
 can you give me a twopenny-halfpenny stamp ? " 
 
 " You'll find some on the writing-table," his sister answered. 
 She was sitting up in bed examining something. " In that silver 
 box. But what do you want one for at this time of night ? " 
 
 " Oh, I've written Elinor. I'm off to-morrow, Ada dear, that's 
 all." 
 
 " Why so soon ? " 
 
 " Oh, the usual thing. How with the Governor." 
 
 " Well, all I can say is you ought to be ashamed of yourself, 
 Richard. Poor old man, on the day of mother's funeral. You've 
 got absolutely no feeling. I never knew anything like you." 
 
 Richard stared stupidly at his sister. As he did so his eye caught 
 the glint of something she was holding. He went nearer the bed. 
 In her hand was a pearl necklace. He remembered the last 
 time he had seen it. His mother had worn it on the evening he 
 had said the cruel words which were the last that ever passed 
 between them. 
 
 Vll 
 
 He descended the stairs slowly with the letter in his hand. He 
 wanted it to go by the morning mail. He was wondering whether
 
 20 RICHARD KURT 
 
 he could avoid another interview with his father before he left. 
 When he reached the hall he heard the brothers talking and his 
 own name repeated at intervals. The mahogany folding doors 
 between the hall and the library were ajar. He passed out of the 
 house noiselessly, posted his letter at the corner, and, returning, 
 just reached the front door as his uncle was leaving the house. 
 
 " Hallo, is that you, Richard ? What a fool you are to give 
 way to temper like that with your father. Go back to him now, 
 at once. Tell him you are sorry. Promise me, before I go. 
 He's very much upset." 
 
 " All right, Uncle Frederick, I will, to please you. But it's 
 not much good. I'm off to-morrow." 
 
 " Where ? Back to Ouchy ? " 
 
 "No, I think we shall go to Brussels. It doesn't seem to 
 matter much where we go. But don't bother. It's all right. 
 I'm glad to get away any thing's better than this." 
 
 There was something in the young man's tone that caused his 
 uncle to look at him apprehensively. Frederick Kurt was really 
 fond of his nephew. A lonely man and a bachelor, he had always 
 regarded his brother's children as his own, and Richard was 
 perhaps his favourite. 
 
 " You'd better stay another day or two. I should like to have 
 a talk with you," he added. " Surely Elinor won't mind doing 
 without you for a short time." 
 
 " Oh yes ; it isn't that. I should be very glad to talk with 
 you, but I'm afraid it's not any good. You wouldn't see things 
 as I do." 
 
 " Well, go and see your father now, and to-morrow come and 
 see me before I go to the city. Good-night, Richard." He 
 clinched this with his habitual advice : " Be a man ! " 
 
 Heavy at heart and embarrassed, Richard walked into the 
 library. His father sat at his writing-table, a packet of letters 
 before him which he was evidently reading. 
 
 " Ah, Richard, come to say good-night ? " 
 
 The tone was quite amiable and natural. It was one of William 
 Kurt's singular characteristics that he could, from one moment to 
 the other, forget a scene or an annoyance and cease to suffer from 
 its effects. Whether it was due to a natural buoyancy of dis- 
 position or whether to superficiality of emotion Richard could 
 never determine. But over and over again he had experienced 
 it, and never without admiration and envy : admiration for what 
 he regarded as magnanimity, envy of a nature that could so 
 quickly outlive pain and put aside disagreeable recollections.
 
 ELINOR 21 
 
 " I am very sorry," he said. " I didn't mean to lose my 
 temper. It has been a trying day for us all, and when you spoke 
 of the past I couldn't stand it. " He longed intensely to unburden 
 his heart to his father, to tell him something at least of the diffi- 
 culties and troubles of his life, and he looked anxiously for some 
 encouragement, some indication of sympathy. 
 
 His father gave no sign. His tone was quite kindly as he replied, 
 but also quite cold. "My dear Richard, you will never make 
 anything of your life till you learn to control yourself. Your 
 habitual self-indulgence and weakness are your ruin. I shall 
 say nothing more. I am glad you have expressed your regret 
 It may be some time till I see you again and I have one or two 
 things to say to you. But please listen quietly without excite- 
 ment. For years, as you are aware, your mother's health gave 
 constant cause for anxiety. It was, as you must know, on her 
 account, and on her account only, that we have been in the habit 
 of spending the winter out of England, and that in many ways 
 our mode of living has been extremely expensive, more so than I 
 can afford. For your mother I would have done far more. I 
 would have spent all I had to preserve her life or to procure her 
 happiness. 
 
 " But the reason for these sacrifices is now past. Henceforward 
 I intend that we shall all live in a more regular and a more modest 
 manner. I intend to give up the villa. In any case I could not 
 bear to go there again. I have just been talking matters over 
 with your uncle. He quite agrees with me. As soon as possible 
 I intend to take your sister Ada abroad, perhaps to Egypt, very 
 quietly, for the winter. During this time I hope you will give 
 me some proof of your intention of changing your mode of exist- 
 ence. I prefer not to allude to Elinor, but I am conscious that it 
 is largely thanks to her influence that you " 
 
 Richard broke in : " It's nothing to do with Elinor. It's 
 entirely my fault. Why will you all put everything on her ? " 
 
 His father waited, looking down at the packet of letters. 
 
 " If you were to read these letters letters from your mother 
 to me for the last five years, you might perhaps believe how much 
 your unfortunate marriage affected her, how far Elinor contributed 
 to sadden her remaining years, perhaps to shorten her life," 
 Mr Kurt held up his hand deprecatingly as Richard rose with 
 a gesture of passionate distress. " Please calm yourself. I do 
 not say this to pain you. I believe you feel your mother's death 
 deeply, that you would gladly atone for all the sorrow your 
 follies to use a mild expression caused her, but it is my duty
 
 22 RICHARD KURT 
 
 to urge upon you before it is too late the necessity for you to 
 exert your will-power and turn your back in the future on the 
 pernicious surroundings which Elinor's vanity and your own 
 folly cause you to regard as suitable. It is my duty, I say, to 
 warn you that, unless you change your manner of life, I shall be 
 compelled to take steps which I should regret. If by your own 
 industry and capacity you succeed in making an income sufficient 
 to enable you to indulge all her and your extravagances I shall 
 have no right to say anything, though I should deplore an exist- 
 ence spent in in" he could not find the exact expression 
 " licentious enjoyment." 
 
 "I don't know what you mean by licentious enjoyment." 
 Kichard tried not to sneer. He was thinking of his father 
 standing with a rouleau of banknotes in his hand by the side of 
 the roulette table. 
 
 " I repeat," continued his father, roused by Richard's dissent 
 to satisfaction with the strong expression, "licentious enjoyment. 
 Be that as it may, I don't intend to provide you with the means 
 to idle in wasteful luxury and extravagance at my expense. 
 You have now the chance of turning over a new leaf. You have 
 a settled income, sufficient, and more than sufficient, to enable you 
 to live like a gentleman. There is no lack of opportunities for a 
 young man of your intelligence to earn more money if you desire 
 it. It is not for me to suggest what you are to do. Later on, if 
 you give me cause to believe that you really mean to live respect- 
 ably, I may be justified in considering what further steps I can 
 take. For the future it depends upon you." 
 
 As Richard sat listening he watched his father, trying to observe 
 in the delivery of what seemed a long and pompous harangue some 
 sign of feeling, some indication of underlying earnestness. It 
 seemed to him it would have been easy to compress the meaning 
 into fewer words. 
 
 " I quite understand," he said. " Is there anything more ? " 
 His heart had hardened within him. " Because I want to leave 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " May I ask where you intend going ? " His father's tone 
 betrayed an assumed indifference. It was on the tip of 
 Richard's lips to substitute Paris for the less compromising 
 locality. 
 
 " Oh, we're going to meet in Brussels. After that I don't 
 know. We may remain there some time, it all depends." 
 
 " Brussels ? " His father was considering. " Well, one can 
 live very agreeably in Brussels at moderate expense. I'm sure
 
 ELINOR 28 
 
 Mrs Williamson will assist you to find a suitable residence, and 
 our friends the Lavelages will be pleased to see you if you call 
 on them. Monsieur Lavelage is a prominent banker there ; you 
 might do worse than ask him to help you." 
 
 " Thanks. I'll remember them." Richard wondered what 
 Elinor's opinion would be of his father's cousin, Mrs Williamson, 
 and of the excellent but very bourgeoise Madame Lavelage, whom 
 he had once met at dinner. " Good-night, father." 
 
 His father turned to his desk again. 
 
 " Good-night, Richard. But remember that in all cities there 
 are temptations if you seek them. Even Brussels may have 
 dangers for a man like you."
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 i 
 
 WITHIN a few days after his arrival in Brussels Richard found 
 in the Rue Belliard, close to the main boulevards and in the best 
 residential quarter of Brussels, a landlord accustomed to a clientele 
 of diplomatic attaches. Monsieur Labiche knew the habits of 
 what he frequently and with unction alluded to as le grand 
 monde, and recognised that, in spite of their tastes being somewhat 
 irreconcilable with their purses, his interests were best served 
 by a readiness to agree with both. 
 
 Richard here engaged a suite of apartments on the ground floor, 
 which Elinor's taste and cunning fingers soon transformed, the 
 delicate accessories that formed an integral part of their equip- 
 ment producing the effect of elegance which was her habitual 
 atmosphere. 
 
 The two sat discussing the past and the future a few days after 
 Richard's departure from London. 
 
 " But what after this, Richard ? We can't stay here for ever," 
 she was saying ; " and what can we do here ? We don't know a 
 soul except Gaston and if we did, we can't afford to do anything. 
 My clothes are in rags. I literally haven't a decent frock to go 
 out in, and, as for evening dresses, if we were asked to dinner I 
 should have nothing to wear." 
 
 Richard thought of her four trunks and huge hat-box and 
 the dressmaker's bills to which his father had alluded with a 
 particularly disagreeable emphasis when he first apprehended 
 that he would have to relieve his son of his embarrassments. 
 
 Elinor reclined in an arm-chair, her small expressive features 
 exhibiting intense annoyance. " It's just like you to sit there 
 grinning ; you never think about trifles like that, I know. You've 
 only got to go to your tailor and order six suits at a time, which 
 never go out of fashion and wear for ever." 
 
 " Hang it, Elinor, I told you I might just as well be hung for 
 a sheep as a lamb, and suggested your ordering all the clothes you 
 liked before the smash came." 
 
 "How like a man! Can't you get it into your head that 
 
 24
 
 ELINOR 25 
 
 women's clothes go out of fashion ? Besides, I did get a 
 certain number of things, but that was in the spring, and now 
 that the autumn fashions are utterly different they all need 
 changing." 
 
 " Oh, don't bother about that, Elinor dear. After all, we can 
 rub along now that Uncle Frederick is giving me that additional 
 allowance. It does make a difference, though not enough to 
 please us. Sometimes I think the old chap realises how hard the 
 Governor is to me. Anyhow, it's very decent of him." 
 
 " Yes, considering he's your father's brother, it is. But you 
 never really told me what he said. You always tell things in 
 driblets and generally leave out the most important part. Did 
 he say anything about the future ? " 
 
 " Well, as you know, I went to him the morning after the funeral, 
 and he was very nice, and said that, if we keep quiet for a while 
 and don't make any fresh debts, et cetera, I could count on his 
 helping me with the Governor on his return from Egypt. But he 
 wanted to know my ideas about the future. Of course I dodged 
 that as well as I could, knowing that the one thing they won't 
 do is to give us the sort of house in London we want and a decent 
 income. The only way with them is to temporise. So I said, 
 first, that I simply couldn't make both ends meet on what we 
 have now. Then he said he'd give me that extra allowance. I 
 thanked him, of course, and said it was awfully good of him, and 
 all that sort of thing. Then I told him that if the Governor would 
 only give us a house in the country we'd settle down and " 
 
 Richard had not told Elinor this before. He had left out the 
 most important part, and now he knew he was " in for it." 
 
 " You did that, did you ? Well, all I can say is, you can go 
 and live there alone." Elinor's slight, graceful figure trembled 
 with excitement. She seemed to vibrate with anger. Her dark 
 lustrous eyes, the eyes that could look so pensive, flashed with 
 furious indignation. "So we're to go and live in some God- 
 forgotten village, are we ? That's to be the end of it after years 
 of living without enough money to make life bearable ! And 
 after hanging on all this time and doing my best to make both 
 ends meet, and never living in a place more than six months at 
 a time without being pitchforked out of it because of your debts 
 and follies. Now I'm to be buried alive in the country. Thank 
 you, Richard ; thank you very much." 
 
 Richard watched her helplessly. He had been more or less 
 prepared for the outburst, but now it had come he hardly knew 
 what to say. He tried to pacify her.
 
 26 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " My dear girl ! Give me a chance of telling you the rest of 
 explaining my purpose. I'm not such a fool as you think " 
 
 She broke in upon him, raging : 
 
 " I don't care what your purpose is. You always were a 
 fool, and you always will be. Your clever ideas will end in 
 smoke as all the others have, and I shall have to pay the piper 
 as I always do." She rose and was going to sweep out of the 
 room. 
 
 " Oh, do wait a minute, Elinor. You always jump up into a 
 rage just when I'm going to explain things." 
 
 " What's the use of your explaining ? I'm sick of your 
 explanations and excuses and lies yes, lies ! " 
 
 " Oh, well, if you're going to abuse me, I'll shut up. But do 
 control yourself a minute. As to lies, I have to tell lies more 
 for your sake than my own." 
 
 This was fresh fuel to the flames of Elinor's wrath. She grew 
 calm. This was, as Richard knew, ominous. 
 
 " Oh, I suppose you also have to gamble and drink and carry 
 on with women to please me, and then humbug me and lie to 
 me about that ? " Elinor's voice had that break in it which 
 Richard could not stand. 
 
 " For goodness' sake, don't drag things up ! Do you think I 
 want to bury you ? Don't you know perfectly well that my chief 
 wish is to make your life jollier ? Look here if I lie low and 
 don't have any fresh rows I think, from what passed between 
 Uncle Frederick and me, I can get him to fork out a few thousand 
 pounds. Now, if the Governor will give us the house I can buy 
 some hunters and harness-horses. You know I'm pretty good at 
 that sort of thing. I'll get my hunting, have a smart carriage, 
 ponies, and so on. We'll ask some cheery people down to keep 
 you going. You'll get to know all the decent people about, and 
 then we can run up to town whenever we like. I dare say we 
 could manage a flat in London besides. And, after all, hunting 
 and all that is better than this sort of pillar-to-post life or that 
 beastly business. Anyhow, we could try it, and if the worst came 
 to the worst we could sell up and clear out." 
 
 Richard's hurried explanation had somewhat mollified Elinor, 
 who began to think it over. 
 
 " But why not have a straight talk with your father and 
 demand a house in London and a proper income ? " 
 
 " My dear girl, you talk as if you didn't know him. Demand, 
 indeed ! He'd see me damned first. You know it's the last thing 
 he'd do. Our one chance of getting anything out of them is to
 
 ELINOR 27 
 
 play the deep game." Richard was rather pleased with the ex- 
 pression and repeated it : " The deep game. Turning over a 
 new leaf and all that country pursuits, gardening, horses, sub- 
 sidiary to the serious farming done on a business footing. Can't 
 you see the idea ? 'Besides, I assure you, Elinor, English country 
 life is a very much nicer thing than you imagine in a good hunt- 
 ing county lots of jolly people. We can have a few friends in 
 to dine and play cards, a little mild gambling, roulette or some- 
 thing. Then you'll be asked about." 
 
 Richard was getting more pleased with himself. He felt he 
 was beginning to impress Elinor, who sat silent and thoughtful 
 while his words poured forth. 
 
 " And let me tell you," he went on, "that's the only way ever 
 to get a foothold in English society of the right kind. I know 
 about these things I understand society. I never much cared 
 myself, but I care for your sake. You ought to be in society I 
 mean in the best division of it. You belong to it by the right of 
 your beauty and your taste. You would be an ornament every- 
 where we went. And you've had no chance, with that beastly 
 family of mine. I don't want to say anything bad of mother, 
 but you know what I feel, how her jealousy and attitude have 
 injured you. Besides, to belong to society one thing is indis- 
 pensable money. That's the reason of its existence. But birth, 
 brains and beauty are factors that count in combination with it. 
 In a case like ours money ought to be there, but it isn't. Well, 
 you're beautiful, that's one factor ; and I've got brains more 
 than you think." 
 
 Elinor broke in : "I know you've got brains, and that's why 
 I'm so furious you don't use them to make money. That's what 
 we want. What's the good of anything without it, I'd like to 
 know ? How are we to have a decent house in the country 
 or anywhere else, and entertain ? How am I to have decent 
 clothes ? " 
 
 " Leave that to me," replied Richard, in a confident, semi- 
 patronising tone. " In one way or another I'll manage it. They'll 
 be so glad to settle us down in the country that they'll give us a 
 good start then we'll see. Meanwhile we'll make the best of 
 things." 
 
 " If only I could have confidence in you it would be different. 
 But you're always so sanguine." 
 
 As Elinor spoke there was a knock on the door, and Baron 
 Gaston was announced. He walked into the room, arms out- 
 stretched.
 
 28 RICHARD KURT 
 
 "Ah, Richard Elinor, I am delighted you came. This is 
 really ripping ! " 
 
 Gaston de Verbroeck was the characteristic type of the Low 
 Countries. He betrayed his Flemish origin in his figure, which 
 was square and clumsy, and in his accent, which was guttural 
 and harsh. He had an honest, good-tempered face, of which the 
 best features were a well-formed nose, a large mouth with strong, 
 even teeth, and a square, firm chin. He was a good fellow and 
 looked it. He used English expressions the meaning of which 
 he hardly comprehended ; he caught these from the Kurts, and 
 was chaffed by them unmercifully, especially by Elinor, who 
 enjoyed his discomfiture and sometimes went so far as to arouse 
 Richard's reproofs. " It's not fair," he would say, " to make a 
 butt of dear old Gaston. Some day he'll resent it." 
 
 " You mind your own business, Richard," was all the answer 
 Elinor vouchsafed ; the tone in which it was said, and the look 
 by which it was accompanied, effectually silencing rejoinder by 
 her husband. 
 
 " And now you are here in Brussels you must do every- 
 thing. On Sunday there are the races at Boitsfort. You will 
 come with me, eh ? " Gaston was genuinely pleased to have 
 his friends in his native town, and he was not at all blind to the 
 prestige their attractive appearance would lend him. 
 
 " But how does one go ? What does one wear ? " Elinor 
 plied him with questions. 
 
 Matters were soon arranged. They were to go in the coach 
 of a friend of his ; he would see to it all. 
 
 " And then," he went on, full of enthusiasm, " you must come 
 to the Vauxhall Ball ; very chic these balls. There are four in 
 the season. Only le grand monde goes. I have spoken with my 
 sister ; she will see to it. You will have a great success, chtre 
 amie, I promise you. All Brussels will be excited about you and 
 want to know you ; and you, Richard, you must call on your 
 Minister, or he will be offended if he meets you at the ball without 
 your having previously called." 
 
 ' But I don't know him." Richard was unskilled in the 
 punctilios of etiquette abroad, and was beginning to feel he was 
 in for some unpleasant experiences. Anxious as he was to please 
 Elinor, he was feeling the incongruousness of Gaston's proposals 
 at a time when ordinary respect prescribed a period of quiet.
 
 ELINOR 29 
 
 ** That does not matter. You have been presented, have you 
 not ? " 
 
 "No. We haven't. What's the use of it? Besides, what 
 can the blessed ambassador care whether I call on him or not ? " 
 
 " It's only because these particular balls are very exclusive. 
 On doit sefaire presenter a tout le monde you know what I mean ? 
 There are sometimes the princesses de lafamille royale et ce monde 
 la. The Master of Ceremonies Chambellans de la Cow all 
 those bores." Gaston quite appreciated the boredom of the 
 business and he was anxious not to frighten Kichard. He was 
 ambitious to shine as the introducer of a very lovely and smart 
 woman to the cream of Belgian society. 
 
 Richard continued doubtful. " We'll see," he said, " when 
 the invitation comes. I should like Elinor to have some fun if 
 it's possible." 
 
 " She shall have fun." Gaston was enthusiastic. " You will 
 see, and you will be delighted with Brussels. You stay some 
 time, I hope ? " 
 
 " We were just talking that over when you came," Elinor said. 
 " You see, Richard's father wants us to settle down somewhere, 
 and we've decided to take a place in the country for hunting and 
 so on, you know, later on." 
 
 The disingenuousness of this version of their position almost 
 shamed Richard. Elinor continued, undaunted by his look of 
 surprise : " Of course as my father-in-law is so anxious for us to 
 settle down, we don't mind as long as he gives us what we want. 
 After all, country life in England isn't so bad ; and then we can 
 go up to London whenever we like." 
 
 Gaston, himself a sportsman, was full of good-natured envy 
 of Richard's prospects. " But that is splendid ! You will hunt. 
 I will come over and hunt also." 
 
 " Rather. I should think so," Richard replied. " But you 
 know it's not settled yet. It depends. That's what we er 
 want. I mean," he caught his wife's eye, " That er the 
 Governor wants us to do and of course I'm awfully fond of 
 hunting and country life generally. It's the one thing I really 
 love." 
 
 "You will come," said Gaston, "and hunt with me at 
 Verbroeck. Here it is very difficult with harriers, no jumping, 
 you know, but you can watch the hounds and then at Vieil Salm 
 in the Ardennes you shall go also. There is good sport, on 
 chasse le cerf also. The Master, you shall meet him on Sunday at 
 the races. Vicomte de Saint George, he will invite you."
 
 30 RICHARD KURT 
 
 The conversation went merrily on, and, when Gaston took his 
 leave, Elinor's spirits had so much risen that she embraced 
 Richard, stimulated to affection by the prospects opening before 
 her. She was entranced as she thought of the welcome, of which 
 Gaston assured her, into the azure-blooded and select society of 
 Brussels. 
 
 iii 
 
 At that time Brussels possessed two race-courses, both charm- 
 ingly situated in the midst of the natural forest which was cleared 
 to make a place for them. Each on alternate Sundays was 
 attended by crowds of every class of citizen. The circle to which 
 Gaston was bent on introducing his friends made of these reunions 
 an event of social importance, to miss which was no light matter, 
 and closely concerned all those who aspired to fashionable con- 
 sideration and notice. 
 
 Gaston could have selected no better opportunity for displaying 
 Elinor's charms than the particular Sunday in October which 
 closed the classic racing season. It was a clear and almost frosty 
 day ; the gay party which Comte d' Ardennes had driven 
 thither was glad of the shelter afforded by the comfortable club 
 stand. 
 
 Elinor had immediately taken stock of her surroundings, and 
 noted with disdain the provincialism revealed in the dress and 
 deportment of this gathering of society. Always prone to sarcasm, 
 she could not resist occasional depreciative undertones to Gaston, 
 who, thus put on his mettle, assured her that she would find 
 amongst his acquaintances no inconsiderable number belonging 
 as much to the world of Paris and Vienna as to that of Brussels. 
 Richard had disappeared among those intent on making bets, 
 and was sauntering towards the paddock, satisfied to leave Elinor 
 with Gaston and his sister, Madame de Rongres, whose immediate 
 attendant was Comte d' Ardennes. 
 
 The paddock was common ground beyond the social sanctuary 
 of the Jockey Club enclosure. Here ordinary folk jostled each 
 other, forming the amalgam of a racing crowd, spiced by jockeys, 
 trainers, stablemen and courtesans. Tipsters in grey hats darted 
 about, devoting their special energies to those of the elegantly 
 dressed ladies whose gold bags were of conspicuous proportions. 
 The badge of female respectability at Brussels is the privilege of 
 accepting a male arm. Gaston had warned Richard and Elinor 
 of the immense importance of this point in no wise to be
 
 ELINOR 81 
 
 disregarded. ' Aux femmes du monde on offre toujours le ferns," 
 he had said. 
 
 Among the ttUgantes, independent of this convention and there- 
 fore indisputably approachable, was one who drew Bichard's 
 attention. Small and dark, darker even than Elinor, she was 
 gazing with intentness at her race-card. By her side stood a 
 person whose diminutiveness carried an obvious suggestion of 
 horsiness. The two appeared to be consulting, and then a 
 moment later her companion left her. Richard noted the signi- 
 ficance of his final nod of farewell and the bundle of notes he 
 placed in her hand. As she raised her eyes they met Richard's. 
 A moment later they were in conversation. 
 
 " I feel sure you can tell me what to back," he said. 
 
 " No, I can only tell you one not to." The reply was almost 
 embarrassingly frank. " You see, my friend is riding in this race 
 and he knows his horse cannot win." 
 
 " Which is that ? " 
 
 " Dieudonne." 
 
 Richard reflected. He remembered the name as that of a 
 horse belonging to a friend of Gaston's which was said to be sure 
 to win. 
 
 " Oh, really ? " he answered. " I'm glad you told me, as he 
 was the only horse I intended to back. 
 
 She turned on him dark eyes half amused, half grave. " Well, 
 you've saved your money. Have you done much racing ? " 
 
 " Occasionally," Richard replied, " in the usual sort of way, 
 but not here." 
 
 " Ah ! I thought not. You see I do nothing else, and I have 
 never seen you. Durand, the gentleman rider, is my friend. 
 Jules Durand. I hope he won't hurt himself when he falls." 
 
 " When he falls ! Why should he fall ? " 
 
 She looked at him as though she was surprised at his question, 
 and laughed a short light laugh. 
 
 " Well, you see, Dieudonne is rather a big jumper, and one 
 never knows ! " 
 
 Then Richard suddenly saw the point. " Ah, I see," he said. 
 " I see." 
 
 " Oh, do you ? Well, that is all right. There's the saddling 
 bell. Let's go and see the race." 
 
 " I fear I must go and join my friends. But can I find you 
 afterwards ? " 
 
 Richard had taken a decided fancy to this dark little creature, 
 whose candour puzzled him and whose Parisian air of insouciance
 
 82 RICHARD KURT 
 
 fascinated him. He made his way to the stand where the party 
 was assembled to watch the race. 
 
 " Did you back Dieudonne, Richard ? " Gaston asked him. 
 
 " No, he's a dead 'un." 
 
 Elinor pricked up her ears. " How do you know ? " She 
 turned to Richard inquiringly with a gesture of suspicion. 
 
 Richard promptly found the ready lie. " I've seen him," he 
 replied, with a look that implied unutterable horsy wisdom. 
 
 "Rot! " Gaston laughed, proud of his use of the slang expression. 
 " Vidal told me he never was fitter, and he's a fine jumper. He 
 shall win. He shall win. Nonsense ! " 
 
 Elinor looked relieved. 
 
 Another few minutes and the horses were " off." A few more, 
 and Dieudonne was galloping riderless round the course, getting 
 in the way of the others and threatening to cause havoc among 
 them. 
 
 Exclamations of anger became audible among the little party. 
 Gaston shut up his glasses with a bang of disgust. " C'est ce 
 crapaudde Durand! " he ejaculated. " I shall tell Vidal he ought 
 to have him up before the stewards. I'm so sorry, Elinor." 
 
 Elinor looked annoyed. As a matter of fact the five louis she 
 had " put on " Dieudonne still reposed in her gold purse, and she 
 was not likely to be poorer for the race. 
 
 " Dear old Gaston " would never expect her to pay under 
 the circumstances. She had long ago mastered the code of 
 fashionable feminine ethics. 
 
 There was some murmuring, but no open demonstration, when 
 the vanquished Dieudonne reached the weighing-in enclosure. 
 Durand in his muddy jacket sat his horse quite unmoved by the 
 epithets, " Cretin ! " " Voleurf " yelled at him by malcontents. He 
 was evidently accustomed to being temporarily unpopular, know- 
 ing the day of plaudits would come when it would pay him to win. 
 No one took any notice of an episode common to racing, and 
 Richard found his charming new acquaintance beaming in the 
 midst of a bevy of her friends, who seemed to be full of congratula- 
 tions. These ladies moved off in laughing groups as he spoke to 
 her. 
 
 " He has some cheek, your friend Durand." 
 
 " Ah, du toupet, yes, Jules has du toupet. Did you see the race 
 well ? " 
 
 " Well enough to see him throw himself off at the fence the 
 other side of the course. He fell so jolly cleverly too." 
 
 " Jules is the best rider in France," replied the lady proudly.
 
 ELINOR 83 
 
 Richard looked at her ; it was his first experience of a French 
 demi-mondaine. 
 
 " You don't seem to care much what he does," he said. 
 
 " II faut vivre, monanri," she replied. 
 
 " How long are you going to be here, madame ? " 
 
 " We leave to-night for Paris, after dinner. Jules rides at 
 Maison on Tuesday." 
 
 " I'm sorry. Goodness knows when I'll see you again." 
 
 " But come to Paris." 
 
 " I wish I could." 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 " It's not so easy. You see, I'm married." 
 
 " Tiens ! W r hat does that matter ? " 
 
 " A great deal in my case. But I should like to see you again." 
 
 " That's nice. We shall be here again on Wednesday at 
 Grunendaal, and we shall spend a day or two." 
 
 " Yes, but then I can't see you alone, I suppose. Your friend 
 will be there, won't he 1 " 
 
 " And supposing he is, he won't eat you." 
 
 She was leading him on, and he knew it. Suddenly his mind 
 veered to Elinor, and with the thought he turned. As he did so, 
 out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of her retreating figure 
 at the other end of the enclosure, walking beside the broad form 
 of Gaston. He felt vaguely uncomfortable. So far, he had 
 always managed to elude observation in such situations. He 
 knew Elinor was not unaware of them, but he believed that her 
 knowledge was partial, and he cherished the hope that she did 
 not know how far his infidelities went. The saddling bell rang 
 again. 
 
 " There's only one more race after this one. I must say good- 
 bye. Don't forget me." 
 
 She smiled at him. " Would you like to write to me ( Here 
 is my address." She handed him a card. " Gabrielle Drey, 
 1] bis Avenue Chauchard." 
 " Gabrielle, that's a pretty name." 
 His eyes sought hers for the implied permission. 
 " No, call me Poupette," she said. 
 
 IV 
 
 Gaston had invited the Kurts to dinner that evening. Elinor 
 had uot nearly finished her toilet as Richard entered.
 
 34 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " I say, you are late," hie said. 
 
 " Now, don't come here fussing," Elinor answered. " It won't 
 hurt Gaston to wait." 
 
 " Madame de Brouille is coming as well, you know, dear," said 
 Bichard. 
 
 " It won't hurt her either, as far as that goes. Besides, you're 
 such a lady-killer," with a sneer, " you can say it's your fault, 
 and she won't mind." 
 
 Elinor knew that women will forgive in the male sex what 
 they regard as unpardonable rudeness in their own. 
 
 How can I explain my being half-an-hour late ? " said 
 Kichard, looking at his watch. 
 
 Elinor became suddenly irritable. 
 
 " You can say Poupette kept you," she said, looking him 
 squarely in the eyes, and then glancing at the toilet-table. 
 
 To his horror Kichard espied her card, gingerly balanced upon 
 the top of a scent bottle in a conspicuous position. He had 
 scrawled " Poupette " on it with pencil just after leaving her, 
 and the last he had seen of the card was when, as he supposed, he 
 had put it in his card-case. 
 
 " What, the deuce," he began. 
 
 " Oh, never mind all that," Elinor broke in. " But I should 
 be more careful of my lady friends' cards in future, if I were you. 
 Jeanne found it in there, on the floor." She nodded towards the 
 sitting-room, with her mouth full of hairpins. 
 
 Richard glanced at the inscrutable face of the French maid, 
 who was pinning a complicated ornament into the back of Elinor's 
 hair while she attended to the front herself. 
 
 " Well, you know, it's jolly useful knowing these racing women 
 saves one a bit sometimes ; to-day, for instance, she told me 
 about Dieudonne." 
 
 Richard's first thought was that he had discovered a brilliant 
 excuse for his acquaintance ; on further consideration he noticed 
 he had said too much. Elinor had a good memory. 
 
 " Ah, I thought you could hardly tell from looking at Dieu- 
 donne that his jockey would fall off." She waited to enjoy the 
 full effect of this telling retort, then continued in icily polite tones : 
 " Now will you kindly leave me to finish dressing ? " 
 Richard walked into the sitting-room, closing the door. 
 
 After all the Kurts were not many minutes later than Madame 
 de Brouille, a showily dressed blonde with very red lips. 
 Elinor was looking brilliant and sat between Gaston and
 
 ELINOR 35 
 
 Ardennes, whose sister Richard shared with a thin, ascetic-looking 
 man wearing a cynical expression. 
 
 They had a private room at a famous little restaurant, well 
 known to bon viveurs but little frequented by ordinary folk. 
 
 Conversation was animated, the day's racing providing an 
 inevitable topic. 
 
 Gaston was recounting the Dieudonne story. 
 
 " Very clever of you, Richard, to know more than any of us. 
 Who told you ? " 
 
 Richard was embarrassed. The question was very direct, and 
 a definite answer under the fire of Elinor's eyes seemed unavoid- 
 able. He began lamely : 
 
 " Well, you see " 
 
 "Oh, out with it, Richard." Elinor was apparently, and to 
 Richard's great relief, rather amused, certainly not upset. She 
 turned to Gaston. " Poupette told him." 
 
 " Poupette, que Diable ! " 
 
 Richard looked puzzled, Madame de Brouille tittered, the 
 ascetic man looked thoughtful, then said suddenly : 
 
 " Ah, oui, Poupette, Poupette Durand, c'est ca." 
 
 Tumultuous question, answer, and chaff followed. On the 
 whole Richard was rather the hero of the episode. But his own 
 feelings were unenviable. He felt he had not only given himself 
 away, but had betrayed Poupette's confidence. 
 
 " I beg you not to spread it any further," he said. 
 
 They all laughed, including Elinor. This nettled him. 
 
 " Not because I care what people say about my acquaintance 
 with the lady, you know " he looked at Elinor with challenge 
 in his eyes " but because I don't want the story of the fall, and 
 of her telling me, to get about. It looks as though I had given 
 her away." 
 
 Richard's naivete matched his ineptitude. It never occurred 
 to him that his association with the matter would look much uglier 
 in the eyes of the world to which he was being introduced than any 
 betrayal of a secret told him in the half-world. Still less did he 
 notice that to these men there was something grotesque in suppos- 
 ing that Durand's mistress could be squeamish in regard to her 
 confidences. They all knew Durand to be a blackguard, and if 
 she was his mistress that settled the point. Richard was simply 
 floundering in a morass of gaffes. He gulped down some cham- 
 pagne, catching Elinor's eye as he did so. Its expression was 
 ominous. This steadied him, and he thought for a minute. 
 
 " After all," he added, " she's only a race-course acquaintance."
 
 36 RICHARD KURT 
 
 The room rang with their laughter. Kichard had taken a 
 dislike to the cynical man, whose name was Vicomte Beuglin. 
 
 He seemed to have a sneer on his face as he said to Richard : 
 " Do you generally regard race-course confidences as sacred 1 " 
 
 An angry answer was on Richard's lips. Fortunately he 
 checked himself, and the talk flowed into other channels. 
 
 The party adjourned to a cafe concert and, as the evening 
 advanced, Richard, who had taken champagne freely, noticed that 
 his wife was more excitable than usual. Her freedom of gesture 
 drew his notice while Gaston's attentions were being emulated 
 by Comte d' Ardennes. He became sullen, and when a further 
 adjournment to another cafe for supper was suggested he vetoed 
 the proposal abruptly. " No, it's late," he said, " and Elinor will 
 be tired." 
 
 " You needn't trouble about me," she answered, " but of course 
 if you want to go home we will go." Her expression was very 
 cold and disagreeable. 
 
 They all pressed him, including Madame de Brouille, who was 
 in no mind to go home, but even she could hardly face a supper- 
 party unchaperoned, an unheard-of thing in Brussels society. 
 Richard for once was firm. Gaston had no choice but to escort 
 his friends home. As the three sat in the back seat of the 
 brougham, Elinor between the two men, Richard felt more than 
 observed the hand pressure exchanged between his wife and his 
 friend. Jealousy surged up in him, but he hated the thought of 
 a scene. Some vague discretion prevailed over his heated brain, 
 and he kept silence and bade their host a friendly farewell on their 
 doorstep. 
 
 Elinor exchanged no word with Richard, but passed swiftly 
 by him as he closed the door and put the latchkey in his pocket. 
 She held her pretty little straight nose angrily in the air, and to 
 Richard's sense of discomfort penitence began to be added. 
 
 As soon as her maid had disappeared, and before undressing, 
 he went into Elinor's room. 
 
 " I say, Nellie dear," he began. 
 
 " Don't Nellie me," she cried at him ; then added viciously : 
 "wet blanket." 
 
 Richard's quick temper began to rise. 
 
 " It's all very well calling me a wet blanket. I get jolly sick 
 of your carrying on with every man you know."
 
 ELINOR 87 
 
 The answer came quickly ; Elinor's tactics were always to 
 press the attack. 
 
 " Oh, do you ? Then all I can say is, you'd better get used 
 to it. What's sauce for the goose ..." 
 
 Richard's anger increased. " You seem to think you can do 
 what you like," he spluttered. When Richard was angry he 
 always lost his power of expression with his self-control, and 
 invariably made his case worse. " You just defy me and show 
 everyone you don't care what I think." 
 
 Elinor's voice suddenly became calm. Richard recognised the 
 familiar danger signal. 
 
 " Do you happen to remember," she asked in polite but freezing 
 tones, " what you said this evening ? " 
 
 " Certainly 1 do, every word," replied Richard hotly. 
 
 " One wouldn't think so, judging from your last remarks. 
 You told the whole party you didn't care what was thought of 
 your talking to a low woman on the public race-course and of 
 her having taken you into her confidence about a regular racing- 
 swindle." Her tone warmed again. " That's a nice beginning 
 to make in a place where you flatter yourself you can get into 
 society." 
 
 Richard accused himself of tactlessness in saying something 
 which must have wounded Elinor, and he only now realised that 
 his openly expressed desire to shield Poupette almost amounted 
 to an admission of complicity. To these demoralising effects 
 were added Elinor's sneers about his drinking and his social 
 ambition. He characteristically seized on the least important 
 point and the one in which his defence was weakest. 
 
 " The next thing you'll say is that I was drunk," he said angrily. 
 
 " Not drunk only excited." 
 
 The reply, uttered in dulcet tones, further enraged him. 
 
 " All I can say is we'd better chuck the whole thing if you think 
 I've made a cad of myself." 
 
 " Yes. I think so too." Elinor was intentionally goading 
 him. " A man who can't behave like a gentleman ought not to 
 frequent the society of gentle-people." 
 
 This was more than Richard could stand ; he was reaching 
 boiling-point. 
 
 " One thing's quite certain ; I'm as much of a gentleman as 
 your friend Gaston." His voice rose and he blustered on. " And, 
 as for my caring about this rotten place, and its rotten society, 
 
 I don't care a damn not the least little damn and ' He 
 
 stopped, chiefly for want of words, but still more because as the
 
 38 RICHARD KURT 
 
 breathless passionate expressions poured out they seemed to leave 
 him suddenly cold and ashamed. In an instant his rage had left 
 him ; he felt remorseful, and, to hide his confusion, he turned 
 and left the room. 
 
 Kichard threw off his clothes impatiently and returned to the 
 bedroom. The lights were all turned out except the one by the 
 bed which, shaded on Elinor's side, barely disclosed the black 
 head deep-sunk in her pillow. 
 
 Kichard stood in his dressing -suit looking down at her. He 
 wanted to make it up before she went to sleep. His anger had 
 quite left him and he wanted to reassure her, make her under- 
 stand that, after encouraging her to believe she would pass 
 some pleasant months in Brussels, he was not going to leave her 
 in the lurch. After all she must know that he only wanted her 
 to be happy ; besides he had a feeling of guiltiness, not only 
 because he had made Poupette's acquaintance but because he 
 meant to pursue the adventure. 
 
 He hovered uneasily and restlessly about the bed, looking at 
 her. She, feigning sleep, or at least weariness, gave no sign. At 
 last he said softly : 
 
 " You're not asleep, Nellie, are you ? " 
 
 In a moment she sat upright in the bed, her eyes blazing. 
 
 " No, I'm not asleep. Asleep, indeed ! I don't get over 
 things as quickly as you do." 
 
 " Please don't be angry, Elinor. I didn't mean what I said 
 about that . . . that ..." He faltered, not finding the right 
 description for Poupette, one that would mollify Elinor without 
 lowering too much the woman whom he knew he intended to 
 see again. 
 
 " That brazen woman, a common prostitute." She flung the 
 words at him. " Don't you dare talk to me of her." 
 
 Kichard shrank perceptibly ; she pressed her advantage. 
 
 " I can see the sort of life it's going to be here. You carrying 
 on right and left, disgracing me, when I'm trying to make a few 
 decent friends." 
 
 " Oh, I say, Elinor, look here. You mustn't say that. Please 
 be reasonable. After all, there's no harm in talking to someone 
 for a moment. On a race-course one talks to all kinds of 
 people. It was quite an accident ... I ..." 
 
 Richard was beginning to prevaricate. She stopped him. 
 Alternately banging her head down on the pillow to emphasise, or 
 sitting up with a variety of active gesture, she gave vent to her 
 feelings in a torrent of words.
 
 ELINOR 89 
 
 " Don't think I'm going to stand this sort of thing for ever. 
 There'll come a time when you'll be surprised. I don't mean to 
 stand it. I've had quite enough to put up with from you and 
 your family as it is. You've no sense of decency. You disgrace 
 me before people . . . and then . . . when you choose you, 
 indeed ! " there was an accent of infinite scorn in the last words 
 " I have to cave in and come home and leave my friends as 
 though I was a culprit." Down went the little dark head on the 
 pillow to lend point to the finale. 
 
 Richard was at a loss how to reply. His chief thought was a 
 speedy capitulation. 
 
 " I'm so sorry," he said penitently, "if I spoilt your evening. 
 Do forgive me. If you won't I shall have to sleep on that beastly 
 sofa in the sitting-room." He looked at her appeal! ngly. 
 
 " It's quite time you occupied another room. You know you'd 
 prefer it, and " she curled herself up with an appearance of 
 finality "so should I." 
 
 "Don't say that, Nellie darling," Richard said tenderly, then 
 stooped and kissed her good-night. 
 
 VI 
 
 Peace seemed to be completely restored by a visit the following 
 day to the best dressmaker in Brussels. 
 
 Elinor's most elegant ball-gown had to be rearranged, and 
 Richard was vehement in his insistence that no effort should be 
 spared to make her appearance in the ballroom the success Gaston 
 anticipated. The invitation from the Cercle Noble, signed for 
 the Committee by the Due d'Urlemont, had arrived on the early 
 morrow of the events just recorded, and Richard had thanked 
 Providence for this adventitious aid. The welcome missive, 
 arriving with her morning coffee, had sweetened her temper, and 
 she made no difficulties when Richard proposed an immediate 
 acceptance, suggesting an early consultation with the dressmaker. 
 The result was entirely to Elinor's satisfaction, and she had a 
 feeling of confidence that her toilette would do justice to herself, 
 the occasion, and the expectations which Gaston expressed at 
 the luncheon that followed. 
 
 With new-born discretion Richard avoided the Wednesday 
 rencontre with Poupette that his expressed eagerness to meet her 
 again had implied. He made a graceful excuse, accompanied by 
 a magnificent bouquet, hoping to leave the door open for future
 
 40 RICHARD KURT 
 
 intercourse. His election, through Gaston and Ardennes, as 
 temporary member of the exclusive Cercle du Pare, enabled him 
 to receive the scented notes the tenderness of which kept pace 
 with their frequency. 
 
 The day of the ball found Richard absorbed in his intrigue. 
 Indifferent to the attractions of society for himself, he was anxious 
 that Elinor's success should leave him free to pursue his ad- 
 venture. In this spirit he tempted Fate, and staking his income 
 for a month at icarti was, that special afternoon, smiled on by 
 Fortune. 
 
 Richard arrived at the Rue Belliard flushed with success, barely 
 in time to dress for dinner. Elinor, never in her best temper 
 when dressing, was especially irritable when he entered her room, 
 and turned her face away in disgust when he kissed her. 
 
 " Ugh ! " she exclaimed. " You've been filling yourself full 
 of those beastly cocktails." 
 
 The face of the discreet coiffeur, who was engaged in imparting 
 the fashionable wave to Elinor's thick, raven-black hair, showed 
 no signs of comprehension. 
 
 Richard was in hilarious spirits. 
 
 " You know how it is ; one can't refuse. Besides I had a good 
 win." 
 
 " Oh, so you're gambling, are you ? " Elinor knew his weak- 
 ness and was genuinely frightened. 
 
 "Only for once," he answered; "and it came off. I shan't 
 play again, not such a fool." 
 
 He quite meant it as he said the words which Elinor had heard 
 many times before. 
 
 " Anyway," as he spoke he took a thousand-franc note from 
 his pocket and put it on the dressing-table, " that pays for your 
 dress."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE Vauxhall balls were " very well done." Handsome sub- 
 scriptions enabled the committee, whose members were selected 
 for their taste, to approach perfection in their arrangements. 
 
 Richard spent the early part of the evening in the cosy smoking- 
 room where, with the sporting, non-dancing division, he consumed 
 a good deal of champagne. He found his new acquaintances 
 genially inclined, and the supper hour approached before he 
 realised how long he had left Elinor unattended. Re-entering 
 the ballroom he found her surrounded by men clamouring for 
 dances, but even his inexperienced eye soon detected the in- 
 vidious displacement of the fair sex from her side of the room. 
 
 Someone tapped him on the shoulder as he was hastily pre- 
 senting two of his most recent acquaintances to his wife. It 
 was Gaston. 
 
 " I want to speak to you, Richard." 
 
 " All right, old chap ; just let me say a word to Elinor." 
 Richard turned to his wife. " You're having no end of dancing, 
 Elinor ; don't tire yourself too much." 
 
 Elinor was too much occupied with would-be partners to reply. 
 She was obviously excited by her success. Gaston put his hand 
 on Richard's arm. 
 
 " I say, monami, you ought not to leave her alone like that ; 
 they're not used to it here, and you have not yet made your bow 
 to your Minister. Come, I will present you." 
 
 He walked Richard through the throng to a corner where sat 
 gathered a stately party. As Richard bowed he caught a glimpse 
 of an astonished pair of eyes above a white beard, and another 
 severe pair beneath a sparkling parure. Exhilarated by cham- 
 pagne he permitted himself to talk too much, and his manner in 
 conversing with Lady Wilton lacked the reticence of the well-bred. 
 He was unaware that the favourable impression he was bent on 
 creating had missed fire, and his failure only dawned on him 
 as Gaston made a motion, which he fortunately grasped, to 
 retire. 
 
 41
 
 42 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " Kichard, you ass ; you turned your back on the princess all 
 the time you were talking to Lady Wilton." 
 
 Richard's recognition of his gauclierie caused a feeling like 
 sudden nausea. 
 
 " Oh, Lord ! Gaston, did I ? How the devil was I to know who 
 she was ? " Then came the instinctive gesture of self -protection. 
 " For goodness' sake don't say anything about it to Elinor." 
 
 They were close to her now. At their approach she turned 
 towards them. Two men were at her side, and Gaston noticed 
 with discomfort the sneering face of Vicomte de Beuglin. 
 
 " Having a good time, Elinor ? " 
 
 Elinor did not answer ; she only looked at him with a strange 
 expression of inquiry and he was pondering its meaning as Beuglin 
 broke in : 
 
 " Your wife is the success of the soiree, Monsieur Kurt. She 
 has monopolised all the jeunesse et vieillesse dorte of society." 
 He looked round. " I wonder how the women like it ? " 
 
 Elinor's eyes followed his gaze. For the first time Richard 
 noticed with apprehension that she was conscious of her isolation. 
 Her quick eyes had taken in the situation. As he stood that 
 moment beside her the room seemed to swim, the champagne 
 had added to the effect of the reaction. 
 
 " It's time for supper, Richard. Shall we go in ? " 
 
 To Richard's ears Gaston's voice seemed a long way off ; he 
 made an effort and pulled himself together. 
 
 " We ought to have another lady, Gaston. Shall I ask Madame 
 de Rongres ? " 
 
 Vicomte de Beuglin rose with a farewell bow to Elinor. 
 
 " Madame de Rongres is taking supper with me, Mr Kurt." 
 
 Gaston suggested joining forces. 
 
 " I fear not, Gaston. We are going in with the Lascelles." 
 
 Richard recognised the name. Lascelles was First Secretary of 
 the British Legation. The conjunction struck him as ominous ; 
 he looked into Elinor's eyes as Beuglin moved away. 
 
 " Oh, never mind," said Gaston cheerily. " We'll sit in a 
 corner together, we three." 
 
 He offered his arm to Elinor, and they walked towards the 
 supper-room. As they crossed the floor of the ballroom many 
 eyes followed them, and Richard felt that there was invidious 
 comment behind fluttering fans. Again his eyes sought Elinor's, 
 and again she responded by a look the meaning of which was not 
 clear to him. 
 
 Through the open doors of the supper-room came sounds of
 
 ELINOR 48 
 
 lively conversation and laughter. Supper was in full progress ; 
 they stood at the door a moment. Across the wide room opposite 
 them, at a table a little apart, was sitting a group, the centre of 
 which was the princess. She sat on the right side of the British 
 Minister, a quiet figure. An experienced eye would have noticed 
 in the trifling details of coiffure, attitude and manner an inde- 
 finable distinction common to royal ladies. Elinor and Richard 
 stood in the doorway, a target for eyes, while Gaston looked for a 
 table. The conversation seemed to hush, but Elinor faced the 
 ordeal with a composure that surprised Richard and steeled him 
 to endurance of what seemed interminable moments. Gaston 
 returned, beaming. 
 
 " We are to join Madame Leclere," he said. " She is the wife 
 of the Dutch Minister, very nice, very smart." 
 
 Seated in a comfortable corner, by the side of the flashing and 
 portly person of the vivacious Madame Leclere, opposite Elinor, 
 flanked by Camille Desgraves and Gaston, Richard greedily gulped 
 down a goblet of champagne with an intense feeling of relief. 
 
 Of the fact that Madame Leclere was only tolerated in a society 
 forced to accept her on account of her diplomatic position, Richard 
 was ignorant, as also that Vicomte de Beuglin and the Lascelles 
 were sitting at a table close by. 
 
 The withdrawal of royalty and the Embassy chiefs after supper 
 was a regular feature of the Vauxhall balls, which enabled the 
 younger guests to dance on with relaxed etiquette until the small 
 hours. 
 
 Elinor's admirers profited by this opportunity, and to have at 
 least one dance with her became a rage now that the ceremonial 
 atmosphere had lightened. 
 
 Thus she wound up the evening with a success that ended in 
 furore and finally decided a verdict against her of all the female 
 opinion of Brussels. 
 
 Too much exhausted to talk after her fatigues of the ball Elinor 
 had yet given Richard an inkling of trouble to come. Silent, as 
 they rattled back to their apartment over the cobbles, there was 
 a meaning intonation in her impatient exclamation as Richard 
 fumbled with his latchkey. She required what was left of her 
 energy to assist her sleepy maid to get her out of her dress, and 
 Jeanne's presence afforded Richard a much-appreciated excuse 
 for not opening conversation. He threw himself into bed when
 
 44 RICHARD KURT 
 
 the maid closed the door, and it seemed only a moment later that 
 he opened weary eyes to a gleaming shaft of sunlight through the 
 carelessly-drawn curtains. Elinor was apparently sleeping. He 
 drew himself noiselessly out of bed and crept to his dressing-room. 
 It was his habit to drink a cup of tea and smoke a cigarette, which 
 he called breakfast, before rising, but he felt that on this occasion 
 he would be better advised to banish the evidences of overnight 
 excess to which his parched tongue and aching head bore 
 witness. 
 
 He bathed and dressed himself with unusual speed, and had 
 rung for his tea when the maid knocked on the door. 
 
 " Madame would like to see monsieur." 
 
 Richard went into the bedroom, where Elinor's black head lay 
 buried in the depths of her pillow. Her breakfast stood untouched 
 on the table by her bedside. 
 
 " What is it, Elinor ? Why don't you try to sleep a bit 
 longer ? It's only eleven." 
 
 " Sleep ! I've been awake for hours ; I heard you get up." 
 
 " Oh, I'm so sorry I disturbed you." 
 
 " Never mind that. There are other things more important. 
 What do you propose to do next ? " 
 
 Elinor's voice betrayed the well-known warning symptoms. 
 
 " Next ? What do you mean ? I don't understand." 
 
 " Oh, don't you ? " The intonation was bitter, sarcastic. 
 " I'll try to enlighten you. You were drunk last night and you 
 showed it." 
 
 " Hang it, Elinor, that's too much. Drunk ! I only had a 
 few glasses of champagne " 
 
 " I don't propose to argue with you about that. It is hope- 
 less. All I know is that you disappeared for hours, leaving me 
 quite alone, and everybody noticed it. Of course you didn't see 
 how the women behaved. You never see anything, nor do you 
 care what people think about me. That's evident ; but you've 
 got to do something if we're to stay here." 
 
 " What can I do ? I can't help those beastly women being 
 angry because you're smarter and prettier, and you dance better, 
 than they. That's the whole thing." 
 
 Richard's comment was not without underlying truth ; in- 
 cidentally it somewhat mollified Elinor. 
 
 " Just for that reason, if you had the right feeling for me, you 
 would give no one an excuse for saying that you are indifferent. 
 Can't you see that, just because men admire me, you ought to 
 make yourself agreeable to the women, and back me up by being
 
 ELINOR 45 
 
 particularly correct, But it's no use talking ; you never will do 
 the right thing." 
 
 Richard felt that there was justice in her complaint ; he was 
 very anxious to conciliate his wife. 
 
 " I know what I'll do," he said, in a tone of discovery. 
 
 " What, may I ask ? " 
 
 " I'll go and call on the Minister. I'll go to-day and be awfully 
 empresse to the old chap. Then his wife will be nice to you." 
 Richard became more confident. " You'll see ; it will be all 
 right. Now, you take it easy, and leave it to me." 
 
 Elinor lay still, ruminating, while Richard poured out a cup 
 of tea. 
 
 " Your tea's getting dreadfully strong, Elinor. I'll drink 
 this and bring you in mine. It will be fresher." 
 
 He went into his dressing-room and came back with another 
 cup. " Now, do rest. I'm going out to get shaved. You don't 
 have to get up for lunch," he continued soothingly. 
 
 She sat up with sudden energy and took the cup from him. 
 ' Indeed I do. I'm lunching with Gaston." 
 ' Oh, where ? " Richard's voice showed surprise. 
 ' What's that to do with you ? " 
 
 ' I thought you wanted me not to appear indifferent about 
 what you do." 
 
 ' Yes, when it matters ; not when it doesn't." 
 
 ' But you can't go and lunch with Gaston alone." 
 ' Who said I was going alone ? Besides, why can't 1 if I 
 choose ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't say anything ; only, if people here knew that, 
 they'd say much nastier things than about my leaving you alone 
 for over an hour at a ball." 
 
 " Well, they won't have the chance. Madame Leclere's coming. 
 Gaston asked her last night. You were evidently not in a con- 
 dition to notice. We're going to lunch at the Laiterie." 
 
 The sarcastic reference had its effect. Richard made up his 
 mind to prompt acquiescence. 
 
 " All right. I'll look after myself. Good-bye, darling. Have 
 a good time. I'll see the Minister and tell you all about it this 
 evening." 
 
 iii 
 
 Sir George Wilton was a typical elderly diplomat of the 
 Gladstone period. Without aristocratic pretension he was jealous
 
 46 RICHARD KURT 
 
 of his official dignity. Modest and rather shy in manner, he could 
 assert himself without hauteur, if occasion demanded, by a certain 
 reserve and formality of speech. 
 
 His stature was remarkable, and Richard, himself tall, felt 
 overshadowed as he was ushered in. The Minister waved him 
 with courteous gesture to a chair. 
 
 " I fear, sir, I have committed a breach of etiquette in not 
 calling on you before," Richard began, rather uncomfortably ; 
 but something frank and boyish in his words aroused a responsive 
 sympathy in the older man. 
 
 " Never mind, Mr Kurt. I am very glad to see you. Do you 
 expect to remain some time in Brussels ? " 
 
 " Some months, sir, I think. You see, I've not had much 
 experience of life abroad as a married man, and it hadn't occurred 
 to me that I ought to have made my bow to you before going to 
 
 that ball. I hope you will excuse me and er er " He 
 
 hesitated to express the crucial point. The Minister came to 
 the rescue. 
 
 " Well, you see, Mr Kurt, one is a little responsible on these 
 occasions on account of their being, in a sense, semi -Court functions 
 young princesses and so forth. You know how it is ; one has 
 to be careful nowadays with so many adventurers about." 
 
 " Yes, I quite understand, quite. I feel that I ought to have 
 come to see you first. I hope now it will be all right, in fact 
 I was going to ask you what I could do I mean may I bring 
 my wife to see Lady Wilton ? " 
 
 The main point came out lamely. Richard looked at the 
 Minister, whose expression was impassive, yet reflective. 
 
 " I'm sure my wife would be very pleased to see Mrs Kurt, 
 but ahem you see, while I am delighted to see you, this is 
 hardly a personal introduction." 
 
 Richard became uneasy. " Quite so, Sir George. I realise that." 
 Then throwing himself, as it were, on his mercy : " What ought 
 I to do ? " 
 
 " Well, now, let us see. Isn't there someone, don't you think, 
 who could send you a letter of introduction, some friend ? Your 
 father is alive ? " 
 
 Richard nodded. 
 
 The Minister's manner had taken on an almost imperceptible 
 shade of coolness. " Don't you think you had better write him 
 about it ? After all, it isn't very vital to go to these particular 
 balls and er " 
 
 Richard's thoughts turned to his father and what he would be
 
 ELINOR 47 
 
 likely to say about his son's social aspirations. How far would 
 his assistance be forthcoming to enable Elinor to make good her 
 standing in Brussels society ? On a sudden inspiration he 
 hazarded a name. 
 
 " How about Baron d'Alger 1 " he said. " He's a great friend 
 of my father. Do you know him ? I could write him." 
 
 Sir George pondered a moment. " Let me see," he answered 
 thoughtfully. " Baron d'Alger the financier. Ah, yes, I have 
 met him. He married Miss Worsdale of Charleston, didn't he ? 
 Yes, my wife knew her as a girl. Certainly, an introduction from 
 him would be most suitable. I only know him slightly, but no 
 doubt Baroness d'Alger would write my wife introducing Mrs 
 Kurt. It's quite a formality, after all," he added smilingly, rising 
 with Richard. " We diplomatic folk are supposed to be sociable, 
 you know." 
 
 Richard took his way to the club in a doubtful frame of mind. 
 Disappointed at finding no letter from Paris, he wandered round 
 the rooms without discovering an acquaintance. Then he sat 
 down and wrote to Baron d'Alger in the following words : 
 
 DEAR BARON D'ALGER, I daresay you will be surprised at 
 my writing you. I venture to ask you to send me an introduction 
 to Sir George Wilton, the English Minister here. I understand 
 that Baroness d'Alger knows Lady Wilton, and I feel I may take 
 the liberty of asking this favour of you as an old friend of my 
 father. We may be here for some time and an acquaintance with 
 the Legation will make all the difference to the enjoyment of our 
 stay. 
 
 Thanking you in advance, and with kind regards, yours 
 sincerely, RICHARD KURT. 
 
 Richard read the letter over and frowned, reconsidering it. 
 After all, he hardly knew Baron d'Alger, although he supposed 
 he was right in regarding him as an old friend of his father. He 
 knew they had a great deal to do with each other in business, and 
 he had known the Baron's younger son Alfred pretty well ; they 
 called each other by their Christian names ; they had gone on the 
 spree together, and he had borrowed money from him. In fact 
 he wasn't sure he had ever repaid Alfred, now he came to think 
 of it. He wondered if that much mattered ; it wasn't a large sum 
 anyway, and it had happened years ago, when they met in America. 
 His thoughts ran back to those days before he married. He 
 suddenly remembered he hadn't seen Alfred d'Alger since. As he
 
 48 RICHARD KURT 
 
 sat with the letter in his hand a servant brought him an envelope. 
 It was Poupette's writing. His heart always bounded at the sight 
 and scent of her mauve-tinted notes. It was very short : 
 
 CHERI, -Je serai seule cette semaine. Jules est parti a Nice, 
 Viens id, je te prie. Tout sera comme tu voudras. Je faime. 
 TdUgraphies moi. POUPETTE. 
 
 Richard seized a telegraph form and wrote : 
 Viendrai demain. TeUgraphiemi heure. Tendresses. 
 
 Then he hurried downstairs, gave the telegram to the porter 
 and posted his letter to Baron d'Alger. After all, he detested all 
 this society business, he was sick of the whole thing. He had done 
 his best for Elinor ; now he meant to have some fun on his own 
 account. But how the devil was he to get away l . 
 
 IV 
 
 As Richard passed from the porter's lodge, the crumpled note 
 in his hand, a tall young man passed swiftly by him, then turned 
 and greeted him breezily. It was Camille Desgraves, the most 
 effulgent young man in Brussels. Richard put his arm in his. 
 
 " Let's have a cocktail," he suggested, hardly knowing liow 
 much he meant to tell him. 
 
 He had intended to keep back the purpose of his proposed visit 
 to Paris, while eliciting some helpful suggestion from this re- 
 sourceful epicure. Richard was no hardened libertine. His 
 amours had hitherto been fleeting and transient affairs, which 
 generally disgusted him early in their development, and ended by 
 casting him remorsefully at Elinor's feet. He had always hoped 
 and believed that she pretended to know more than she did. 
 Richard disliked the idea of sneaking off to an assignation ; the 
 idea of a furtive liaison disgusted him. Poupette seemed so differ- 
 ent from any of the others. It was not alone that the unfamiliar 
 glamour of Paris intoxicated him ; he had so far encountered only 
 those " in whose halls all men may dwell," and in none of such 
 affairs had there been the charm of conquest. 
 
 The cocktail had a lightening effect on Richard's mind, and, 
 reserve once broken, Camille was rapidly informed of the course of 
 the adventure and of the proposed pursuit of it in Paris. 
 
 " Quel bonheur, mon cher" he cried delightedly. " I am just
 
 ELINOR 49 
 
 off to Paris myself. Nothing could be better. We'll travel 
 together. 1 have a business there, something very good, a 
 little speculative, perhaps, but I must make some money. I've 
 had a terrible calotte lately in this confounded club." 
 
 Richard quickly realised that he had secured his desired 
 excuse. What better one could he offer Elinor than the prospect 
 of making some money ? He would be quite vague and general 
 about it. He could enlarge on Desgraves' cleverness, on what a 
 delightful companion he was, and the charming people he would be 
 meeting. He warmly acquiesced in Desgraves' proposal, and in 
 a few minutes more the Parisian enterprise had become a joint 
 one. 
 
 Poupette was at the station to meet him, and they rolled off 
 together in a smart voiture de cercle. A flounce of lace peeped 
 beneath the long sealskin coat which she wore over a thin silky 
 negligee hurriedly thrown on. He noticed the gauzy silk stockings 
 and the pointed, high-heeled slippers, and, as she threw the heavy 
 fur collar open, the bunch of soft lace at her throat fastened with 
 a jewelled pin, the thick, black hair curling luxuriantly round her 
 ears in a careless, yet artful, coiffure. There was about her some- 
 thing that went to his head like wine. He had never yet kissed 
 her, and now he felt embarrassed. He could hardly answer her 
 fire of questions, he seemed to be in a trance. To think that he 
 was really here with her at last, with three full days, during 
 which she was to belong to him. What a divine adventure ! 
 What an extraordinary piece of luck ! He looked at her, their 
 eyes met, and their lips in a long kiss, so long that her breath 
 came in gasps ; then again, and yet again. He held her closely, 
 he felt her slight, uncorseted body through the fur coat. She 
 turned her head away. On her wrist a gold purse and other 
 objects rattled ; one was a small gold oval mirror. She looked at 
 herself calmly, and he noticed she regained her breath very 
 quickly ; then she took from the purse a stick of red lip salve and 
 dabbed it on her mouth. She laughed again, showing the white, 
 even teeth. How delightful she was, what was it in her that was 
 different from all the other women he had known ? Poupette 
 wasn't beautiful like Elinor, but Elinor always frowned and Elinor 
 always found fault, and, besides, he wasn't married to Poupette 
 and he wasn't responsible for her, and oh ! damn those remorseful 
 thoughts ! He was here to enjoy himself.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 RICHARD had telegraphed that he would arrive for dinner, and on 
 reaching the Rue Belliard M. Labiche informed him that dinner 
 would be served as soon as he wished. Madame was dining out, 
 her maid was out also, but he believed madame had left a note in 
 monsieur's room. 
 
 M. Labiche's manner struck Richard as more strained and 
 formal than usual. His habit of joviality with servants or sub- 
 ordinates had been the cause of Elinor's frequent criticism. 
 " You encourage familiarity," she said, and he admitted it. 
 M. Labiche had always been responsive to Richard's bantering 
 remarks or inquiries, but his manner now appeared somewhat 
 censorious. Richard went to his room feeling he was disapproved 
 of. A pile of letters lay on his dressing-table. On the top was a 
 note in Elinor's hand which he quickly broke open. 
 
 " I am dining with George Corbett and Gaston. You need not 
 trouble to wait for me. I may be late. George has taken rooms 
 here. ELINOR." 
 
 Richard read it again. " Thanks," he muttered to himself. 
 He rang the bell. Would Labiche get out his evening things ? 
 " And by the way, Labiche, is M. Corbett staying here 'I " 
 
 " I think M. Corbett will be here at least a month, monsieur. 
 He has engaged the rooms on the second floor." 
 
 " When did he come ? " 
 
 " He arrived yesterday morning, monsieur." 
 
 Richard wondered while he was dressing what had brought 
 George Corbett to Brussels. 
 
 George Corbett was one of Richard's oldest friends. They 
 had been at the same tutor's when both were preparing for Oxford, 
 but, whereas Corbett had gone to the university, Richard had 
 jumped at the prospect of going to America with an uncle and 
 had never ceased regretting it. 
 
 50
 
 ELINOR 51 
 
 George Corbett was the son of a North of England manu- 
 facturer. Fair-haired, with watery blue eyes, he was well pro- 
 portioned, even good-looking. He had always been proficient 
 at sports and games, and had inherited a large business and a 
 considerable fortune in cash from his father, who died while he 
 was still at Oxford. 
 
 The two had kept up an intermittent friendship, which, after 
 Richard's marriage, had been cemented by his friend's undisguised 
 admiration for Elinor. Richard used always to tell his wife that 
 he never could keep any friends after they had made her acquaint- 
 ance. Elinor was not unflattered by what she considered a 
 tribute to her attractiveness. George Corbett was no exception 
 to the rule. 
 
 Little tempted by the prospect of sitting alone, Richard dined 
 at a restaurant in the town, where the bustle and brightness to 
 some extent took the edge off his growing despondency. While 
 he drank his coffee he wrote to Poupette, telling her how much he 
 missed her. In his account of his depressing return to respect- 
 ability he to some extent relieved his feelings, and after an hour 
 or so at a cafe concert he took his way homewards in a frame 
 of mind better prepared for contact with Elinor. It was nearly 
 midnight, but she had not yet returned, and Richard, disinclined 
 for bed until tension had been relieved, began to feel aggrieved. 
 He tried to read, but tossed the evening paper and a casual novel 
 aside impatiently. It was useless to go to the club, because he 
 knew that, as is always the case on the Continent, except on 
 special occasions when cards were played, it would be deserted 
 after the dinner hour. He began to think he might just as well 
 have remained another twenty-four hours in Paris. With a 
 succession of whiskies and sodas he became sentimental about 
 Poupette until, glancing at the clock, he noticed the hour was 
 one. Then he became morose. Half-an-hour later a carriage 
 drew up, and Elinor, accompanied by George Corbett, entered 
 the room. 
 
 It was unfortunate for Richard that strong stimulant exagger- 
 ated his moods. By nature gentle, he could become angered to 
 the point of fury when excited by drink. It was at such times that 
 his lack of self-control was liable to degenerate into loss of dignity 
 and discretion. 
 
 Suspicion was foreign to Richard's nature, but the embarrass- 
 ment manifested by Elinor and Corbett was distorted through his 
 morbid fancy into an appearance of guiltiness. He seemed to
 
 52 RICHARD KURT 
 
 observe a disordered appearance in their features and apparel, 
 and when, with a lurching movement, he rose to his feet it was 
 with an ugly sneer that he threw the greeting at them : 
 
 " Oh, so you've decided to come back at last." 
 
 Elinor stood a moment looking at him, then drew herself up, 
 and with a contemptuous glance replied : " Drunk, I see. It's 
 a pity you didn't finish your bout in Paris." 
 
 Corbett stood between them nervously fingering his opera hat. 
 He was about to relieve Elinor of her cloak, but the action was 
 arrested by the shock of Richard's ebullition. He stood irresolute 
 a moment, his face showing the honest Englishman's hatred of a 
 scene as well as instinctive resentment of an offensive suggestion ; 
 yet there struggled into his eyes a half-pitying sympathy with 
 his friend. George Corbett liked Richard well, and was acutely 
 uncomfortable. 
 
 But Richard was in no mood to reflect on his words or to 
 care about their import. 
 
 " I wish to God I had. Heaven knows what I came back for. 
 To sit and wait, and be made a fool of, while you stay out till 
 all hours of the morning with your men friends." 
 
 Corbett took a step forward and laid a restraining hand on 
 Richard's arm. 
 
 " Look here, Richard, I can't stand this sort of thing, you 
 know." 
 
 Richard interrupted him fiercely. " Can't you ? You d d 
 
 well shut your mouth. This is my business." Then, almost 
 foaming with rage and livid in the face, he turned to Elinor. 
 " How dare you sneer at me ? How dare you treat me like this <l . 
 Taking advantage of my absence to make me ridiculous ? " He 
 stammered out the words breathlessly, gesticulating with his 
 clenched fist. 
 
 Elinor had never practised the habit of the soft word. She 
 now did the least wise thing. With a look of withering scorn 
 she said to George Corbett : " I think you had better go, George, 
 before my husband makes a greater cad of himself." 
 
 Richard's rage boiled over. " Yes," he shouted, " you'd better 
 go before I kick you out." 
 
 Faced with a threatened indignity, George's self-possession 
 and calmness momentarily deserted him. 
 
 " Now, look here, Master Richard," he said, " one word more 
 and I'll give you the best hiding you ever had." 
 
 As he said this he turned and threw off his overcoat. Another 
 instant and Richard, his eyes blazing, would have been upon him.
 
 ELINOR 58 
 
 Elinor placed herself between them as Richard lifted his arm to 
 strike. 
 
 " So this is what it has come to, is it ? " Her face was 
 perfectly calm. " A fracas in your own house, in an apartment I 
 occupy with you ; and as usual I shall have to bear the result 
 scandal. ' ; 
 
 Something in the measured tones pierced Richard's heated 
 brain. A sudden revulsion of feeling struck him like a blow. In 
 a flash he realised the enormity of his conduct, its utter lack of 
 justification. 
 
 He gazed stupidly at Elinor ; his arms fell to his side. He 
 put his hands over his eyes and rushed from the room. His 
 heart was bursting with bitter shame and humiliation. 
 
 u 
 
 The effect of these events was to rob Richard of any flicker of 
 self-respect. His tears had brought him a transient relief, but 
 there was no sign of relenting in Elinor's manner when he shame- 
 facedly entered the bedroom. He cast himself heavily into bed. 
 Before turning his face to the wall he avowed his contrition for 
 his outbreak and begged that she would at least extend to him 
 the hope of ultimate forgiveness. 
 
 But Elinor reminded him that such action as his had passed 
 beyond the stage of an intimate dispute and had entered the 
 borderland of public disgrace. In answer to pleadings for a 
 more generous interpretation of anger provoked by jealousy, she 
 demanded the precise value to be attached to an affection which 
 permitted every licence to the husband but denied the solace of 
 an honourable friendship to the wife. Most of the night passed 
 in a fruitless bandying of questions and answers. Richard only 
 succeeded in purchasing a faint prospect of indulgence by in- 
 adequate explanation of his Paris adventure. He awoke, un- 
 certain of his whereabouts, and half awaiting the embrace to which 
 the last three mornings at Poupette's side had accustomed him. 
 
 " I'm awfully sorry, old chap, for my rudeness. Do forgive 
 me." 
 
 Richard had thrown on a dressing suit and, going into George 
 Corbett's room, had him at a disadvantage. G-eorge was in bed 
 and still horribly sleepy. He had not been awakened by a 
 gnawing conscience and with a sense of crimes committed. He
 
 54 RICHARD KURT 
 
 was too drowsy to remember much or to feel resentment if 
 he did. 
 
 " Oh, that's all right, Richard. I knew you were tight," he 
 murmured with his eyes closed. 
 
 " But I wasn't tight, George. I'd only had a couple of whiskies 
 and sodas. I was upset, and I made a cad of myself. I can't 
 get out of it by pretending I was drunk. I didn't mean a word 
 I said. You know I didn't. How could I, of all people, imagine 
 anything Elinor does is wrong ? I was a beast." 
 
 George roused himself and began considering. 
 
 " I must say you were pretty insulting, Richard. I er 
 well, I don't want to be hard on you, but, you know, I shall have 
 to clear out after what you said. I don't want to harm Elinor. 
 She's a brick. There's no woman like her." He began to be 
 energetic. " In fact, I'd do anything for her." 
 
 " I know you would, George. That's just it. I realise what a 
 beast I've been." Richard's tone became persuasive. " I say, 
 George, be a pal and help me. She's awfully down on me. I 
 don't know what to do, how to get her to forgive me. She's 
 never been like this before." 
 
 George jumped out of bed, his stiff, curly hair on end. Seizing 
 a large bath-sponge he dipped it into the jug and squeezed it 
 over his head ; then he rubbed himself vigorously with a towel 
 while Richard watched him with expectant interest. George 
 stood barefooted by the looking-glass and began brushing his 
 hair ; then he got into bed again. He seemed to be enjoying 
 Richard's discomfiture. Then he fixed Richard with his eyes. 
 
 " What have you been up to in Paris ? " he said. 
 
 Richard evaded a direct reply. " What does that matter ? " 
 he answered. 
 
 "What does it matter? Why, it matters enormously." 
 George Corbett's watery grey-blue eyes blinked at Richard as 
 he spoke. " You seem to think you can do what you choose and 
 your wife has to stand it whether she likes it or not. You leave 
 her alone in a strange place without any friends while you go off 
 to Paris, telling her you're going on business ; and then you come 
 back and kick up a beastly row because an old friend takes her 
 out to dinner, and you're surprised that she doesn't like it. Well, 
 I'm " 
 
 " But surely a man has the right to go to Paris on business." 
 
 Richard's reply was the right one, but his fatal sincerity tuned 
 his voice into self-conscious weakness. 
 
 George turned round and faced him.
 
 ELINOR 55 
 
 " Do you mean to say , Richard, that you went to Paris on 
 business ? " 
 
 " I did originally. But look here, George, you know how it is. 
 One sometimes gets led into doing things one doesn't mean to. 
 I'll own up I had a bit of a razzle-dazzle, and that's all there is 
 about it. I can't help it now, can I ? You might help me 
 through. We're old friends. Do ask Elinor to make it up with 
 me. She will if you say something nice about me, that I'm not 
 any worse than other men, and so on ; you know the sort of 
 thing. I can't stand seeing Elinor upset like this. Life's not 
 worth living. I'm miserable." 
 
 George Corbett liked the honest avowal. Kind-hearted and 
 generous, Richard's distress touched him. 
 
 " All right, Richard, I'll do my best," he said. 
 
 Richard wrung his hand. 
 
 " You're a good pal, George. I shan't forget your kindness." 
 
 He turned and left the room. He dressed quickly and, jumping 
 into a cab, drove to the best florist in Brussels and ordered a 
 magnificent basket of flowers for Elinor. 
 
 ill 
 
 Having made up his mind, after his interview with George 
 Corbett, to keep out of the way until his friend's mediation should 
 have mollified his wife, Richard had taken with him the bundle of 
 unopened letters that had arrived during his absence, with the 
 intention of answering them at the club. 
 
 Selecting a quiet corner he proceeded to go through them. 
 Most were bills which promptly went into the waste-paper basket ; 
 of letters there were four. The first was from his father, dated 
 from Luxor : 
 
 MY DEAR RICHARD [it ran], Although I have had only 
 one hastily written letter from you since our departure, and, 
 although I should have thought that ordinary feeling would at 
 such a time as this have induced you to show enough considera- 
 tion for me to have given some account of yourself, I write you 
 in the hope that your mode of thought and existence have, never- 
 theless, been influenced by the irreparable loss of your mother. 
 
 We have now turned our faces homewards ; we intend sailing 
 at an early date in February for Naples, and shall proceed by slow 
 stages to the villa before returning to London, where I must
 
 56 RICHARD KURT 
 
 again resume the harassing cares of business my large family 
 necessitates. 
 
 I realise that I must face the future bravely for the sake of the 
 dear girls, who are the only solace of my declining years. I 
 should be glad of the opportunity of revisiting those interesting 
 places on our road which are associated in my mind with a journey 
 many years ago with her who is gone. She had a great apprecia- 
 tion of all that was beautiful and artistic, and it will be in a 
 measure a satisfaction to recall those sad memories of the past. 
 
 At the villa Olivia will join us ; business matters have to be 
 settled, as it is my firm intention to give it up. I have neither 
 the inclination nor the means to pass the winter months there, 
 for, as you know, my unique object in taking it was to benefit 
 your mother's failing health. 
 
 If you address your reply to this letter to Shepheard's Hotel, 
 Cairo, it will find us, and, meanwhile, with love from your sister, 
 I remain, your affectionate 
 
 FATHER. 
 
 Eichard opened the next which, in the sprawling handwriting 
 of his sister, covered three pages with slipshod sentences. One 
 sentence struck him : 
 
 " He is bored to death though as jolly as a sandboy. The 
 only place he seemed to like was Cairo, where there is a club and 
 he could get a game of baccarat ; now we're on our way back 
 there." 
 
 Richard smiled at the thought of how his father's desolate 
 widowerhood impressed Olivia. 
 
 The third letter was from Baron d'Alger. 
 
 DEAR MR RICHARD KURT, I enclose herewith an open letter 
 of introduction to the British Minister in Brussels, hoping that 
 this is what you desire. 
 
 Believe me, yours very truly, 
 
 D'ALGER. 
 
 The enclosure, like the letter, was headed from the Baron's 
 city address. 
 
 DEAR SIR GEORGE WILTON, Mr Richard Kurt has written 
 me asking for a letter of introduction to you. He is the son of
 
 ELINOR 57 
 
 a gentleman I have known for many years, who is highly esteemed 
 in business circles. I venture to ask you to extend to him a 
 kindly reception should he call upon you. 
 
 Believe me, with my best compliments and regards, very 
 truly yours, D'ALGEB. 
 
 Richard deposited the letter with the others, then he tore open 
 the fourth envelope. He knew that handwriting well : it was 
 from his old friend Beatrice Avonmore. 
 
 DEAR OLD RICHARD, I've dug out your address through 
 Molly Lascelles ; she is an awfully good sort, look her up ; she'll 
 introduce you to old Wilton and his dowdy wife. They call them 
 the "stickers" in the F.O. because they can't get rid of them. 
 But you'd better be civil to them. The Lascelles are a rippnig 
 couple, and are sure to give you a good time. Drop me a line 
 and tell me how things are going. Things are awfully dull and 
 I'm too broke to hunt. Yours ever, 
 
 TRIX. 
 
 P.S. Don't make any bones about calling on Mollie ; just 
 turn up there any time before a meal and she'll ask you to stay 
 to grub. I want you to be pals with them. 
 
 He held Trixie's letter in his hand as though he had saved a 
 trump. What a brick she was, he thought, as he sat down at the 
 writing-table. His first letter should be to her. 
 
 The next required maturer reflection. After a few moments' 
 thought his pen ran on : 
 
 DEAR BARON D'ALGER, I am much obliged for the letter of 
 introduction you were good enough to send me to the British 
 Minister. In the meanwhile a friend of mine has kindly made 
 me known to the First Secretary, who will no doubt present my 
 wife and myself to Sir George and Lady Wilton. Should the 
 opportunity occur I shall inform Sir George Wilton that under 
 the circumstances there was no reason for me to avail myself of 
 your obliging letter. 
 
 With many thanks, yours truly, 
 
 RICHARD KURT. 
 
 Richard chuckled as he read this over. 
 
 After writing a note to Elinor, telling her he would not be 
 back for lunch, he hailed a cab and drove to the Lascelles'.
 
 58 RICHARD KURT 
 
 IV 
 
 Elinor and George Corbett were about to start for a walk after 
 lunch when Richard drove up. It was evident that he was in 
 high spirits. In his hand he held Beatrice Avonmore's note, 
 which he gave to Elinor as he kissed her extended hand. She 
 looked inquiringly at the superscription. Her features showed 
 pleased surprise as she read, then relapsed into an expression of 
 indifference which chilled Richard as he watched her. 
 
 " Very kind of them, I'm sure," she said. " Where did you 
 meet them ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I'll tell you all about that another time. But isn't this 
 a score ? " 
 
 " A score ? Off whom ? What do you mean ? " 
 
 Elinor's face bore a meaning and warning look. 
 
 Suddenly Richard grasped the situation, the family honour 
 must be preserved. He knew that nothing in the world would so 
 annoy Elinor as to let their dearest friend into their intimate 
 social secrets. He quickly adopted Elinor's tone. 
 
 " Rather jolly of them, isn't it ? " he said lightly ; then added : 
 " And when we return their invitation we'll ask George." 
 
 George had meanwhile taken up a paper. " To whom am I 
 to have the honour of being introduced ? " he asked. 
 
 Elinor interrupted Richard's reply. 
 
 " Oh, it's only the First Secretary here, a man called Laacelles, 
 his wife has asked us to dinner. I suppose Richard means it's a 
 ' score,' as he calls it, because we didn't think it worth while calling 
 at the Legation, and we're asked to meet the Minister and his 
 wife." 
 
 "I wonder if it's Gordon Lascelles? " Corbett asked. "Gordon's 
 a diplomat, now I come to think of it ; he played extra 
 man for Oxford against M.C.C. at Lord's, but didn't get his 
 Blue a rotten bad field, muffed an easy catch at square leg." 
 
 " That's the chap, Gordon Lascelles," said Richard, itching to 
 tell all he knew. 
 
 Elinor again broke in : " Does it much matter," she said coldly, 
 " what the man's name is, and whether or not he's a ' rotten 
 field ' ? " The emphasis on the cricket idiom was directed at 
 Corbett, who knew how easily Elinor was bored by references to 
 his favourite game. " Are you ready, George ? " she continued. 
 " What are we waiting here for ? " 
 
 " Oh, right you are, Elinor, I'm ready."
 
 ELINOR 59 
 
 Richard's face fell. So this was all he had accomplished ; 
 he who had been so elated at the effect his wonderful news would 
 have on Elinor. 
 
 " D'you mind my coming ? " he asked humbly. 
 
 " I had rather not, thank you, Richard," she replied coldly. 
 " Your behaviour last night is rather too fresh in my mind for 
 you to be a congenial companion." 
 
 So Richard was left alone to the task of reconciling his 
 wife's views on the highly complex effects of marital misde- 
 meanours with his own. 
 
 And while Elinor and George Gorbett were out walking the 
 Lascelles left their cards on the Kurts. 
 
 As the weeks passed, Elinor's brilliant emergence as the bright 
 particular star of the Brussels firmament of fashion was not 
 marked with approval in quarters envious of male attentions 
 conspicuously bestowed. 
 
 She had never possessed the conciliatory faculty which enables 
 some attractive women to be popular with their own sex. 
 
 To have resisted making her triumph over female rivals mani- 
 fest would have been to rob herself of its chief satisfaction. On 
 occasions, such as her appearance at the opera, her monopoly of 
 eligible men made her isolation obvious, and afforded a growing 
 subject of acid comment to that inner circle of dowagers and 
 spinsters who form the basfotwi of all social opinion. 
 
 So also it happened that the attention shown by her admirers 
 during the morning promenade, the unabating shower of flower- 
 baskets and of invitations to smart little dinner and theatre 
 parties, served to accentuate Elinor's one-sided success. 
 
 Richard gradually came to regard the presence of George 
 Corbett and Gaston as a sufficient chaperonage. He had a feeling 
 that these two especially faithful courtiers could always be 
 counted on, and he eagerly grasped this pretext for avoiding 
 occasions that bored him. In doing so he laid himself open to 
 censure, but there was an extenuating circumstance in that the 
 only apparent object of his presence was that Elinor was thereby 
 given an opportunity for ignoring it. 
 
 George and Gaston had made friends in the presence of a 
 common dilemma. Neither knew which was the preferred, and 
 jealousy had given place to a kind of passive and defensive alliance
 
 60 RICHARD KURT 
 
 for mutual interests. Besides, both men took a sporting view of 
 their analogous situation, while each endeavoured to extract a 
 private satisfaction from his individual experience. 
 
 George Corbett had announced his departure ; he had to be 
 home for Christmas. Indeed his partners were, he told Elinor, 
 beginning to be distrustful of his repeated assurances of 
 impending return. 
 
 About this time Richard's embarrassments had reached a point- 
 where he was faced with the inability to pay his debts. For some 
 time past bills at modistes and dressmakers had been accumulating 
 at an alarming rate, and the visits of polite young assistants with 
 stamped receipts were becoming too disagreeably frequent to be 
 any longer disposed of by equally polite pretences of awaited 
 drafts from England. 
 
 Urged by the imminence of a debacle Richard overcame his 
 reluctance to worry Elinor, and steeled himself to the inevitable. 
 
 Elinor had finished her morning tea, and was looking at The 
 New York Herald when Richard entered the room. She looked up. 
 Richard's face betrayed him. 
 
 " What's the matter ? " she asked. 
 
 " Elinor darling, I'm awfully sorry, but I must have a talk 
 with you about money matters." 
 
 She glanced at the door, which Richard had left ajar. 
 
 " If I were you I should shut the door before you begin. You 
 needn't think I'm surprised," she continued. " I've been ex- 
 pecting this for weeks. In fact ever since your return from Paris. 
 I knew what that meant." 
 
 Richard looked utterly miserable. " You needn't rub that in ; 
 after all, that's only a small part of it. Our whole life is too 
 expensive." 
 
 She sighed wearily. " It seems to me any sort of life is too 
 expensive for us. Well, what do you propose to do ? " 
 
 " Settle up and clear out. I've had enough of this rotten little 
 town. Let's go to Biarritz. Gaston has to go there. We've 
 got to worry through the next few months till I can face the 
 Governor again." 
 
 Elinor's brows met in a frown. She was considering. 
 
 " I don't see that Gaston's being there affects us," she answered. 
 " But in any case we might as well be at Biarritz as here. I 
 don't suppose it will cost any more." 
 
 " It's got to cost a good deal less." Richard spoke with 
 vehemence. " In fact, I don't know how I'm going to get through.
 
 ELINOR 61 
 
 Of course I'll manage somehow ; I always do," he added 
 reassuringly. 
 
 " You needn't bother about paying my bills." Elinor's tone 
 wag tentative, but Kichard felt an uncomfortable inference under 
 the words. 
 
 " Why not ? " he asked. " You know I consider them a first 
 charge." 
 
 " I've made the necessary arrangements for their discharge." 
 Her use of a business expression was purposely tantalising. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 Elinor saw no use in beating about the bush. 
 
 " George has promised to lend me a thousand pounds," she 
 answered recklessly. 
 
 Richard was dumbfounded by the cool announcement. 
 
 " Elinor, my dear girl, you aren't serious ? You can't take it 
 from him. I can't allow it. You must see I can't." 
 
 " What's the use of your getting on your dignity now ? " his 
 wife replied. " You should have thought of that before you 
 added to our difficulties by your journey to Paris on business, 
 as you called it. It's rather late in the day for you to get on a 
 high horse when I begin to look after myself. On the last occasion 
 that we had a conversation on business matters the only subject 
 you ever talk to me about you were full of pretended anxiety 
 about our position. I supposed that, after your excesses in Paris, 
 you would have had the decency to pay at least part of our bills. 
 What do you do ? You simply ignore them, and use the money 
 which we so urgently need to indulge your " 
 
 " Oh, stop, stop, Elinor. For God's sake save me the recital 
 of my crimes." 
 
 " It's all very fine to say ' stop.' I have told you that I do 
 not concern myself with your depravity. I do not even expect 
 you to show me enough consideration to observe some ordinary 
 decency, but when it comes to your telling me that you can't 
 allow " her voice rested scornfully on the word " can't allow 
 me to ask an old friend to help me when you can't do so yourself, 
 it's about time to give you my views." 
 
 Elinor spoke deliberately and without apparent anger, and 
 Richard's dejection left him without power to discover a plea 
 for exoneration. He felt the bitter truth of her words far more 
 deeply than his wife realised. He could not even take a poor 
 solace from the reflection that his misdeeds had not been at the 
 cost of her material comfort. He was indeed " in a tight place," 
 and what had he got to propose ? Could he ask a wife thus
 
 62 RICHARD KURT 
 
 flouted to do the one thing the situation demanded, ahort of 
 relieving his embarrassment at the price of his honour ? How 
 could he expect her to make such a sacrifice ? What sort of a 
 life could he offer her in his company, and with no resource or 
 distraction beyond it ? Yet the thought of his wife's taking 
 money from George Corbett weighted his mind with profound 
 humiliation. He spoke pleadingly. 
 
 " Elinor dear, don't you think you could stand a few months 
 of quiet existence in Switzerland or Italy ? I could pull things 
 together then, and I'd give up everything, everything and spend 
 nothing " 
 
 Elinor's laughter jarred him into some show of resentment. 
 
 " I know you are sneering at me," he said bitterly, " and I'm 
 not surprised. But you're wrong. There's more good in me 
 than you think ; more than you want to believe. I am capable 
 of effort and of sacrifice if I had the chance." 
 
 " It's rather late to talk like that now. I prefer to spare you 
 both. George's thousand pounds will not only pay our bills, it 
 will keep us going for some time, and, after all, it's only borrowed. 
 You can give me the money to pay it back when you've 
 got it." 
 
 Again Elinor laughed ironically. 
 
 " If only I knew what to do, Elinor. It's so hopeless. You 
 must know I hate the idea of your having to pay for my extra- 
 vagances. Can't / borrow the money from George ? Then I 
 could give him notes." 
 
 " He wouldn't lend it to you. He'd only think you'd use it 
 for your own amusements and I should suffer. Besides, the 
 one condition he made was that I should never tell you. He 
 would be dreadfully upset if you let him know I'd told you. It 
 would be most dishonourable of you to tell him." 
 
 " More dishonourable than for me to allow you to accept it ? 
 I don't think so." 
 
 " There is no question of your allowing me. I daresay I have 
 been a fool to tell you. I meant to relieve your mind. Don't 
 you think it would be more sensible to cease all this highfalutin, 
 and be thankful we've got such a good friend ? " 
 
 " I'm not questioning George's friendship. I know he's kind 
 and generous, but a gentleman doesn't allow his wife to borrow 
 money from his friends." 
 
 " Her friends," Elinor corrected. " Besides, that depends 
 upon how the gentleman is situated. Beggars can't be choosers. 
 The particular kind of gentleman who wastes on dissipation
 
 ELINOR 63 
 
 money which he ought to use for his wife can't afford to be 
 squeamish if she looks after herself." 
 
 Richard was stunned by the unanswerable logic of his wife's 
 argument, though he was quite alive to its ethical falseness. 
 
 He recognised the pitiable weakness which had brought about 
 his present humiliation and left him without defence ; a wave of 
 self-reproach flooded his heart. As he bowed his head to the 
 seemingly inevitable, the bells rang joyously forth, and thus was 
 the New Year ushered in by Richard and Elinor Kurt.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE chalet which the Kurts had taken at Biarritz on Gaston's 
 suggestion was on rising ground at some little distance from the 
 straggling town. It was plainly built of rough, uneven-shaped 
 stones, in the manner of the country, plastered and whitewashed 
 outside ; the rooms within were of fair size, square and airy. 
 The furniture was exceedingly plain and locally made, which 
 accounted for its achieving its purpose without displeasing the 
 eye. In the small trim garden or gravel enclosure, walled in by 
 a wooden palisade, planted with shrubs and a few shady trees, 
 stood a wooden table and some wicker chairs. 
 
 The upper floor gave ample accommodation to the Kurts, and 
 allowed a large back room for Gaston, whose new duties took him 
 off at an early hour. 
 
 At this period Biarritz had not yet acquired the reputation 
 with which royal patronage has since endowed it, inevitable 
 precursor of the vulgar popularity that heralds decline. Much 
 affected by Spaniards and Russians, it possessed good, but not 
 palatial, hotels and a casino which enjoyed the distinction of 
 being occasionally frequented by the highest gamblers in Europe. 
 The villa owners formed the permanent colony by and around 
 whom social activity was organised and developed. There were 
 two clubs, respectively English and French, each possessing 
 the appropriate national atmosphere. The one dull, respectable 
 and clean ; the other amusing, disreputable and ill-kept. At 
 one politics, sport and golf formed the staple of interest and 
 conversation, at the other gossip and baccarat. Richard had 
 joined both, but a brief survey of the Anglo-American cercle 
 
 64
 
 ELINOR 65 
 
 quickly decided him in favour of the Bohemian little tripot 
 where everyone knew each other within twenty-four hours. It 
 did not take him long to identify individual peculiarities, and 
 to surmise excellent reasons for the preference that some of 
 his new acquaintances expressed for Biarritz to their native 
 land. 
 
 But, if members of the French club included some whose ante- 
 cedents were better not too closely examined, there seemed to 
 be sufficient Russian grand dukes, Spanish grandees and every 
 rank of Continental nobility to compensate by the weight of their 
 blue-blooded superiority for any small deficiency in the matter 
 of repute. Amongst the conspicuous members were several of 
 those wealthy de'sceuvrfo Americans whom a growing distaste for 
 responsibility or duty of any kind drives to Europe in greater 
 numbers every year. 
 
 Good fellows in the club sense, and especially ready to offer 
 cocktails to anyone who would drink with them, they struck 
 Richard as remarkable for their capacity in acquiring European 
 vices without losing their own. He also noticed a special fond- 
 ness for interminable stories the point of which he had neither 
 the wit nor the will to grasp. 
 
 In this atmosphere Richard's character was unlikely to receive 
 a healthy stimulus, and he soon drifted into the habits of thought 
 and action of those by whom he was surrounded. 
 
 Day succeeded day in a continuous endeavour to find enjoy- 
 ment in frivolous amusement. It had not taken the Kurts long 
 to know everyone, and Elinor's desire to shine had been gratified 
 with little effort. She was already considered the smartest and 
 prettiest woman in Biarritz. George Corbett's thousand pounds 
 had proved indisputably useful. 
 
 The sterile materialism which Elinor had absorbed during her 
 youth had received confirmation in her married life. Biarritz 
 was permeated by it, and seemed to attract especially those by 
 whom the fruits of marriage were undesired. Amongst the entire 
 acquaintance of the Kurts there was but one large family with 
 growing children, the Langleys, their immediate neighbours. They 
 occupied a larger house, the garden of which adjoined the little 
 enclosure of the Chalet Beau Sejour. Elinor had often expressed 
 her wonder at the attraction which that dowdy Mrs Langley and
 
 66 RICHARD KURT 
 
 her untidy family could have for Richard, and he hardly knew 
 how to explain the pleasure he felt in their company. It became 
 a joke, which sometimes irritated him, when, in answer to an 
 inquiry from Gaston as to what he had been doing, Elinor replied : 
 " At the Langleys', of course. What do you think ? " In 
 reality, the Langley home was a sort of harmless antidote to the 
 weariness of an existence that had no purpose or satisfaction 
 beyond gambling. For Richard's membership of the French Club 
 had had the inevitable consequence, and, though his play had 
 been limited and cautious, the incipient fever was gnawing him 
 relentlessly. 
 
 The weeks passed and it was towards the end of March that 
 Richard noticed something wrong with his wife. Recently she 
 had not seemed very well, and Richard's solicitude had been 
 aroused by her pallid languor and her obvious dislike of exertion. 
 He sought by various small attentions to raise her spirits and show 
 his concern. He engaged by the week one of the little hybrid 
 vehicles peculiar to Biarritz, compounded of bath-chair and pony- 
 phaeton, in which she could take the air or go and see her friends. 
 He lingered hesitatingly in her bedroom in the morning, and 
 noticed with apprehension that she had recently avoided, rather 
 than cultivated, opportunities for diversion. Yet he had not 
 been able to detect definite symptoms of illness. He begged her 
 to consult the doctor, but she declared that there was nothing 
 the matter, and showed such an intense aversion from medical 
 attention that, not without reluctance, he had desisted from 
 pressing the matter. 
 
 During the weeks of their residence at Biarritz Gaston's par- 
 ticipation in their doings had been limited to occasional evenings. 
 He left early in the morning, and with rare exceptions the Kurts 
 saw no more of him until late in the afternoon. On one of these 
 evenings Elinor had gone to bed early, and the two men remained 
 smoking and talking. 
 
 " I'm worried about Elinor, Gaston," Richard began ; " she has 
 not been well for some days, and she refuses to see a doctor. I 
 don't know what to do about her." 
 
 Gaston could offer no suggestion. 
 
 " And the worst of it is that I must go to the south of France 
 to see my father, and I don't like leaving her like this. It's
 
 ELINOR 67 
 
 important for me to have a talk with him ; we must settle 
 something about the future." 
 
 " I'm very sorry, old chap, but I don't see what I can 
 do." 
 
 " No, I know you can't do anything ; of course not. But when 
 a man feels bothered he likea to have someone to talk to. You 
 see, there's really nobody here I can talk to except, perhaps, Mrs 
 Langley. The other people are all right to amuse oneself with, 
 but there's nothing in them nothing real, I mean. They're 
 just a lot of vapid nonentities." 
 
 " I don't see much of them, and I don't regret it. It's a good 
 thing I've got my work. I wish you had. How's the club 
 treating you ? " 
 
 " Oh, nothing one way or the other, so far. I've been playing 
 very small." 
 
 " Why don't you give up gambling, Richard I It's no 
 good." 
 
 " I know, Gaston, I know. But what's a man to do in a place 
 like this ? And then, if one wins, it comes in jolly useful. To 
 tell you the truth, I'm awfully sick of this sort of life ; I sometimes 
 wish I was a father of a family, and living in the depths of the 
 
 country somewhere away from all this ' Richard found no 
 
 suitable word and waved his hand expressively. 
 
 " But you are going to settle down in the country and then 
 you will be all right. Lucky fellow ! You will hunt and have all 
 kinds of sport." 
 
 " Um I hope so ; that's what I want to talk to my father 
 about. We can't go on like this indefinitely. It's no life for a 
 man. Yes, I must talk to the Governor. But it's very awkward 
 about Elinor." He stopped, and began thinking. " I've got it. 
 I was wondering how she could be chaperoned during my absence. 
 I'll run across to Mrs Langley and ask her to let Constance stay 
 here while I'm gone. That's a brilliant idea, and precious Mrs 
 Grundy will be satisfied. I shall feel comfortable knowing 
 you're here to look after her, and you'll wire me in case 
 anything is wrong. Elinor hardly ever writes. Good-night, 
 old chap." 
 
 Not a little to Richard's surprise Elinor approved of his de- 
 parture and of the arrangement he suggested. His visit to Mrs
 
 68 RICHARD KURT 
 
 Langley was successful, and Constance, the eldest of Mrs 
 Langley's children, a capable girl of nineteen, accepted Mrs 
 Kurt's invitation. Two days later Richard left for Nice.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 ADA KURT met Richard at Nice station and drove him to the 
 villa. Motor cars had not yet ruined the most beautiful road in 
 Europe, and he drank in the harmony of silver-grey and blue, of 
 soft chrome and creamy white. Mountain and sky, dusty road, 
 stone parapet and sea, entranced him with their symphony of 
 colour ; brown-faced Italian muleteers, cursing their half-starved 
 mules, seemed to be acting parts in a chorus he dimly heard, until 
 a sudden stoppage and Ada's voice reminded him that they had 
 arrived. 
 
 He had grasped during hia dreamy drive that his father would 
 not return from Monte Carlo until dinner-time, and this added to 
 his warm appreciation of the welcome he received from his younger 
 sister, who was awaiting his arrival. 
 
 Ada, always matter of fact, was bent on his immediately going 
 to his room and then having tea. This intermission enabled 
 him to discharge his load of responses and to elicit some of the 
 accumulated news of the past months. His father, " on mature 
 reflection " Ada quoted his expression had decided not to 
 give up the villa at present, and Richard was not surprised to 
 hear that this decision coincided with a continuance of the habits 
 to which the family had for long been accustomed. 
 
 Little seemed to be changed in the sitting-room he knew so 
 well. The villa, originally taken furnished fifteen years earlier, 
 possessed the cachet of a French interior. It was neither large nor 
 luxurious. Mrs Kurt had desired to preserve its character of 
 rusticity, and, though it had been modernised, the slowness of 
 the process had caused a gradual and mellowing transition. 
 But Richard noticed that the significant touch was lacking. 
 There was a certain indefinable absence of the appropriate note 
 in the placing of furniture, in the disposal of flower vases, in 
 the very atmosphere of the room, that chilled him. 
 
 " I'll go into the garden," he said to his sisters, who were 
 taking their tea. 
 
 Under the trees the past came back to him. It was as though 
 69
 
 70 RICHARD KURT 
 
 his mother's spirit lingered in the spot ; he felt her presence 
 as when, years ago, he had first come there. He recalled it all 
 so clearly. He had often longed to go and stay with his mother, 
 but the estrangement caused by Elinor's quarrel with her had 
 added fuel to the dull glow of his father's prejudice. In those 
 days business kept Mr Kurt in London, and his visits to the villa 
 were only occasional, but he had always objected to his son 
 going there, and when, finally, Richard's mother insisted on seeing 
 him, his father had had no share in the invitation. Every detail 
 of that visit had been photographed on his mind. The fog and 
 dreariness of London, with that horrible, sordid business, left 
 behind, and he had come to her here, sitting under the trees. The 
 dog at her feet had bounded forward barking, then welcomed him 
 with wagging tail, and he, gulping down the sob of joy that choked 
 him, had run towards her as she bent to him a face prematurely 
 lined beneath the whitened hair. Near by a white cockatoo on a 
 perch displayed his yellow ruff, and cawed at him as he kissed his 
 mother and told her of his happiness at coming. He had drawn 
 up a chair and sat with her in the glorious sunshine. That 
 picture was framed in his mind against the background of the 
 blue sea he gazed at now. 
 
 As he sat again in that self -same spot, with incredible vividness 
 his life unrolled itself, step by step and link by link. It all seemed 
 as yesterday ; his brief childhood, his schooldays, his youth, his 
 marriage and her death. And through it all there loomed the 
 sombre figure of his father, ever standing between him and his 
 mother, robbing him of his birthright of happiness. Even as 
 a boy his holidays had been ruined by his constant fear of his 
 father, incensed by bad reports, and, as he grew older, he had 
 been shifted from school to tutors, and thence abroad, where he 
 had remained until home ceased to exist. With the increasing 
 wealth of the Kurt firm, and the period of social expansion, came 
 his more complete estrangement from his mother. Then followed 
 his departure to. America, and Richard's memory dwelt with an 
 almost morbid persistence on his father's encouragement of his 
 uncle's proposal at a time when he had supposed he was going 
 to Oxford. He remembered that this had been his mother's 
 wish, and what especially crowned the bitterness of his memory 
 was the knowledge that his father had traded on his youthful 
 longing for change and adventure by leaving the choice to him. 
 He realised now that his father had only needed this opportunity 
 to evade his responsibilities and free himself from his son's embar- 
 rassing presence. Relentlessly his memory carried him on to his
 
 ELINOR 71 
 
 hasty, but irretrievable, marriage from which his immature mind 
 expected the affection he had been denied at home. His return 
 with Elinor had opened his eyes to the change that had taken 
 place in his parents' mode of existence, and he had felt himself 
 more than ever cut off. What wonder that Elinor's bitter dis- 
 appointment displayed itself in resentment ? Did she not have 
 constantly before her eyes the lavish establishment, with its stream 
 of entertainments, the luxurious travelling with maids and foot- 
 men, the costly suites in hotels at fashionable resorts ? Had his 
 father supposed that, in settling them in an obscure part of 
 Kensington, they would hear nothing of his Monte Carlo exist- 
 ence ? Had he supposed that he had so effectually secured 
 Richard's exclusion from family concerns that his sisters would 
 tell him nothing ? Had there been at the bottom of his father's 
 treatment of him an ashamed desire to hide his own self-indulgence 
 and love of luxury while he condemned these in his son with such 
 self-righteous warmth ? Richard's mother always seemed to him 
 lifted above the ordinary ; a larger, finer individuality than that 
 of other women. He contrasted her bold nature, firm and un- 
 changing, with his father's, which was so vacillating and weak. 
 He knew his mother had been merciless towards Elinor, he had 
 defended his wife and would always have done so. That was 
 his duty, and Elinor would have been defenceless without him, 
 but he understood his mother and he knew that she had loved 
 him. While life lasted he would remember her and honour her 
 memory. He was proud to be her son but he felt no pride in 
 being his father's. Richard knew that his mother had suffered 
 through him, and that she alone realised that his father's prejudice 
 against him was the underlying tragedy of his life. With his 
 whole soul he pitied her, for, though no one but he had read the 
 secret, she died conscious that her husband's heart was hardened 
 against the son she might have saved and did not, through hatred 
 of his wife. 
 
 It was well that his reverie should be disturbed. Olivia came 
 running out to him. 
 
 " I couldn't stand leaving you alone, old boy. It's so jolly 
 having you here. Ada doesn't bother much about me, and I 
 have to go for horrible walks with Miss Green, while she goes 
 out bicycling or meeting friends. Thank God, I shall be out next 
 year." 
 
 As she spoke there was the sound of a carriage coming down 
 the drive.
 
 72 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " I suppose that's the Governor," said Richard. 
 
 " It's very early if it's he," Olivia replied. " He never gets 
 back till the last moment before dinner." 
 
 Richard didn't reply, but sat watching the opening between 
 the shrubs, with his arm round Olivia's waist. He had purposely 
 abstained from inquiries about his father in order to seem neither 
 captious nor indiscreet ; he intended to do all in his power to be 
 conciliatory, to give no offence by word or gesture. A Monte 
 Carlo victoria with two long-tailed white ponies drew up quickly, 
 and Mr Kurt descended, with the active, nervous movement that 
 was characteristic of him. 
 
 ii 
 
 Richard scanned his father's face as he went to meet him. 
 Much depended, he thought, upon the way in which he was re- 
 ceived, and upon the first impression he gave. He noticed that 
 his father's hair and beard had grown whiter and that he looked 
 tanned. 
 
 " How are you, Richard all right ? " The words were off-hand 
 and cool but the tone was not unkind. 
 
 " I hope I did right in coming without a definite invitation. 
 I wanted to see you," Richard answered. " I hope you're well." 
 
 Olivia came forward just then and kissed her father. He 
 handed a louis to the Italian driver. 
 
 " Vengo stasera come al solito ? " asked the latter. 
 
 Mr Kurt shook his head, and Richard, catching the question, 
 thought he saw a shade of annoyance on his father's face which, 
 however, he seemed to master. 
 
 " Am I in time for tea, Olivia ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, papa. Ada is still in the drawing-room. Richard's 
 only been here a few minutes." 
 
 " Your train must have been late." Mr Kurt had a knowledge 
 of the hours of arrival and departure of trains which seemed 
 instinctive, and Richard was accustomed to being expected to 
 master the time-table with exactitude. Nevertheless he answered 
 haphazard : 
 
 " Oh yes, about half-an-hour." 
 
 " Then you would have been here at four," Mr Kurt replied 
 dryly. " The train must have been at least an hour and a half 
 behind time." 
 
 Insignificant details such as these served to accentuate the
 
 ELINOR 78 
 
 discomfort Richard felt in his father's company. Siich experi- 
 ences recurred at every meeting ; also he never knew how to 
 address Mr Kurt. He had given up calling him " Papa " when he 
 went to his public school. " Pater " had followed, used sparingly. 
 For some years he had adopted " the Governor " in referring to 
 him, but he was at a loss in addressing him. This caused his 
 manner to appear colder and more distant than he intended. 
 " How can one get on terms with one's father when one doesn't 
 know what to call him ? " he often thought. He felt restless 
 and conscious in his father's presence. He seemed to be aware 
 that his bearing, his general appearance, even his clothes, were 
 under criticism. By nature unobtrusive and gentle, his father's 
 manner somehow changed him ; in his dislike of appearing to 
 cringe he felt himself becoming self-assertive, almost defiant. 
 
 Ada expressed surprise at the early return of her father, her 
 special genius for tactless remarks prompting a pointed question : 
 
 " How have the tables been treating you ? " 
 
 Mr Kurt glanced towards his son and shrugged his shoulders. 
 " No luck," he said. 
 
 Ada pursued the subject. She liked definiteness, also she was 
 interested in gambling. " Let's have a look at the tire-lire,''' 
 she said. 
 
 Mr Kurt betrayed irritation. " Never mind the tire-lire, Ada. 
 I'm tired. Let me have my tea." 
 
 The tire-lire was a little device well known to frequenters of 
 the rooms ; it was a pocket money-box used by habitual gamblers 
 to mitigate their daily losses. Out of every winning coup a louis 
 was supposed to be dropped into it. If conscientiously persisted 
 in the sum at the end of the day would be considerable and 
 sometimes balance losses. 
 
 Richard half expected, when tea was finished, that his father 
 would want to speak to him, but, though relieved, he was a little 
 surprised when Mr Kurt and Ada sat down to a game of bezique. 
 He knew his father's restless nature, and his incapacity for sus- 
 tained attention. Mr Kurt could never read anything except 
 newspapers without going to sleep, and Monte Carlo increased 
 his habitual dislike of abstract conversation. Richard had never 
 conversed with his father in his life ; any attempt at it had always 
 begun and ended by his being talked at, and he had long ago 
 learnt that it was wiser to keep his opinions on men and things 
 to himself, as any difference from his father's views led to curt 
 contradiction. Both men had quick tempers and Richard knew 
 that if he lost his the consequences were invariably disagreeable.
 
 74 RICHARD KURT 
 
 He enjoyed the next two hours chatting with Oh" via, who 
 gave him accounts of her school in Dresden. He noticed her 
 ripening beauty, wondering what sort of man she would marry. 
 He augured little advantage to her future prospects in the 
 atmosphere of Monte Carlo. 
 
 It was not until the gong reminded them of the dressing-hour 
 that Mr Kurt and his daughter rose from their game. 
 
 Richard was going to his room when his father called to him : 
 
 " I would like a word with you, Richard." 
 
 Richard followed his father into his dressing-room, thinking 
 how characteristic it was of him to delay talking till that incon- 
 venient moment. 
 
 Deliberately and methodically Mr Kurt drew forth the contents 
 of his pocket : cigarette-case, gold match-box, watch, coins, the 
 queer leather gold-cornered and initialled letter-case containing 
 the neatly folded packet of letters that it was his custom to carry 
 till answered. Then came the tire-lire rattling with coins, finally 
 his loose cash. This was carefully stacked according to denom- 
 ination and placed beside the other articles on the side of the 
 dressing-table. 
 
 With meticulous nicety Mr Kurt next opened the letter-case 
 and withdrew from it two bank-notes for a thousand francs each. 
 
 " I don't like you to be out of pocket, Richard, in coming to 
 see me and your sisters. This will pay your expenses. I need 
 hardly warn you that Monte Carlo is a dangerous place. I cannot 
 forbid you to gamble, nor expect you not to, as in this respect 
 I give you a bad example. But I advise you to be careful." 
 
 Richard lingered, wanting to express his appreciation of his 
 father's thoughtfulness. He recognised that the gift and the 
 advice were well meant. He was trying to find a suitable ex- 
 pression when Mr Kurt broke in upon his intention. 
 
 " It's nearly dinner-time ; you'd better hurry up and dress." 
 
 Richard left the room without saying anything. 
 
 m 
 
 It was somewhat past the dinner-hour when Richard reached 
 the drawing-room. He expected his father to be irritated by his 
 lateness, but the words that caught his ear as he entered the 
 room relieved him. 
 
 " Huit-onze and the tmnsver sales, the old game, Ada. I tried 
 it three times, then stopped to watch. Up it came. And then
 
 ELINOR 75 
 
 what do you think ? " He spoke eagerly and excitedly, 
 as though something extraordinary had occurred, something 
 altogether unusual and yet a thing to be anticipated as possible. 
 
 Ada's shrill response from behind the screen met Richard as 
 he advanced into the room : " Dix-sept, of course." 
 
 "Yes, dix-sept, vingt-et-un, trente-six, and I not on one of 
 them." 
 
 " It served you right for not playing your game," said Ada. 
 
 Hastily, almost breathlessly, Mr Kurt agreed with his daughter. 
 " Quite true, Ada, so it did ; and of course, after that, I was 
 hopelessly out of luck." 
 
 By this time Richard was close by. He bent to kiss Olivia, 
 who was reading the paper, but his father, engrossed by his 
 gambling experiences, did not notice him. He kept repeating : 
 " Just my luck dix-sept, vingt-et-un, trente-six" till Olivia got 
 up with a laugh. 
 
 " Bother your everlasting system, papa ; I'm hungry. Aren't 
 you, Dick ? " 
 
 Mr Kurt, collecting his thoughts, rose, politely made way for his 
 daughters and Miss Green, and they all proceeded to the dining- 
 room. 
 
 At this, the first family meal he ever remembered taking 
 without his mother's presence, Richard felt anew the void that 
 she had left. 
 
 In London, as here, the almost painful constraint his father's 
 presence caused had been compensated for by her stronger 
 personality. He could still not make himself realise that she had 
 gone for ever, and he glanced at his father, hoping for some sign 
 of feeling, some evidence that he had been seared by the sorrow 
 which he had led Richard to suppose lay so heavy upon him. 
 But Mr Kurt laughed and chatted as much as he was capable of 
 laughing and chatting. He had a kind of humour which was 
 especially aroused by the foibles of others, and at the moment 
 that Richard regarded him he was listening with amusement to 
 something Olivia was telling him about an acquaintance. Richard 
 noted an irritable reference to the extravagance of the chef, 
 winding up with a complaint that there was too much salad. 
 This brought down upon him the wrath of Ada, who had under- 
 taken the housekeeping, and who had no fear of expressing her 
 resentment at any criticism. 
 
 " I hate waste, Ada," he said. 
 
 " You needn't be afraid, papa, it won't be wasted. The 
 servants will eat it."
 
 76 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " But I don't approve of my servants eating luxuries, and salad 
 is a luxury at this time of year." 
 
 Olivia caught Richard's eye and winked ; he smiled back, 
 knowing what the grimace implied. But there was no laughter 
 in his heart as he reflected that an education of tire-lires and 
 " systems " was not likely to be very beneficial to a girl of 
 seventeen. 
 
 Dinner finished, they went into the drawing-room. Mr Kurt 
 proposed music. Olivia went to the piano and played a nocturne 
 of Chopin. 
 
 Passable as an amateur performance, there was about it a 
 pretence to virtuosity at which Richard's taste rebelled. But 
 his father seemed delighted and called for more. When the 
 music finally ceased he felt unreasonable relief. 
 
 Wandering towards Ada, hidden by an embroidery frame, he 
 tried to penetrate the mystery of the amorphous pattern which 
 was gradually evolving. 
 
 " Where did you get that design, Ada ? " he asked. 
 
 " I got it with the work," she answered. " It's an Italian 
 thing from the Royal School of Art." 
 
 Richard felt sat upon and asked no more questions. His 
 father slumbered in a deep arm-chair, emitting occasional short, 
 sharp snores. 
 
 Richard was longing for an exchange of ideas. He wanted to 
 talk to his sisters, but this was apparently not the occasion. He 
 left the room, thinking the moment opportune to write to Elinor. 
 
 He went into the little red smoking-room at the back of the 
 house. It looked bare and had that appearance of desertion that 
 stamps itself upon any place which is unused. 
 
 On the mantelpiece was an old photograph of his mother. 
 
 He lit a cigarette and sat in an arm-chair before the empty 
 fireplace. 
 
 Was he, perhaps, too hard in his judgment of his father ? 
 
 It was not his fault that he had not the capacity of feeling. 
 One was born with it or without it. Besides, his father did feel 
 intensely for the moment, and even Richard could not deny the 
 great loyalty and devotion, the complete consideration, Mr Kurt 
 had shown for his wife during his entire married life. Upon his 
 sisters his father had lavished affection ; to them he had ever been 
 indulgent, and Richard could find little return from them. Ada 
 was always hard and frequently rude to him ; all the well-springs 
 of her heart seemed to have been exhausted by her fondness for 
 her mother, to whom she had given the exclusive and jealous
 
 ELINOR 77 
 
 devotion of a strong and single-minded nature impervious to 
 tender influences. 
 
 Olivia returned her father's half-playful gentleness with a 
 pretty smile and an ingratiating phrase that delighted him, but 
 Richard knew the superficiality of feeling that underlay his 
 younger sister's charm. 
 
 And he fell to wondering how it was that he, who of all of them 
 cared most for love, had had least of it. The figure of his father 
 slumbering in the arm-chair, probably dreaming of roulette 
 numbers, came before his mind. No ; such a man could not feel, 
 and such affection as he got was as much as he deserved. Richard 
 finished his cigarette and went back to the drawing-room. His 
 father and Ada were again playing bezique. He went and sat 
 down by Olivia and conversed with her in low tones. 
 
 " The Governor doesn't give himself much time for thinking, 
 does he ? " 
 
 " Perhaps he does not dare to." 
 
 Richard looked at his younger sister, wondering what she 
 meant, but her face showed there was no subtlety in the remark. 
 
 " I mean," she went on, " he would get sad, perhaps, thinking 
 about mother." 
 
 Richard did not reply. He was considering what meaning life 
 had if his father's way of showing sorrow was evidence of affliction. 
 
 The game dragged along its weary length, the slate being duly 
 marked with winnings and losings. The winnings went, accord- 
 ing to rule, into a money-box devoted to a charity in which Mrs 
 Kurt had taken an interest. 
 
 Mr Kurt drank a lemon squash, then rang the bell for the 
 servants to put out the lights and close the house for the night. 
 
 " Good-night, Richard," he said. " I suppose you don't want 
 to sit up." 
 
 "Come into my room before you go to bed, Dick." Ada 
 yawned the words. 
 
 Richard drank a stiff whisky-and-soda and followed his sisters 
 up the stairs. 
 
 iv 
 
 " Have you got any plans for to-morrow, Richard ? " 
 
 Ada's maid was removing her dress as she stood yawning 
 
 in front of the glass. 
 Contemplating her small features Richard thought she looked 
 
 too old for her age. Her eyes were heavily underlined ; the
 
 78 RICHARD KURT 
 
 effect of undue maturity was heightened by an unnecessary use 
 of cosmetics. 
 
 " None, dear. Why ? Have you something on ? " 
 " Nothing special. But I want to go in to Nice by myself 
 for the afternoon, and 1 don't want to tell the others. I thought, 
 if you didn't mind coming with me, there'd be an excuse." 
 
 " Oh, certainly. I'll say anything you like ; but, if I'm not 
 indiscreet, why the mystery ? Surely you can go to Nice when 
 you like ? " 
 
 " Of course I can, but I hate answering questions, and if I say 
 I want to go alone there'll be no end of them. You know how 
 papa cross-examines one." 
 
 " But he'll do it just as much if 1 go with you." 
 " No, he won't if you say we're going to tea with friends of 
 yours." 
 
 " Oh, all right, Ada dear ; by all means. Anything else ? " 
 " No, nothing. We'll take the two-o'clock train. But just 
 tell Olivia you want me to go alone with you because of your 
 friends." 
 
 Richard kissed his sister good-night, and was going to his room 
 when Olivia called him. She was undressed and jumped into 
 bed as he entered. 
 
 " I say, old boy, do come and talk. It's like old times when 
 I was a kid and you used to come into my room and talk. One 
 can't talk when the Governor's there, and there are lots of things I 
 want to tell you." 
 
 "Fire ahead, dear. I'm listening." 
 " I say, Dick, Ada's making an awful fool of herself." 
 "Really! How?" 
 " You remember George Ellis ? " 
 " Yes." 
 
 " She's mad about him." 
 " Mad about George Ellis ? That cad ? " 
 "Cad, if you like, but he's awfully clever, and he fascinates 
 her." 
 
 " He may be clever. He can quote poetry by the yard, and 
 he's got a very deep voice and an immense assurance. Over and 
 above that he's an unscrupulous blackguard. What can she 
 see in him ? " 
 
 " Heaven knows. But he sees something in her. It's my belief 
 he gets money out of her." 
 
 " Good God ! It seems incredible. Does the Governor know ? 
 Has he any idea ? " Richard broke off, horrified.
 
 ELINOR 79 
 
 " The Governor ? You know how he is. The thing began last 
 winter, while mother was so ill. The Governor was too much 
 occupied with her to notice what Ada did. This year he's always 
 at Monte Carlo. He is often out to lunch and quite often to 
 dinner. Ada makes all sorts of excuses. She tries to keep it 
 dark from me, but I know she is always meeting him. She runs 
 after him, and he lets her." 
 
 Richard found it difficult to control his feelings. 
 
 George Ellis was one of those notorious mysteries who flash 
 upon a public which has gradually allowed its moral sensibility 
 to be dulled by a sensational Press. A strong and unscrupulous 
 intelligence revealed itself in the articles on every kind of subject 
 that streamed from his facile pen. Without principle or con- 
 viction, his alert mind and prodigious memory were at the service 
 of journals which flourish by means of the false standards of taste 
 they foster. George Ellis's earliest claims to intellectual recog- 
 nition were based upon a hypothetical acquaintance with a man 
 of letters of world- wide celebrity. The famous man had barely 
 been laid to rest when his penultimate, and hitherto unrevealed, 
 utterances were edited by George Ellis and published by Mr 
 Prothero as authentic ipsissima verba. These were duly heralded 
 as a revelation by those journals that made use of Ellis, and their 
 readers, accustomed to adopt the opinions of their favourite 
 newspapers, thenceforth regarded George Ellis as a rising star. 
 
 This was the man, Richard now learnt, who was selected by 
 his sister as the object of her affections.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 RICHARD bade Olivia an uneasy good-night. The reflections 
 induced by her information kept him long awake. He lay 
 smoking cigarette after cigarette, and, though he finally decided 
 to speak to Ada at the first opportunity, he had little hope of 
 persuading her to break off an intrigue which, however pernicious, 
 was of her own deliberate choosing. 
 
 If he endeavoured to point out to her the certain injury to her 
 reputation of such an infatuation, and the blind alley into which 
 it must lead, he knew that she would dismiss these warnings with 
 indifference and retaliate with pointed allusions to his own record. 
 
 To speak to his father would involve treachery to Ada, the idea 
 of which he brushed aside, though he might have risked her 
 resentment in her own interests. But he was conscious that his 
 father would be unlikely to thank him for disclosing a situation 
 the urgency of which he either did not realise or preferred to 
 ignore. 
 
 Besides, he knew that his sister's stubbornness was equalled 
 by her dogged loyalty. The death of her mother had deprived 
 her of the chief object of her affections and had indirectly en- 
 couraged an attachment which their father's passion for play had 
 given her the opportunity to cultivate. 
 
 Richard's views on the degree of liberty to which women were 
 entitled were not modern. F > him an unblemished life was the 
 unequivocal condition of unmarried womanhood and one of the 
 indispensable safeguards of family life. 
 
 Richard's bedroom window looked on to the terrace and beyond 
 it to the sea. The following morning broke glorious, and, had 
 his mind been tranquil, he would have drunk in the sunny radi- 
 ance of the scene with delight. The smell of the carnations 
 reached him from the thickly planted beds below, and as he gazed 
 down he caught sight of his father in pyjamas and dressing -suit 
 bending down to examine the blooms. He seemed to revel in the 
 scent of each flower, secured by its network of string with the 
 meticulous care habitual in the South. 
 
 80
 
 ELINOR 81 
 
 It was Mr Kurt's practice to rise early, however late his over- 
 night return, and he never missed walking round the garden 
 before breakfast, inspecting the beds and giving directions to 
 the gardener. 
 
 Breakfast was taken in the loggia, which occupied the entire 
 front of the villa. This was its most attractive feature, well 
 adapted to a mild climate. Formed by pillars with glass parti- 
 tions, it faced the garden, to which the entrance was wide and 
 open. On the one side, where Mr Kurt's writing-table was 
 placed, it looked towards the sea. Furnished simply with com- 
 fortable divans and easy-chairs upholstered in red linen, its only 
 decorations were tall palms and large vases of flowers. An ideal 
 place, it always seemed to Richard, to read or write or think in. 
 But none of the family apparently considered it so. Life at the 
 villa always seemed a rush. 
 
 Mr Kurt finished his breakfast quickly and went to his writing- 
 table ; this was an unalterable habit. He never neglected 
 anything. 
 
 It had been the brothers' invariable practice to write to each 
 other daily when separated. William received constant telegrams 
 from Frederick regarding their business, any matter of import- 
 ance being telegraphed for the senior partner's information and 
 approval. He looked over all the bills and accounts of his two 
 establishments with the utmost minuteness, and like all men of 
 large affairs had a considerable general correspondence, to which 
 he promptly attended. 
 
 While he was thus engaged Ada called to him. 
 
 " Will you be home for lunch to-day, papa ? " 
 
 " I don't know. Does it much matter ? There's always 
 enough for me." 
 
 Ada knew it irritated her father to ask him before Richard, 
 so she persisted : 
 
 " I thought Richard might not be here cither ; one likes to 
 have some idea before giving the orders." 
 
 Richard had finished his breakfast and was reading the 
 paper. Uncomfortable at the introduction of his name, he 
 rose. 
 
 " Oh, I've no plans," he said, " except to go in to Nice with 
 you, Ada." 
 
 Mr Kurt turned from his writing. 
 
 " Oh, if you are going in to Nice early, it's no use my being in 
 to lunch. I'll lunch with the Andersons. They're at the Grand 
 Hotel."
 
 82 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " Richard wants to go by the two-o'clock train ; we settled 
 it last night. He wants to look up some friends." 
 
 " Does he ? " replied Mr Kurt dryly. He had always dis- 
 trusted Richard's acquaintances. 
 
 Ada went off to give her orders. Olivia had disappeared. Mr 
 Kurt went on writing. Richard pretended to read the paper, 
 but was really waiting to see if his father showed any intention 
 of speaking to him. After a few minutes that strained his patience 
 without result, Richard threw aside the paper and lit a cigarette. 
 
 " I must write to Elinor," he said. 
 
 " You'll find paper and pens in the smoking-room," his father 
 answered, but made no further comment. 
 
 This was the first time Elinor's name had been mentioned in 
 the presence of his father since his arrival. Even in talking to 
 his sisters only brief and superficial allusion had been made to 
 her. 
 
 It was difficult for acquaintances of the Kurt family, un- 
 familiar with the facts, to grasp Richard's domestic status. He 
 was apparently regarded as a sort of fettered and inferior bachelor, 
 and Elinor as one who had forfeited any rights to recognition. 
 The impression thus conveyed was emphasised by the Kurts' 
 entourage, and Richard, if he chanced to meet casually people 
 his family knew, was apcustomed to observe their surprise if 
 he alluded to his wife. 
 
 The continual strain of this unnatural situation reacted, to 
 Richard's detriment, on every fresh effort he made to reconstruct 
 his life, and kept his mind in a constant state of resentment at 
 the injustice done to Elinor. 
 
 In his anxiety to obviate inferences injurious to her reputation 
 he anticipated them by telling people who knew his family that 
 he was on bad terms with his father, and by so doing armed every 
 malevolent gossip against himself. 
 
 Pursued by disagreeable reflections, yet anxious to save Elinor 
 fresh cause for annoyance or dejection, he wrote her only a few 
 lines and decided to telegraph for news of her health. 
 
 " I say, Ada, don't think I want to pry into your affairs, but 
 who are your friends in Nice ? " 
 " The Ellises." 
 Ada snapped out the reply. They were in the Nice train, and
 
 ELINOR 88 
 
 Richard's question, asked with much inward trepidation, was the 
 fruit of resolution. 
 
 " You mean George Ellis and his wife, formerly Mrs Crawford ? " 
 
 " Yes. Have you any objection ? " 
 
 There was calculated acidity in the interrogation. Richard 
 hesitated a moment, then answered : 
 
 " It's no affair of mine, Ada, and if Mrs Ellis is a friend of 
 yours " 
 
 " Of course she's a friend of mine. We have known them 
 for years. Mother was devoted to them. She loved George 
 Ellis." 
 
 " As to that, you know better than I. I know he is clever, but 
 he is very unscrupulous. He married his wife for her money, 
 and neglects her." 
 
 " What do you know about it, pray ? And don't other men 
 marry for money ? They're not all such fools as you. All men 
 who succeed are called unscrupulous by those who fail." 
 
 Richard knew he was being baited and determined not to be 
 annoyed. 
 
 "You've got that from George Ellis. I don't envy him his 
 success," he said, " but I should not like anyone I am fond of 
 to have much to do with him.' c 
 
 " What harm can George Ellis do to me, I'd like to know ? " 
 
 Ada did not look at Richard as she spoke. He knew she 
 wanted to draw him, and he was not averse to being drawn. He 
 intended to speak his mind. 
 
 " That depends upon how much you see of him. If you are 
 a friend of Mrs Ellis, and see him with her, his acquaintance 
 can't affect you, but if," Richard looked straight at his sister, 
 " if you see him alone, and unknown to her, you will regret it. I 
 know a good deal about George Ellis, and " 
 
 Ada broke in angrily : " You may have heard things about 
 him, but that's not knowing him. I do, and I don't care a damn 
 what malicious people say." Ada always used strong language 
 when excited. " Am I not entitled to have a friend ? You seem 
 to think that because I'm a girl I've got to live like a nun. It's 
 absurd. What do you expect me to do ? Down here for months 
 boring myself to death while papa gambles." 
 
 The combination of hasty defence and exculpation was not 
 lost on Richard. He went to the point. 
 
 " I understand it must be dull for you, but how much do you 
 see of him ? " 
 " That's my business. Do I inquire into your affairs '? What
 
 84 RICHARD KURT 
 
 business is it of yours, I should like to know ? You live your 
 life. Leave me to live mine." 
 
 " Ada dear, you can't think I mean to interfere with you ex- 
 cept for your own sake. Do you think it's pleasant for me to 
 talk to you in this way ? " 
 
 " Well, don't, then. When I want your advice I'll come to 
 you for it. We shall be at Nice in ten minutes. Take the first 
 train back and don't trouble about me." Ada's voice became 
 shriller. " Unless you'd like to speak to papa about it. That 
 will be the next thing, I suppose." 
 
 Richard made up his mind to abandon his hopeless under- 
 taking. 
 
 " No, Ada, I shall say nothing to the Governor, nor shall I 
 mention the subject to you again. I daresay I'm a fool for 
 saying anything. I meant it for the best. But I shan't leave 
 you in the lurch. Where would you like me to meet you ? " 
 
 " Oh, don't trouble, pray." Ada's tone was sarcastic but she 
 was evidently mollified. 
 
 " Well, I shall be at Eumpelmeyer's at five, and won't go till 
 you come. There's a train back at six-fifteen." 
 
 "Don't bother about Rumpelmeyer's. I'll meet you at the 
 station." 
 
 Richard walked about Nice, feeling desolate and dispirited. 
 He would have liked to clear out at once and go back to Biarritz, 
 but he must have a talk with his father first. He wondered how 
 long he would have to stay and whether anything would come 
 of it. And Elinor how was she getting on ? He felt uneasy 
 about her. Ought he to stay away from her ? There should be 
 an answer to his telegram on his return to the villa. If it wasn't 
 satisfactory he'd leave at once. He must try to have it out with 
 his father that evening after dinner. Would he get the chance ? 
 
 Nice, though full of sunlit smiles and bright toilettes, had no 
 charm for him. 
 
 He turned in to the bar of the London House and drank a cock- 
 tail. At the station Ada arrived just as the train was starting, 
 out of breath, disordered and cross. 
 
 111 
 
 At the villa Richard found a telegram awaiting him : 
 " All right. Don't hurry back. Writing."
 
 ELINOR 85 
 
 The relief this afforded enabled him to feel by no means ill- 
 pleased when Ada told him that Mr Kurt would not be home for 
 dinner. 
 
 " He telephoned to say he's dining with the Andersons," she 
 said. 
 
 Ada had recovered her composure by the time she was dressed, 
 and the dinner passed without incident. The meal finished, 
 Richard suggested taking Ada in to Monte Carlo, but she excused 
 herself. 
 
 " But you go, by all means. Don't take much money with you." 
 
 Olivia demurred to being left. 
 
 "You might stay with us. We never see anything of you, Dick. ' ' 
 
 " Give me this one evening off, Olivia. I must try my luck," 
 he replied. " If I win I'll give you anything you like, but I shall 
 only risk twenty louis, so I'm not likely to do much. Good-night, 
 girls." 
 
 Luck was with Richard from the start. Playing carefully with 
 five-franc pieces, his winnings mounted up until his original stake 
 was multiplied by ten. He followed no system, but, on the 
 contrary, neglected the gambler's maxim of playing up to his 
 luck. He was determined to be prudent, and as his winnings were 
 raked to him he carefully placed all the notes in his pocket. He 
 continued to win steadily ; the notes had begun to fill his inside 
 pocket as he stuffed them into it without counting them. He 
 had no idea how much he had won, but felt he was now justified 
 in playing in gold. Again he won, playing all the chances round 
 certain numbers which he selected haphazard. Now he was 
 playing maximums on the numbers and winning ; people were 
 gathering round him watching ; the word went round that there 
 was a big gambler at the table, and onlookers, attracted as they 
 always are at Monte Carlo by any unusual luck, began to crowd 
 him uncomfortably. 
 
 He resolved to play one more maximum and stop. He selected 
 his father's numbers. " Huit-onze, s'il vous plait, les cants et 
 les transver sales, la couleur et manque." The stakes were duly 
 placed, the change handed him. The ball spun round ; he had 
 ceased to feel any excitement and was unconscious of the smallest 
 feeling of pleasure when, after several abortive attempts on other 
 numbers, the little ball rolled quietly into one of his. One of the 
 croupiers, who had specially charged himself with looking after 
 Richard, raked the mass of gold and notes towards him, asking : 
 " Etcettefois?" 
 
 " Rien," said Richard quietly.
 
 86 RICHARD KURT 
 
 "Don't be such a fool. Voila, croupier." A hand thrust 
 itself over Richard's shoulder containing a bundle of notes. 
 " Maximum pour la rdpttition." 
 
 Richard had a choking feeling as he recognised the voice. 
 
 His father stood beside him, his eyes blazing with excitement. 
 Pressing his shoulder, he whispered hoarsely in Richard's ear : 
 " Go on, Richard, play it up ; back your luck. You must win. 
 There look at that ! " 
 
 The ball was back again, safe in " huit." Mr Kurt had won his 
 rtpttit-ion; the croupier was handing him the money. Richard 
 longed to get away. He felt the incongruity of the situation, its 
 ugliness impressed itself on him. 
 
 " I prefer to stop playing ; there are too many people," he said 
 to his father, and began to edge his way to the back. 
 
 " Well, wait for your money, then," Mr Kurt replied, pressing 
 him back towards the table as he spoke. The croupier, laughing 
 at Richard's inexperience, passed him over several handfuls of 
 notes and coins. Richard had forgotten that, unless asked for, 
 the original stake remains. He was utterly bewildered ; the 
 ball was again rolling. 
 
 "Owze" this time. He and his father had won again, on 
 their alternate number. Richard felt as if he had been caught in 
 a trap ; he intensely wanted to go. The pressure of the people, 
 the closeness of the atmosphere, the proximity of his father, 
 whose manner betrayed unnatural and feverish agitation, utterly 
 disquieted him. He received the money mechanically. 
 
 " I'll wait for the first losing coup" he said. But he had to 
 wait. Time after time the ball spun round only to fall into one 
 or the other of the numbers controlled by the " huit-onze trans- 
 versale " combination. He began mentally praying to lose. At 
 last there was a change ; the chef de partie and his assistants rose, 
 another lot of croupiers took their seats, a new hand threw the 
 ball. At the first coup Mr Kurt's and his own stakes were swept 
 away. Richard breathed a sigh of relief. 
 
 " Now I'm off, Governor. Let's go out into the air. Are you 
 corning ? " 
 
 " All right, you go, Richard. I'm just going to try my usual 
 game. Dix-sept, vingt-et-un, trente-six. What time is it ? " 
 Mr Kurt's eyes were glued on the table, he had no time to look at 
 his watch. 
 
 " Ten o'clock. I'll meet you in the atrium at a quarter past, 
 and we'll drive home." 
 
 From a quarter past ten Richard wearily watched the clock
 
 ELINOR 87 
 
 until eleven. At that hour the rooms, as he knew, closed. He 
 had firmly made up his mind not to re-enter them. The crowd 
 of gamblers and flaneurs began filing out, a motley crowd of 
 every nationality, most of them looking gloomy and dejected. 
 Occasionally one laughed boisterously. Richard noticed faces 
 that seemed familiar to him from photographs in illustrated 
 papers. 
 
 Richard caught his father's name. A stout, coarse woman, 
 with a face flushed purple, passed him ; she was talking to her 
 companion, a dapper-looking man in evening dress. Her voice 
 was loud, vulgar, rasping. 
 
 " Old Kurt must have dropped a capful to-night, Jimmie." 
 
 " He's used to it, Duchess. Everyone knows the old chap here. 
 He's in the rooms morning, noon and night. He'll be going 
 upstairs afterwards." 
 
 Richard felt himself reddening ; these people didn't know him, 
 of course, but it sickened him to hear them discussing his father. 
 How he loathed the whole thing. Would his father never come ? 
 As he walked slowly towards the entrance of the rooms the man 
 at the door touched his cap. Mr Kurt passed through, his arms 
 held behind him, his head slightly thrown back, his eyes on the 
 ground, his chin with the red-white beard thrust forward in the 
 habitual manner. Richard touched his arm. Mr Kurt looked 
 up briskly and laughed shortly. 
 
 " Cleaned out, Richard. I've not cot your luck. Let's go 
 to the Cafe de Paris and have a drink.' 
 
 IV 
 
 Seated together in the Cafe de Paris at Monte Carlo, there was 
 more of comradeship at that moment between father and son 
 than in all the years of Richard's past life. 
 
 This moment, destined to be marked out, if not as a turning 
 point, at least as a finger-post in his existence, remained for 
 Richard a vivid memory in subsequent years. 
 
 Mr Kurt's excitement had cooled, his manner became genial, 
 jocular even. He was never put out by losing ; in this sense he 
 was " a good gambler." He treated roulette as a pastime, the 
 only one that appealed to him, much as sportsmen regard racing. 
 It was all in the day's work to lose ; if he won, so much the better, 
 but the game itself was the thing. 
 
 Generally considered a very rich man, William Kurt was rather
 
 88 RICHARD KURT 
 
 a man who made a great deal of money. The Kurt business 
 was of the most speculative kind, but the brothers, naturally 
 acute, had so systematised their speculations, they had so studied 
 markets, so trained themselves to observe and analyse fluctua- 
 tions, they had been so tried in the fire of gambling experience, 
 that, whether years were good or bad, the end of them invariably 
 disclosed a large balance of profit. 
 
 Complete mutual confidence ruled them, while each was the 
 complement of the other. William, prescient and with the wider 
 range of mind, possessed the flair, the initiative for boldly pre- 
 meditated operations, carried out sometimes in the face of adverse 
 conditions. He had a powerful following in the city, and his 
 advice and suggestion were eagerly sought by large capitalists. 
 
 Frederick, on the other hand, was the more skilful operator. 
 He had the quick, alert mind that grasped instantly tendencies 
 or features generally unobserved. Cool, determined, and with 
 a will of iron, his mere personality influenced a market ; when he 
 bought, those who sold felt they did so at their peril. At the 
 very beginning of their partnership an incident occurred which 
 old members recounted as characteristic of the brothers Kurt. 
 
 It was at a time of panic. The Kurt firm had been dealing 
 enormously, members with whom they had been trading became 
 alarmed. They were suspected of over-speculation without the 
 necessary resources. In spite of reports and rumours they con- 
 tinued their operations on an increasing scale. Finally the 
 committee took action. William Kurt was called before them. 
 The times were dangerous, he was told. In face of what they 
 had heard as to the scale of his firm's operations the committee 
 felt it to be their duty to ask him his position. Within an hour 
 the books of the Kurt firm had been placed at the committee's 
 disposal, the result made known. The books had proved tri- 
 umphantly that the credit of the firm was beyond suspicion. 
 
 " Waiter, a lemon squash. What will you have, Eichard ? " 
 
 Richard felt exhausted. " A pint of champagne, please." 
 
 Mr Kurt's face showed disapproval. 
 
 " I'm awfully tired. You see, I'm not accustomed to luck," 
 Richard said apologetically. 
 
 " Well, you did have a run, I must say. You must have won a 
 lot." 
 
 " I suppose I must." 
 
 " But don't you know how much ? Haven't you counted your 
 money ? " 
 
 "No."
 
 ELINOR 89 
 
 " But, my dear boy, what folly ! You must. You want to 
 know how you stand, don't you ? " 
 
 "There's no standing about it. I began with five hundred 
 francs ; the rest are winnings." 
 
 "Well, let's count it now." Mr Kurt's austere and orderly 
 mind asserted itself. " We'll go into a quiet corner." 
 
 " Oh, please wait till we get home, Governor. I don't like the 
 idea of counting money here in this public place. What does it 
 matter ? I've won a lot, and there it is in my pocket. I'm 
 glad, because I shall be able to pay up a lot of things and not 
 bother you. Otherwise ' 
 
 " Well, you do take it calmly. But that's good. That's 
 the way to take it. You're not likely to have such hick 
 again." 
 
 " I'm not going to play again. I've finished. I'm cured." 
 
 William Kurt looked at his son quizzically. 
 
 " Cured of gambling, eh ? Well, I hope you are, I hope you 
 are. I should be very pleased. I sometimes feel that if you 
 became a gambler it would be my fault." 
 
 Richard's feelings towards his father were warming under the 
 influence of his friendly manner. 
 
 " Not at all, Governor. A man can't get out on someone else 
 like that. But I've had a wonderful run of luck and I'm satisfied." 
 He swallowed his glass of champagne and poured out another. 
 " Aren't you tired ? " he added. 
 
 Mr Kurt lit a cigarette. " I am, rather," he said. 
 
 Richard thought he looked it, also that he seemed old. His 
 heart kindled towards him. 
 
 " We might be going," he said. " The drive in the cool air and 
 the moonlight will be good for you, and you'll sleep." 
 
 Mr Kurt looked at his watch. " Eleven-thirty. We'll go at 
 twelve. I told Francesco to be ready outside the front of the 
 Casino. I'll just go and have one more try. But," he tapped 
 his pocket, " there's no more left. I must borrow from you." 
 
 Richard's sense of physical exhaustion had been relieved by 
 the champagne, but his father's terrible weakness sickened him. 
 He put his hand inside his coat and pulled out a bundle of notes, 
 which he handed to his father. They were screwed up, and some 
 of them were torn through being forced into his pocket. Mr Kurt 
 took them and, smoothing them out carefully, began counting 
 them. Richard meanwhile pulled out some more, emptying his 
 pocket gradually. 
 
 "Ten, eleven, twelve, one, two, three," Mr Kurt counted
 
 90 RICHARD KURT 
 
 methodically, placing the notes in separate heaps according to 
 denomination. Richard noticed a group of waiters watching 
 them with open-mouthed attention. Two painted women sat 
 opposite glaring greedily at the money. Through the open 
 window passers-by stared in. 
 
 " There's twenty-three thousand francs here, Eichard. Have 
 you any more ? " 
 
 Richard knew that these were the contents of one inside pocket 
 only, that the other was, if anything, fuller, and that he had 
 stuffed notes into his waistcoat and trousers, which were dis- 
 agreeably heavy with gold. But the thought that was uppermost 
 in his mind at that moment was to get his father home, and he 
 knew that, if luck went against him, he would want more money. 
 He decided to lie. 
 
 " I don't think there's much more except some odd notes and 
 gold," he said. 
 
 " But you won three maximums running, Richard, en plein,, and 
 all the carrds and transversales and the even chances. You must 
 have three times as much." 
 
 Mr Kurt was afraid Richard had had his pocket picked. 
 
 " Oh, did I ? " his son replied. " Well, I've got it on me 
 somewhere. You know it's yours if you want it." 
 
 Mr Kurt got up. " Oh, there's much more than I want here. 
 I don't play in such sums. I'll keep it for you. Let's go across 
 now." 
 
 Father and son walked across the place, followed by curious eyes. 
 
 At that time the comparative decency of the Blanc regime had 
 already begun to yield to the avaricious demands of the Stock 
 Company whch had taken its place. The institution of the 
 upstairs room opened when the public salles were closed at eleven 
 to permit gamblers a further licence until two o'clock was then a 
 novelty which shocked the older habitues. This room, unlike the 
 salles below, resembled a common tripot. Though only large 
 enough to contain two roulette-tables, it was not too small to 
 contain a bar ; smoking, too, was permitted. Altogether an 
 ingenious and considerate arrangement through which much grist 
 came to the mill. 
 
 Richard sat on a high stool in front of the bar counter, while his 
 father hovered about between him and one or other of the tables, 
 upon both of which he was playing at the same time. 
 
 The room was not full. Even the most hardened gamblers 
 generally find the twelve hours, during which the public rooms 
 are open, long enough to win or lose in.
 
 ELINOR 91 
 
 It was evident to Richard that the patrons of the so-called 
 "Cercle privc 1 " were nightbirds for whom no daylight responsi- 
 bilities or other ties existed. 
 
 A fresh-looking young Englishman followed the game with 
 anxious eyes, occasionally staking small amounts. Richard 
 observed that he looked haggard through the sunburnt skin, and 
 he felt sorry for him. 
 
 The others all appeared to be of that professional type to be 
 seen in every Continental gambling-place. With the exception 
 of the young Englishman they all seemed to know Mr Kurt, 
 and occasionally addressed him with a sort of familiar 
 deference. 
 
 Richard looked at his watch. It was already twelve. He had 
 not noticed whether his father was winning or not, and didn't 
 like to disturb him. He went over to the table just as Mr Kurt 
 handed the croupier a handful of gold. He watched the ball spin. 
 His father had lost. Again and yet again the same. The time 
 passed, it was half -past twelve. Still his father showed no sign 
 of leaving. He held in his hands a sheaf of notes ; Richard 
 watched it getting smaller. He noticed that his father's face 
 had the flushed look, his eyes the unnatural brightness, he had 
 previously observed. Mr Kurt came over to him. " Only ten 
 mille notes left, Richard. Shall I make it sudden death ? " 
 
 "I should chuck it. You're not in luck. No use throwing 
 good money after bad." 
 
 " I'll try one coup on black, then home if I lose." 
 
 Mr Kurt's manner was final and decided. He handed the 
 croupier half his notes. Again the ball rattled over the turning 
 board ; this time Mr Kurt won. 
 
 " I shall let my stake take its chance," he said. 
 
 Three times in succession Mr Kurt received five thousand 
 francs. The fourth time he lost, and with a low, chuckling laugh 
 he wished the company at the tables good evening. 
 
 Five minutes later father and son were bowling home behind 
 the fast Italian ponies. 
 
 " Not so bad, Richard. The tire-lire is full. I must be nearly 
 even on the day." 
 
 Richard did not answer. The sharp clicking rap of the ball, the 
 monotonous refrain of the croupier were in his ears ; the vile 
 effluvia of the tripot in his nostrils. 
 
 He gazed at the silent sea, rolling smoothly in the moonlight.
 
 92 RICHARD KURT 
 
 Richard awoke the following morning with no sense of exhilara- 
 tion ; he had slept heavily the moment his head touched the 
 pillow. Before going to bed he had requested his father not to 
 tell his sisters any details about his gambling adventures, a 
 request to which Mr Kurt had acceded without further comment 
 than, " All right, Richard," accompanied by his characteristic 
 short laugh. But Richard was assailed with questions at break- 
 fast and had to admit unusual luck. He did not get off easily. 
 
 " I can't see why you make such a mystery about it, Richard," 
 said Ada ; while Olivia chimed in : 
 
 " I say, you might tell us. What do you say, papa 1 " 
 
 Mr Kurt supported Richard. " We talk a great deal too much 
 about the gambling. It's my fault. Richard had a good win, 
 I am glad to say, and I hope he'll keep it. Now let's talk of 
 something else. By the way, Ada, I asked the Andersons to 
 lunch." 
 
 " And I've asked the Ellises and the Francillons," Ada replied. 
 
 Richard looked at his father, but Mr Kurt's expression did not 
 change, and he made no remark. Evidently he had no misgivings 
 on the subject of George Ellis. 
 
 Before leaving his bedroom Richard had counted his money. 
 The notes he put in his pocket, the gold, of which there was a 
 considerable amount, he decided to use. 
 
 When his sisters left the table Richard went over to his father, 
 who had, as usual, started his writing. Drawing the package of 
 notes from his pocket he laid it on the table. 
 
 " Can I interrupt you for a moment, Governor, while the girls 
 are gone ? " 
 
 " Certainly, my boy," Mr Kurt replied, with unusual geniality. 
 " How much is there here ? " he asked. 
 
 " Thirty -seven thousand francs," Richard replied. 
 
 " I thought you were mistaken last night, Richard." 
 
 " To tell you the truth, I knew there was more, but I thought 
 it better for you not to be up so late, and I know how it is when 
 one loses ; one always goes on as long as one has money." 
 
 Mr Kurt was silent a moment, a pleasant expression came over 
 his features. 
 
 " Quite true, Richard, quite true ; that's why I never take 
 much in with me. Very sensible of you not to give it to 
 me."
 
 ELINOR 98 
 
 His father's admission, though implying gratitude to him, gave 
 Richard no satisfaction. 
 
 Mr Kurt counted the notes. " Quite correct, thirty -seven 
 thousand exactly, and you gave me twenty-three, that makes 
 sixty thousand ; two thousand four hundred pounds. A very 
 nice haul. What do you want to do with it ? " 
 
 " I thought perhaps you would get it sent to my bank in 
 London, if you don't mind." 
 
 "Certainly, my boy. Here, let me see. Your bankers 
 are ? " 
 
 Richard told him the name. 
 
 " I'll pay in a cheque to your account for the amount and keep 
 the cash." 
 
 " Thanks very much, Governor." 
 
 Richard was surprised at the increasing ease he felt in his 
 father's society. It was an entirely new sensation. The restraint 
 seemed to be melting away almost imperceptibly. Would not 
 this be a good moment to speak to his father about his future ? 
 His mood might change. Richard hardly dared to hope that a 
 lifetime of estrangement would vanish in a day through the magic 
 of a successful gamble. 
 
 " When you've time, I'd like to talk to you about my plans," 
 he began. 
 
 His father's face became serious ; the features contracted. 
 
 " By all means. I must finish these letters. In half-an-hour 
 I shall be ready for you." 
 
 Half-an-hour later Richard joined his father in the garden. 
 Mr Kurt held a letter in his hand. 
 
 " I've had a letter from your uncle," he said. " You know how 
 great his interest in you is. He urges me to settle you, and says 
 you have the idea of living in the country." 
 
 His uncle's letter had cleared the way for Richard. 
 
 " That is what we want," he replied. 
 
 His father considered a moment. " So far from objecting to 
 such a course, I entirely approve it, but " Mr Kurt hesitated, 
 then continued " what about Elinor ? She has so far not 
 exhibited any particular liking for a quiet life." 
 
 Richard showed signs of discomfort. 
 
 " Don't think," his father went on, " that I mean to say any- 
 thing unpleasant. On the contrary, it would be a great relief to 
 me, a solution in fact of the difficulty I find myself in regarding 
 you and your wife, if you were to settle down in the country." 
 
 " I can only tell you, Governor, that I've talked it all over
 
 94 RICHARD KURT 
 
 with Elinor, and she likes the idea. Of course, I don't say we 
 should not want to go away and have a change now and then, and 
 I don't propose to vegetate. What I want to do, if you approve, 
 is to farm a bit, and so on." 
 
 Mr Kurt listened sympathetically. " But you know nothing 
 about farming one has to learn it. Now, if you said you would 
 take up agriculture " 
 
 "I don't think I'm up to that, Governor, but I know some- 
 thing about horses, and, now I've got this little windfall, if I had 
 a little more I could easily find some way of doing the thing on 
 business lines, find a sort of farming partner, or 
 
 " I don't object to the idea, Richard ; not at all. In fact, if 
 you really made up your mind to do it, and came to me with a 
 carefully considered proposal, I should do my best to help you. 
 But remember, Elinor must make up her mind to do her share ; 
 she must 
 
 Richard, anxious to leave Elinor out of the discussion, broke 
 in : " Please don't worry about Elinor, Governor. She'll help 
 me, I know. I'm very grateful to you. It's a great relief to me. 
 Now I can make my arrangements to return to Biarritz, and we'll 
 go back to England as soon as possible. I shall start at once 
 looking out for a place a suitable place. It will take some little 
 time." 
 
 "Oh, it can't be done in a hurry, Richard, of course. By the 
 way, Sir Alfred Anderson is coming to lunch. He farms on a 
 large scale. His advice might be helpful." 
 
 " Thanks, Governor, I'll speak to him. Anyhow, I feel I have 
 something to look forward to now, and I'm awfully grateful to 
 you." Richard's face and manner bore out his words ; he held 
 out his hand. Father and son were nearer to each other at that 
 moment than in all their lives before.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 ELINOR'S indisposition, and the satisfactory conversation with 
 his father, decided Richard to lose no time before rejoining his 
 wife. This decision commended itself no less to Mr Kurt, and 
 Richard, having telegraphed to Elinor announcing his immediate 
 return, drove into Nice after lunch with his two sisters , and 
 occupied the couple of hours before his train left in making sundry 
 purchases. 
 
 Ada and Olivia each received a souvenir to their liking, and 
 Richard took away with him a little leather case destined to 
 rejoice Elinor's heart. 
 
 For the first time within his recollection Richard had left his 
 father with agreeable impressions. Though the change in his 
 prospects, which the last twenty-four hours had effected, was 
 startling, he had no difficulty in realising it. He had leisure 
 during his journey to analyse a situation which, however strange 
 in its development, he could perfectly reconcile with life as he 
 had known it. His father and he had at last met on a common 
 ground. The mysterious workings of fate had discovered for 
 him the hidden path to a sympathy till then withheld. Experi- 
 ence had at least taught him life's essential mutability, and that 
 the basis of sound judgment lay in recognising the diversity of 
 points of view. 
 
 In the light of this new understanding with hi-s father he had 
 acquired the key to the hitherto unexplainable barrier between 
 them. The antithesis of their temperaments remained, but its 
 nature stood revealed and defined. It was as logical that a 
 successful man should respect success as that a gambler should 
 venerate luck. 
 
 Richard was not by nature a gambler, and he saw no virtue in 
 material success unless it was accompanied by a spiritual satis- 
 faction, the existence of which was outside Mr Kurt's philosophy. 
 It was not, Richard felt, that his father's ethical standard was 
 inferior to his own ; indeed Mr Kurt's integrity would be proof 
 against temptation to which he himself might yield. It was in 
 
 95
 
 96 RICHARD KURT 
 
 the conception of life and its meaning that the two were so 
 entirely divided. 
 
 Richard could not decide whether it was by instinct that his 
 father's code of conduct demanded tangible factors, but he knew 
 that the intrinsic principle of his valuation required property as 
 a standard. Mr Kurt could not understand or recognise qualities 
 that were outside material influences. Richard, on the other hand, 
 though fully conscious of how far his conduct and actions fell 
 short of his ideals, nevertheless felt within himself aspirations 
 which had no relation to material achievement and were inde- 
 pendent of worldly censure or approval. 
 
 Richard felt a sudden wave of apprehension when he found 
 Gaston awaiting him at Biarritz station, but was reassured by 
 his gestures before the train drew up. Elinor was in bed, had 
 been there ever since his departure, but she was better. Gaston 
 could not tell him what had been the matter ; he had not seen 
 her since Richard left. Constance was there. No, there was 
 no nurse ; it was not considered necessary. 
 
 "What doctor has she had, Gaston ? " 
 
 " Oh, a man from Bayonne a very good man." 
 
 " But why Bayonne ? There's a good English doctor in 
 Biarritz." 
 
 Gaston didn't know exactly. Elinor had sent for him without 
 telling him. 
 
 Richard made no reply. Arrived at the chalet he immediately 
 rushed up to Elinor's room. Breathless, he stood for an instant 
 collecting himself outside her door, then knocked. Elinor's 
 voice sounded faint as she bade him conic in. The bed was in 
 the shadow, the blinds were drawn and through them the sun- 
 shine came slantingly. It was early afternoon. She was lying 
 propped up with many pillows and looked pale and thin, her dark 
 eyes abnormally large and lustrous. Richard kissed her tenderly. 
 
 " Poor little girl. What's been the matter ? I feel a beast for 
 staying away, but you told me to, and I never suspected. And 
 I've got good news." 
 
 Elinor looked at him with eager inquiry in her eyes. 
 
 " I'll tell you all about it later, darling. I mustn't fatigue you. 
 But what is the matter ? " 
 
 " Don't worry me now, Richard. I'll tell you about it
 
 ELINOR 97 
 
 afterwards. I'm all right now. anyhow. Constance has been a 
 darling. She's been sleeping in your room." 
 
 " But the doctor Gaston tells me he's from Bayonne. Is he 
 a good man ? Has he taken proper care of you ? " 
 
 Richard felt very anxious. He didn't like the mystery. What 
 did it all mean ? 
 
 " The doctor has been excellent. But I'm so tired. I'm not 
 supposed to talk. Don't ask any more questions." 
 
 Elinor spoke feebly ; her hands, always in motion when she 
 spoke, lay still on the quilt. Richard noticed how white and 
 attenuated they looked. He took one and kissed it and stood a 
 moment holding it in both of his. She looked so pitiful and frail 
 lying there and in his heart there was always a great softness 
 for her, the tenderness one has for a spoilt child. Suddenly he 
 remembered the leather case which he had put in his pocket 
 in the train, looking forward to the surprise for her. He drew it 
 out now. 
 
 " I've got a little present for you, Elinor, something you 
 always wanted." He opened the case. In it reposed two hand- 
 some single pearl earrings. Elinor held out her hands. 
 
 " Oh, how lovely ! Dick lovely ! " She took the pearls 
 and held them up to her ears, then towards the sunlight. 
 
 Richard held a hand-mirror before her. The long thin fingers 
 had not lost their deftness. She clasped the pearls to her ears 
 and turned her face from side to side, looking into the glass. The 
 sheen of the pearls contrasted with her black hair and her skin, 
 which had a slight tinge of fawn in it. Illness seemed to have 
 heightened the delicacy of her features. 
 
 " But how did you get them, Richard ? They must have cost 
 a lot. They're superb. You naughty boy, I suppose you got 
 them on credit." 
 
 " No, I didn't ; they're paid for. I'll tell you all about it later. 
 I've been lucky." 
 
 " Ah ! Monte Carlo. I'd forgotten. Of course you gambled. 
 What can I say when you bring me such a lovely present ? But 
 what's this envelope ? " She broke it open as she asked, and 
 held up a banker's draft for a thousand pounds. She could hardly 
 speak for surprise, just looking at him with excited, sparkling 
 eyes. 
 
 " That's for you to give to George. I'll go now, dear. You 
 must rest. Who is looking after you in case you want anything ? " 
 
 The expression of pleased excitement died out of her face. 
 She answered in a tired tone : " Oh, Constance will be back ;
 
 98 RICHARD KURT 
 
 she went round to her mother's. You can send the maid to me 
 now." 
 
 Richard bent and kissed her. " I'll come back again pre- 
 sently." 
 
 iii 
 
 A week later Elinor had sufficiently recovered to sit in the 
 garden. Although much perplexed, Richard had refrained from 
 asking her any further questions about her illness ; albeit she had 
 elicited from him a partial account of the events in the south of 
 France, sufficient, Richard judged, to afford her satisfaction 
 without excitement. 
 
 During these days he had been assiduous in his attentions to 
 his wife, and had taken the place of Constance Langley, who had 
 returned to her family. It was foreign to Richard's nature to 
 make any endeavour to acquire information from other sources, 
 and, though at a loss to account for Elinor's reticence, he refrained 
 from asking any questions of her maid. 
 
 The Bayonne doctor had not once put in an appearance since 
 Richard's return, and when he referred to this unusual and dis- 
 quieting circumstance, Elinor's reply displayed irritation. 
 
 " I'm getting on perfectly well, Richard. I hate doctors. 
 What's the man to do ? come here and stare at me ? " 
 
 " But, Elinor dear, surely you need some sort of attention or 
 medicine if it's only a tonic. Do let me have Inglis just to 
 look at you. I feel uneasy." 
 
 " You needn't do so in the least. All I need is rest." 
 
 Richard reluctantly refrained from saying more at the time, 
 but he confided his uneasiness to Gaston, who, however, could 
 offer neither explanation nor suggestion. 
 
 Urged by his unsatisfied frame of mind, Richard seized the 
 opportunity on the first occasion that Elinor was able to come 
 downstairs. She lay extended on a deck-chair under the trees, 
 to which Richard had half supported, half carried, her. She was 
 still very weak, though the colour had partly returned to her 
 cheeks, and she was obviously gaining strength rapidly. 
 
 " Now, Elinor dear, do tell me what has been the matter with 
 you 1 You must understand that I am anxious. It isn't just 
 curiosity. Surely a husband has some rights, even such a rotten 
 one as I am." 
 
 " Well, Richard, if you must know, I have had a miscarriage. 
 That's all."
 
 ELINOR 99 
 
 Richard suddenly realised his blindness. " A miscarriage, a 
 miscarriage," he continued, muttering the word as if its meaning 
 were gradually dawning on him. He sat thinking and looking 
 at her. His mind was a prey to misgiving. He could not keep 
 silent, he must know the truth. " The Bayonne doctor you 
 had it done ! Oh, Elinor, how could you run such a risk 
 again ? " His emotion was evident ; he spoke brokenly. Tears 
 started in his eyes. Elinor was perfectly calm and unmoved. 
 
 " Yes, I may as well tell you the truth, I did have it done." 
 
 "But, my God, Nellie, why? Why? Why?" Richard 
 sobbed out the words. 
 
 " And you can ask that ? " Elinor's voice was hard and cold 
 and pierced him like a knife. " A fine father you'd be ! Do you 
 think I haven't suffered enough without that being added ? " 
 Her voice broke. 
 
 Elinor was overcome by the thought of her own sorrows, and 
 Richard sat there feeling stunned. 
 
 " But the risk, Elinor, the risk to your health, to your life even ! 
 It's awful, awful ! " He got up and went over to her and looked 
 at her closely. " I don't know what to do, what to say. You 
 ought to have another doctor at once. That Bayonne man was 
 probably a charlatan the blackguard ! " Richard's emotion 
 of mingled anxiety, fear and horror vented itself on the instru- 
 ment. His solicitude for her outweighed his disapproval of her 
 act, the true significance of which would only come home to him 
 later. " Only a blackguard would do such a thing. He deserves 
 to be put in jail." 
 
 " Calm yourself, Richard. These things are common in France. 
 It's not thought anything of. You altogether exaggerate the 
 danger. In this case there is none whatever. I'm perfectly 
 safe." 
 
 " But, Elinor, I can't understand you. Had you no feeling 
 about it ? I don't care what people think. 1 care for you, for 
 you. I fear the retribution. It must come. One cannot do 
 such things. Why didn't you tell me ? Oh, why didn't 
 you ? " 
 
 " What good would that have done ? Nothing you could have 
 said would have affected me. Apart from any other consideration, 
 it would only have added to our embarrassments. Wanderers as 
 we are, always hard up, I dread the very thought of a child. I 
 can't understand that you don't." 
 
 " 7 dread having a child your child perhaps a lovely little 
 girl with your black hair and beautiful eyes ? "
 
 100 RICHARD KURT 
 
 Elinor laughed softly. " It wasn't a girl, Richard ; let that 
 comfort you.' 
 
 " A boy again. The other would have been six by now. Oh, 
 Elinor, if you only knew how wrong you have been ! And I 
 know, I feel, you will suffer for it in the end." 
 
 " I have always suffered. I suppose I shall have to stand it. 
 But I am at least spared that " 
 
 Richard had no words. It was better so. The act was done ; 
 it had passed into the night and could never be recalled. 
 
 IV 
 
 Elinor's act afflicted Richard the more he reflected on the un- 
 reasoning and capricious argument which she had employed to 
 explain it. He did not question its sincerity, but her avowal 
 stultified his opinion of womanhood. He was alarmed by the 
 disproportion between the grievances and disadvantages which 
 Elinor lamented and the penalty which he felt she was unwittingly 
 incurring. It was not only that she had displayed indifference 
 to personal risk as well as to the urgent claims of motherhood, 
 for on another occasion, at the very outset of their married life, 
 she had acted with the same iconoclastic disregard of conse- 
 quences. It was his fundamental belief in good that had so far 
 stood between him and the greater evils of life, and now he had, 
 as it were, reached a point in the journey where Elinor's path 
 and his seemed to be no longer parallel ; almost imperceptibly 
 the distance between them was widening. He fought against the 
 conviction that hers was the greater fault, but his mental vision 
 was too clear to exonerate her. For all the rest he could bear 
 the blame ; it was right that he should. But for this, his reason 
 refused him the solace of a sacrifice. He could not save his wife 
 from consequences which only Fate could decide.
 
 PART II 
 VIRGINIA
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 FIVE years had passed, marking another stage in Richard's career. 
 Had he needed proof of his own weakness, instability and lack 
 of will-power, these foolish, wasted years would have testified 
 convincingly enough. And they had flown by with appalling 
 speed. 
 
 Was he the richer for the experience ? It did not seem so ; 
 yet they had their house in the country, horses, and a flat in town 
 besides, which Richard had persuaded his uncle to furnish. 
 
 He had hunted, but his enjoyment of sport had long ago become 
 mechanical, and his country establishment a source of boredom. 
 But if looking after, and keeping up, the whole paraphernalia 
 were a wearisome strain, the exactions of the " society " which 
 Elinor and his pastimes combined to procure for him had become 
 intolerable. There are no conventions, he discovered, like those 
 of the inconvenants. 
 
 Certain things were the right things to do ; certain people 
 were the right people to know ; certain words were the right 
 words to use ; and, worst of all, certain thoughts were the right 
 thoughts to think. 
 
 Alone he would have been indifferent to the penalties incurred 
 by the infringement of these rules ; but the life he led involved 
 his acceptance of an inequitable partnership which Elinor directed. 
 
 Disagreement with her on any of these cardinal rules of their 
 set always led to complication and discomfort disproportionate 
 to the benefits obtained, and Richard found that external acqui- 
 escence in her formula secured him at least a measure of personal 
 tranquillity. Early in their loveless, childless married life he had 
 learned the futility of opposing himself to the manner of existence 
 on which the whole of Elinor's obstinate will, indeed the whole of 
 her shallow mind, was fixed. There had been moments of tension,, 
 crises, when he had protested, even put his foot down ; but as 
 time passed he realised that interference demanded a moral atti- 
 tude to which he could not lay'claim and to which he no longer 
 dared to aspire. 
 
 103
 
 104 RICHARD KURT 
 
 So far as he could judge, his wife was by nature too cold, too 
 self-interested, too calculating, ever to go to extreme lengths. 
 He hardly knew whether he would care now if she had or if she 
 did, but his self-respect would not admit the role of a complacent 
 husband, and, though in such a case he would have treated her 
 with generosity, he would have had no scruples against exacting 
 his freedom. 
 
 When they arrived at Taormina in December he had the firm 
 intention of reconstituting himself, of proving to himself that he 
 was, after all, capable of something better than idle drifting. 
 
 And he intended to do this in spite of Elinor, who had always 
 sneered at what she called his "intellectual aspirations." Was 
 there anything he ever did or said that she didn't sneer at ? 
 
 So he had brought with him books, which he promptly un- 
 packed. And this was about as far as he got. 
 
 Innumerable impediments, of which the impossibility of serious 
 reading or thinking in close proximity to Elinor was the chief, 
 came between him and his purpose. 
 
 Soon his reading, fitful and desultory from the beginning, 
 ceased almost entirely, and, like the other parasites, he spent his 
 days picking up 'bargains in "antiques," a form of artistic pre- 
 tension which appealed to Elinor. They took various trips to 
 Palermo, Catania, Girgenti and other places, which, if adding 
 little to Richard's knowledge of art and history, increased their 
 collection of bric-a-brac. 
 
 Meanwhile, too, Elinor had succeeded in attracting the male 
 escort, to which she was accustomed, from Naples, Rome and 
 even more distant places, and the couple resumed the relationship, 
 and reac quired the atmosphere, which their joint experience of 
 married life led them to regard as normal. 
 
 Richard once more accepted his fate, less submissively, perhaps, 
 but with comparative equanimity. Once more he was, on the 
 whole, doing what Elinor wanted him to do ; he was living as 
 Elinor wanted him to live, and he was very nearly thinking 
 as Elinor wanted him to think. 
 
 The so-called " season " was at its height when Mary Mackintyre 
 and her friend appeared, and Richard had immediately courted 
 acquaintance with these two women who stood completely apart 
 from the vapid amusements of the place. Richard soon learnt
 
 VIRGINIA 105 
 
 that both had recently graduated at Vassar, and were travelling 
 together for a few weeks until Miss Forbes went home to take up 
 a professorship. 
 
 They were convinced and ardent socialists of an advanced 
 type, and had, it was clear, lived among, and with, the working 
 class in New York and other American cities. They were steeped 
 in all the Socialist doctrines, from Lassalle and Marx to Jaures, 
 for whom Miss Mackintyre professed an unqualified admiration. 
 Richard had always had vague literary ambitions, which he 
 generally concealed, though they would flash out on the rare 
 occasions that he met anyone with tastes in that direction. It 
 was, therefore, natural enough that he sought the society of Miss 
 Mackintyre and her friend, finding in their earnest speech and 
 sincere attitude towards life relief from the tawdry unrealities 
 of the pseudo-artists and dilettanti who formed the society of 
 Taormina. In the couple of weeks that followed first acquaint- 
 ance he lost no opportunity of being with them and accompanying 
 them on long walks and excursions. Sometimes Miss Forbes 
 had work which kept her in the hotel, so that Richard was thrown 
 with Mary Mackintyre. Her intelligence was keen without being 
 brilliant. She had more aspiration than accomplishment. In- 
 tellectually minded without being profound, she was inclined to 
 be priggish. But her companionship was a tonic for Richard, 
 who needed the spur of sustained argument to concentrate his 
 attention. Discussion with her quickened and developed his 
 dormant mental energies, broadened and invigorated his im- 
 aginative outlook. Almost unconsciously he was beginning to 
 discover himself. This eager, inquiring American woman was re- 
 opening his eyes to his waste of life, and to all life might hold for 
 him if he could but seize it. She provided the stimulant of a 
 personality that was vigorous to the point of aggressiveness, and 
 it helped to revive in him a tiny measure of the self-confidence 
 undermined for so long by the merciless flail of Elinor's biting 
 tongue. Was it, he began to think, after all, not too late to 
 do something worth doing ? Mary Mackintyre's enthusiasm for 
 social democracy was infectious. Supposing he were to devote 
 himself to it also ? It was not altogether a new idea with him. 
 He had always been inclined to take the part of the under dog, 
 and now there was a good chance for him to learn something 
 about the whole matter. He found scope for his kindling energies 
 in the mere thought. To his questions she answered encourag- 
 ingly, if with a note of pedantry that always seemed to underlie 
 her words. It was as though she wished to impress him with the
 
 106 RICHARD KURT 
 
 stern professionalism of her knowledge. The young woman 
 enjoyed her mental patronage of the older man, whose natural 
 gifts were, she well knew, far superior to her own, while to him 
 her tone implied a sort of intellectual adoption which he rather 
 welcomed. It betokened interest in what he did, and Richard 
 was almost pathetically in need of sympathetic support. How 
 indispensable to his altered moral condition this support was he 
 only realised when Miss Mackintyre one day suddenly announced 
 her impending departure with Miss Forbes for Assisi. 
 
 He had contemplated securing opportunities for closer ac- 
 quaintance during an indefinite period, and the reflection that, 
 when they left, he would be thrown back upon the society of 
 Elinor and the Anglo-American colony gave him the measure 
 of what he was losing. 
 
 " Then I shall go there," he remarked. 
 
 The ladies exchanged a smile. 
 
 " And your wife, Mr Kurt ? You know you dare not go off 
 and leave her here alone." 
 
 There was, Richard knew, a challenge in the statement. 
 
 " I shall go to Assisi," he answered. 
 
 " And brave the consequences ? Bold man." 
 
 " Why do you laugh at me ? It's so easy, and it doesn't help." 
 
 Miss Mackintyre sat upright in her deck-chair. Her action 
 was almost violent, so that the sun-shield fell back with a snap. 
 
 " Help ? Who can help a slave who hugs his chains ? How 
 can you let a woman, who is your wife, speak to you as she does 
 look at you as she does ? Are you a man ? Answer me now, 
 are you a man ? " She beat with her hand upon the arm of her 
 chair as she spoke. The rasping, staccato words seemed to come 
 from her involuntarily, as though they had been held back until 
 then, but could be no longer. 
 
 Richard was for a moment surprised into embarrassment. 
 They were in a corner of the old monastery garden, quite hidden 
 by trees ; through the pendulous boughs of the plane-tree beneath 
 which' they were seated he could see figures and hear voices. 
 It was nearing the tea hour, and tables were laid here and there 
 in hotel fashion. They were perhaps within earshot of some of 
 his own acquaintances, possibly even of Elinor herself. 
 
 Was he a man ? 
 
 He had no desire to evade the question, but he had no answer 
 ready. The insistent grey eyes remained fixed upon him a moment 
 longer, then Mary Mackintyre dropped back in her chair with a 
 laugh.
 
 VIRGINIA 107 
 
 " I don't suppose you've been spoken to like that before. I 
 think I ought to apologise. I've been unpardonably rude in 
 fact, insulting." 
 
 " You may not believe it, but I like the truth." He smiled 
 as he added : " It's a good thing I do, for I get plenty of it." 
 
 " I shouldn't have thought so. From whom ? " 
 
 Involuntarily Richard looked behind him nervously before 
 he answered. "From my wife, of course." 
 
 " Apparently you consider " Without finishing the 
 
 sentence, Miss Mackintyre rose with a gesture of impatience. 
 Gathering up a book and some writing materials from a table 
 beside her, she moved towards the path leading to the hotel. 
 
 "You're going without giving me a chance of answering you." 
 Richard was walking by her side and spoke in a low tone. Why 
 did she attack him in this direct way ? Ought he to be feeling 
 offended ? Ought he to have a dignified reply at the end of his 
 tongue ? 
 
 As they reached the hotel entrance Miss Mackintyre stood still 
 a moment to let someone pass out, and Richard looked up. 
 
 Elinor, her nose in the air, and, as usual, dressed to perfection, 
 swept by them, followed closely by a tall, thin man with a pro- 
 nounced stoop. So far from bowing or nodding, she looked 
 neither to right nor to left, but held on her course like a cutter 
 in full sail before the wind. 
 
 Richard took in the scene. 
 
 Miss Mackintyre was dressed in some light material, and her 
 tall, spare figure was silhouetted against the darkened interior 
 of the hotel as she gazed after Mrs Kurt. There was amusement 
 mingled with scorn in her eyes as Richard caught their gaze 
 returning to him. 
 
 " Now I shall certainly go to Assisi." He lit a cigarette as he 
 spoke. Miss Mackintyre smiled at the consciousness of an act 
 meant, she knew, to show indifference. 
 
 " Yes, I should if I were you," she said. 
 
 111 
 
 Elinor made no scene when her husband announced that he 
 was leaving for Assisi. For this he had no doubt to thank a 
 fancy-dress dance about to be given at the villa of a reputed 
 artist who figured large amongst what Richard called the " sexless 
 colonists." These Elinor affected to despise as much as he, but
 
 108 RICHARD KURT 
 
 an opportunity for exhibiting her skill and taste in dress was 
 always welcome to her. 
 
 " Are you accompanying your new intellectual friends ? " 
 Her tone was meant to be cuttingly sarcastic. 
 
 " I hope so." 
 
 " And afterwards ? " 
 
 " That will depend upon how I like Assisi. You're comfort- 
 able here, aren't you ? " 
 
 Elinor looked at her husband in surprise. " Do you intend 
 to leave me alone indefinitely, then ? " Kichard not immediately 
 answering, she continued ; " Because, ii so, I have plans of my 
 own." 
 
 Richard did not inquire what the plans were. He was curious 
 to know, but he felt that not asking gave him a certain advantage 
 the advantage, at least, of an indifference which he meant her 
 to interpret as new-found strength. 
 
 They parted the following day in the same humour, each 
 feeling that there was something behind the other's unexpressed 
 purpose of future intentions. 
 
 IV 
 
 Actually Richard did not even travel with Miss Mackintyre 
 and her friend. The ladies had decided Richard did not know 
 whether the decision in any way concerned him to spend a day 
 and a night at Messina on their way, and it was not until twenty- 
 four hours after he had established himself at the Hotel Subasio 
 that he received the following : 
 
 GRAND HOTEL DE PERUGIA. 
 
 DEAR MR KURT, We decided to stay at Perugia instead of at 
 Assisi. It suits Jane Forbes better, being handier for travelling, 
 and, as you know, she leaves me next week. Do come over to 
 see us whenever you like. You can telephone, so that we may not 
 miss you. Yours truly, 
 
 MARY MACKINTYRE. 
 
 This was in the nature of a cold douche for Richard, who 
 wondered if the excuse of Miss Forbes' convenience was dis- 
 ingenuous. Was his new experiment going to turn out a mistake ? 
 
 Assisi was very wonderful, and Giotto exceedingly interesting, 
 but he had not come there specially to study art.
 
 VIRGINIA 109 
 
 He telephoned at once to Miss Mackintyre, and managed to 
 go to lunch the following day at Perugia. 
 
 Richard had allowed himself to anticipate a friendly, even in- 
 timate, intercourse with Mary Mackintyre, which was to continue 
 inde finitely. A week or two of this glorious springtime in Umbria, 
 then on, perhaps, to Florence or Venice, finally to Paris, where 
 she would introduce him to Jaures and her circle of socialist 
 intellectuals. Elinor was not out of the scheme, nor was she 
 exactly in it. There would be time to consider her, and he 
 would confide in Mary Mackintyre and seek her advice. Plenty 
 of men he knew lived in a state of friendly separation from 
 their wives for months at a time. Why not he ? Anyhow, 
 there was no urgency in the matter. Elinor had plans of her 
 own, she had said. He would wait till he heard what they 
 were. 
 
 But the essential part, the groundwork, of this loosely knit 
 scheme was Mary Mackintyre herself. 
 
 It was arranged that on a certain day Mary Mackintyre 
 should come over to Assisi by the early train and they should 
 visit the carcere together. This would give him a welcome 
 opportunity to lay bare to her some of the thoughts in his 
 mind. 
 
 Richard met her at the station with a rucksack on his 
 back, containing their lunch, which was to be taken in the 
 open. 
 
 After the first greeting they walked on together, hardly speak- 
 ing. His heart was full of the joy of life. Their path lay through 
 the fields, and larks rose carolling from their very feet. Here 
 and there he waved his hand with a genial " Buongiorno / " as 
 they passed a peasant at work, or he would call her attention 
 now to some special feature of the landscape, again to a battered 
 crucifix. 
 
 It was one of those moments when the world is full of music, 
 and Richard, responsive to every influence, longed for a voice 
 that he might burst into song. 
 
 " Do you love music ?" he asked. 
 
 " Oh yes, of course I do." 
 
 But her answer sounded perfunctory to him. 
 
 " I mean, do you feel the necessity of it to express things for
 
 110 RICHARD KURT 
 
 you sometimes ? Do you get a nostalgia for it as I do, as I do 
 now, this moment ? " 
 
 He watched her clear-cut, regular profile as he spoke. She 
 did not look at him. She wore a plain straw hat, quite becoming, 
 which showed her dark hair, smooth and glossy, above her ears. 
 She dressed very plainly but neatly, in a style suited to her figure, 
 which was that of a slight, well-proportioned youth rather than a 
 young woman. She might have been twenty-six, but her breast 
 was undeveloped and her flanks were narrow. 
 
 " I try to restrain desires I'm unable to gratify. Why cultivate 
 emotions ? Why be so intense ? " She spoke as though she had 
 been nettled by his question, as though it had perhaps suggested 
 that his power of feeling was deeper than her own. 
 
 " You may be right, but one can't help feeling them, can 
 one ? I seem to have to live, consciously, I mean, every moment, 
 whether I feel grave or gay, comic or tragic. There's nothing 
 voluntary about it. Will seems to have nothing to say in the 
 matter." 
 
 " Because you do not exercise it ? " 
 
 He looked at her again, without answering. Was she annoyed 
 with him about something else this morning ? Her expression 
 had not changed, but now she felt his eyes upon her, and turning 
 her face towards him with a smile, she added : 
 
 " I should like you to develop your will for your own sake. 
 Without it you cannot do a man's work, you cannot stand 
 alone." 
 
 " Why insist on my being lonely ? " he answered gaily. 
 
 " I don't insist ; your life insists, and your wife. Besides, a 
 man who counts is always lonely." 
 
 Richard became thoughtful. 
 
 " What counts for you ?" he asked presently. 
 
 " Effort, work, accomplishment." 
 
 " Only that ? " 
 
 She evaded direct reply. 
 
 " What else ? " she asked. 
 
 Richard stood still. They were upon an eminence. Just 
 below them the old oratory and the wood where St Francis fed 
 his little brothers, the birds, were wrapped in a dreamy haze, and 
 at his companion's feet a clump of poppies lifted their vivid 
 heads. 
 
 " What matters most to me," he said, " is to feel. If it isn't 
 actual knowing, it's a large part of it. And the more conscious 
 you are the more you feel. After that comes expression. I
 
 VIRGINIA 111 
 
 suppose that's why I'm so fond of music ; it does the work for 
 me." 
 
 She did not answer, and they descended to the carcere. 
 
 VI 
 
 It was on their road back that she told him of her decision to 
 join her mother in Rome when Miss Forbes left. 
 
 At first he hardly took in the significance of the announcement. 
 At worst he had imagined that he would be able to join her again, 
 and he began instantly adjusting his mind to the factor of a 
 mother whose existence until then had been unknown to him. 
 
 " You'll allow me to come on there presently, won't you ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 She hesitated a moment, and when she spoke it was with 
 evident embarrassment. " I'm afraid not. You see, my mother 
 is old-fashioned ; she might not understand our friendship. She 
 is old, too ; it might upset her." 
 
 " Yes, I see," was all he could say, and the bitterness in his 
 voice was unmistakable. For some moments there was silence. 
 
 " You know I told you you must stand alone," she began. Her 
 voice was unusually soft ; there was almost a break in it. 
 
 " You said that to-day, yes. But I hadn't imagined it was 
 very stupid, of course that you were going to leave me abandon 
 
 me just as I'm beginning to " Richard broke off. A latent 
 
 sense of dignity prevented him from confessing on the spot his 
 dependence on her. 
 
 Then, for the first time in their acquaintance, Mary Mackintyre 
 became a woman. With an impulsive movement she laid her 
 hand upon his arm. 
 
 " I'm your friend, Richard Kurt. I would help you if I could. 
 But it's better for you, for us both, perhaps, that I should go 
 now. Do you not know it is ? " 
 
 " For you, perhaps not for me. I'm not a man who counts. 
 I'm lonely damnably, horribly lonely. I need help; I need 
 someone who understands." 
 
 She showed discomfort at the repetition of her phrase. She 
 slipped her arm under his and walked on so with him, her long 
 legs keeping step with him as he strode on, with his eyes on the 
 ground. 
 
 " Is there no one you can fall back on '{ You've never told 
 me if your parents live, or if you have sisters brothers."
 
 112 RICHARD KURT 
 
 "'My mother is dead; my father is alive. I don't think we 
 understand each other. My sisters I'm very fond of them, but 
 they aren't any use. They're married ; they' ve got their own lives 
 to live, and " 
 
 An hour later Richard Kurt bade Mary Mackintyre farewell. 
 
 As he walked back to the hotel from the station he asked 
 himself what he should do next. One thing he certainly would 
 not do, and that was return to Taormina. He was completely 
 at a " loose end." Women were strange creatures. She had 
 said he could write to her, as if that were any good. What he 
 needed was companionship, someone he could talk to, develop 
 ideas with. Mary Mackintyre was certainly priggish, narrow- 
 minded in a way ; one side of her mind seemed to be unsuscep- 
 tible to influence, blocked, as it were. But she was a treasure 
 compared to most women. She wasn't a sham, and she really 
 cared about the fine things of the mind. She had reawakened 
 in him the love of things of the mind. If he never saw her again 
 he would be grateful to her for that, even if it stopped there, as 
 it probably would. A man must be a genius to work without 
 encouragement, unless he needs money. And he was shockingly 
 ignorant. He had everything to learn. How could he begin at 
 his age ? Alone, too. If he could be with other people who were 
 working it would be different. But he knew no such people. 
 All the friends he had and what friends ! were idlers.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 CHANCE ordained the selection of Richard's immediate objective. 
 A lady seated next to him at the Subasio dinner-table on the 
 evening he parted from Mary Mackintyre, entertaining him with 
 suitable table d'hote conversation, mentioned Drina among the 
 places she had recently visited. She spoke of it as a resort com- 
 paratively little frequented, the new hotel built by an English- 
 man having been only quite recently finished. It was, the lady 
 said, particularly comfortable, and her stay had greatly benefited 
 her nerves. 
 
 Richard did not know the Lake of Como. Why not there as 
 well as anywhere else ? he thought. He did not greatly care 
 where he went, so long as he could, by hook or by crook, protract 
 the period during which he could remain alone and think. Drina 
 sounded, at all events, hopefully unfashionable, and Elinor was 
 unlikely to join him sooner than she could help. They had a 
 fairly large circle of Italian acquaintances ; races were coming 
 on, he knew, at Naples, where, too, she would be likely to meet 
 English friends homeward bound from Egypt, while both Rome 
 and Florence offered social inducements sufficient to detain her 
 at least some weeks. Elinor would be likely to cling as long as 
 she could to those places " where one ought to be," or where one 
 could be excused for being at that time of year. Her mysterious 
 plans centred, no doubt, in one or the other of these places, which 
 it was, therefore, the height of Richard's immediate ambition 
 to avoid. 
 
 Before going to bed he wrote to Elinor : 
 
 " I have decided to go on to Drina. I don't know much about 
 it except that it's a quiet little place on the Lake of Como, and I'm 
 told there's a decent hotel called the Bellevue. You can write 
 your 'plans' to me there. Mine are to remain there until it 
 suits you to join me. It might be a good idea to take a furnished 
 villa somewhere on the lake for the summer much cheaper and 
 more comfortable than hotels. Write and tell me what you think, 
 and I'll have a look round," and so on. 
 
 H 113
 
 114 RICHARD KURT 
 
 Two evenings later lie watched the moon rise from the hotel 
 terrace. The night was cloudless, and the moon came slowly 
 into view above the distant Bergamasque Alps, touching the dark 
 heights with pale lustre as it gradually rose. Now the wooded 
 headland hiding Traverse came into view, now the opposite 
 shore with its gardens to the lake-side, until at last the water 
 below was of rippling silver. The beams, piercing the shadows, 
 revealed new beauties, and, weaving the boughs and leaves into 
 strange and lovely patterns, bathed him, the terrace where he sat, 
 and all around him, in a flood of liquid light. 
 
 The magic of the moment entered into Richard's soul. The 
 spell of one of the most beautiful spots on earth was* upon 
 him. 
 
 Richard rose early the next morning, refreshed, and, to his own 
 surprise, in buoyant spirits. He felt a new energy and a ready- 
 made determination to react against despondency and dis- 
 appointment. Was this new vigour induced by the beauty of his 
 surroundings ? He was, he knew, subject to such influences, and 
 yet the loveliness of the scene the night before had made him 
 melancholy, and when fatigue finally drove him to bed he had 
 lain awake long, while the moonlight played upon the ceiling and 
 his brain worked like a machine, everything he desired to forget 
 crowding into his mind. The last thing he remembered before 
 he fell asleep had been his disappointment with Mary Mackintyre. 
 And yet she was not the first woman whose life had mingled with 
 his own for a while, only to pass out of it again. He was not, he 
 never had been, for one instant in love with her. There was about 
 her a physical aridity which, corresponding with her hard, precise 
 mentality, entirely prevented love. He had not even got beyond 
 the formal " Miss " when, rarely, he addressed her by name. 
 
 She was like other American women of a different stamp, 
 though similarly actuated by conflicting ideas of freedom and 
 convention. It was a strange kind of emancipation, Richard 
 thought, that was governed by a mother in the background emerg- 
 ing only at crises ! a mother ignored in theory, but who in 
 practice disposed apparently not inconsiderably of her daughter's 
 liberties. 
 
 Miss Mackintyre certainly had been helpful to him. She had 
 roused him at all events from listless indifference to everything
 
 VIRGINIA 115 
 
 except passing amusement. She had done more. She was the 
 only woman who had ever said to his face what she thought of 
 his wife. Some people would call it bad form, and abuse her for 
 it, but, then, the same people would probably take Elinor's part 
 against him and say that, whatever her faults were, he was to 
 blame. 
 
 But why did Mary Mackintyre, having gone so far, having, as 
 she knew, kindled in him a new desire to do something worth 
 while, having talked as freely as she had with him about codes 
 of morality, and said in so many words that he ought to cut 
 loose, why did she then, as it were, leave him to his fate 1 She 
 could not have been afraid of caring for him herself. Her attitude 
 had been too superior for that. A woman of her stamp surely 
 could not love a man she thought a poor thing. She had asked 
 him, was he a man ? He had often asked himself that question. 
 It was no wonder she did. Still that made it clear that it was 
 not for any reason of sentiment she had left him in the lurch. 
 Anyhow, it was over now, and he had learnt a lesson from the 
 experience. No woman was any use to him unless she loved him, 
 and he meant to secure love somehow. He wanted it badly. 
 He would not go on living without it. If he could fall in love 
 himself, so much the better. It wasn't easy for him. He had 
 lived too hard, he had suffered too much, he had too few illusions. 
 But, if he ever did, Elinor should not stand in the way. Love 
 was the only thing in the world that mattered. Accomplishment 
 pah ! Let it go hang ! 
 
 Richard Kurt crossed the road behind the hotel and walked, 
 whistling, up the mountain path. 
 
 111 
 
 "Tct/" 
 
 Richard heard the voice without distinguishing the word and 
 stood still to listen. Where did it come from ? He had climbed, 
 perhaps, five or six hundred feet, and had reached a kind of rocky 
 plateau almost level and covered with short grass. Over the edge 
 of this space, and below him, he could see a bend in the highroad 
 beyond which, hidden by trees, lay the hotel, and beyond that 
 again the lake shimmered in the early sun, hardly risen above the 
 mountains. 
 
 The path he was following continued upwards between rocks, 
 a tempting path ; higher up there must be a glorious view. How
 
 116 RICHARD KURT 
 
 beautiful it was ! A sigh of satisfaction escaped him- He turned 
 and began climbing again ; he was full of energy. The blood 
 seemed to be coursing through his body ; he wanted to use his 
 lungs, to pant for breath and feel his heart beat fast. And as 
 he walked swiftly on he began whistling again from pure joy. 
 
 This time he caught the words, which were not shouted, but 
 intoned. It was a young man's voice. Evidently the words were 
 addressed to him. He was disturbing someone by his whistling. 
 But who and where was he ? 
 
 Richard retraced his steps to the little plateau he had just left 
 and stood looking to right and left, above, below. Suddenly he 
 perceived that, at the edge of the grassy level, the rocks broke 
 away abruptly, and, throwing himself on the sward, he peered 
 over. Immediately under him, ceilinged, as it were, by the rocks 
 upon which he was lying, was a space a few feet square carpeted 
 with moss. Upon this a young man was stretched at full length 
 on his back, gazing up at him. By his side lay an open book. 
 
 The boy, for he was little more, regarded Richard lazily through 
 half-closed eyes. 
 
 " I'm not Italian. I'm afraid I disturbed you." 
 
 " Not Italian and up before six ! But, of course, I ought to 
 have known. No Italian would whistle Rigoktto wrong." He 
 opened his eyes wider, shielding them with one hand. " I say, 
 come down here. I can't talk like this. Your face is upside 
 down and makes me giddy." 
 
 Richard laughed. It was a cool suggestion, but the unexpected 
 encounter amused him and fell in with his mood. 
 
 " Supposing you tell me how to get there." 
 
 " Go back whence you came fifty yards. First to the right. 
 When you get to the jumping-off place, take off your boots and 
 hang on by your eyebrows. It's only a fifty-foot drop if you 
 slip." 
 
 " Thanks. Any other instructions ? " 
 
 " No at least, the next time you whistle ' La donna e mobile ' 
 remember that it goes La, la la, lalala, not la, la la, la, lalala. 
 If you must whistle, whistle correctly, but it's a beastly habit." 
 
 The humour of the situation, as he lay on his stomach, craning 
 over the edge of the small precipice, conversing with an unknown 
 and extraordinarily impertinent youth below, suddenly struck 
 Richard, and he broke into uncontrollable laughter. 
 
 The boy waited gravely till the other's mirth had passed.
 
 VIRGINIA 117 
 
 " I'm supposed to be funny, I believe," he then remarked. " I 
 don't know why. My temperament is tragic. I'm quite mis- 
 understood." 
 
 "Were you ever at a Public School ?" Richard could not 
 help asking the question. 
 
 " Oh yes. Eton. I was sacked, thank goodness. That's 
 why I'm here. Aren't you glad ? " 
 
 " I don't know. Why were you sacked ? " 
 
 " Because I preferred writing verses to playing games, and 
 because I refused to go to chapel. Do you like games ? " 
 
 " Not much. I used to think I did. Now they rather bore 
 me." 
 
 " And you're English ? Wonderful ! " 
 
 Richard smiled. "Was that your only crime at Eton 1 " 
 
 " Really, I never knew. They said I was abnormal." 
 
 " Who said so ? " 
 
 " My house-master. The old man thinks so too." 
 
 " Who's the old man ? " 
 
 " My parent, Lord Wensleydale, the place they make cheeses 
 at." 
 
 Richard knew Lord Wensleydale slightly, and began to take 
 stock of the youth. He was, beyond question, remarkably 
 (rood-looking. It was plain to see, as he lay there, that he 
 was tall and gracefully built. His skin was like a girl's, and 
 his hair parted from his forehead in two thick golden-bronze 
 waves. 
 
 Apparently he had thrown on loose flannels over his pyjamas. 
 The striped silk shirt was open at the neck, and he wore white 
 Basque shoes on his sockless feet. 
 
 " I'm hungry. You can't have breakfasted either. Let's 
 have something to eat." 
 
 The boy jumped to his feet, putting the small volume in his 
 pocket. There was a scrambling sound, and a flash of light-blue 
 emerged on the path beyond. 
 
 " That's a secluded cache of yours," Richard said, coming up 
 with him. They were descending the path, the boy leading. 
 Presently he turned off to the left, and Richard stopped. 
 
 " I leave you here, don't I ? It's straight on to the 
 hotel ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but I never breakfast there. You'd better not 
 either. The coffee's undrinkable, and you'll see Barnes and 
 his wife." 
 
 " Who are they ? "
 
 118 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " I don't know, but he's an awful cad. He wears red socks, 
 and his hands are never clean, and she oh, Lord ! " 
 
 Kichard laughed and followed him. A moment later they 
 reached the road a few hundred yards beyond the hotel and, 
 crossing it, came to a narrow cobbled calle. This led tortuously 
 between high and ancient walls with many windows, where multi- 
 coloured garments swung listlessly from the tiny ports. On the 
 far side of the quay, close to the primitive stone pier which served 
 the lake steamers, stood a white-walled osteria. In front of it, 
 under a yellow awning, were placed little marble-topped tables 
 and chairs. At one of these they seated themselves and, at the 
 boy's cry of " Padrone ! " a stout, brown-skinned man in an apron 
 appeared, bearing a bowl of rich curdling cream which he placed 
 on the table with a hearty '' Rttongiorno, signori." 
 
 The youth gave his order and the stout person immediately 
 disappeared within. 
 
 " What delicious cream ! " 
 
 " From the latteria over there." The boy waved his arm in 
 the direction of the lake. "Francesco, my boatman, brings it 
 fresh every morning. By the way, my name is Brendon Repgie 
 Brendon. What's yours ? " 
 
 " KurtRichard Kurt." 
 
 " Kurt, Kurt. I seem to know the name." Reggie Brendon's 
 eyes travelled up and down Richard's person, examining him. 
 " You look English and yet not quite. Your moustache isn't 
 like a tooth-brush, it curls up ; and your eyes are responsive like 
 a woman's. They haven't got that cold look. And they're too 
 intelligent to be really English." 
 
 " When you've done analysing my features " Richard began. 
 
 " I haven't done yet, not quite. I'm thinking " 
 
 " Think as we walk. I want to go back to the hotel for my 
 letters." 
 
 " Letters ! 1 never get any, thank goodness, and I never 
 write any either." 
 
 They had reached the hotel and Richard was about to say 
 good-bye when his companion ejaculated : " Did you see that ? 
 
 " Did I see what ? " Richard asked. 
 
 " These ghastly people. They waddled off the terrace with 
 the dignity of elderly chicks. They regard me, I may tell you, 
 as a moral leper, and you were intended to observe their departure 
 as a protest against my contaminating presence." 
 
 " Indeed. Why ? " 
 
 " I don't know. They're sure to tell you as soon as they get
 
 VIRGINIA 119 
 
 a chance. They'll consider it their duty to warn you. You'd 
 better make the most of me while you're still ignorant of my true 
 character. I specially want you to spend all to-day with me. 
 Please lunch at my table, and let me row you across to Ravolta 
 and show you the Prince's garden. They'll be so fearfully 
 annoyed." 
 
 " Your reason for wanting my company is not exactly flatter- 
 ing." 
 
 Reggie Brendon was quite unashamed. 
 
 " I know ; but you've got to see the places about here and all 
 that, and my boat's awfully comfortable. Besides, I can be 
 charming when I like. This afternoon I shall like." 
 
 " That's very good of you. The only thing is, I'm not quite 
 sure about myself. I'm rather changeable. At the present 
 moment the prospect of going with you is most agreeable, but 
 later I might prefer, let us say, a quiet game of bridge with Mr 
 and Mrs Barnes." 
 
 Reggie Brendon turned and, putting his hand on the older 
 man's shoulder, gazed into his eyes. 
 
 " You don't mean that ; you couldn't do it." 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " They're fearful people. Would you believe, that horrible, 
 goggle-eyed woman had the impertinence to come up and ask me 
 if my mother wasn't the sister of the Earl of Oare, because a friend 
 of hers had been staying at Belsham. Wasn't the world a small 
 place ? I said : ' Very. Was your friend housekeeper, cook or 
 still-room maid ? ' " 
 
 " I'm not surprised they don't love you." 
 
 " Thank heaven, no. But do say you'll come with me this 
 afternoon." 
 
 " Very well, on one condition." 
 
 " Granted beforehand. Name it." 
 
 " That I lunch by myself, at my own table." 
 
 The boy's violet eyes gleamed with amusement. 
 
 " I say, I love that. I've taught you to be rude." 
 
 Richard threw his cigarette into the lake. 
 
 " Don't be too pleased," he said gently. " You may be sorry 
 some day." 
 
 iv 
 
 Richard ate a hurried meal and went out, discovering a winding 
 path leading from the main terrace to a lower one, whence steps
 
 120 RICHARD KURT 
 
 descended to the water. There he found a convenient wicker 
 chair under a tree and opened a book. 
 
 But his attention wandered, the charm of his surroundings 
 took possession of him, and he lay back in dreamy contentment. 
 There was just enough breeze to rustle the leaves and to scatter 
 the blossom of some shrub which filled the air with a mysterious 
 scent. Innumerable insects hummed, and he fell into that state 
 between sleeping and waking in which he felt, rather than saw, 
 the light and colour of lake and mountain, sky and cloud. 
 . " Hulloa there !" 
 
 Richard roused himself and looked towards the voice. A boat 
 covered with a green awning was close to the steps below him. 
 On the stone-paved jetty stood Reggie Brendon, arrayed in a suit 
 of tussore silk. 
 
 What the boy called " rowing him over " Richard discovered 
 to mean sitting luxuriously next to himself in the other cushioned 
 corner of the stern, while two lusty Comascos, in white duck 
 trousers with red sashes and red ribands round their wide-brimmed 
 straw hats, rowed them with long, easy strokes across the 
 lake. 
 
 " What were you reading ? " 
 
 Richard handed the boy his book. 
 
 " Do you read much ? " 
 
 " By fits and starts. I've reached a point where books don't 
 help me." 
 
 " That's the point I started from and I've never got away 
 from it. I only read poetry. I hate prose ; it's practical. I 
 feel life entirely emotionally, in fact I'm amoral." 
 
 " What do you mean by amoral ? " 
 
 " I don't believe in rules of conduct ; I make my own. That's 
 why my late lamented house-master got me sacked. He said I 
 was a poisonous influence among . his dear little boys. That is 
 also why his lordship calls me abnormal, which, of course, I am, 
 but not because I don't conform to his idiotic standard of middle- 
 class Philistinism. I never can think why my mother married 
 such an absurd person. She is beautiful and charming." 
 
 Richard shrugged his shoulders without replying. 
 
 The rowers shipped their oars. The boat glided softly under 
 bridge into a narrow channel bordered by shrubs to the water's
 
 VIRGINIA 121 
 
 edge, and, aided by an occasional push from a boat-hook, ran 
 smoothly alongside a wooden landing-stage covered with brown 
 matting. 
 
 A man in a boatman's white suit, with a wide straw hat, on the 
 black riband of which " Villa Carlotta " and a crown were stamped 
 in gold lettering, stepped forward and helped them to land. 
 
 The Prince was in the garden, he believed. 
 
 " I expect we shall find him in the pergola. He always has 
 tea served there when it's fine. We'll take this path." Reggie 
 Brendon showed the way. " You'll find the Prince delightful ; 
 not at all German. But, then, his mother was Italian, so is his 
 wife. Not that she affects him much. They're never together. 
 She's in Paris living with Carlo Bassi. The Prince loves Carlo 
 Bassi. He's got the most perfect taste in the world." 
 
 " Do you mean because he loves Carlo Bassi ? " 
 
 Reggie Brendon laughed delightedly. 
 
 " Not only for that, though it is the height of good taste to 
 feel affectionately towards your wife's lover. I don't know 
 Bassi, but his sonnets are exquisite. The Prince had them bound 
 by Dupont and illustrated by Boecklin. He's a great patron 
 of artists and he loves music. He's got a priceless collection of 
 old masters at Hohenthal, and he's a musician, a painter, and I 
 don't know what else himself." 
 
 Within the rose-covered pergola, on long, low chairs, sat and 
 reclined a lady and two gentlemen, of whom one rose and came 
 towards them. 
 
 " I've brought a friend with me, Helmuth. Allow me to in- 
 troduce Mr Richard Kurt Prince Helmuth von Hohenthal." 
 
 The Prince bowed with charming graciousness and, while the 
 boy went forward to salute the lady, bade Richard welcome in 
 polished and dignified English. 
 
 He was tall and unusually handsome. He wore a small pointed 
 beard and had a distinctive elegance of mien and gesture. He 
 spoke English with a slight and agreeable accent that was certainly 
 not German, nor was it Italian an accent that was, perhaps, the 
 result of speaking several languages with equal ease. 
 
 Richard was expressing his admiration of the place. 
 
 " But what is such a garden compared to your English ones ? 
 There are no gardens like them. Here one does one's best, but 
 we lack the humidity. There is no grass, and what is so beautiful 
 as your old lawns ? No garden is complete without one." 
 
 " Evidently you know England well." 
 
 " I used to. My paternal grandmother was English, and my
 
 122 RICHARD KURT 
 
 father was ambassador to the Court of St James's for some 
 years, and always kept up the connection. But I no longer 
 go there." 
 
 There was regret under the words. 
 
 " That seems a pity," Richard commented. 
 
 " Perhaps ; but one likes to cherish precious memories ; life 
 spoils so many." 
 
 Behind the group was a table laid with cups of blue Sevres, 
 glass and silver. 
 
 " Mrs Rafferty, Conte di Foligno, Mr Kurt. Do sit here beside 
 Mrs Rafferty." 
 
 Richard took the offered chair. A servant dressed in white, 
 like the one who received them at the landing-stage, stepped 
 forward and stood by the table. 
 
 " I know what you'll have, Reggie." 
 
 It was Mrs Rafferty who spoke, and both she and the Prince 
 laughed as the boy took a deep silver dish full of strawberries 
 from the table and walked off with it. 
 
 " It's dreadful to be the victim of one's appetite, isn't it, Mrs 
 Rafferty ? Resistance involves such awful moral suffering." 
 
 Reggie sat down cross-legged on a large cushion with the dish 
 beside him and a plate heaped with sugar in his lap. 
 
 " I don't know about the moral suffering, strawberries give 
 me gout," Mrs Rafferty replied, as she accepted a cup of tea. 
 
 Richard was looking at her. She might have been any age over 
 fifty. Her features were well modelled and, though her face was 
 a maze of tiny wrinkles, the skin was pale and delicate. Her 
 hair was grey and gold, fine and beautifully arranged. 
 
 " I'm so sorry, I mean glad." 
 
 " Are you a resident in these parts or a visitor, Mrs Rafferty ? " 
 Richard asked. 
 
 " I've lived on the lake for the last five years, and I hope to 
 die here. I've been everywhere. It's my final anchorage." 
 
 "I wish I thought it was mine." It was the Prince who 
 spoke. 
 
 " It is flattering to us Italians to hear you speak like that. 
 Madame Rafferty from the distant Pacific, you, Prince, from 
 your magnificent castle in Thuringia, both agree that you love 
 best our little logo." 
 
 The Count spoke French, occasionally using words in his own 
 tongue. 
 
 " We find, I think Mrs Rafferty will agree, something besides 
 beauty here, Conte " the Prince turned towards the Italian
 
 VIRGINIA 123 
 
 " that we cannot find in our own countries, and that thing is 
 priceless." 
 
 Richard looked at the American woman. She was waiting for 
 him to continue, but, instead of speaking, the Prince lit a cigarette, 
 and the silence was becoming just a little strained when the boy 
 relieved it. 
 
 " I know, I've found everything that's delightful : Mrs Rafferty 
 and strawberries." 
 
 The Prince inhaled deeply and blew a cloud of smoke through 
 his moustache, while Mrs Rafferty asked : 
 
 " Do you like me and strawberries so much, Reggie ? " 
 
 " To-day I do. At all events, I like thinking I do, and saying 
 it." 
 
 The Prince laughed. 
 
 " My young friend has finished my sentence for me. Some of 
 us I think Mrs Rafferty will allow me to include her amongst 
 us like to think and say what we please, which is the same, or 
 nearly the same, as doing what we please. It is this, the comple- 
 ment of beauty of scene, that attracts us and keeps us. Am I 
 right, Mrs Rafferty * " 
 
 As Richard looked at her a faint and barely perceptible flush 
 now seemed to dye for an instant the pallor of her face. 
 
 " You have said exactly what I feel, Prince. That is why I 
 came, and that is why I shall stay." 
 
 " That for us is the great thing." Foligno bowed with gallantry 
 to the lady. " For the rest, it is still more of a compliment that 
 you find something more even than beauty here." 
 
 Foligno was a Milanese. He had recently returned to his home 
 on leave from the Embassy in Paris, where he was First Secretary. 
 He gave Richard an impression of hardness and of falseness. 
 There was no assumption of intellectual authority about the 
 Prince. His manner, far from being superior, was, if anything, 
 slightly deprecating, as of one anxious not in any way to lay down 
 the law. Perhaps for that reason even a listener as frivolous as 
 Reggie accorded him deference. 
 
 " You wouldn't go so far as to say that one cannot express 
 one's own opinions freely in London or Paris or, may I suggest, 
 Berlin ? Is it not simply a question of choosing your company ? " 
 Richard addressed his question to the Prince. 
 
 ** Some of us," he replied, " are perhaps unfortunate in that 
 respect, Mr Kurt. We are placed by circumstances, not of our 
 making, in a situation where choice of one's surroundings is nearly 
 impossible. One is perhaps the victim of what is regarded,
 
 124 RICHARD KURT 
 
 properly on the whole, as one's good fortune. One is a marked 
 person, so to speak, of whom certain things are expected, such as 
 duties and opinions. One may be temperamentally unsuited to 
 undertake the duties, and one may be intellectually unable to 
 profess the opinions. One becomes a fish out of water, or perhaps 
 it would be truer to say a duck which is not allowed to swim. 
 Mrs Rafferty, for instance, has told me that she was expected 
 to entertain San Franciscan society. She felt unequal to it, and, 
 having the privilege of knowing her, I am not surprised." 
 
 The Prince turned to Foligno and asked him what was going 
 on in Paris. 
 
 Beyond a few trite and superficial observations on the theatres, 
 little was forthcoming of interest to the Prince. So much Richard 
 could effectively judge from the latter's eloquent silence, while 
 the Milanese, serenely unconscious of the boredom he was in- 
 flicting on the personage he was obviously seeking to impress, 
 continued in a thin, irritating voice to instruct his hearers in the 
 gossip of what he called le monde. He was eloquent about the 
 doings of a Milanese marches/I, whose affair with a Florentine 
 litterateur was, he said, the most entertaining scandal of the 
 moment, and he seemed especially well informed as to the value 
 of the pearls the lady had sacrificed on the altar of her passion. 
 
 " And all went, every centime, in one night at the Epatants. 
 Now both are completement dfcavfa." 
 
 Foligno could tell the Prince nothing about what was going on 
 in the world of Art. He was, he said, a " sportsman." The 
 Concours Hippique and the races were more in his line. He 
 certainly had a wonderful memory for names and figures, for he 
 mentioned numbers of horses and women, and easily recalled the 
 sums that had been won, lost and spent on, or with, them by 
 American and other millionaires. 
 
 " Are you related to a Mr Kurt who married a Miss Colhouse 
 of Baltimore ? " Mrs Rafferty asked Richard bluntly. 
 
 "I am that Mr Kurt." 
 
 " Ah ! " She looked at him hard. Richard knew she had 
 placed him, and wondered what " Ah ! " implied. " You must 
 come and see me. I live at Trino. Reggie will bring you. Is 
 Mrs Kurt here ? " 
 
 " No. I'm expecting her, though, before long." 
 
 " You'll bring her, of course." 
 
 Richard bowed. 
 
 Reggie and Foligno were waiting for them at a bridge over 
 the torrent from which steps descended, making a short cut to
 
 VIRGINIA 125 
 
 the landing-stage. Here the Prince bade Mrs Rafferty and the 
 Conte good-bye. Richard held out his hand and the Prince 
 took it, but held it an instant, detaining him. " Won't you stay 
 a little longer 1 I would like to show you my house." 
 
 Reggie was saying good-bye effusively to Mrs Rafferty. She 
 took his arm. " I want you to come and see me off." 
 
 "Down all those steps and up again ? " he replied, looking 
 back at the Prince and Richard. 
 
 The music-room was the largest in the villa, running the whole 
 length of the house on the south side, with large windows opening 
 on to a balcony above the loggia. Formal, decorated in the style 
 of Louis Quatorze, and rarely used, its spaciousness and heavy 
 gilding restrained, rather than stimulated, conversation. 
 
 " 1 always think of my wife when I come in here," Hohenthal 
 said. " She designed and furnished this room. This portrait, 
 as you see, has been framed to be placed where it is." As he 
 spoke he took from the top of a writing-table of marquetry a 
 frame with gilt-bronze handles and mounts on the graceful 
 curved legs. It was of gold overlaid with pale shades of enamel, 
 a small coat-of-arms and crown were delicately inlaid above, and 
 the name, "Franz Johann Eberhard von Hohenthal," with date 
 below ; altogether a good example of skilful modern craftsman- 
 ship of the expensive sort. 
 
 The portrait showed a young man of perhaps two or three 
 and twenty, in an attitude which displayed to advantage his con- 
 spicuously well-made clothes. He had regular features, and there 
 were dark rings under his eyes, in one of which was a monocle. 
 He was clean-shaved and his mouth looked weak. Rather good- 
 looking, Richard thought, but not remarkable. It was signed 
 " Jean." 
 
 " Do you see any resemblance to me ? " Hohenthal asked, as 
 Richard, after studying the photograph as long and carefully as 
 consideration for the father's feelings demanded, returned it. 
 
 "No, I don't think so." 
 
 " He is said to be the image of his mother." 
 
 It suddenly occurred to Richard that Hohenthal had never 
 mentioned his wife's name until they entered the drawing-room 
 on this occasion. 
 
 " Indeed ! " he replied. " Have you a photograph of the 
 Princess ? " 
 
 " I'm sorry to say, no. She refuses to be photographed. I 
 have only a small miniature here, which I will show you another 
 time. It does not do her justice, nor does the portrait by Boldini
 
 126 RICHARD KURT 
 
 at Hohenthal. She is very remarkable-looking. I hope you 
 will know her before long. Don't you think my son looks English ' l . 
 He was at Eton." 
 
 " He has the English cut," Richard said disingenuously. 
 
 " My desire in sending him to an English Public School was 
 twofold that he should be able to look at his country with 
 English eyes, and that he should not grow up a dilettante. There 
 is no future for a dilettante in modern Europe, and I don't want 
 him to suffer more than necessary for the sins of his father. In 
 England love of sport at least kills dilettantism in young men." 
 
 " Does it ? I wonder ! " Richard answered. He left the 
 Prince with the photograph still in his hand. 
 
 VI 
 
 While he was at the Villa Carlotta a storm had gathered, and 
 Reggie had meanwhile disappeared. The Prince placed his 
 motor-launch at his guest's disposal, and, as Richard stepped 
 into it, there was a growl of thunder, and he was glad of the cosy 
 protection of the little cabin when heavy drops began to fall. 
 By the time he reached the Drina shore the rain was coming 
 down in torrents, and he ran quickly up the shortest and steepest 
 path. The couple of hundred yards sufficed to drench his thin 
 flannels, and he went straight to his quarters adjoining the hotel, 
 passing quickly through the sitting-room to the bedroom beyond 
 to change his clothes. It was only after he had dressed that 
 he noticed, lying on the writing-table, a pencilled note on a sheet 
 of his own writing-paper. To his amazement it was from Elinor. 
 
 " Arrived in motor with Ugo Baltazzo. Am leaving this in case 
 I miss you when you come in. Just going out in a boat with a 
 charming young man who says he's a friend of yours. E." 
 
 " How like her ! " Richard involuntarily uttered the ex- 
 clamation aloud. 
 
 It was still raining, though softly now, and wondering, not 
 without a certain anxiety, whether Elinor and the boy, for it 
 could only be he, had been caught in the storm, Richard threw 
 on a mackintosh and made his way to the hotel from the de- 
 pendence where he had his rooms. 
 
 There she was on a sofa in the lounge, arrayed in a negligd 
 evening dress, extremely dfoottetce, and covered with some sort
 
 VIRGINIA 127 
 
 of iridescent passementerie, which reflected in changing colours 
 the shaded electric light above her head. On one side of her sat 
 the bent and elongated figure of Baltazzo, surmounted by his 
 shiny bald pate and bristling grizzled moustache, his face wearing 
 an expression of sulky irritation ; on the other Keggie, who was 
 evidently telling her something funny, for both were convulsed 
 with merriment. All three were smoking cigarettes, Elinor hold- 
 ing hers to her mouth in a jewelled amber tube with fingers on 
 which rings sparkled. 
 
 None of them noticed Richard till he stood before them and 
 taking his wife's hand raised it to his lips. 
 
 " I'm glad you escaped the storm, dear." 
 
 " So'm L" Reggie interrupted. 
 
 " I'm so sorry I wasn't here when you arrived." 
 
 "I'm not," from Reggie. 
 
 Richard took the interruption good-naturedly, and proceeded. 
 
 " You ought to have wired. How are you, Ugo ? " 
 
 " I meant to," Elinor answered, as the two men shook hands, 
 " but we didn't know we should get here this evening. Angela 
 came as far as Milan " (Richard did not know who Angela was), 
 " and I really intended to stay the night there and come here 
 by the lake steamer to-morrow, but Ugo told me how lovely the 
 road was, so we decided to come on, and here I am." 
 
 A gong sounded, the dinner signal. 
 
 The boy had had a table prepared in the middle of the dining- 
 room, conspicuous, even before their arrival, with a huge glass 
 bowl full of choicest roses. 
 
 " How lovely ! " Elinor exclaimed. 
 
 Reggie ordered champagne. He was determined nothing should 
 be wanting that could contribute to the gaiety of the occasion. 
 The appearance of an exceedingly smart and pretty woman was 
 not only a desirable fillip to his zest for novelty, but also afforded 
 him a much-relished opportunity for showing off. If there was 
 one thing he admired more than any other, it was a really well- 
 dressed woman, and Elinor's worst enemies would not have 
 denied that she was this. She had a positive genius for self- 
 adornment. 
 
 Elinor found this atmosphere entirely to her liking. With an 
 admirer on either side, she was in high good humour, and Baltazzo, 
 who had a weakness for alcohol, cheered up after his second glass 
 of champagne and became, for him, quite boisterous. As a rule 
 he was almost inarticulate. 
 
 This Baltazzo was an extraordinarily stupid man of about
 
 128 RICHARD KURT 
 
 fifty, a bachelor and very well off. He was a Milanese, but had 
 practically given up Milan for Paris, where he had a flat in the 
 Champs Elysees, only coming to Italy in the autumn, which he 
 generally spent at his villa at Bellabocca. The Kurts had first 
 met him at Monte Carlo, and there had been between Elinor and 
 himself a flirtatious understanding of an apparently passive kind 
 which never seemed to get beyond its preliminary stage. He 
 generally turned up at times and places convenient to Elinor, and 
 had, in keeping with this practice, put in an appearance at Taor- 
 niina, when, some weeks before Richard left for Assisi, his wife 
 had begun to feel a hankering for change, and consequently the 
 need of a reliable and (financially) substantial escort for future 
 reference. Dullness and dumbness were not, in Elinor's view, 
 defects in an elderly admirer of lavish propensities. He had a 
 large Mercedes car, which he placed at her disposal, just as in 
 Paris he asked her and her friends to any restaurant or theatre 
 she selected, and Richard, though he detested an unpalatable 
 obligation, accepted it as the only alternative to scenes repeated 
 each time he opposed acceptance. 
 
 It was in keeping with the Kurts' marital relations at this stage 
 that no question had been asked by the one, nor explanation 
 vouchsafed by the other, as to Elinor's experiences from the time 
 that Richard had left Taormina down to her meeting with Reggie. 
 Richard accepted the situation. It seemed the only thing to do. 
 And both of them, had they said what they felt, would have 
 confessed to equal relief that the presence of outsiders made it 
 necessary to postpone discussion of their private affairs. 
 The boy kept things going. 
 
 He held forth about the delights of the lake, painting in glowing 
 colours those attractions which, with an insight more feminine 
 than masculine, he intuitively felt would appeal to the woman 
 beside him. 
 
 Elinor plied him with questions, much to the jealous annoyance 
 of Baltazzo, who, having known the neighbourhood all his life, 
 considered himself a better authority. Which was the most 
 fashionable part of the lake ? When was the season ? Who 
 was who at Traverse, Ravolta, Como ? 
 
 Argument became lively between her neighbours on each point 
 in turn. Baltazzo nebulously maintained the supremacy of 
 Como, where half the aristocracy of Milan had villas, while Reggie 
 championed the loftier social level of the Traverso end. Quality 
 appeared, certainly, Elinor thought, to favour Traverso and 
 Ravolta, with a Roman prince and a German highness respectively,
 
 VIRGINIA 129 
 
 but, on the other hand, there was a luxuriance of counts at the 
 other end as well as a Milanese duke. 
 
 There followed a discussion of hotels, which weighed down 
 the scale heavily on the Como side, when Baltazzo dropped 
 Casabianca and its autumn season into the balance. Reggie's 
 confession that he had never seen the lake in the autumn con- 
 firmed Elinor's choice. 
 
 "Then you don't know Lake Como," Baltazzo retorted. 
 " Casabianca is the centre of society. Everyone goes there from 
 the Engadine in September. It's a little Deauville, with horse- 
 races, yacht-races, dinner-parties and dances. There is even 
 soon to be a casino." 
 
 Kichard took no part in the discussion, which was of a type 
 but too familiar to him. Also he saw quite plainly that Elinor, 
 as usual, was exposing her own weakness and that Reggie was 
 amusing himself by drawing her. 
 
 Presently Mrs Rafferty's name cropped up. Baltazzo evidently 
 wished to convey to Elinor that he could say a good deal about 
 that lady if he chose, and Elinor wanted him to choose. 
 
 " Well, what about her, Ugo ? Why don't you say ? What's 
 the mystery ? " 
 
 Baltazzo looked round as though fearing to be overheard. 
 
 " G'est une vicieuse," he muttered under his breath in his 
 neighbour's ear. 
 
 Elinor's French was anything but fluent. 
 
 " Well, go on," she exclaimed in English. 
 
 Baltazzo's face wrinkled in a grin peculiar to himself, while he 
 rolled his bloodshot goggle eyes. Elinor and Reggie waited 
 expectantly, but nothing came. 
 
 "How tiresome you are, Ugo!" 
 
 " He's saving it up to tell you privately," suggested Reggie. 
 
 " I heard of a villa to-day," Richard began, with a view to 
 changing the subject. " It's at the other end of the lake, near 
 Forno. Hohenthal said he believed it must be the place which 
 an English novelist " 
 
 Reggie's interest prompted interruption. 
 
 "Raynor, he means. He wrote Fireflies there. Have you 
 read Fireflies, Mrs Kurt ? " 
 
 " I don't think so. What was it about ? " 
 
 " Don't think so ? " There was an ironical ring in Reggie's 
 laugh. " It's only one of the best novels of our time." 
 
 I thought you didn't read prose," Richard remarked un- 
 generously.
 
 130 RICHARD KURT 
 
 Reggie turned to him. 
 
 " When was it I said that ? Let me see a fortnight ago, was 
 it ? No, it was yesterday, or was it this morning ? You're 
 dreadfully literal, and life, allow me to suggest, is change." 
 
 " Consider yourself snubbed, Richard. What was the novel 
 about ? " Elinor asked the boy. 
 
 " About a woman in society who left her husband and her 
 children for the sake of love, and lived in a villa with a wonderful 
 garden on the lake for five years without leaving it. But you 
 must read it. I won't spoil the story. The point is that Raynor 
 wrote it at this place Helmuth told your husband about. It's 
 the most romantic spot imaginable." 
 
 Elinor was impressed. 
 
 " I should like to see it." 
 
 " You shall. I'll take you there in Helmuth's motor-boat." 
 
 " Who is this Helmuth you talk so much about ? " 
 
 " Helmuth, Furst von Hohenthal, Prinzen von Donauwald, 
 and to-morrow I'll introduce you to him and we'll eat strawberries 
 and cream." 
 
 " Tell me all about him," she said to Reggie. " What's he 
 like ? " 
 
 " Very handsome, very tall, very charming, very clever, very 
 rich, and he's my special property, and he thinks the world of 
 me and believes everything I say. So mind you're nice to 
 me." 
 
 The adjectives and the egotistical conclusion were too much 
 for Baltazzo's feelings, already outraged by what he regarded as 
 an assumption by the boy of intellectual superiority. 
 
 " Et il porte des cornes superbes," he interposed in a low voice. 
 
 Elinor did not understand the remark, but Reggie took it up 
 promptly. 
 
 " He likes the Princess to be happy. All decent husbands 
 like their wives to be happy, and Carlo Bassi is a poet. Poets 
 are privileged." 
 
 Baltazzo subsided sulkily and Elinor pricked up her ears, 
 scenting scandal. 
 
 " Oh, do tell me about it," she begged Reggie languishingly. 
 
 " There was once a princess who loved a poet. The poet was 
 very poor " the boy began. 
 
 But Richard had had enough. 
 
 " I say, do chuck it, both of you. Prince Hohenthal received 
 me charmingly ; I don't want his wife discussed in this public 
 place."
 
 VIRGINIA 131 
 
 Elinor gazed at her husband with wrathful contempt. 
 " Dear me ! Since when have we become so delicate ? " 
 "Helmuth loves talking about Carlo, you know," the boy 
 put in, thoroughly enjoying Elinor's malicious sarcasm. But 
 Richard's cold expression conveyed a warning to which even his 
 flippancy was not impervious, and with characteristic tact he 
 started a less threatening topic. 
 
 vii 
 
 After dinner, finding the storm over and the sky clear, they 
 took coffee on the terrace, and then Baltazzo and Reggie in turn 
 perambulated the garden with Elinor, while Richard accom- 
 modated himself to the alternative society of both. He was 
 accustomed to this role, and it disturbed him comparatively little. 
 He had to reconcile himself perforce to the altered situation 
 brought about by Elinor's appearance on the scene. His agree- 
 able solitude was at an end for the present anyhow, and it 
 mattered little whether the society about him was a trifle 
 more or less uncongenial. Elinor's sudden arrival had allowed 
 him no time to think things out. Would she want to remain 
 with him on the lake ? He intended to remain, if not at Drina, 
 elsewhere on the lake, as long as his present liking for it lasted. 
 It might be a humour, a mood, that would pass ; he could not tell. 
 The fact remained that Elinor's whims would not move him, and 
 if he went elsewhere he would go at his own bidding, not at 
 hers. And if she, too, for one reason or another, elected to 
 remain, how would that affect his present temper ? Would her 
 presence modify his growing desire for a more reflective, a more 
 intellectual, existence, or would even she fall under the spell of 
 this beauty and be willing to curb, for a time at least, her craving 
 for the specious banalities of her world ? 
 
 Towards eleven Elinor informed the party that she was tired. 
 Baltazzo looked gloomy when she bade him good-night. In the 
 morning he had to go to Milan, where urgent business demanded 
 his presence, and he realised that that infernal young coxcomb 
 was in possession. Reggie grasped with delight the older man's 
 jealousy, and, sure of Elinor's connivance, took full advantage 
 of the opportunity to increase the pangs. 
 
 " I shall be waiting for you with the boat at twelve," he said, 
 taking her hand with a sentimental expression and holding it,
 
 132 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " and I'll sit at your ieet and read you iny last sonnet. I know 
 the loveliest spot, quite close to this, where we can lie under the 
 overhanging boughs and look down into the water, deep and 
 clear as crystal." 
 
 Elinor smiled sweetly upon him as she turned away with 
 Kichard, and Baltazzo cut the end off a cigar and scowled. 
 
 vni 
 
 " Why you should make such a fuss about nothing and be such 
 a wet blanket, I can't imagine," were Elinor's first words when 
 they reached her bedroom, a large, comfortable room with a 
 balcony overlooking the lake. 
 
 " I didn't come up with you for an argument," Richard 
 answered. " I came to see if you had got a good room. Where 
 have they put your maid ? " 
 
 " Oh, she's all right. The other side of the dressing-room. 
 The room will do." She looked round discontentedly. " There 
 are no wardrobes that are any use, and the electric light's in 
 the wrong place, so that I can't use the looking-glass. You 
 must see to that to-morrow. The food's too filthy for words, 
 of course." 
 
 This had not occurred to Richard. 
 
 "Is it?" he asked. 
 
 "Is it ? " she repeated in an irritable voice. " You know it 
 always is except in a handful of hotels." 
 
 " I was wondering whether I hadn't better have my room 
 changed to-morrow. It will look odd if I stay over there " 
 
 " Look odd ? To whom, I should like to know ? those 
 frumps in the hotel ? Do as you like, but if you're comfortable 
 I should advise you to stay where you are. What about a sitting- 
 room ? " 
 
 "Well, you see, they haven't got any. You can use the 
 one in my quarters." Richard was much relieved by his 
 wife's scorn for appearances. He had no desire to change his 
 room. 
 
 " That won't be much use to me. The only advantage of a 
 sitting-room is to have it next to one's bedroom. But I don't 
 suppose we shall be here long, shall we ? " Elinor yawned as 
 she spoke. 
 
 " I haven't thought much about it. I had no idea you were 
 coming so soon."
 
 VIRGINIA 133 
 
 *' Thanks for the compliment. It's weeks since you left Taor- 
 mina. However, that's not the point." 
 
 " Not the point " was a favourite expression of Elinor's. She 
 used it on all occasions. 
 
 " What is ? " Richard asked. 
 
 " What we're going to do, of course. What about this prince ? 
 Ugo was very mysterious about him. What's he like ? Is he 
 of any importance ? " 
 
 " I don't know what you mean by important. He's refined, 
 cultivated, a thorough man of the world. I don't know that 
 you'll care much about him." 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! Too intellectual, I suppose, for an ignoramus 
 like me ? " 
 
 Richard ignored the sneer. 
 
 " I mean, he does not seem somehow to be much of a lady's 
 man." 
 
 " Um ! " Elinor was standing before the glass, taking her pearls 
 out of her ears. Now she turned round sharply, with both 
 hands to one of them, and looked at her husband with a meaning 
 expression. 
 
 " Ugo said something like that." 
 
 " What of it ? There are men who don't spend their lives 
 dancing attendance on other men's wives." 
 
 Elinor turned to the glass again with her back to her 
 husband. 
 
 " Are you jealous ? " 
 
 " Of Baltazzo ? Good heavens ! " 
 
 " Tell me about your friend, Reggie Brendon." 
 
 " He's not my friend. I happen to know his father slightly. 
 He's a mere boy. I shouldn't get too intimate with him ; he's 
 not reliable." 
 
 " Reliable in what way ? I don't want him to rely upon. 
 You seem to be pretty intimate, calling him Reggie after a few 
 hours' acquaintance." 
 
 " What am I to call him ? Hearing Hohenthal call him that 
 makes it difficult not to. The boy's all right, if you know how 
 much you can trust him, that's all I mean." 
 
 " I've no intention of trusting him." Elinor left the 
 mirror and threw herself into an arm-chair. " Can't you tell 
 me all this to-morrow ? I'm awfully tired," she exclaimed 
 petulantly. 
 
 " Of course you are. I'd forgotten. I'll say good-night." 
 
 " Call Jeanne, please."
 
 184 RICHARD KURT 
 
 Kichard went through the dressing-room, which was littered 
 with every imaginable article of dress and toilet, and knocked 
 on the door beyond. The maid appeared with sleepy eyes and 
 followed him into the bedroom. Elinor, once more in front of 
 the glass, was disentangling her coiffure. Richard stepped to 
 her side and kissed her lightly on the cheek. As he did so she 
 deposited a long dark tail of hair on the dressing-table.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 i 
 
 LESS than a week later, by arrangement with Elinor, Richard 
 went to the Casabianca Hotel at Bellabocca. He was to have a 
 look at the Villa Aquafonti and, if the preliminary inspection was 
 encouraging, to engage a suitable apartment at the hotel, when 
 Elinor would join him. 
 
 He was not sorry to leave Drina. As was always the case, the 
 peaceful atmosphere had given place, after Elinor's appearance, 
 to a sense of strain and general discomfort. She was dissatisfied 
 with the hotel management, and when Richard, having noticed 
 nothing worth complaining about, declined her suggestion of 
 "pitching into" the manager, she had done so herself, with 
 the result that nothing had been changed and the sour-faced 
 Swiss had shown his resentment by an attitude of studied 
 insolence. 
 
 Elinor's meeting with the Prince had not been a success, 
 although she thought it had. 
 
 Reggie had " rowed them across " to the Villa Carlotta on the 
 day following their arrival, and Elinor, exquisitely dressed, had 
 exerted all her powers of ingratiation. She was sensibly impressed 
 by the Prince's personality and the opulent taste of his sur- 
 roundings, but, though he responded to her flattering remarks 
 with many smiles and bows, his extreme politeness was, Richard 
 knew, a mask for reserve. No one possessed in a greater degree 
 the gracious gift of putting acquaintances at their ease, but on 
 this occasion, for the first time since Richard had known him, he 
 did not make use of it. 
 
 It was apparent that Elinor rubbed him up the wrong way. 
 And yet she did not exactly gush, nor did she, as sometimes, 
 look superior. But Richard was almost humiliatingly conscious 
 of something inappropriate in her attitude and manner rather 
 than in anything she said or did. There was a coldness of atmos- 
 phere in which every idle phrase assumed undue significance, 
 and this was just exactly contrary to what he had hitherto ex- 
 perienced at the Villa Carlotta. 
 
 135
 
 136 RICHARD KURT 
 
 The agreeable ebb and flow of conversation, the animated dis- 
 cussions which had been the great attraction of his previous 
 visit, gave place to a mere exchange of perfunctory commonplaces, 
 and even Reggie's attempts to infuse frivolity completely failed. 
 
 In Hohenthal's spontaneity of idea, in his responsiveness to 
 suggestion, lay his charm, but on this occasion he seemed de- 
 liberately to suppress his qualities and to exhibit a polished 
 hardness in their stead. 
 
 Richard could not understand why Elinor should affect him to 
 that extent. Hohenthal was exceedingly tolerant. Mrs Raff erty's 
 disconcerting solecisms did not shock but even entertained him. 
 Richard remembered the Prince had said that what he liked 
 about her was her invigorating American frankness, for now- 
 adays Americans had lost their faculty of making themselves 
 valued by the sheer weight of their crudeness. Certainly Elinor 
 never "gave herself away" by any exhibition of that kind. 
 She was not a babbler about things of which she knew nothing. 
 She was very assimilative and, in fact, rather clever at disguising 
 her ignorance and adopting the attitude of those she was with. 
 Even if Hohenthal had detected the superficiality of her culture 
 and her passion for aristocratic associations, such weaknesses 
 could only have been a source of amusement to one of his amiably 
 cynical temperament. Yet the reason for Elinor's failure would 
 have been clear to anyone but Richard ; the habit of years had 
 blinded him. 
 
 When, on their departure, the Prince escorted her to the boat 
 and handed her a superb bunch of roses tied with a broad green 
 riband that went admirably with her dress, she showed plainly 
 that she regarded this as evidence of the impression she had made. 
 But there are people by nature so urbane that they disguise in- 
 difference or dislike by profuseness of compliment, and Hohenthal 
 was one of them. 
 
 Richard's first view of Aquafonti was on the evening of his 
 arrival. Inquiry at the hotel elicited that it was almost exactly 
 opposite and, hiring a boat, he rowed himself across the lake after 
 dinner. 
 
 It was a cloudless night, brilliant with stars, and, pulling easily, 
 he had almost reached the other shore when the moon rose above 
 the mountain behind him. 
 
 Resting on his oars, he turned round in his seat and found that 
 he was within fifty yards of a building lying back in a sort of little 
 bay. The shadowy outline was barely perceptible in the misty 
 darkness. A few more strokes brought him close under its wall,
 
 VIRGINIA 137 
 
 for the house was built into the lake itself. Just above his 
 head a balcony ran along its side and, a boat-length away, steps 
 descended into the water. 
 
 He made the boat fast to an iron ring and, mounting the steps, 
 found himself standing beside the pedestal of an ancient statue 
 on a moss-grown terrace. The boughs of a great plane-tree waved 
 high over his head, its leaves faintly rustling. On his right the 
 fabric of the house stood black against the obstructed moonlight, 
 which touched the summit of the mountain, dark at its base, with 
 silver. Close to the head of the steps was an entrance door, 
 which Richard tried but found locked, and the moon rays, steal- 
 ing through the tangle around him, disclosed a neglected road 
 winding amongst overhanging trees. Following this for fifty 
 yards, it led him to a ruined stone bridge over a torrent. Under 
 him the water murmured on its way to the lake. He saw that 
 he was looking down on the other side of the house, which stood 
 out brightly in the moonlight. Beyond him, on the left, stretched 
 another terrace with a stone balustrade towards the lake, and at 
 the far end a marble Madonna held out her arms as though to 
 take the world to her embrace. 
 
 As he stood there a nightingale burst into song somewhere 
 close behind him, another answered farther away, and yet another 
 in the fainter distance. The place was a haunt of mystery and 
 romance. 
 
 He made his way to the boat and paddled into the moonlight, 
 drifting idly. The only sounds were the songs of the nightin- 
 gales and the gentle splashing of the water against the villa 
 wall. 
 
 Again the spell of the lake held Richard, its wonderful sweet- 
 ness and peace and beauty. 
 
 He felt he could be happy in such a place as that, far from the 
 vapid uselessness of his trifler's life. There he could establish 
 the foundations of a new and a worthier personality. He would 
 be able to dream and think. In the contemplation of this loveli- 
 ness he would acquire a new outlook. He would cultivate in- 
 tellectual pursuits and studious habits, and gradually gather 
 knowledge. He would live away from the world and its vanities. 
 What pleasure had they ever given him ? Even Elinor herself 
 might care less for them under such overpowering influences. 
 And if she tired, if she longed for the world, she could go away 
 whenever she liked. He bad no intention of tying her down. 
 But for himself he had found what he desired. This was " the 
 something else " he had been seeking. He would write to his
 
 138 RICHARD KURT 
 
 father at once. The old man had not for a long time refused him 
 anything he really wanted. He would buy that villa and make 
 it a thing of beauty, a home of culture and refinement. Good-bye 
 to the stupid sports, the aimless time-killing of the past. Nature 
 and Art should henceforth fill his life. 
 
 With such thoughts in his mind he bent his back to the oars 
 and rowed swiftly to the hotel. 
 
 Richard was up early the next morning. He wanted to lose 
 no time before investigating Villa Aquafonti by daylight. He 
 knew nothing about the price asked for the place, nor how much 
 would have to be done before it could be made habitable, let 
 alone arranged in the fashion he had in mind. At the hotel they 
 could not even tell him to whom to apply for permission to view. 
 The place was a ruin, the concierge told him, and there was no 
 caretaker, for there was nothing worth stealing. When Mr 
 Raynor was there he took everything with him that he needed ; 
 besides did Mr Kurt know Mr Raynor ? He was a very curious 
 gentleman ; he had two Sicilian servants with him. That, to 
 the worthy Ticinese, seemed to settle the peculiarity of Mr 
 Raynor. Richard breakfasted on the wide verandah, well screened 
 from the morning sun and facing the lake. His eyes at once 
 sought the villa, peering through the morning mist that overhung 
 the water. Gradually he distinguished its blurred outline, greyish- 
 white against the sapphire background of the mountains, and 
 more gradually its terraces painted themselves on either side, 
 lighter patches faintly showing through the blue opaqueness of 
 the haze, with the dark masses of trees above them. Its air of 
 shrouded mystery and aloofness contrasted with the riot of colour 
 in the flower-beds on the hotel terrace, bathed, as was all the 
 higher side of the lake, in brilliant sunshine. Over there the 
 whole length of shore was in shadow, except for an occasional 
 patch of pale sunlight where the land jutted far enough into 
 the lake to catch the rays of the sun as it rose higher, but 
 upon the villa itself, lying back in its little bay, no gleam had 
 yet fallen. It was almost sombre, Richard thought ; but his new 
 mood savoured a sweet melancholy, and romance compensated 
 for sunshine. 
 
 "Monsieur is wanted on the telephone."
 
 VIRGINIA 139 
 
 Richard started at the porter's voice, and jumping up followed 
 him into the hotel. 
 
 It was Elinor's maid. 
 
 Madame wished her to tell Monsieur she was leaving Drina 
 by the early afternoon boat and coming to Casabianca. Would 
 Monsieur immediately engage rooms ? 
 
 In answer to bis inquiry as to this sudden change of plan, he 
 could get no coherent explanation. The woman spoke indistinctly 
 and was evidently flustered. 
 
 One of her tantrums with the hotel manager, no doubt, Richard 
 concluded, replacing the receiver. It was just like her ; but it 
 didn't much matter. He would have preferred two or three 
 days to himself in which to arrange matters, but perhaps it was 
 just as well that she should be here. She was energetic and 
 practical about anything she wanted herself, and if she liked 
 the villa she would enjoy going into the plans and designing 
 alterations. 
 
 Having selected an apartment, Richard ordered a conveyance 
 with a driver who knew the locality, and went out again to the 
 garden until it arrived. 
 
 The Hotel Casabianca owed its unusual attractiveness to 
 having once been a private mansion, the cachet of which it pre- 
 served. Built in the cleft of two spurs of mountain, it was 
 surrounded by a large park, laid out, in the romantic style of the 
 early nineteenth century, with broken arches, grottos and arti- 
 ficial ruins ; a long flight of stone steps flanked by cypress-trees 
 were edged on either side by a runlet of water descending from a 
 fountain in the form of a classic temple containing a statue. 
 This rather imposing architectural arrangement faced the main 
 entrance, which was at the back of the hotel, the front being 
 entirely devoted to a wide terrace on the lake. 
 
 Richard mounted the steps. Pausing a moment at the top to 
 regain his breath, he saw that mossy paths led from either side 
 of the temple through groves behind and above it. The paths 
 tempted him to further exploration ; he could run down to the 
 hotel in a few minutes ; besides, his cab could wait. He caught 
 sight of a belvedere a hundred feet higher, and, thinking what a 
 lovely view he would get from it, he pushed on. The path had 
 been designed by a cunning mind. It was a tortuous course, and 
 after five minutes he found that he was going down as much as 
 up, and he was about to abandon it and return to the hotel when 
 a great dog leapt out of the shrubs on to the path in front of him. 
 Richard was accustomed to dogs, but this shaggy beast of a
 
 140 RICHARD KURT 
 
 breed unknown to him looked formidable and stood squarely 
 facing him in a way that was not reassuring. Quickly determining 
 that to turn now would give the dog the impression of fear, he 
 kept on, and was within a pace of the huge animal when he heard 
 a long, low whistle. The dog turned his head towards the sound, 
 looked once again at Richard and, with a short, deep growl, 
 bounded away. 
 
 Richard was not a nervous man, but as he turned back he 
 congratulated himself that the encounter had not resulted in 
 any trial of conclusions. 
 
 " Hulloa ! " 
 
 The exclamation was uttered in a very low, deep voice, almost 
 like, but evidently not, the voice of a man. It came from some- 
 where close by him amongst the trees. He looked up and per- 
 ceived a young woman, dressed in white, sitting on the edge 
 of a bank some feet away on his left, with her gaitered legs 
 dangling over a tiny rivulet which evidently supplied the 
 fountain below. Beside her, sitting on his haunches, was the 
 dog, with his tongue lolling out of his mouth between the great 
 fangs. 
 
 " Hulloa ! " he answered, seeing that she was gazing at 
 him. 
 
 " Did Boso frighten you ? " 
 
 She spoke in very distinct English with a peculiar accent, the 
 " r " being un-Italian, harsh and guttural. Her expression was 
 quizzical, and she was smoking a cigarette. 
 
 " Yes, he did a bit. He's rather big." 
 
 She laughed, and the sound was like her speaking voice, deep 
 and harsh and unmusical. 
 
 "You're big too, and English. Englishmen aren't afraid of 
 anything." 
 
 " You seem to enjoy frightening people." 
 
 Richard stared back at her. Her eyes were a greenish-grey, 
 and her eyebrows, strongly marked and black, met above her 
 prominent nose. She had a mass of bronze-coloured hair with a 
 dash of red in it. It was beautiful in colour, but it was coarse, 
 like the hair of a healthy peasant. What a big mouth she had, 
 and how strong and white her teeth were ! He wouldn't like his 
 finger to get between them. And her skin was tanned like a 
 man's ; even her neck and the upper part of her breast were brown 
 where her man's shirt was open at the neck. Her sleeves were 
 rolled up above her elbow, and he could see dark hair upon her 
 forearm as it lay upon the dog's neck. She wore a brown leather
 
 VIRGINIA 141 
 
 belt to which a large clasp-knife and a whistle were attached, 
 and she held a heavy dog-whip with a swivel at the end of the 
 handle. 
 
 " I like frightening men, not women or children." 
 
 " May I ask why ? " 
 
 "For fun, of course. Besides, they're so conceited. They 
 think no one can do anything but themselves." 
 
 " No one ? You mean girls ? " 
 
 " Yes, girls." 
 
 She imitated his voice as she repeated the word. Richard 
 laughed and she sat silent, swinging her legs and staring at him 
 with her green eyes. 
 
 " Well, I must go on down," he remarked after a moment. 
 He would have liked to continue talking to the queer, provocative 
 girl, and somehow he felt she knew he would. 
 
 " You'll see Mrs RaiJerty down there. Don't tell her you've 
 seen me." 
 
 " How do you know I know her ? " 
 
 The girl thought a moment. All her actions were deliberate. 
 
 " I know," she answered then in her deep voice. She pro- 
 nounced " know " " knaw." " You're Mister Richard Kurt. 
 Ha ! Ha ! You see, I knaw. Are you going to buy Aquafonti ? " 
 
 This time Richard was genuinely surprised, and showed it. 
 
 " How do you know I thought of it ? " 
 
 " I knaw." She said the words with the same inflection as 
 before. He knew she was mischievously intent on puzzling 
 him. 
 
 "As you seem to know everything, perhaps you wouldn't 
 mind telling me who can give me information about the 
 place." 
 
 She reflected again. 
 
 " I'll tell you if you'll promise me not to tell Mrs Raflterty 
 you've seen me." 
 
 " I promise." 
 
 " Do you keep your promises ? " 
 
 "Yes. Do you?" 
 
 " I keep them to my friends. Ask for the Notaio Zambuga, 
 and tell him I sent you. Sh ! " 
 
 She put her finger to her mouth. Her eyes were now fixed on 
 the great dog sitting motionless beside her, with his head on one 
 side, evidently listening. 
 
 She leapt to her feet. 
 
 " Boso has heard something. That will be Flit and Flack."
 
 142 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " Who are they ? " 
 " You'll see. Vieni, Boso ! " 
 
 There was a flash of white, a rustle of boughs, and the girl 
 disappeared into the thicket, followed closely by the dog. 
 
 m 
 
 Richard found the carriage drawn up at the front door, await- 
 ing him. He had his foot on the step, and was in the act of 
 telling the driver to take him to Notaio Zambuga's office in Como 
 when he heard his name called. 
 
 Mrs RafEerty, in a garment that looked like a Chinese robe, 
 and with an extraordinary arrangement of veils round her head, 
 was standing in the doorway. 
 
 He withdrew his foot and went up the steps towards her, 
 bowing. 
 
 " I saw you coming down from the fountain. Come to tea 
 this afternoon, won't you ? Get away, Flack." 
 
 She spoke in characteristic, off-hand fashion, hardly looking 
 at him. In one hand she held a long staff with a tortoiseshefl 
 ball on the top ; a tiny black and white Japanese spaniel nestled 
 in the other arm, while a second was trying to climb up her dress, 
 whimpering. 
 
 "You're very kind. I'm afraid I can't to-day. My wife is 
 arriving this afternoon." 
 
 " Both of you come to lunch to-morrow, then one o'clock 
 sharp, or the food will be spoilt. You haven't seen a girl wander- 
 ing about up there with a big dog, have you ? " she continued, 
 while Richard was bowing his acceptance. 
 
 " A girl ? " he repeated blandly. 
 
 The innocent ignorance of his tone was sufficient answer, and 
 she turned and went into the hotel. 
 
 Notaio Zambuga was over seventy years of age and a typical 
 Italian of the old school, precise, efficient and kindly. 
 
 Richard's description of the strange girl was as good as an 
 introduction. It was Donna Virginia Peraldi without a doubt, 
 he said. 
 
 He would take immediate steps to find out what the owner, 
 an old lady, was asking for the villa and its appurtenances, but 
 he warned his client that she might be troublesome to deal with. 
 No one had ever wanted the place, but as soon as she knew 
 someone was after it, especially a rich Englishman, she would
 
 VIRGINIA 143 
 
 ask four or five times what it was worth. Meanwhile he would 
 procure Richard all the necessary facilities for inspecting the 
 property and would keep him informed. Their business was 
 quickly finished and Richard rose to go. 
 
 IV 
 
 Richard met the steamer and, leaving the maid and the hotel 
 porters to deal with the mountain of luggage, deposited upon 
 the cttbarcadere after strenuous efforts on the part of the entire 
 crew, he and Elinor walked on to the hotel, distant only a few 
 hundred paces. 
 
 Elinor's manner was unusually cordial. Everything pleased 
 her. It was incomparably nicer here, she said, than at the other 
 end of the lake, and when they entered the grounds through a 
 gateway flanked by a pretty lodge, and the white hotel building 
 came into view, she was full of admiration. 
 
 " Why, it's like an English park, Dick ! " 
 
 When she called her husband " Dick " it was a sign of high good 
 humour. 
 
 She kept up a running fire of observations and questions. What 
 a charming approach, how nicely the grounds were laid out ! 
 Had he got nice rooms on the front with a balcony ? Was the 
 hotel comfortable and the food decent, and how did one get 
 about ? 
 
 His answers seemed to satisfy her. 
 
 " What about the villa ? " she asked. 
 
 " Let's sit down a minute," Richard suggested, as they passed 
 a seat under a tree a short distance from the hotel terrace. 
 
 She was wearing a pale blue linen coat and skirt with a silk 
 shirt. From her chic travelling hat with its pendent veil, very 
 pale blue with black spots, to her smart, pointed white shoes she 
 was the quintessence of dainty neatness. 
 
 Richard wiped the seat carefully with his handkerchief and 
 she sat down on its edge, sticking her legs out ; the black gossamer 
 silk stockings, tightly drawn over the slender ankles and well- 
 turned calf, showed the white skin underneath. She tapped her 
 high heels with the point of her parasol. 
 
 * I want to see the rooms and powder my nose and have tea," 
 she said impatiently. 
 
 He did not want to cross-question her, but, so far, she had
 
 144 RICHARD KURT 
 
 volunteered no explanation whatever of her sudden arrival, in 
 fact she had not alluded to it. 
 
 " You're not very communicative," he remarked. 
 
 " Communicative ? I've been talking a blue streak." 
 
 " What happened at Drina ? " 
 
 " What do you mean ? Nothing happened. That damned 
 manager was impertinent, so I decided to leave, and here I am." 
 
 "Is that all?" 
 
 Richard's tone expressed relief. 
 
 " That's all, as you call it, but if you had put the common 
 brute in his place while you were there he'd have thought twice 
 before " 
 
 She stopped abruptly. Her anger had evidently led her to 
 say more than she intended. 
 
 " I wish you'd be more explicit, Elinor." 
 
 "Now, look here, Richard" she turned round sharply and 
 there was a defiant ring in her voice " don't bother me with 
 questions." 
 
 " But hang it all, Elinor, you're my wife. It's my business to 
 know. If the fellow has done anything I can take up I'll very 
 soon " 
 
 " There's nothing to take up. If there were, I should tell you. 
 What good would it do me, I'd like to know, for you to have a 
 row with a cad of a hotel manager ? " She got up from the seat 
 and Richard followed her slowly. 
 
 "As you please, my dear girl," he said, "but you're getting 
 awfully evasive, you know. To this day you've told me practic- 
 ally nothing about what you did after I left you at Taormina, 
 and " 
 
 She stopped suddenly and faced round at him with a short, 
 bitter laugh. 
 
 " Well, I like that ! You go crazy over a Vasser prig with her 
 ' higher thought ' rot, and go cavorting off to Assisi with her, 
 and when you get ready I've got to play the good-little-girl-on-a- 
 high-chair act, saying, 'Yes, mamma,' 'No, mamma,' at the 
 right places. Thanks very much. You run your show and I'll 
 run mine." 
 
 She threw the words at him scornfully and, turning sharply, 
 walked on. 
 
 Richard knew the expression of her face from the back. He 
 knew the backward tilt of the head meant that the rather long 
 upper lip and pretty, straight nose were curling into a sneer, that 
 the brown eyes were flashing under their long lashes and heavy
 
 VIRGINIA 145 
 
 lids. Elinor had a special set of expressive gestures for every 
 part. The present set signified outraged dignity. Richard, 
 familiar with the signals, knew that the next one would be a 
 challenge to battle for which he was in no humour. Instead, he 
 dropped the subject, lit a cigarette and, joining the elegant, slender 
 figure, strolled on with her to the hotel. 
 
 Richard often caught himself wondering whether there was 
 any conscious philosophy at the back of Elinor's mentality. 
 Had she summed up life in her own way and come to the con- 
 clusion that social position and its functions were the only things 
 that mattered, or had she simply accepted the formula upon which, 
 so to speak, her eyes had opened ? 
 
 Elinor had always affected to dislike America and Americans, 
 and she certainly only dropped into transatlantic idioms and col- 
 loquialisms in moments of excitement, but Richard had never been 
 able to perceive that her national characteristics had been other- 
 wise modified. Like most of her compatriots whom he had met, 
 she had never grasped the structure of English social life. In her 
 admiration of the decoration she took the edifice itself for granted, 
 assuming that the purpose for which it was erected was to support 
 and display the gilded dome. She readily understood the absorp- 
 tion of money-making, but the idea that anyone could love work 
 for its own sake would have seemed to her fantastic. If she ever 
 thought at all about the ceaseless toil of the many, it would have 
 been as a vague necessary part of a machine that neither con- 
 cerned nor interested her. 
 
 So far as he could judge, only those human activities counted 
 for her which bore some relation to the comfort or amusement 
 of the socially elect. 
 
 He had come to this conclusion gradually, after studying her 
 for years, and it in no wise shocked him. It would have applied 
 to many in his own and other worlds, but Elinor's indifference to 
 anything except the decorative side of life was not associated 
 with joyousness. 
 
 She had not that love of life for its own sake which resulted, 
 in the case of most American women with a similar ambition, in 
 their making an art of the pursuit of pleasure. 
 
 She loved luxury ; she was impressed by those who disposed 
 of it, but her attitude towards them, unless they possessed the
 
 146 RICHARD KURT 
 
 label of a certain social pre-eminence, was more than critical ; it 
 was contemptuous. She despised in others that which she 
 practised herself. 
 
 But the Prince wore the label. His entourage fascinated her, 
 and Bichard knew, though she had only spoken of him casually, 
 that Brendon's self-indulgent egotism must be for her the last 
 word in aristocratic epicureanism. The Honourable Keginald, 
 with his scent, his Italian valet and his cushioned boat, would 
 fill her eyes as the archetype of the wicked and delightful patrician. 
 It was odd that she would allow the negligible impertinence of a 
 hotel manager to interfere with intercourse so congenial. Some- 
 thing disagreeable must have happened, but since she appeared 
 not to care, what was the use of his bothering himself ? It was 
 not to-day that he had made up his mind to a tolerant indiffer- 
 ence. He had gradually drifted into it as the only workable 
 basis for his married existence. After all, she had a right to her 
 own ideas and her own secrets, for that matter. As far as possible 
 he would avoid interference with her actions, and if she found at 
 last some other object than the gratification of her vanity, well, 
 all the better. The freedom he would exact for himself, if occasion 
 arose, he would never deny to her. 
 
 VI 
 
 Evidently Mrs Rafierty intended to show Mrs Kurt much con- 
 sideration, for at midday her motor-boat appeared to take them 
 to Villa Scapa. 
 
 They were about to start when, to their surprise, Ugo Baltazzo 
 turned up. He too was of the party, and Elinor, always more 
 at her ease when she had a reliable follower in attendance, 
 cordially welcomed him. 
 
 Baltazzo' s bibulous eyes watered with delighted emotion. 
 
 " I had no idea you were at Casabianca. That's where I live. 
 You have already passed by it without knowing." 
 
 He pointed as he spoke to an uninteresting-looking, substantially- 
 built house surrounded by trees and situated within the hotel 
 grounds, from which its garden was separated by a wall. 
 
 " So that's your place ? Charming ! " It suited Elinor 
 exactly to have a friend of some local importance within easy 
 reach. 
 
 " We came to this end to look at the Villa Aquafonti," she 
 continued, ignoring an allusion to her sudden arrival.
 
 VIRGINIA 147 
 
 " You think of buying Aquafonti ? " Baltazzo's tone showed 
 eager interest. "Uberto Cigi was going to buy it for fifty 
 thousand francs a year or two ago, before the Bancaria smash." 
 
 " Is that all they ask ? It's worth it," Richard remarked, 
 looking longingly towards it as they travelled swiftly through the 
 water. 
 
 " It will need a lot to be spent on it to make it habitable." 
 Elinor was not at all sure that she wanted to be committed to 
 residence on Lake Como. There was much she would want to 
 know first. 
 
 " There are others for sale if that doesn't suit you. I will find 
 out. I'm sure you would love it here." Baltazzo's heart leapt 
 at the thought of Elinor as a neighbour. He began, with unusual 
 animation, to point out the villas as they scudded through the 
 water. This one belonged to Marchese Forno; that was the 
 Castello Bartolfi ; that beautiful garden belonged to his friend 
 Caperni he gave a water-party every autumn. That was 
 Badolfo's place ; he had the fastest motor-boat on the lake. 
 
 But Elinor was as yet only mildly interested. She had first to 
 get her bearings, and at present she wanted to know all about 
 Mrs Rafierty's position. She knew her by name but had never 
 met her. Was she a person to cultivate ? 
 
 " I suppose she knows everybody about here ? " she asked. 
 
 " Nearly everybody. At first people were a little how shall 
 I say ? doubtful, but gradually they went. She entertains a 
 great deal and has spent a fortune on the place. People went at 
 first as though it were a show ; then they found it amusing." 
 
 Elinor was listening attentively and taking note. 
 
 " Who are the ones who don't go ? " she asked. 
 
 Baltazzo slightly elevated his shoulders and eyebrows. 
 
 " Ah, Dio mio \ Principessa Treviso, I suppose, and Duchessa 
 Travolta. Guido Travolta would soon make his wife go if Mrs 
 Rafferty were young and good-looking." 
 
 Another note. Richard did not miss the smile. 
 
 They were close to the Villa Scapa, a castellated building 
 high above the lake, covered with creepers and half hidden by 
 trees. On a central tower there was a flagstaff from which de- 
 pended limply a huge American flag. Their boat shot alongside 
 the landing-stage of a red-roofed boat-house covered with honey- 
 suckle, clematis and sweet-peas, above which the garden rose in 
 a series of walled terraces. Everywhere, as they walked slowly 
 upwards, the eye was met by a profusion of flowers. Mrs 
 Rafierty's energetic handiwork was unbelievably complete in
 
 148 RICHARD KURT 
 
 the exhaustive adaptation of the most obscure corner to its 
 specific floral purpose. Hoses of every imaginable variety covered 
 the walls and climbed trees or posts placed with that object. 
 Not a space but was utilised for some flowering plant or creeper. 
 It was a maze of colour and intertwining growth, and the air was 
 heavy with the mingled scents. But the luxuriance of it was a 
 little overdone, a little wearying. It was a fine, incoherent riot, 
 but after a time the eye longed for repose, and Richard felt 
 relieved when at last they reached the top. Here was Mrs 
 Rafferty's lawn, the great triumph, and very beautifully it un- 
 folded itself from the house to the low stone balustrade decorated 
 with seventeenth-century statues. The whole flowering garden 
 spread itself beneath. On either side were two great cypress- 
 trees, between which a fountain was playing into a marble basin ; 
 here water-lilies raised their heads among the floating leaves. 
 The whole formed a scene, perhaps somewhat vivid and theatrical, 
 but full of obvious charm, and even Elinor, niggard of praise, could 
 not withhold an expression of admiration to her hostess, who 
 emerged upon her guests through a French window. 
 
 Vll 
 
 At his first meeting with Mrs Rafferty Richard had been 
 unable to deny that, though one might dislike her, one could 
 never ignore her. In appearance, taste and manner she was 
 odd, without being vulgar or ludicrous. She was certainly 
 possessed of a strong will, which forced itself upon people by its 
 consistency and was reflected in everything she said ; a woman, 
 one felt at once, who would never be beaten because she would 
 never admit defeat. 
 
 He stood for a moment contrasting the two women in his mind, 
 while they paced the lawn, Baltazzo uneasily hovering near. 
 Elinor was, as always, exquisitely turned out, but, to Richard's 
 taste, her costume was too carefully appropriate and must in- 
 evitably arouse female hostility. If Mrs Rafferty's taste was 
 baroque, Elinor's was Louis-Seize. She always affected delicate 
 tints which suited her blue-black hair and rich skin, almost olive, 
 with a mantling colour in the cheeks, assisted by a touch of rouge. 
 
 But both women had a feature in common their mouths 
 were hard, and in each case the lips were too thin, the upper one 
 too long. Why was it that American women had these hard, 
 thin lips ?
 
 VIRGINIA 149 
 
 Elinor was in a flimsy, diaphanous costume of her favourite 
 colour, pale blue, with a parasol to match, and the long, fashion- 
 able veil of the moment. Her slight, graceful figure contrasted 
 with the older woman's stronger frame. Mrs Rafferty was not 
 stout, but she was massive. Richard could think of no other 
 description than " Oriental " for the strange arrangement she 
 wore. About her beautiful hair and pale face was a mantilla of 
 Venetian lace, evidently of value from the way Elinor eyed it. 
 
 A servant announced luncheon. 
 
 They entered the house, which from its very threshold gave a 
 sense of repletion. There was a prevalence of crimson damask, 
 mirrors and pictures with carved and gilded frames. There 
 seemed to be a tremendous lot of everything of furniture, orna- 
 ments and decorative objects. One felt that magnificence was 
 the aim, and there was a certain splendour in the ornate profusion 
 of embroideries and rich brocades, of ivories and snuff-boxes, 
 miniatures and rare porcelain. It was all overdone, but rather 
 in the grand manner, as though the owner had been influenced by 
 much reading of Balzac. 
 
 The dining-room was spacious, and the round table, on which 
 there was no cloth, was of green marble, highly polished. The 
 service was of silver-gilt, and in the middle was an enormous 
 epergne filled with some blood-red flowers that Richard had never 
 seen before. Everything was very " well done." Mrs Rafferty 
 attached importance to food, but not more so than did Elinor. 
 Conversation opened upon that subject, and this roused Baltazzo, 
 who appeared to be no mean authority. Richard was but exigu- 
 ously interested in the cooking of young turkeys, and his eyes 
 ranged round the flamboyantly decorated room. The walls 
 were crowded with pictures. Of these the largest and most promi- 
 nently hung was a full-length portrait of Mrs Rafferty, evidently 
 painted in her early married fife. She was seated on a sort of 
 throne, from which descended steps covered partly with a purple 
 carpet and partly with the long train of her golden robe. Around 
 her neck and depending from it was a necklace of the largest pearls 
 he had ever seen. 
 
 " You will not get the right flavour unless You must pre- 
 serve the natural fat a mere suspicion of " Hidden from 
 
 him by the great epergne, Baltazzo was confidentially explaining 
 an item of culinary art to the two ladies. 
 
 Richard's thoughts wandered away again with his eyes, which 
 sought the long, open window behind Mrs Rafferty. As he looked 
 towards it the tail of something light caught his eye. The open
 
 150 RICHARD KURT 
 
 space outside was flagged ; beyond he could see some steps and 
 a low wall. A Dutch garden, no doubt. A few feet away on the 
 stones someone had deposited two plates. A sound of whining 
 and scampering Flit and Flack were upon them, gobbling as 
 though for their very lives. 
 
 " The darlings ! " Elinor was in raptures. 
 
 " They're rather good ones, both prize dogs. I'll show you the 
 puppies afterwards." Mrs Rafferty knew her guest envied her 
 these little creatures, worth perhaps their weight in gold. 
 
 Elinor's enthusiasm for dogs, especially of the preposterously 
 small, rare order, amounted to passion. The conversation veered 
 to the new topic. Richard's thoughts and eyes could again take 
 holiday. The dogs were standing beside their respective plates, 
 smelling each other's mouths and snarling. 
 
 " Come here, Flit ! " 
 
 The small creature bounded into Mrs Rafferty's lap, while its 
 companion dashed eagerly towards Elinor, who was holding up 
 a tempting tit-bit between her finger and thumb. 
 
 " Don't feed him, please. I never give them anything except 
 their regular meals." 
 
 Elinor put back the morsel on her plate, but she was visibly 
 annoyed by the reprimand. 
 
 " They must be very delicate," she could not resist saying. 
 
 Richard had hardly noticed the incident. He was still gazing 
 out of the window, and, just as his wife spoke, he had caught sight 
 of a head carefully thrust forward. He had time before the 
 head was quickly withdrawn to observe a pair of green eyes fixed 
 upon him. 
 
 " By the way," he asked Mrs Rafferty, " did you find Donna 
 Virginia Peraldi yesterday ? " 
 
 His question had relieved an awkward situation. Elinor's 
 sarcastic remark had taken effect. Mrs Rafferty's face was grim. 
 But the expression gave place to another at Richard's question. 
 She perceptibly brightened. 
 
 " Oh, Virginia. I found her when I got back from Como. 
 She's here somewhere. She never comes in to meals ; prefers 
 eating bread, or something easy to carry about, out of doors." 
 
 " What a queer person ! " Elinor remarked, her eyes meeting 
 Richard's suspiciously as he said " I don't blame her," while 
 Baltazzo's goggly smile towards Elinor conveyed that there was 
 no accounting for tastes. 
 
 " I haven't seen old Emilio Peraldi for a year. Do you know 
 how he is ? " he asked Mrs Rafferty.
 
 VIRGINIA 151 
 
 " Failing fast, from what Virginia says." 
 
 "They're originals, the Peraldis," Baltazzo said to Elinor. 
 " I saw the other sister, Donna Brigita, dressed like a peasant, 
 sitting in a donkey-cart outside Como station when I arrived this 
 morning." 
 
 Elinor looked amused. 
 
 " Really ? What odd girls they must be ! " 
 
 Mrs Rafferty's expression was becoming grim again, but she 
 said nothing, and Richard looked towards the window. He was 
 wondering uncomfortably if the girl was still there, and was 
 casting about for another subject. 
 
 " Is this beautiful garden your creation, Mrs Rafferty ? " 
 
 She turned her pallid face towards him for the first time since 
 the meal began. He noticed the dullness of her eyes and the 
 innumerable tiny curved lines round them as she looked at him, 
 blowing smoke from her nose. They had finished eating, and 
 coffee and cigarettes had been served. 
 
 "Not only the garden, the whole place alone with these 
 two hands." She lifted them as she spoke ; they were white 
 but broad, with the short, stubby fingers of one who knows how 
 to use them. He saw that the nails, though dirty, had been highly 
 polished and the red paste had clung to them. " You're looking 
 at my nails. That's Virginia's work ; not very good, is it ? " 
 
 Richard smiled, a trifle embarrassed. 
 
 " It must have been a big job to remake a place of this size," 
 he remarked. 
 
 " It was and it is. There's a lot more to do. But it's the chief 
 object of my life to finish it. You're probably thinking fools 
 build for wise men." She had a level, toneless way of speaking. 
 The American accent could be recognised, but long residence in 
 Latin countries had softened it. Her manner was that of one 
 who does not care a button what people think. 
 
 " Proverbs are generally false," he replied. " It can't be 
 foolish to do what gives one so much interest. One might be a 
 fool to care who lived in it afterwards." 
 
 " I don't." She rose as she spoke. " I only care for doing it. 
 Come, I'll show you." 
 
 viii 
 
 They went out through the window together, the others 
 following. 
 
 " It was a ruin in a wilderness when I bought . They said
 
 152 RICHARD KURT 
 
 I got it cheap ; as if you ever get anything cheap from an Italian ! 
 There wasn't any water supply even, except a well, and, as for 
 drains I've spent twenty thousand francs on them alone. This 
 Dutch garden is where the old stables were a regular plague- 
 spot." 
 
 They walked on, she pointing with the staff she carried, ex- 
 plaining the changes she had wrought. Elinor and Baltazzo 
 slipped away, no doubt disinclined for hot perambulation immedi- 
 ately after eating. They had reached a point where there was a 
 sharp incline with some steps in the distance. Here Mrs Rafferty 
 stopped. 
 
 " That's enough for me. My heart won't stand these steps, 
 and the men are too busy to carry me. Ah ! there's Virginia ! 
 Come here, girl ! " 
 
 Richard heard steps behind him, and turned. Flit and Flack 
 darted off and the girl stopped to caress them. 
 
 " Be polite, Virginia. This is Mr Kurt." 
 
 She held out her hand and grasped his firmly like a man, 
 looking straight into his eyes, as though she had never seen him 
 in her life. Then she crossed her arms behind her back and stood 
 so without speaking. 
 
 Mrs Rafferty continued explaining past, present and future 
 alterations, and Richard followed the pointings of her staff with 
 absent-minded politeness. 
 
 " I'd rather like to have a look at the house and grounds from 
 above if there's a good view. It would give me a better idea " 
 
 " Virginia, take Mr Kurt up to the belvedere. It's not finished, 
 you know. Explain it to him. You know what I'm going to do 
 to it." 
 
 The girl's wide mouth opened in a laugh that was carelessly 
 impertinent. 
 
 " Oh yes, I knaw," she threw over her shoulder, racing upwards, 
 while the old lady turned and walked slowly towards the house. 
 
 " How slow you are ! " 
 
 The girl had already reached the top of the steps and called 
 down to Richard a hundred feet below. 
 
 " I'm not as young as you." 
 
 " Young enough. You're lazy." Her voice almost barked 
 at him, it was so deep and guttural and husky. 
 
 The belvedere was built in the form of a small classical temple, 
 a dome supported by pillars, on a rocky prominence fully three 
 hundred feet above the house. The work was unfinished ; a 
 heap of cement, water and workmen's tools lay about. The girl
 
 VIRGINIA 153 
 
 took vip a board and a trowel and began laying a bed of cement 
 upon a piece of wall ; with some effort she lifted a heavy block of 
 stone on to it. Richard stood watching her. 
 
 " You seem to know all about it," he remarked. 
 
 " I did all that piece." 
 
 She pointed with the trowel as she bent over her work, with 
 her feet wide apart ; through her thin, unlined skirt he could see 
 the shape of her legs. It was the ungraceful and unabashed 
 attitude of a male, and Richard could not help wondering whether 
 it was natural or deliberate. 
 
 " What else can you do ? " 
 
 " Oh, any kind of rough work." 
 
 How unpleasant those rasping " r's " were to the ear ! 
 
 She continued laying and smoothing the cement, then, putting 
 down the board and trowel, she selected another block and heaved 
 and strained at it, breathing hard, reddening with the exertion. 
 
 " If you go on like that I shall have to take a hand." 
 
 *' You'd spoil your clothes," she jerked at him, grunting with 
 the strain and without looking up. " You'll have to go down to 
 Mrs Rafferty. Why don't you look at the view ? That's what 
 you came up for, wasn't it ? " 
 
 " No ; I wanted to talk to you. What happened yesterday ? " 
 
 " I took Boso home, then I bicycled here. Why ? " 
 
 She stopped her labours and looked up at him from her stooping 
 posture, wiping beads of perspiration from her forehead with the 
 back of her hand. A strand of her coarse, ruddy -brown hair had 
 loosened and hung over her eyes, and under her arms her linen 
 shirt was wet and clung to her body, showing the form of her 
 breast, very small and firm. 
 
 " No, why ? I'm interested." 
 
 " What in ? " 
 
 " You." 
 
 She had got the stone in its place, and was spreading the 
 cement. 
 
 " I'm not interesting. Ask Mrs Rafferty. She says I'm 
 stupid and ignorant because I don't like antiques and reading." 
 
 '* What do you like?" 
 
 " I like horses and dogs and rowing and sailing and swimming 
 and working with my hands. You're a funnee man, you ask so 
 many questions." 
 
 Again those disagreeable "r's." She laid down the trowel 
 and stood in front of him with her knuckles on her hips. She 
 had no hat ; her mass of hair was plaited tightly round her head
 
 154 RICHARD KURT 
 
 in a long coil. He noticed that the colour of her sunburnt skin 
 was unbecoming, and the sun showed up a dark line of down 
 upon her upper lip. Her teeth were dazzlingly white, but large, 
 like those of an animal. 
 
 " I like these things too. I didn't know Italian ladies were 
 given to them." 
 
 " They aren't, nor the men either. They only ride, and this 
 country isn't good for riding like Ireland." 
 
 " You've been to Ireland, then ? " 
 
 " Yes. I stayed with Munro and Cissy." 
 
 " Who are they ? " 
 
 " Mrs RafEerty's son and his wife. He has a pack of hounds. 
 But I'd rather go to Australia ! " 
 
 " To Australia ? Good gracious ! What for " 
 
 " Because I can't do what I like here." 
 
 " What do you want to do ? " 
 
 She had dipped her hands into a bucket of dirty -looking water 
 and was wiping them on a coloured rag left by the workmen. 
 
 " I want to live like a man." 
 
 Eichard looked at the girl. How old would she be ? Twenty- 
 two or three, perhaps. She might be ignorant, but she certainly 
 was not immature, and with such a mouth and chin she must know 
 her own mind. His eyes travelled down her body to the light 
 holland skirt, very short and buttoned down the side. Some of 
 the buttons were undone and showed a leg clad in a man's linen 
 riding-breeches close about the knee. There was a stain of dirty 
 water on the front of the skirt. She had on heavy lace boots 
 and leather leggings. 
 
 " You seem to be able to do that here," he remarked. 
 
 "No. I tried to work with the muratori, but they stopped 
 me ; and the fishermen, but they stopped that. They won't 
 even let me stay up at the farm at Casana." 
 
 " Who are ' they ' ? " 
 
 " Oh, mother and Mrs Rafferty everybody." 
 
 " But Mrs Rafferty has nothing to say in the matter, has 
 she ? " 
 
 The girl paused before answering. 
 
 " Not exactly, but, you see " She paused again. " She 
 
 lets me stay here whenever I like, and I'm freer here than any- 
 where else, and when she interferes I frighten her " 
 
 " Frighten her ?" Richard laughed. "How?" 
 
 " I tell her I won't come back." 
 
 " I see. She can't do without you, you mean."
 
 VIRGINIA 155 
 
 She paused again. 
 
 " I suppose I'm useful about the place. I can talk to the 
 people and get things done, and I do the accounts and pay bills." 
 
 " By Jove ! I should think you were useful." 
 
 Suddenly the girl sprang on to the balustrade beside him and, 
 sliding over its side, let herself down and clung an instant to the 
 pediment with her fingers. As he gazed over the side she dropped 
 to an overhanging ledge below. 
 
 " Good-bye ! " she called up, and before he could answer she was 
 out of sight. 
 
 iz 
 
 Mrs Bafferty insisted on her guests staying for tea. She was 
 determined that they should not go until they had seen every- 
 thing she wanted to show them. Elinor had got over her annoy- 
 ance, and Eichard noticed that she was becoming more and 
 more interested in Mrs Rafferty's past and present operations. 
 All the better, he thought, if she caught the enthusiasm and took 
 it into her head to try her hand at the same game. " Aquafonti " 
 would require plenty of "creating," and would supply her with 
 an object for a long time to come. 
 
 They had been conducted all over the house. Mrs Rafferty 
 left nothing to their imagination. They inspected the reception- 
 rooms, the billiard-room and the Chinese boudoir, Mrs Rafferty's 
 enormous bedroom, with her bed on a dais in the middle, and her 
 dressing-room, with a marble bath let into the floor. On the other 
 side of this was a large chamber, the walls of which consisted of 
 huge wardrobes full of every kind of garment, some of these being, 
 as Mrs Rafferty took care to demonstrate, of a most intimate 
 description. 
 
 "And this is my maid's room, but Virginia uses it when she 
 comes." 
 
 " But where's the bed ? " Elinor asked, as they poked their 
 heads in at the door. 
 
 Mrs Rafferty pointed to the corner where a large roll of canvas 
 stood on end. 
 
 " It's a hammock. She slings it across the balcony outside 
 my room there. She won't have a room with a bed in it." 
 
 Elinor looked at Baltazzo, who grinned. 
 
 " At Casana," he remarked, " I've been told she sleeps out of 
 doors." 
 
 Elinor shrugged her shoulders, and the procession continued
 
 156 RICHARD KURT 
 
 its progress through the best guest-rooms, bachelors' quarters, 
 bath and linen rooms, finally descending to the kitchens. 
 
 Here Baltazzo was smitten with the prevailing epidemic. 
 
 The cook and his aide, in virginal white from head to foot, 
 were obviously delighted at his admiration. He stood for a 
 moment as though transfixed, with his eyes riveted on the range, 
 an intricate and highly polished affair in the centre of the kitchen, 
 with a burnished copper rail encircling it, which he fingered 
 lovingly. Then he gazed with awe at the large windows screened 
 against insects, the electric fans, the mosaic floor, curved where 
 it met the white-tiled walls. 
 
 " What a kitchen ! " he ejaculated. 
 
 They got him away, but he had taken the infection, for, when 
 at last they reached the lawn again, Richard, walking behind with 
 Mrs Rafferty, heard him say, " I must have a range like that," 
 and something else about marmitons and saucepans. 
 
 " Ugo has fallen in love with your kitchen," he said with a 
 laugh to Mrs Rafferty. 
 
 " The kitchen's the best place for him to begin at. He needs 
 something to occupy his silly mind," was her reply. 
 
 Tea had just been brought under the trees when a servant 
 announced Prince von Hohenthal. His tall, erect figure, dressed 
 in white, came towards the group across the lawn. He bowed 
 over the ladies' heads and, nodding to the two men, dropped into 
 a chair beside Richard. 
 
 " You see, I've kept my promise, Mrs Rafferty. The lawn is 
 marvellous ; all my congratulations." 
 
 Mrs Rafferty's faded, impassive face brightened at the praise 
 of her work. 
 
 " At last it's beginning to take hold," she said. 
 
 " We've admired everything so much that we're reduced to 
 dumbness," remarked Elinor. 
 
 The Prince accepted a cup of tea and looked round him. 
 
 " Yes, Mrs Rafferty is wonderful, indefatigable. That fountain 
 is charming, and that statue. How clever of you to find such a 
 good example of seventeenth-century garden decoration ! " 
 
 Mrs Rafferty was disappointed. She had really thought it 
 much too good for garden decoration. It was characteristic of 
 her to change the subject. " How is it you didn't bring Reggie, 
 Prince ? " 
 
 He hesitated an instant, lifting his cup to his lips. 
 
 " He went off to England this morning ; in fact I've just
 
 VIRGINIA 157 
 
 seen him off from Coino," he replied, putting the cup down 
 gently. 
 
 Mrs Rafierty was offering Elinor a piece of cream cake and 
 almost dropped it in her surprise. 
 
 " How's that ? He told me he intended to stay until the end 
 of June or longer." 
 
 Hohenthal made the slightest perceptible gesture with his 
 head, but said nothing. 
 
 It occurred to Richard that he had forgotten the boy's exist- 
 ence from the time he left Varenna until that moment. In- 
 voluntarily he glanced at Elinor, but only for an instant ; for 
 some reason Mrs Rafferty had noticed the direction of his eyes and 
 was also looking at her. With a relief he would have found it 
 difficult to explain, he observed that she continued eating her piece 
 of cake with every appearance of unconcern. 
 
 " I shall write and give him a piece of my mind for going off 
 like that without telling me. He was to pay me a visit next 
 week." 
 
 Uneasily and unjustifiably Richard felt that Mrs Rafferty was 
 determined to probe the matter further. 
 
 " He's sure to write to you. Reggie prides himself on his 
 social punctilio. He told me that he had to leave at a moment's 
 notice and that I should hear from him." 
 
 As he spoke the Prince turned with his pleasant smile towards 
 Richard, asking him how he liked that end of the lake, and the 
 immediate response lightened a situation which was threatening 
 embarrassment. 
 
 Tea was finished, and Mrs Rafferty seized her staff. 
 
 " Now I must show you everything." 
 
 They all rose and, leaving her to begin her exposition over 
 again for the Prince's benefit, her other guests took their de- 
 parture.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 RICHARD felt uncomfortably convinced not only that Brendon's 
 and his wife's almost simultaneous departures from Varenna were 
 in somewise connected, but that the boy had informed the Prince 
 of the precise circumstances. 
 
 In Hohenthal's manner, in the very pressure of his hand, and 
 in the expression of his face when they said good-bye to each 
 other, it galled him to recognise a special considerateness. 
 
 Elinor, for her part, appeared to be on excellent terms with 
 herself. After her visit to Mrs Rafferty her rather lukewarm 
 consideration of Aquafonti gave place to enthusiasm. She now 
 thought it would be ideal to have a villa on the lake. How far 
 Baltazzo had contributed to this view Richard did not know, 
 but the two seemed to act and react on each other. Villas and 
 their alteration, decoration and furnishing were the never-ceasing 
 and all-absorbing topic of conversation between them, and Elinor 
 spent every day rushing about the lake in the hotel motor-boat, 
 inspecting places Baltazzo said were in the market, but which on 
 investigation generally proved to be either priced at an extra- 
 vagant figure or wholly undesirable. There was no doubt about 
 Aquafonti being the best villa available, and Richard wrote fully 
 to his father pointing out the many advantages of buying it, not 
 the least of which was that, after the initial cost, the upkeep 
 would involve an expenditure trifling by comparison with his 
 previous sporting establishment. 
 
 Mr Kurt offered no opposition. He replied that Richard could 
 draw upon him for a stipulated sum to cover the purchase, leaving 
 further outlay to be considered afterwards. 
 
 So far so good. Baltazzo's services were requisitioned. He 
 knew the ways of his countrymen and had methods of his own 
 in dealing with them. There were frequent meetings at the 
 stuffy office of old Notaio Zambuga, but the negotiations were 
 long, and both Richard and Elinor were much exercised. Sud- 
 denly the old lady threatened to break off further treaty. Although 
 the notary warned them that this was the invariable preliminary 
 
 158
 
 VIRGINIA 159 
 
 to a bargain being struck, they raised their offer. The old lady 
 still held out. Finally Baltazzo made a suggestion, as a result 
 of which Richard and he paid a visit to the notary's office with 
 sixty thousand francs in their pockets. The effect was magical. 
 Richard issued from the interview the owner of Aquafonti, its 
 several acres of foreshore and mountain, and Baltazzo reached 
 high-water mark in Elinor's esteem. 
 
 From that moment Aquafonti was for the Kurts no longer 
 merely Aquafonti ; it was an obsession ; but it was something 
 more it was a symbol. 
 
 For Elinor it was not a dilapidated house of romantic aspect, 
 which she proposed to convert lavishly into an up-to-date play- 
 thing ; it became, as Villa Scapa to Mrs Rafferty, the object of 
 her existence. For Richard it assumed another form. It em- 
 bodied the idea, the home of his dreams. In it the spell of the 
 lake was materialised. 
 
 And rapidly the bond that bound them both to this thing they 
 owned in common became a fetter. These two prisoners of Fate 
 hugged the chains by which they were linked to each other. 
 
 Matters were hurried forward. 
 
 Recommended by Baltazzo, the architect Baraldi was called 
 in to draw plans which, modified in accordance with Elinor's views, 
 were adopted and proceeded with. 
 
 From the moment that the place was theirs Elinor had 
 taken the lead, and Richard, impressed by her quite remarkable 
 grasp of practical detail, and still more by her self-confidence 
 in technical matters, let her have her head. She bullied and 
 harassed the poor architect till he didn't know whether he was 
 standing on his head or his heels. But before a month was 
 over the work was well in hand and, as far as the structural 
 alterations, bade fair to be finished by the autumn. 
 
 Richard and Elinor now spent their entire days at Aquafonti. 
 A gardener had been found, one Domenico, a big, capable Comacine 
 with a tremendous capacity for work. He engaged labourers, and 
 the cutting, clearing and preliminary laying-out of the grounds 
 proceeded apace. Elinor oversaw everything. She had already 
 clearly mapped out in her brain the general scheme of the future 
 garden, and worked it out with forethought and skill. She had 
 little or no knowledge of gardening, but she possessed the American
 
 160 RICHARD KURT 
 
 gift of rapid assimilation and learnt as she went on day by day. 
 Gradually, too, she picked up sufficient Coinasco from Domenico to 
 make him understand her intentions, and Richard was astonished 
 when he saw how quickly she dispensed with his interpretations. 
 
 Likewise with the house. Once she had an idea in her head 
 she brushed aside Baraldi's objections on account of structural 
 difficulties. When the architect mildly suggested that the 
 estimate did not allow for a particular addition she desired, 
 Elinor replied that it was indispensable. As this was almost a 
 daily occurrence, the cost mounted up by leaps and bounds. 
 Baraldi was an honest man, but he saw that this was going to be 
 a big job, and he soon discovered that Richard's opposition to 
 increasing expenditure invariably gave way before his wife's 
 insistence. Evidently, he thought, they were rich, and it was 
 no affair of his. 
 
 There was nothing at Aquafouti but bare walls and trees and 
 romance. Everything else, except a spring of drinking water, 
 cold as ice and clear as crystal, had to be expensively provided. 
 And each item in the endless list constituted a problem in itself. 
 
 The main water supply had to be piped from Como, the elec- 
 tricity brought thence at Richard's expense. A great cistern 
 had to be constructed for the one and a transformer for the 
 other. 
 
 The garden was nothing but a mountain-side, and a gardener's 
 lodge at the top had to be supported by a wall of immense thick- 
 ness, thirty feet in height. Space for a greenhouse had to be 
 found by blasting a terrace out of the solid rock. A whole new 
 wing devoted to kitchens and servants' offices below, and their 
 bedrooms above, had to be added. On the side of the house to 
 which the roadway descended there was no proper entrance. 
 A new one had to be made, and Elinor boldly met the " Impossibile, 
 signora I " of Baraldi by telling him to cut a doorway where there 
 was a window and throw a decorative stone bridge over the steps 
 where Richard had moored his boat on the occasion of his first 
 moonlight visit. This would give access to the drive and the 
 terrace on the lake beyond. 
 
 Elinor knew what she wanted and was determined to let nothing 
 stand in her way. Her energy developed with her enterprise. 
 Decidedly, Richard thought, she was efficient, much more so 
 than he was, and he would back her up. That was the least he 
 could do. The estimates were exceeded by a third, never mind ; 
 by a half, never mind again. They were doubled. A little un- 
 easy, Richard wrote to his father explaining the difficulties of
 
 VIRGINIA 161 
 
 exactly gauging the expenditure at first. Mr Kurt remitted the 
 cash with a warning. They went ahead. 
 
 ill 
 
 Late one tropical afternoon they had thrown themselves into 
 wicker chairs. Really exhausted, Eichard had insisted on the 
 rest, to which Elinor reluctantly assented. 
 
 " There's the motor-boat just leaving the hotel ; we shall 
 have to knock off anyhow," he remarked. But, instead of the 
 hotel motor-boat, it was Mrs Rafferty's which ran alongside the 
 steps ten minutes later. 
 
 She caught them unawares. Elinor's smile did not express 
 cordial welcome as Flack bounded towards them, barking. Mrs 
 Raflferty approached, with the other dog tucked in the fold of her 
 arm, her staff in the right hand, and followed at some paces by 
 Virginia, with her hands in the pockets of her skirt. 
 
 " They told me at the hotel they were just sending for you, 
 so I thought I'd call for you instead." 
 
 "Too kind." Richard's perfunctory mutter fell on her ears 
 unheeded. Her dull eyes, half closed but observant, travelled 
 to the scaffolded fabric of the house, took in the confused assort- 
 ment of building material and the distant figure of Domenico 
 bending to some labour in the background of trees. Then her 
 gaze returned and rested on Elinor, whose hand just touched hers. 
 
 " Tiring work, isn't it ? " 
 
 She sat down slowly beside Elinor in Richard's chair, as he 
 moved to greet Virginia, standing motionless, still with her hands 
 in her skirt pockets. 
 
 The girl wore a spotless white shirt and skirt, but the inevit- 
 able leggings showed below incongruously. Under a wide som- 
 brero her green eyes fastened upon the man's. Richard asked 
 himself if there was mockery in the stare. 
 
 " Why didn't you send for me ? " 
 
 The deep, guttural voice struck on his ear with the same 
 challenging effect as when he first saw her. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " To help build, of course. I understand muratore work." 
 
 " But you said they wouldn't let you." 
 
 She uttered a sound that was more a gurgle than a laugh. It 
 came from her chest. 
 
 " Shall I ask her ? " She nodded towards Mrs Rafferty.
 
 162 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " Why not ? " Richard's tone was bantering. 
 
 She had as yet not spoken to Elinor, who to outward appear- 
 ance had not noticed her presence. The girl gurgled again, but 
 she did not move. She threw a lowering glance under her hat 
 brim at the two ladies, whose backs were towards her. 
 
 " I won't now. She's talking to your wife. I'll sit in the boat 
 and go to sleep." 
 
 " To sleep ? Now ? How odd of you ! " Richard burst 
 into a laugh. 
 
 " I always sleep when I've got nothing to do." The girl 
 turned sharply, leaving him standing. Richard hesitated an in- 
 stant ; his impulse was to follow her. He watched her descend- 
 ing the stone stairs to the motor-boat, which lay out of view ; 
 he heard the creak of the wooden bottom as her foot touched it. 
 He took a step or two to the edge of the terrace and peered over. 
 She had thrown herself on a heap of cushions in the bow and was 
 tying down the awning. The sun was slowly setting in the cleft 
 of the range beyond Chiasso and casting its blinding rays into 
 her eyes. The boatman was doing something to his engine and 
 apparently had not noticed her. Richard glanced back towards 
 his wife and Mrs Rafierty. It would not do, but he wished he 
 could stay a moment with this queer girl. She drew him strangely. 
 He was about to turn when he caught her green eyes gazing up 
 at him. She held the awning from her. " Tell Mrs Rafferty 
 I've gone to sleep," she said, then let it fall. 
 
 "Your wife says you're too busy to come over to lunch to- 
 morrow, Mr Kurt, but you both need a rest in this heat." 
 
 " Very kind of you, Mrs Rafferty, but there's so much to do. 
 Constant problems as you know." Mrs Rafferty's sunken eyes 
 slowly followed Richard's hand. He was pointing towards the 
 end of the terrace. " Should that wall be lowered, for instance ? 
 It's the boundary, but beyond are trees waste space, and we 
 are considering " 
 
 He broke off. Elinor's face expressed intense annoyance. 
 Richard understood she had no desire to tell their secrets, these 
 undetermined details, to Mrs Rafferty. Such things were part 
 of their common oblation to their idol ; they were sacrosanct. 
 To obtain suggestions was one thing, to consult this woman, 
 Elinor's utter inferior in taste, another. 
 
 But Mrs Rafferty was not so easily disposed of. 
 
 " I can give you an idea," she remarked slowly and firmly. 
 "Throw down the wall and build a wooden lattice. Train 
 climbing roses over it."
 
 VIRGINIA 163 
 
 Elinor rose impatiently. 
 
 "As you were so kind as to offer to take us across, Mrs 
 Rafferty " 
 
 " But you'll show me round first, surely ? I came on purpose." 
 
 The boldness of the avowal was characteristic. 
 
 But Elinor was firm ; her pleading of fatigue could not be 
 gainsaid. A few moments later they were speeding across the 
 lake. 
 
 On either side of the bows seats were fixed. On one of these 
 Virginia sat steering. Richard had taken the other. She had 
 thrown off her hat, her rich, bronze-coloured hair, carelessly coiled 
 round her head, gradually loosened and the heavy tresses fell 
 about her neck and shoulders. 
 
 " Take the wheel a moment, please," she said to Richard. 
 
 She thrust her hair back in a great bunch, pulling her hat over 
 it. 
 
 " You steer zigzag. Look aft." 
 
 She pointed to the stern, beyond which their course showed 
 in a white streak which in truth was far from straight. As they 
 both turned in their seats to look back they came close to each 
 other. Richard felt the pressure of her leg against his ; her 
 mouth with its glistening teeth was very near to his ; he fancied 
 her breath fanned his cheek as she said, " I'll teach you," and 
 put her hand on the wheel so that their fingers touched. 
 
 IV 
 
 Summer was melting into autumn. August came. The lodge 
 and the servants' wing were finished. Elinor said they must 
 move in ; they could picnic there and so be on the spot for the 
 decorating and furnishing. The upper rooms were habitable. 
 What did it matter if they roughed it a little while the decora- 
 tion was being done ? If only that fool Baraldi would get her 
 those stucco-workers. He'd been promising for weeks, but they 
 hadn't turned up yet. She was sick of his promises. And the 
 boxes containing furniture and bric-a-brac that had been stored 
 in the different places where they had been " picked up " kept 
 on arriving. It was maddening. 
 
 It was their habit to breakfast in bed and take the hotel motor- 
 boat across to the villa. So far the weather had been brilliantly 
 fine almost an African summer. 
 
 One morning they were awakened by a terrific thunderstorm.
 
 164 RICHARD KURT 
 
 Richard descended as usual, but there was no question of crossing 
 the lake. A fierce bergamasco was lashing its surface into 
 enormous waves ; they would be swamped, the boatman said. 
 As they stood together talking a small object came into view in 
 the distance, now appearing on the crests of the waves, now dis- 
 appearing in the trough of them. What was it ? Richard asked. 
 Surely no one would go out in a small boat in such weather ! 
 The Comasco shrugged his shoulders. " Una delle Signorine 
 
 It was an ordinary dinghy which the fierce wind was driving 
 towards the shore, threatening to dash it against the wall of the 
 terrace. Richard recognised Virginia. She was standing in the 
 stern rowing, if rowing it could be called, from tall rowlocks so 
 adjusted that she could use the oars facing towards the nose of 
 the boat. 
 
 With great skill and coolness she steered through the narrow 
 entrance of the porto and into the shallow water at their feet. 
 
 As the boatman stooped to take hold of the side of the boat, 
 Virginia, placing her hand with a gesture of easy familiarity on 
 his shoulder, jumped lightly and cleanly on to the wooden landing- 
 stage. 
 
 " Ecco, Giacomo / Che lago burbero ! " 
 
 The guttural exclamation was a little breathless. She was 
 drenched to the skin ; her white jersey and duck skirt were stick- 
 ing to her body like a bathing dress ; the boat was two-thirds full 
 of water. 
 
 " I thought I'd come over and tell you about the sluccatori." 
 
 She stood there dripping, addressing Richard. 
 
 " Stuccatori I Damn the stuccatori ! You've nearly got 
 drowned. Come and get dry immediately." 
 
 He grasped her hand impulsively and pulled her towards the 
 hotel, but she drew it from him. 
 
 " I've got my bicycle at Giacomo's. I must get back to Scapa. 
 Mrs Rafierty needs me." 
 
 "D - " He was going to say "Damn Mrs Rafferty." 
 " Now, look here, young lady. I shan't let you till you're 
 dry." 
 
 She placed her two knuckles on her hips and gurgled towards 
 Giacomo. " He thinks I mind getting wet. Dica pure, Giacomo, 
 do I mind water ? " 
 
 The Comasco shrugged his shoulders, pursed his mouth, lifted 
 his eyebrows and dropped his head without speaking. Richard 
 half smiled at the wordless pantomime.
 
 VIRGINIA 165 
 
 "The stuccatori will be at Aquafonti as soon as the storm is 
 over, Misterr Kurrt. Vieni, Giacomo." 
 
 She plucked the boatman by the sleeve and went towards the 
 wooden shed where he kept his boating tackle. Disappearing 
 within, he emerged with the bicycle. 
 
 Richard had followed. 
 
 " One moment, Miss Virginia, please. I must at least thank 
 you " 
 
 "Naw, don't call me 'Miss.' I'm Virginia. Thank Mrs 
 Rafferty." 
 
 Jumping on the bicycle, she was half-way to the hotel before 
 Richard could say another word. 
 
 The storm subsided as suddenly as it arose. 
 
 True to their promise, the stuccatori arrived. They were twins, 
 and turned out to be marvels of skill. They lived high up the 
 mountain in a little village above Terno, as one of them told 
 Richard. They had almost given up doing stucco-work. It was 
 all made in France by machinery nowadays and applied to the 
 surface, not worked in, as they did it. 
 
 Donna Virginia had been at their podere at daybreak, had drunk 
 goat's milk with them and wouldn't go till they promised to do 
 the work for il signor inglese. Ah, yes. They knew Donna 
 Virginia. All the muratori knew her. She enjoyed working like 
 a man. 
 
 Elinor had been but little interested in Richard's account of 
 Virginia's adventure. 
 
 "There's nothing in it. She likes to show off," she told 
 him. 
 
 " I tell you she risked her life to come across the lake." 
 
 " That's not my fault, is it ? She did it to please Mrs Rafferty. 
 By the way, you ought to call and thank her. These men are 
 splendid. They've exactly caught my idea. The Louis-Seize 
 ceiling will be a gem." And she dashed off to talk to Baraldi, 
 who just then arrived. 
 
 Richard was not loath to go to Villa Scapa. He hardly owned 
 to himself how much he wanted to see Virginia again. The girl's 
 strange individuality was beginning to haunt him. What was 
 underneath it ? 
 
 Telephoning to announce his visit, he and Elinor were bidden 
 to dinner. With Mrs Rafferty any excuse sufficed for an enter- 
 tainment. 
 
 They found her awaiting them in the crimson ante-chamber, 
 dressed in gold brocade, with her beautiful hair surmounted by a
 
 166 RICHARD KURT 
 
 parure of diamonds. A young man arrived immediately after 
 them. He was dressed in white trousers, with his evening jacket, 
 and a scarlet sash round his waist like a Neapolitan barcajuolo. 
 He kissed Mrs Rafferty's hand effusively. 
 
 " Cavaliere Pini Mr and Mrs Kurt. He plays the violin 
 divinely." 
 
 " Paquin, I see." Her dull, sunken eyes regarded Elinor's 
 cream-coloured dress with grudging approval. 
 
 " Horrid old rag a last year's model." 
 
 Pini, who smelt strongly of scent, seemed to Kichard to be 
 impressed by the remark, as he scrutinised the dress with interest. 
 His manner was effeminate and supercilious under a veneer of 
 exaggerated affability. 
 
 " A lovely creation," he remarked to Elinor, with a low bow, 
 " indeed a dream." 
 
 Richard felt a little sick and turned to Mrs Rafferty. 
 
 " We haven't thanked you for the stuccatori. It was so kind 
 of you." 
 
 She slowly lifted her face as he stood by her chair. 
 
 " The stuccatori ? I know nothing about them. What 
 stuccatori ? " 
 
 For an instant Richard was nonplussed. He glanced at 
 Elinor. Engaged in conversation with Pini on the other side of 
 the room, she had not heard Mrs Rafferty's reply. 
 
 " Miss Peraldi sent them " 
 
 An almost imperceptible change of expression came over Mrs 
 Rafferty's impassive face. 
 
 " So that's where she was yesterday morning ! " 
 
 Richard thought a moment. Was it yesterday or the day 
 before ? Surely it was no yes. To-day was Saturday. It 
 was Quickly he changed the topic. 
 
 " And the dogs ? " 
 
 He had pleasantly missed the sniffings and barkings. 
 
 " With Virginia. She gives them their bath on Saturdays. 
 Pini, take in Mrs Kurt." 
 
 She gave her arm to Richard as the double doors to the dining- 
 room were thrown open. 
 
 Mrs Rafferty informed Richard that Pini suffered from some 
 kind of affection of the throat and could not bear tobacco. Would 
 Mr Kurt take his coffee in the dining-room and join them in the 
 Chinese boudoir when he had finished smoking ? 
 
 The low window was open to Mrs Rafferty's chef cTceuvre, the
 
 VIRGINIA 167 
 
 lawn. He strolled across and stood looking down on the still 
 lake below. 
 
 Would he be able to see Virginia ? He was half angry with 
 himself for being unable to keep his thoughts from her. What 
 could there be in this girl to hold him ? Hark ! Wasn't that 
 a bark ? Another second and the little beasts were yapping round 
 his feet, and there she was on the path below him. 
 
 As usual. " Hulloa ! " 
 
 She was smoking and had on a sort of brown overall, the front 
 of which was wet. Leaning against a low wall, puffing smoke, she 
 gazed up at him. 
 
 "I've been washing the dogs, and now they're having a run. 
 Don't they look lovely ? " 
 
 " Charming." 
 
 Eichard wanted to say many things, to ask a dozen questions. 
 They stuck in his throat. It was something new for him to be 
 at a loss with a woman a girl like this one, too. They stared 
 at each other, silent. 
 
 " I'm going to bed now," she remarked, walking slowly up the 
 path. He noticed with relief that it led to where he stood, and 
 she would have to go back and down some distance to avoid him. 
 
 " Bed ? It's daylight still." 
 
 " Well if it is ? I'm up before daybreak." 
 
 " Always 1 " 
 
 "Nearrrly always. I was late this morning because it's 
 Saturday." 
 
 She was close to him now, standing by a statue at the corner 
 where the path joined the lawn. He didn't move towards her. 
 He had a half fear she would run off as she had done each time 
 before. She had to be treated like a young horse you want to 
 get near to in a field. 
 
 " Why Saturday ? " 
 
 " I do Mrs Rafferty's nails on Saturdays." 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! What fun ! " . 
 
 His tone was sarcastic, but she did not notice it. 
 
 " Sometimes I hurt her. Then it's fun. I gave her a sore 
 toe last time." 
 
 " So you do her toe-nails as well ? " 
 
 " Oh yes." 
 
 He was silent again. Was it, after all, such an unnatural 
 thing for this young woman to manicure, or whatever they called 
 it, the older one ? Why did it seem so to him ? 
 
 " I have never thanked you for those stuccatori," he began.
 
 168 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " You did. At least you didn't want me to be wet that's 
 the same." 
 
 He smiled at the inability to express a subtle connection. 
 
 " I was coming to thank Mrs Rafferty, and she asked us to 
 dinner." 
 
 " She always asks people to dinner. Why do people eat so 
 much ? Do you like food ? " 
 
 "Yes. Don't you?" 
 
 " I like goat's milk and bread and eggs and cream. Do you 
 like all those rich things ? " 
 
 *' Sometimes. Why didn't you tell Mrs Rafferty you went 
 for the stuccatori ? " 
 
 " Because because " 
 
 She looked at him, hesitating, doubtful. 
 
 " Won't you, please, tell me ? " 
 
 His voice was pleading. He was humiliating himself in order 
 to satisfy his curiosity ; inwardly he was ashamed. 
 
 " Because she said, before, I told her a lie. I never tell lies. 
 So the next morning I didn't say anything. I left her to find out. 
 I must take the dogs in now. Good-night." 
 
 She held out her hand and he kept it a moment, looking straight 
 into her green eyes. Her hand felt large and strong. Her eyes 
 did not waver from his. 
 
 " Good-night," he said, releasing her hand. 
 
 Whistling to the dogs, she walked towards the house.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 GREAT efforts were made, and the second week in August saw the 
 Kurts installed at Aquaf onti. The heat had been intense. 
 
 The glassy surface of the lake became a huge reflector of search- 
 ing sun-rays, its suggestion of coolness a mockery. But the 
 busy couple toiled through the dog-days regardless of their fury. 
 The short, breathless nights were no welcome respite, rather were 
 they fevered preludes to the daytime labours. 
 
 They worked as though possessed by demons of energy, vying 
 with each other in new habits of early rising, and of sketchy meals 
 hurriedly eaten. Elinor swallowed her tea, ordered at the earliest 
 moment her maid could serve it, then, throwing on her dressing- 
 gown over her flimsy nightdress, she would seize her sunshade, 
 cover her head in a blue gauze veil and proceed to the terrace, 
 only to find Richard, with a cup of black coffee in his hand, 
 discussing earnestly with Domenico some new garden-effect, an 
 inspiration of the restless watches of the night. 
 
 When Elinor joined them she would link her arm in her 
 husband's, an affectionate gesture revived from a distant past, 
 and eagerly follow the discussion, nodding or shaking her head, 
 emphasising a word here and there in her queer Anglo-Comacine 
 idiom, with little jerky gesticulations and pointings. 
 
 It was as though a new intimacy had risen from the cold ashes 
 of a burnt-out love. As their common ambition, translated into 
 common effort, realised itself in the material thing they had 
 created, it took for the time the place of all that they had missed 
 in life. For Elinor Aquafonti was less a means to an end than 
 an end in itself. She had merged herself in the creation of some- 
 thing that was to reveal her innate taste. For the moment she 
 had actually forgotten herself, the jewel, in the production of the 
 casket which was to contain it. And in this self -bestowal she was 
 reaping the immediate reward of the artist. Richard shared the 
 illusion which for the time being had drawn them together, but 
 with a cardinal difference. For Elinor, as soon as her ambition 
 was realised, as soon as the stones and cement, the raw material, 
 
 169
 
 170 RICHARD KURT 
 
 the human energy she could purchase and direct, had produced 
 the villa and garden of her desire, the satisfaction of possessing 
 would supersede the joy of creating ; the artist would vanish, 
 the owner would come by her own. 
 
 For her husband, whether for good or for evil, that moment 
 would never come. Possession could in itself never give him a 
 ray of pleasure. 
 
 The first stage in the rapid evolution of Elinor's sense of pro- 
 prietorship was marked by the arrival of the Wensleydales, for 
 which the Kurts had barely been prepared by an introduction 
 from Richard's father. 
 
 The Wensleydales reached Casabianca during the last week in 
 August. The old lord was in bad health and was returning to 
 England by slow stages from the Engadine. Richard rowed over 
 to call, and was received by Reggie, open-armed and joyous. 
 His impetuous gaiety undermined Richard's resolve to hold him 
 somewhat at a distance, the fact being that he was taken too 
 much by surprise to consider his attitude towards the youth, who 
 plied him with eager questions and was full of impatience to see 
 the villa. Besides, a figure, radiating elegance, had almost 
 simultaneously appeared, whom Reggie addressed as " Susanna " 
 and introduced as his mother. Neither mother nor son seemed 
 to be deeply concerned about Lord Wensleydale's health, though 
 she alluded to the " poor dear " as having been " dreadfully ill " 
 during the drive down, which Reggie qualified as having been 
 " trying beyond words," and both expressed gratification that 
 they had a doctor travelling with them. 
 
 It was late afternoon, and across the water Aquafonti stood 
 out clearly in its new coat of paint. 
 
 Lady Wensleydale and Reggie were to be rowed over to see 
 the villa the next morning, and the Kurts were to return to 
 lunch with them. 
 
 " It looks too delightful over there. I can hardly wait till 
 to-morrow," the boy said as Richard shoved off. 
 
 Elinor wanted to hear all about the Wensleydales. Lady 
 Wensleydale was a Caryll, sister of Lord Oare, and " worth 
 knowing." Genealogical details had little interest for Richard, 
 and he had had much of them. 
 
 " Oh, I dare say. She's got the grand manner. Very charm- 
 ing and all that, but it's a bore having them on our hands, and 
 that boy will be a nuisance if we aren't careful."
 
 VIRGINIA 171 
 
 Elinor bridled. 
 
 " You took him up, I didn't. And I'm not going to freeze on 
 him just when he can be useful." 
 
 " What use ? " 
 
 " He's got taste and and I want to be on good terms with his 
 mother. She knows everyone." 
 
 " As you like ; but I advise you to be careful." 
 
 As Elinor laughed they heard the sound of oars. They were 
 sitting on the balcony that ran along the side of the house, which 
 was built sheer into the lake. 
 
 " How d'you do ? " 
 
 The two boatmen lay on their oars, and Reggie, in evening 
 clothes, without a hat, gazed up at them in the twilight. 
 
 They went down to the water-steps. 
 
 " I simply couldn't resist the lake. It's paradise f All the 
 beauty of life, of the world, came back to me on the water. I 
 thought the horrible Swiss snow-mountains had destroyed it." 
 He stopped and looked from one to the other ; he was still holding 
 Elinor's hand. " There was a great light like a beacon behind 
 you. I saw your figures on the balcony and then " he dropped 
 his voice " I had a weird experience." 
 
 He was watching the effect of his words ; there was art in the 
 manner. Richard suspected he was drawing on his imagination, 
 but he listened. Elinor's face showed unusual interest. 
 
 " Out of the shadows a white figure suddenly glided by me. 
 Was it a lake spirit ? I called out and ordered the men to 
 pull towards it. As I did so it uttered a strange cry, like this, 
 ' Hulloa ! ' " 
 
 To Richard, who knew, the mimicry was perfect. To Elinor, 
 who didn't, it was a mere joke. 
 
 " Oh, Reggie, you funny creature ! Is that all? " she gushed 
 at him. 
 
 " It was a sort of girl," he went on, " but it might have been a 
 boy. I asked it whether it was going to your villa, and it emitted 
 another strange sound, like this, ' Naw.' " 
 
 He had the guttural tone exactly. 
 
 Richard laughed heartily. 
 
 " So you've encountered Donna Virginia ? " 
 
 " Have I ? So it's a she and a friend of yours ? " 
 
 " She's one of Richard's peculiar fancies, Reggie." 
 
 " Hardly that yet 
 
 Richard's tone was cold. They took Reggie into the house. 
 
 " But this is perfectly adorable ! " he exclaimed, as Elinor
 
 172 RICHARD KURT 
 
 switched on the electric light in an antique Venetian lantern above 
 the bridge entrance. " What an inspiration to make this bridge ! 
 I'm in Venice. That's the Calle San Luca and this is the Ponte." 
 
 Elinor threw open the door and turned on another switch. A 
 dozen lamps, some pendants, some on brackets in the hall where 
 they stood, up the marble staircase and beyond in the winter 
 garden, glowed simultaneously. 
 
 Reggie was genuinely enthusiastic. " But it's a jewel, the 
 Casa Torregiani, the Trianon and the Belvedere at Miramar 
 all in one." 
 
 " It's only half finished." Elinor stood beside him. Her 
 bosom rose and fell. She felt real emotion, that of the gratified 
 artist ; and she deserved it. 
 
 " And the walls marble too ; and those wonderful baroque 
 chairs against them with the green and gold brocade ; and the 
 bust. Where did you get it ? But it's too wonderful of you ! " 
 Reggie went down on one knee. " Mes hommages, Madame," 
 and he kissed her hand. 
 
 As Richard followed them he could not help feeling that this 
 time Elinor had come by her own. For in all the achievement 
 his had been the minor part. He knew he was utterly incapable 
 of the thousand and one details of delicate adjustment and 
 adaptation which Elinor mastered with intuitive skill amounting 
 almost to genius. She had practically been her own architect 
 and had decided on the style of decoration to be followed. In 
 fact, he had never been able to understand how she could with 
 her mind's eye see so clearly what she wanted when her knowledge 
 of the different periods was so superficial. She consulted him as 
 to the historic correctness of the particular style of each part of 
 the house, but she seemed to grasp his explanations instinctively 
 and so to assimilate his knowledge that, once sure of the main 
 features, she hardly ever made a mistake. 
 
 Whenever Richard pondered over the singular completeness 
 and unity of the villa, he wondered whether this was in reality 
 the fruit of her mind rather than his. 
 
 She would not show Reggie the reception-rooms that evening. 
 They were to be reserved for the next day, by which time she 
 would have the curtains hung in one of them. The effect of these, 
 she said, would make all the difference. 
 
 The boy went away delighted. 
 
 " Susanna will be thrilled," he said, and Elinor went to bed 
 happier, perhaps, than she had ever been in her life. 
 
 The visit of Lady Wensleydale and her son was exhaustive.
 
 VIRGINIA 173 
 
 Not only was everything shown that was already accomplished, 
 but to these sympathetic hearers Elinor disclosed her future in- 
 tentions in detail. 
 
 " The colour scheme is white for the hall, staircase and winter 
 garden, with beige sun-blinds. You see, I shall get my colour 
 from the flowers and plants. There will be azaleas and camelias 
 in the spring, then roses, and so on. Now, in this room," as she 
 spoke she led the way into the Empire dining-room, " I have a 
 cream wall ; this " showing a delicate shade of reseda green 
 silk " is the material for the curtains." 
 
 " The Adam plaques, my dear. How delightful ! And that 
 stucco-work of laurel scrolls above them ! " Lady Wensleydale 
 was full of well-bred admiration. 
 
 They passed to the room on the right. 
 
 " So these are the curtains. What a heavenly red ! " Reggie 
 fingered the fabric. "No wonder you wanted us to see them 
 up. They're ideal with the old wood. And the divan it's 
 simply " He threw himself full length into it. 
 
 Eichard laughed. 
 
 " That's not my doing. I disown it. This room ought to be 
 stern and monastic. There weren't any sofas in the sixteenth 
 and seventeenth centuries." 
 
 Elinor explained that the settee was the result of her desire 
 to obtain comfort. 
 
 The sluccatori, on a board suspended between two ladders, 
 were at work on the ceiling of the drawing-room, which they 
 were covering with a delicate tracery of flowers in garlands, 
 ribands, arrows in quivers, and other decorative conventions of 
 the period. 
 
 Reggie looked at them wonderingly. 
 
 " The heavenly twins ! How on earth do their necks stand 
 it ? " he murmured. 
 
 " This won't be finished for ages, of course. The walls are to 
 be toned very slightly with pink, and this will, I think, be the 
 material for the curtains." She showed a pattern of very light 
 pink-and-green-striped silk flecked with little baskets of flowers. 
 
 Then they were shown the boudoir. This opened out of the 
 winter garden and was stuccoed in the Louis-Quinze style, with 
 a picture of a court lady inset, and antique bronze gilt brackets 
 on the walls, which were greatly admired by the visitors. 
 
 Elinor evaded inspection of the upper floor. Her bedroom, 
 with its fixed wardrobes and mirrors, its sky-blue walls, its 
 antique bed of hand-carved, white-enamelled wood and gilt cane,
 
 174 RICHARD KURT 
 
 BO arranged as to look in daytime like a luxurious couch, and her 
 white-tiled dressing-room, with its porcelain bath and basin, were 
 her particular pride. Although not quite complete, they might 
 have been included in this private view, but she had been over- 
 hauling her gowns, and these were lying about everywhere. 
 Richard rather wanted to exhibit his own apartment, which was 
 across the corridor, was self-contained and had a beautiful view 
 of the lake, but he caught his wife's eye and knew he was being 
 warned not to give away " stable secrets." 
 
 So they proceeded to the garden. As they got outside a boat- 
 man in a white suit came towards them with his wide-brimmed 
 straw hat in his hand. Richard thought he recognised the man, 
 and his eye, catching sight of the gold crown in the ribbon, con- 
 firmed him. 
 
 Would the signor excuse him ? He had a message for an 
 English lady. Would it be that one ? He indicated Lady 
 Wensleydale uncomfortably, evidently puzzled to know which 
 lady he was to address and how to do it. 
 
 Lady Wensleydale knew no Italian, but Richard quickly un- 
 ravelled the mystery. Prince Franz von Hohenthal had motored 
 down the lake to call on the Wensleydales and had been directed 
 to Aquafonti from the hotel. He was in the launch now. 
 
 Richard went to the water-steps. A young man, with a glass 
 stuck into one eye, lifted his hat, apologising, in good English 
 but with a strong German accent, for disturbing him. 
 
 " I'm delighted. Won't you come in ? My name is Kurt. 
 I have the pleasure of knowing your father. How is he ? " 
 
 The Prince was as well as usual. Franz had come from his 
 regiment to stay with him for a few days, and his father, having 
 heard from his kinswoman that she was at Casabianca, had asked 
 him to call on her and if possible prevail on her to come and stay 
 at Villa Carlotta. 
 
 Reggie and his mother received their friend with delight, and, 
 after formal introduction to the Kurts, the young man repeated 
 his father's message, at which Elinor's face fell. It would not 
 at all suit her that this brilliant company should be transferred 
 to the other end of the lake. But of this there was no question, 
 as Lady Wensleydale soon explained, owing to her husband's 
 illness. Reggie wanted to remain at Casabianca, whence he could 
 come across to Aquafonti and help lay out the garden, he said. 
 
 Elinor was quite evidently relieved, but Richard's platitudinous 
 expression of pleasure that they were not going to be so quickly 
 " robbed " of her ladyship's presence was subdued.
 
 VIRGINIA 175 
 
 Franz von Hohenthal's appearance in the flesh confirmed 
 Richard's impression from the photograph his father had shown 
 him with such evidence of affection. He was true to the ordinary 
 type of the German aristocracy. Good-looking, almost hand- 
 some, his features were cast in a conventional mould. His nose 
 was well shaped ; the hair, dark and straight, was brushed back 
 from the forehead, which was fairly high, but gave an effect of 
 emptiness, difficult to account for, except that it was perfectly 
 smooth, as though thought had been ironed out of it. His anima- 
 tion seemed strained, and his manners were too much in evidence, 
 too florid, as it were, to be quite natural. He spoke English 
 fluently but very fast, and did not always understand what was 
 said. Richard noticed that he had a way of forcing a smile, and 
 there was something about his mouth and its clean-shaved upper 
 lip that was unpleasant. He was a man who might easily be 
 cruel, he thought, and certainly heartless. 
 
 He admired extravagantly everything he was shown, but there 
 was a subtle suggestion of patronage in his comments which 
 Richard's attention fastened upon at once. 
 
 Elinor had been pointing out a bridge over the torrent-bed 
 made of carved blocks with stone vases at either side. 
 
 "That must remind you a little of Villa Carlotta," Richard 
 remarked. ,' Your father has made such perfect use of the 
 torrent-bed there." 
 
 " Yes. But you see he had Gabriele della Rocca to advise him, 
 and della Rocca's gardens are the finest in Europe." 
 
 Elinor was deeply impressed, and wanted to know where della 
 Rocca was, and if it would be possible to get " a pointer or two " 
 from him. 
 
 " You are such an artist yourself, Mrs Kurt, you don't need 
 him. But, if you wish it, I will make it my pleasure to ask him 
 to come here one day. Perhaps you will do me the honour of 
 letting me accompany him. At present he is, I know, doing 
 Friedberg's villa at Cannes. Do you know Frau von Friedberg ? 
 She is English." 
 
 Elinor did not know Frau von Friedberg, but she had heard 
 Olivia, of whom she had been a school friend, talk about her. If 
 the Hohenthals knew her she must be " worth knowing," though 
 she had never thought so before. Her husband was such a 
 "fearful cad." 
 
 " I can't say I know her," she replied. " She's a great friend 
 of my sister-in-law." 
 
 " Oh, really ! Friedberg is colossally rich you know. Quite
 
 176 RICHARD KURT 
 
 a good fellow. Owns race-horses and has a polo club at 
 Frankfort." 
 
 " And she's beautiful ! " Reggie put in. " You remember her, 
 Susanna. She came into our box at the Opera with that Portu- 
 guese, Santa Rosa. He was mad about her. Killed himself 
 afterwards." 
 
 " Yes, yes, a lovely creature. I remember quite well. Asked 
 us to stay with her at Cannes the same evening, wasn't it ? 
 I don't think we saw her again, did we ? Sweetly pretty, she 
 was." 
 
 Something rattled. Richard turned. The noise was caused 
 by two heavy bangles on Franz von Hohenthal's wrist. His 
 disagreeable mouth was curled in a self-conscious half-smile 
 apparently directed at Elinor. 
 
 Reggie's interest was aroused. 
 
 " That's a new one, Franz. Who's the victim ? Ah ! Let 
 me see, what was her initial ? " 
 
 He seized the other's wrist playfully and examined one of the 
 bangles. The young German made a show of resistance. 
 
 " That won't tell you anything," he said. 
 
 " It has told me, but I'll be discreet. You'd better take care, 
 Mrs Kurt, he's dangerous." 
 
 Affecting to ignore the boy's allusion, Elinor invited her guests 
 to view the belvedere. 
 
 The little scene was not lost upon Richard. He knew his 
 man now. Franz von Hohenthal had been playing upon a string 
 that provokes ready response from the temperaments of certain 
 women. The man of " successes " knows that to advertise them 
 is a safe road to others, that nothing appeals to the vanity of the 
 coquette more than to take a lover from another one. 
 
 September ushered in an influx from the Engadine, and within 
 the first week the Hotel Casablanca was filled with the tlite of 
 North Italian society, gathered there once more before dispersing 
 to its town and country houses at the approach of the cold weather. 
 Amongst the earliest arrivals were Count Foligno and his wife. 
 Foligno, as Richard had discovered when he met him at Hohen- 
 thal's, was exceptional among Italians in being a snob, but he 
 was not an ordinary one of the Anglo-American pattern. He 
 made his snobbishness a metier, almost an art. Wherever he was
 
 VIRGINIA 177 
 
 he constituted himself an arbiter of fashion, an incarnate epitome 
 of " Who's Who," an authority on what should be done, how it 
 should be done, and by whom it should be done. And, where 
 social aspirants were concerned, his was by no means a negligible 
 authority. He made his own rules and permitted exceptions to 
 them according to an empirical standard of his own, which, strange 
 to say, was nearly always adopted by those whose prestige he 
 made it his business to exploit. His proteges, on the other hand, 
 who might be old, like Mrs Kafferty, or young, like Elinor, were 
 sure of his standing sponsor for them if their right to the privileges 
 he secured them was challenged, so long as they efficiently played 
 the part assigned to them in his social hierarchy. Like all great 
 men, he sometimes made mistakes, but these he visited on the 
 candidates who disappointed him, and then nothing could exceed 
 the coldness of his bow and the distant civility of his demeanour. 
 The poor victims were scrapped, and they either accepted the 
 end of their little butterfly day with resignation, or, if bold, flitted 
 to more hospitable regions. 
 
 Elinor's intimacy with the Wensleydales, which, thanks to 
 Reggie's empress^ manner, was apparent if not actual, and through 
 them the evanescent but constant appearance of Franz von 
 Hohenthal in her train, lent her an additional though fortuitous 
 importance of which Richard quickly became aware and as quickly 
 grasped the reason. He had been through similar phases suffi- 
 ciently often to locate the centre of disturbance and to take 
 measures to protect himself from impending consequences. At 
 no time in his life attracted by " society sets," he was now par- 
 ticularly disinclined to be absorbed into the unavoidable stream 
 of tiresome conventions, tedious amusements and petty intrigues. 
 Therefore, as the season advanced he withdrew himself more and 
 more from its ambient, leaving Elinor free to show off the villa, 
 to attend garden-parties and otherwise divert herself. About 
 this time their motor-launch, a present from Uncle Frederick, 
 ordered mouths before, was delivered, and this made matters 
 easier, for it carried Elinor forth and back, and enabled him to 
 set to other parts of the lake whenever his occupations at Aqua- 
 fonti permitted, and he managed to excuse himself from invitations. 
 It was a very smart little boat, with its mahogany stem orna- 
 mented by a sky-blue band, its highly polished engine, its com- 
 fortable deck-chairs under the awning on a spotless rubber mat 
 and its Union Jack at the stern. The launch was in itself an 
 endorsement of Foligno's assurance to all his circle that Madame 
 Kurt was the bright particular star that season, and that to be 
 
 M
 
 178 RICHARD KURT 
 
 presented to her was no small privilege. Of this privilege many 
 availed themselves, men especially, who attached themselves 
 to Elinor's train, content to sun themselves in her occasional 
 smiles, while Franz von Hohenthal or Reggie alternately played 
 first fiddle, and Baltazzo, more bibulous than ever since his 
 displacement, hovered enviously in attendance at a discreet 
 distance. 
 
 So the familiar atmosphere of the past enveloped Richard once 
 more. He sank into the background, sighing relief for the shelter 
 it afforded from everything his life had taught him to hate. It 
 looked indeed as though he were going to outlive the " season " 
 in comparative obscurity, and that occasional appearances at 
 special fetes or dinner-parties would be sufficient to keep tongues 
 from wagging at Elinor's expense. 
 
 in 
 
 Strangely, it was precisely the last person in Mrs RafEerty's 
 entourage likely to be interested who first heard of her grand 
 project. It was in the early days after their motor-launch had 
 been delivered that Richard, having deposited Elinor at the 
 hotel, where she had an engagement with some one of her friends, 
 steered a course up the lake. Beyond the second basin there was 
 a small bay which had always attracted him, when he passed, by 
 its remoteness. The bay was formed by the spurs of the moun- 
 tains which shelved right down into the lake, creating a rocky 
 shoal dangerous to steamers. Partly because of this difficulty of 
 approach by water except in small boats, partly, as he afterwards 
 discovered, because only mule-paths linked the tiny fishing 
 village to the highroad far away behind the mountains, the spot 
 had preserved a character of complete isolation, melancholy per- 
 haps, but intensely attractive to Richard as an antidote to the 
 boredom of social demands. 
 
 This bay was now his objective, and soon the motor-launch lay 
 just beyond the shoal water. He did not dare attempt to reach 
 the shore, fearing to ground on the rocks and expose the daintily 
 constructed craft to damage. After repeated shouts a boy waved 
 to him and, a moment later, pushed off in a flat-bottomed boat 
 which lay drawn up on the shingle. 
 
 He was a picturesque and tattered little fellow of nine, with 
 large, intelligent brown eyes. Richard could hardly understand 
 a word he said ; his dialect was a variant of the sufficiently
 
 VIRGINIA 179 
 
 difficult Comasco, but with the help of his chauffeur boatman 
 he explained that he wanted to come ashore and, later, either to 
 be rowed back to Aquafonti or, failing that, to be guided back 
 by the mountain paths. 
 
 In the animated colloquy which ensued between boatman and 
 boy Richard caught the word " signorina " several times, but 
 little more, and was preparing to send back his launch (it had to 
 be at Elinor's disposal that afternoon) and chance results when 
 he heard a voice behind him. 
 
 " Mr Kurt." 
 
 Virginia, rowing in that fashion of her own from the high row- 
 locks, was standing in the after part of her dinghy a few yards 
 away. Her mouth was parted in a wide smile, she wore no hat, 
 and her shirt was open, showing the brown throat and chest, 
 almost the breasts. Perspiration was rolling down her forehead 
 in great drops. She held her oars in one hand and mopped her 
 brow and face with the other. She stood with her legs wide 
 apart, as a man does, to get a firm footing, and as Richard glanced 
 down he saw that they were bare below the short skirt, and he 
 noticed the sinewy calves, the strong, straight toes bronzed and 
 made for use like those of an athlete. 
 
 " I heard," she remarked, rubbing her face and smiling mock- 
 ingly at the boatman and boy, who both saluted her as one they 
 knew well. 
 
 She said a few words to them, put her handkerchief in her 
 pocket and, skilfully turning her short cobby-boat, brought it 
 close alongside the launch. 
 
 " Jump in." 
 
 Richard did as she bade him. 
 
 " Via, Pierino," she called to Richard's man, who started his 
 engine. The motor-launch shot away from them ; simultaneously 
 she gave two or three swift strokes of her oars, shipped them deftly 
 and, as the boat glided into a channel, she stood a second and, 
 just at the right moment, jumped into the water so that she 
 alighted with hardly a splash on the sandy gravel embedded 
 between the rocks. 
 
 " I always wade and pull the boat in when I come here ; it's 
 so rocky. Easier than steering her. 
 
 Richard sat on the bench amidships, she beside him, walking 
 in the water, with her hand on the edge of the boat. 
 
 " Odd, just happening to meet you," he said. " Awfully lucky." 
 
 " Why lucky ? You passed close by me and never offered me 
 a tow."
 
 180 RICHARD KURT 
 
 Richard laughed. 
 
 " You don't think I did that on purpose ? I never saw you ; 
 you know I didn't." 
 
 "Yes, Iknaw." 
 
 This time, curiously, Richard liked that " knaw," and, what 
 was more, he was very much enjoying this experience and in- 
 tended to make the most of it. What had she come to this 
 out-of-the-way-place for, he wondered, but he didn't intend to ask. 
 This queer girl must be treated warily. If he advanced too much 
 he knew she would retreat. What was there about her that so 
 allured him ? He looked at her as she waded close beside him, 
 at her brown legs in the water, at her brown arm bare to the 
 shoulder, up to which she had rolled her sleeve. He noticed the 
 dark down which had gold in it ; then he glanced at her face and 
 the upper lip that had the same coloured down on it. Suddenly, 
 for no reason that he could understand, his heart began beating 
 violently, painfully. At that moment they reached the shore 
 and she, guiding the boat alongside a plank placed on trestles 
 in the water, made fast. 
 
 " Here you are. Get out. I must put on my things." 
 
 He did as he was told, saying nothing. He could not have 
 spoken, his breath was coming in gasps, choking him. He 
 walked slowly a few paces, pulling himself together, muttering 
 " Damn ! Damn ! " under his breath. 
 
 A little cluster of children stood in front of him, watching, 
 open-eyed and wondering, the arrival of these unusual visitors. 
 
 When she caught him up a minute or two later he had re- 
 covered himself. 
 
 " What made you come here ? " she asked. 
 
 His natural reply would have been : "I might ask that question 
 of you." 
 
 She was a little in front of him. At the edge of the bay, in 
 the elbow formed by the junction of mountain and rocky fore- 
 shore, there was a rough shanty, beside which two figures were 
 evidently building or repairing a boat. She was making towards 
 them, walking so swiftly over the boulders that Kichard had some 
 difficulty in keeping up with her. 
 
 In answer to her question he replied simply : " Curiosity." 
 
 She stopped short and turned round. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " There was, he thought, resentful 
 surprise in her voice, as though his answer had offended her. 
 
 He hastened to correct the impression. 
 
 " I've passed by here often, going up the lake in steamers and
 
 VIRGINIA 181 
 
 lately in my motor-boat. It seemed out of the way, unspoilt. 
 I wanted to see it." 
 
 Her face expressed satisfaction with the answer. She slowed 
 her pace. 
 
 "I've come for Mrs RafEerty," she remarked. 
 
 Richard did not betray the surprise he felt. 
 
 " Really ? " He spoke with studied indifference. 
 
 " She's going to give a Venetian fete. She wants boats and 
 poles to hang the lanterns on ; and she wants me to go and see the 
 indovinatrice and ask her about the weather." 
 
 Richard was puzzled. He had never heard the word before, 
 and for the moment could not grasp what she meant. 
 
 " The weather ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes. She lives up there." The girl stopped an instant and 
 pointed at what seemed to be the top of the mountain. " You 
 go by that little path," she added. 
 
 Richard followed her outstretched finger with his eyes. He 
 could just make out a tiny path zigzagging upwards until it 
 disappeared behind the shoulder of the mountain. 
 
 He made no comment. They walked on, and in a moment 
 reached the spot where the men were working. These ceased 
 hammering at their approach and lifted their hats to Virginia, 
 greeting her by name with evident friendliness. Sitting carelessly 
 on the side of the half -constructed boat, she began talking rapidly. 
 
 Richard's ear noted the contrast between the mellifluous 
 Italian speech that even the Comasco patois could not spoil 
 and her deep-chested, guttural utterance. Though he only under- 
 stood an occasional word, Virginia, whose taciturnity in English 
 almost amounted to her being inarticulate, spoke Italian with an 
 animation so intense, and with such a wealth of gesticulation, 
 that he could follow the conversation with ease. 
 
 Punctuated with frequent references to objects either within 
 sight or that had to be fetched from the shanty, such as spars, 
 ropes, sail-cloth and so on, the talk was lengthy. 
 
 But Richard did not mind. It was enough for him that she 
 made no objection to his presence, and that he could watch her 
 as she spoke, that his eyes could travel over her features and 
 form, noticing every detail unobserved. 
 
 At last the discourse came to an end. 
 
 " Signor Parlanti built my dinghy. He's the best boat-builder 
 on the lake." 
 
 Richard nodded appreciatively towards the man, who looked 
 inquiringly at Virginia.
 
 182 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " Tell him," lie said, " I should like him to build one for me 
 just like yours, with those high rowlocks." 
 
 She laughed. " Oh, the rowlocks ; he doesn't make those. 
 I'll have them cast for you in Como," and she explained what he 
 had said in Italian. 
 
 Parlanti was delighted. Should he begin the boat as soon as 
 he had finished Mrs Rafferty's order ? Richard nodded his 
 approval as she interpreted. 
 
 " But you'll see that it's well made, won't you ? " 
 
 Virginia seemed greatly to approve his decision. 
 
 "Certainly I will. He always does good work, though. But 
 I will have it made on a new model better than mine." 
 
 And she began giving directions volubly. These necessitated 
 a further rummage in the adjacent shed, whence what looked like 
 a piece of packing-paper and a huge carpenter's pencil were 
 produced. Of course he could not write. Virginia inscribed 
 Richard's name and address, and the man, turning the roughly 
 torn sheet sundry ways, added some hieroglyphics of his own 
 and some measurements at the girl's direction. 
 
 Finally everything was arranged and, bidding the boat-builders 
 good-bye, Virginia walked towards the path she had pointed out 
 to Richard. 
 
 " What time is it ? " 
 
 " So late ? " she remarked on his answering. " It's at least 
 four miles up, and I promised Mrs Rafferty to be back by six." 
 
 "Does it matter ? " Richard asked. 
 
 "Naw, not much. She'll be angry." 
 
 " But you're doing it all for her, aren't you ? You can't row 
 and walk miles in a minute." 
 
 " She doesn't know how far it is. She wants to send out her 
 invitations, and she won't till she knows what the indovinatrice 
 
 They had reached the path and were already mounting upwards. 
 Richard wondered how long he would be allowed to accompany 
 her. Should he ask her permission, or had he a better chance by 
 affecting indifference and taking it for granted ? He decided on 
 the second course. What on earth did this indovinatrice business 
 mean ? 
 
 "Do you mean that this person at the top is a weather 
 prophet ? " 
 
 "Naw. Not exactly. She knows everything. She will tell 
 you " 
 
 Suddenly she stood still.
 
 VIRGINIA 183 
 
 " But you wanted to go back to Aquafonti ? I had forgotten. 
 You can take my boat. I can always get someone to row me." 
 
 At that instant there flashed through Richard's brain an 
 intuition. Was it something in her voice, something indefinable 
 in her manner, that suggested dimly, very dimly, that her lapse 
 of memory was disingenuous, that she wanted him to accompany 
 her ? For an instant his eyes questioned hers. The answer was 
 not conclusive ; he must fence. 
 
 " But I want to see the the what do you call her ? I'm 
 immensely interested." 
 
 The flagrant lie did not disconcert her. Was it possible that 
 this girl really believed in soothsayers, or was the whole thing 
 an elaborate pretence got up to impose upon Mrs Rafferty's 
 credulity ? 
 
 "All right; but you mustn't tell anyone not Mrs Rafferty 
 either. Promise." She held out her hand. 
 
 He took it, and again he looked straight into her green-grey 
 eyes. They did not falter. She withdrew them slowly and 
 walked onward up the path. 
 
 Did Virginia really believe that his object in climbing that 
 mountain with her was to consult an alleged clairvoyant ? Was 
 it stupidity or subtlety ? For she could just as well have frankly 
 accepted his company. This meeting had been accidental, and 
 no one could condemn her for allowing him to escort her on an 
 expedition into this remote hinterland. It was rough walking ; 
 the path was narrow and broken, in places precipitous, not at 
 all the sort of walk any woman he knew would have faced alone. 
 Yet somehow he could not resist the feeling that her deliberate 
 intention was to deceive him, that she wanted him to pretend he 
 did not know that she desired his society. 
 
 If she knew he was making the clairvoyant an excuse for 
 accompanying her, she knew equally that she was attracting him, 
 and she was encouraging a married man seventeen or eighteen 
 years older than herself to pursue her. Yet her apparent naivett 
 was consistent with the almost barbaric unworldliness of her 
 behaviour whenever he had seen her. He walked on behind her, 
 stumbling occasionally, so that she turned round and made some 
 chaffing remark. He had not been prepared for such a climb and 
 was not shod for it. She had the surefootedness of the born 
 mountaineer. When they reached a break in the path, without a 
 moment's hesitation she jumped across the intervening gap that 
 sloped steeply down to the torrent-bed a thousand feet below. 
 Several times he had to depend upon her extended arm for help,
 
 184 RICHARD KURT 
 
 After what seemed to him an unpleasantly long distance their 
 path joined a slightly broader track and they could walk 
 abreast. 
 
 " I'm glad that's over," he said. 
 
 " Were you frightened ? " 
 
 " Not exactly frightened, but I was thinking it would be rather 
 awkward to roll down there and find myself at the bottom with a 
 broken leg." 
 
 She laughed. "I'd have found some men to help me carry 
 you." 
 
 " And what would Mrs Rafferty have said ? " 
 
 " 7 don't care what Mrs Rafferty says." 
 
 The words were uttered with a sort of lazy indifference. 
 
 "From what you said I thought you cared very much. You 
 seem to be a kind of slave of hers." 
 
 " Do I ? " She said nothing more, and they were silent until 
 she exclaimed all of a sudden : " Here we are ! " 
 
 Forked at its edge, their path had led through a wood, 
 from which they had just emerged. Virginia went to the left 
 and downwards. Just below them a plateau projected like 
 a shelf. On it stood a stone building surrounded by a broken 
 wall, which enclosed a patch of ill-cultivated soil. From above 
 one could not have imagined that any human habitation was 
 near, but as they descended the spot became more inviting. 
 To reach it they had to cross a bridge of fir-trunks spanning a 
 water-course. Down this a clear, rapid stream was splashing, 
 and, looking over curiously, Richard saw that the building was a 
 mill and the water flowed through it into a basin of rocks ; over- 
 flowing this, it disappeared on its way to the main stream in the 
 valley below. 
 
 This opened out beneath them as they descended, and he 
 realised that the site of the mill had been cunningly chosen. 
 
 With its seclusion the owner had doubtless reckoned on securing 
 a good share of raw product from the bergamasco tableland 
 above him, as well as an inexhaustible water supply. Below it, 
 on the other side, a fair cart-track gave access to the main road, 
 which Richard could perceive as a white streak far away across 
 the valley. 
 
 When they reached a point which, as the crow flies, might have 
 been fifty yards from the mill, Virginia ran forward down the 
 zigzag path, disappearing below him. 
 
 Reaching the level ground close by the great water-wheel, he
 
 VIRGINIA 185 
 
 threw himself on the grass, for he was streaming with perspiration 
 and exhausted by the long climb and swift descent. 
 
 "Hulloa!" 
 
 She was beside him again, mopping her face with her hand- 
 kerchief, and he lay looking at her, wondering what was to happen 
 next. 
 
 " She's gone." 
 
 The girl spoke unconcernedly. 
 
 " Oh, really ? " 
 
 There was nothing for him to say. She was apparently stating 
 a fact, and he accepted it as he had accepted the rest of the 
 situation. It was her business, not his. 
 
 "Now I'm going to wash. Come on." 
 
 He followed her to the rocky basin which, roughly constructed 
 with stones and cement, formed the mill-dam. The sluice gate 
 was closed and the stream overflowed and ran over it, clear as 
 crystal. 
 
 She east her wide-brimmed hat from her, and pulled out two 
 large handkerchiefs, one of which she tied tightly round her hair. 
 She went down on her hands and knees and plunged her face into 
 the water, keeping it there, and holding her breath until she could 
 hold it no longer, then snorting, as her lungs expelled it in great 
 bubbles. 
 
 Richard followed her example in more sober fashion. 
 
 " Why don't you stick your head in ? You haven't got long 
 hair like a stupid woman." 
 
 She dried her face with the other handkerchief and watched 
 him. 
 
 " How I wish I was a man ! " 
 
 There was a ring of truth in the exclamation. 
 
 She pulled out a cigarette-case, in which was a wooden mouth- 
 piece, but no cigarettes. She accepted one of Richard's. 
 
 " Why ? " he asked. 
 
 " I could do what I liked." 
 
 " But you do, surely, don't you ? " 
 
 " Naw. I should like to bathe now. If I were a man I could. 
 Why don't you ? " 
 
 Richard looked about him. 
 
 " No one will see you here," she said, interpreting his gesture, 
 " and I'll go to sleep up there." 
 
 She pointed to the wooden granary above the mill, the door of 
 which stood open, eight or nine feet above the ground. 
 
 " You can't get up, there's no ladder," he said.
 
 186 RICHARD KURT 
 
 Richard had not so completely accepted the situation as to 
 have forgotten the object of their coming. She had not volun- 
 teered, and he had not solicited, any explanation. But he was 
 waiting, observant. He did not mind her thinking she had fooled 
 him, but he did not mean to be fooled. He intended to know 
 what her object was in this expedition, although he was quite 
 ready to pretend anything she liked, once he knew. 
 
 " I'll show you how I can get up." 
 
 She threw away her cigarette and jumped up. He followed 
 her. 
 
 " Put your arms against the wall so." 
 
 She stood facing the wall, with her head down and her two 
 forearms folded against it. He did as he was told. She went 
 behind him, placed her two hands on his shoulders and leapt 
 nimbly on to them, first with her knees, then with her feet. 
 Scrambling through the hatch, she stood above him, panting a 
 little through her wide, smiling mouth. 
 
 " Now give me another cigarette." 
 
 He threw one to her and she caught it deftly. 
 
 " What about me ? " he asked. 
 
 " But aren't you going to bathe ? It's lovely. I've often 
 done it. You can dive, it's very deep." 
 
 " Thanks, too cold. I'd rather get up there." 
 
 " Come up, then." 
 
 She sat on her heels and held her arms over the side. He took 
 them, finding foothold in a projection of the wall, while she 
 hauled and, not without difficulty, he clambered up beside her. 
 
 " I always used to sleep here," she remarked in a matter-of-fact 
 tone. " The mill was working and there was always flour in the 
 sacks. I got white, but it shakes off. It's better than polenta 
 flour that sticks." 
 
 She searched about the interior and found several old sacks, 
 which she hauled into a corner and began arranging. 
 
 " You can have the other corner," she said. 
 
 Richard sat down on one and watched her. She was quite 
 methodical about it. First she laid two down to lie on, then she 
 rolled up another and laid both her handkerchiefs over it for a 
 pillow. Finally she stood up and straightened her skirt, which 
 had got misplaced during her efforts. It was one of the brown 
 holland things she habitually wore, a mere apron, fastened down 
 the front with buttons and having pockets on either side. One 
 of the buttons was missing, another was undone, and, as she faced 
 him, Richard could see that she was clad in breeches as usual,
 
 VIRGINIA 187 
 
 and that they were made of some thin washing material. Sud- 
 denly, unaccountably, there rushed over him the same sensation 
 he had experienced earlier. For the instant it so overwhelmed 
 him that he thought he was about to faint and closed his eyes to 
 steady himself. 
 
 " You're sleepy already." 
 
 She lay down on the sacks with her head on one hand, finishing 
 her cigarette. 
 
 " If I go to sleep while I'm smoking, take care I don't burn 
 myself. I go off very quickly." 
 
 " All right." 
 
 His voice sounded gruff in the effort to control it. He knew 
 it would tremble if he tried to speak naturally. He was fighting 
 hard to control himself, but he was shaking like a leaf. He rose 
 to his feet, and pulling a couple of sacks together lay down on 
 them. He could not take his eyes from her. Hers were closed. 
 The hand that held the cigarette in its wooden holder was by her 
 side. She was on her back, her hair bunched under her head and 
 round her ears. Her breath was coming and going rapidly 
 through her partly opened mouth, showing the teeth and just 
 the tip of her pink tongue between them. Her throat seemed to 
 twitch a little spasmodically. Was she asleep ? The cigarette 
 continued to smoulder; a faint spiral of blue smoke wreathed 
 itself round her fingers . . . another moment and the holder fell 
 from between them. He crept noiselessly forward and took it. 
 She moved slightly ; he remained where he was, crouching over 
 her. His heart was beating convulsively, his brain seemed on 
 fire. . . . 
 
 His breath threatened to burst from his lungs as he held it 
 back. She half turned on her side and away from him, the hand 
 resting on her leg opened and shut, the twitching in her throat 
 became more noticeable. . . . Her breath came and went more 
 rapidly. He craned over her. Her breath fanned his face . . . 
 nearer . . . nearer . . . only the breathing became more rapid. 
 Should he risk it ? He must ! He pressed his parched mouth on 
 her open one an instant and withdrew it ... she made no sign 
 . . . again. . . . She moved, she was going to wake . . . her 
 breathing became more and more violent . . . her breast rose 
 and fell . . . she was gasping . . . her whole body was quiver- 
 ing. . . . He tore himself away and threw himself on the sacks. 
 
 " I've had such a funny dream." 
 
 She sat up, rubbing her eyes ; something in her voice caused a 
 swift reaction. It seemed to have the effect of bringing back
 
 188 RICHARD KURT 
 
 his self-control. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, inhaling a 
 great mouthful of smoke. 
 
 "Give me one." She felt in her pocket. "Where's the 
 holder ? Ah ! I remember." 
 
 " It fell from your hand and I took it. Here it is." 
 
 As she fitted the cigarette into it Richard saw that her hand 
 trembled, that her face was pale and under her eyes were dark 
 shadows. 
 
 " When I have that dream it means something bad is coming." 
 
 Richard looked at his watch. 
 
 " Don't you think we had better be getting on now ? " he asked.
 
 CHAPTEK XIV 
 
 MRS RAFFERTY'S revel was destined to become famous in the 
 social annals of the lake. It was to be divided into several parts, 
 of which, properly speaking, the Venetian fete was only one, 
 though it was the last and the most sensational. 
 
 This division into set-pieces had been carefully thought out, 
 and was the outcome not only of artful study of the effect desired, 
 but also of mature consideration regarding the social eligibility, 
 pretension and precedence of the invited guests. These factors 
 had to be fitted into their respective places as carefully as the 
 pieces of a jig-saw puzzle. 
 
 She was determined that the occasion should be historic. 
 Who can shape history at command ? The attempt proved too 
 much in the end even for Napoleon. This was to be Mrs Rafferty's 
 Jena, not her Waterloo. So the first thing she did was to summon 
 Foligno to her counsels, and, owing to this, Richard was informed 
 from the beginning about the whole affair. 
 
 Foligno had been over to see Villa Aquafonti, and of all the 
 admirers of what had been accomplished there he was perhaps 
 the most ardent. Elinor's taste had just exactly the fashionable 
 note that was his special aim in life, and, as soon as Mrs Rafferty 
 informed him of her intention, he proposed Elinor as the ideal 
 director of the decorative side of the undertaking. 
 
 So it happened that, while Richard was accompanying Virginia 
 to find on a mountain-top a soothsayer to guarantee Mrs Rafferty's 
 weather, Elinor was being escorted to Villa Scapa by Foligno, 
 to ensure the success of Mrs Rafferty's scenic effects. 
 
 In the stern of Virginia's boat, which she insisted on rowing, 
 Richard sat watching her back as it swung rhythmically to her 
 oars. He was thinking that her poise and the movement of her 
 arms and body were exactly those of a Venetian gondolier. 
 
 They had run rather than walked down from the mill, not 
 without risk to Richard, who thanked his stars when he got to 
 the bottom. 
 
 189
 
 190 RICHARD KURT 
 
 In spite of his remonstrances, she insisted that she would row 
 him to Aquafonti. 
 
 " What will Mrs Rafierty say ? You'll be awfully late," he 
 urged. 
 
 I don't care. Sometimes I'm on the lake all night." 
 
 " What doing ? " 
 
 "Sleeping." 
 
 He was silent for a time. 
 
 " I say," he began again, " if you drop me at Terno I can walk 
 or get a man to row me to Aquafonti. You'll be utterly tired 
 out." 
 
 " I shan't." 
 
 " Well, do let me row." 
 
 " You can't, like this." 
 
 " Of course I can. It's not difficult. Do let me." 
 
 At last he persuaded her. He did not make a good job of it 
 at first, but after she had shown him how to stand and what he 
 did wrong, he got into it. Moreover, he found it a much more 
 restful and agreeable way of rowing. 
 
 " One can see where one is going, too. Was it your idea ? " 
 
 " I think BO. No one else has them. The fishermen all row 
 like that in the batellos, but the sides are high, so I had these 
 cast." She was referring to the rowlocks. " I'll order a pair 
 for you." 
 
 " So you haven't forgotten ? Thanks." 
 
 " I never forget promises." 
 
 She tried to persuade him to let her row again, he went so slow. 
 
 Richard laughed, but declined to give up the oars. 
 
 " You've done enough for to-day," he said. 
 
 They were passing Villa Scapa, some distance away on their 
 right. 
 
 "There's your motor-boat!" 
 
 At her exclamation he stopped rowing and looked where she 
 pointed, shading his eyes. He could only with difficulty discern 
 his launch scudding down the middle of the broad, glistening track 
 of molten gold between them and Scapa, behind which the sun 
 was slowly setting. He rowed so as to intercept it and presently 
 saw that its course had been altered. 
 
 "Pierino knows my boat. Give me the oars now. They 
 might run us down." 
 
 " Am I such a poor oarsman as that ? " he asked, giving way 
 to her. 
 
 Elinor, in a beflowered hat, a heliotrope dress and long su&de
 
 VIRGINIA 191 
 
 gloves, sat in the stern with Foligno. She nodded to Virginia 
 with a caustic expression as the girl skilfully placed her boat 
 alongside. Foligno lifted his hat ceremoniously. The girl nodded 
 to them in her unconcerned way as Richard clambered in. 
 
 "You've just missed my tummy." Reggie, who had been 
 lying at the bottom of the motor -boat on a pile of cushions, got 
 up lazily. "Hulloa!" 
 
 He looked at Virginia with a whimsical expression, exactly 
 imitating her voice. 
 
 " Hulloa ! " she laughed back, recognising the imitation. 
 
 " Now we'll give you a tow back to Scapa." Richard began 
 giving directions to Pietro. 
 
 " Naw, naw." 
 
 She stooped down, and was going to push off, when Reggie 
 seized her arms and held her so that she was half in the launch 
 and half out of it, her boat banging against the delicate cedar 
 stem. 
 
 "You're ruining the boat, Reggie. Do let the girl go." 
 Elinor's tone showed intense annoyance. 
 
 "There, you see," the girl said, freeing herself. With a swift 
 stroke she cleared her dinghy and, waving farewell, rowed towards 
 Villa Scapa, while Elinor signed to the boatman to proceed on 
 their way. 
 
 " Where did you find it ? " 
 
 Reggie's question, saluted with a burst of laughter by Elinor 
 and Foligno, grated upon Richard. It was a strange thing, but 
 from the moment that Virginia had woke up in the barn until 
 now he had been possessed with a desire to get away from her. 
 Some strange reaction had seized him. And yet, now that he was 
 here with Elinor and her friends, he knew that this was not the 
 relief he courted. 
 
 He felt almost an aversion from Reggie, who began plying him 
 with questions, much to the amusement of the others. Richard 
 changed the subject. 
 
 " My experiences are quite uninteresting. What have you all 
 been doing ? " he asked coldly. 
 
 The boy saw Richard was annoyed and, with the quickness of 
 his volatile temperament, adapted himself to the change of topic. 
 
 "My dear chap, Mother Rafferty's amazing. It's to be a 
 comedy in three acts, with a prologue and a pantomime thrown 
 in. First a musical tableau in the garden, next a dinner, then 
 a cotillon, then a water-fete. Foligno is master of ceremonies, 
 Elinor's the queen of beauty, and I'm Harlequin.
 
 192 RICHARD KURT 
 
 Kichard took note of the familiar " Elinor," but could not 
 resist his infectious gaiety. "What about poor Baltazzo?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Oh, Baltazzo let me see. He'll be pantaloon to Pini's clown. 
 Pini's going to sit enthroned amidst a bevy of beautiful youths, 
 with garlands round their heads, playing stringed instruments. 
 Elinor's going to arrive in a palanquin, and Pini will play a violin 
 solo to her. Franz, in full armour, will gallop up." 
 
 " No, no, not gallop. He will ride up very slowly on a white 
 horse." 
 
 Foligno, like most Italians, was incapable of seeing a joke, and 
 took the whole thing with the utmost seriousness. 
 
 " He will ride opp veree slowlee," Reggie imitated Foligno's 
 accent, " and then Pini will do the Swan Song and stab himself 
 with his bow." 
 
 "No, no, not with the bow with the dagger of the knight. 
 He will seize the dagger from the belt of the knight while the 
 knight kisses the princess's hand." 
 
 " Isn't it priceless ! " 
 
 Reggie lay back and screamed with delight, as Pietro stopped 
 the engine and the motor-boat glided alongside the wooden 
 landing-stage under the Casabianca terrace. 
 
 In the ensuing days there was much talk about the revel, and 
 Richard got heartily sick of it. So much was Elinor taken up 
 with her share in it that she was perceptibly less energetic in 
 pushing the completion of Aquafonti where, apart from the garden, 
 much still remained to be accomplished. It was difficult to say 
 whether this was due to the physical impossibility of doing so 
 much at one time, or whether the new excitement had already 
 supplanted the joys of artistic creation. Whichever the cause, the 
 effect was that the couple gradually found themselves on the old 
 terms. The new intimacy rapidly lessened, and with it the 
 mutual interest that had seemed for a time to reunite them. 
 There was no longer any excuse, as it were, for other than per- 
 functory intercourse. Conversation between these two there 
 had never been since they had known each other, and, as the 
 stimulus of a common enthusiasm waned, ground for discussion 
 even disappeared. Each went his or her way, sometimes meeting 
 at meals, quite as often not. 
 
 Richard's orderly nature impelled him to make a habit of 
 consulting his wife at a more or less regular hour as to the day's 
 arrangements. This interview took place after he had drunk 
 his morning coffee, when her maid would inform him that Mrs
 
 VIRGINIA 193 
 
 Kurt was ready. This meant that Elinor had had her breakfast 
 and was waiting to see him before getting up. 
 
 On one of these mornings he was informed that he must take 
 part in one of Mrs Raflerty's functions. He tried hard to get 
 out of it. 
 
 " I can't for the life of me see why I should be dragged into 
 this particular dinner. You dine out often enough without me. 
 Surely it's enough if I turn up afterwards." 
 
 For once Elinor showed patience. She had recently begun to 
 realise that Richard was not going his own way so much because 
 circumstances she controlled demanded it as because he definitely 
 wanted to. And on this occasion she needed him, in fact his 
 presence was indispensable. 
 
 " I don't think you quite realise how I'm placed. You would 
 expose me to unpleasant comments if you didn't go to the 
 dinner." 
 
 She lay on her side propped up on high pillows. On her head 
 she was wearing a dainty nightcap with a blue bow in front such 
 as Richard had seen in old pictures ; in fact he was trying, as she 
 spoke, to place the particular cap which he knew Elinor had 
 copied from some engraving. She always made a preliminary 
 toilet before he came into her room ; in fact, as their terms 
 became more distant she seemed to pay increasing attention to 
 her appearance on the rare occasions when he saw her in ddshabitte. 
 She wore very dtcottett nightdresses, and he thought that her 
 throat had changed it seemed a shade less round. And wasn't 
 she fatter under the chin ? 
 
 " After all, it isn't much I ask of you in these days." 
 
 For a second something gripped at his heart. He knew it 
 was weakness, but, with all her egotism and heartlessness, there 
 was something pathetic about this little spoilt creature for whom 
 her fleeting youth meant so much. 
 
 "All right, dear. I'll come. But when the dancing begins I 
 shall hook it." 
 
 " I don't want you to dance, but there'll be beautiful favours, and 
 you might just as well 'stag ' and give them to your lady friends." 
 
 " What do you think I care for favours ? And I've got no lady 
 friends, thank God." 
 
 " Now, Richard. What about Virginia ? " 
 
 It was said playfully, there was no intention to irritate, but 
 Richard's voice betrayed annoyance. 
 
 " Don't begin that rot, Elinor. The girl won't be there even. 
 I don't suppose she's ever worn a ball-dress in her life."
 
 194 RICHARD KURT 
 
 Elinor avoided an obvious reply, which he knew cost her an 
 effort, and went on. 
 
 " Listen, Richard. This will be the smartest affair ever given 
 on the lake, in fact, as Foligno says, in Italy. Only what old 
 Mrs Keyser called ' the tippety bobs ' are going to be at the dinner. 
 All married people ; the Hohenthals are bringing the Trevisos and 
 the Travoltas, Prince Pamilo is coming from Rome and H.R.H. 
 from Turin." 
 
 " Good lord ! Where do we come in ? " 
 
 " We come in because well, because old Rafferty can't do it 
 without me. I'm leading the cotillion with Franz afterwards, 
 and I've invented six figures that have never been seen 
 before." 
 
 " Isn't that good enough without the dinner ? It will be a 
 frightful bore, you know." 
 
 " Of course it will, but you don't see the point. The dinner 
 is to settle who are the leaders of society on the lake. That's 
 the whole idea." 
 
 " Whose idea ? " 
 
 " Mrs Rafferty's, of course. That's what she's out for." 
 
 " All I can say is, Mrs Rafferty " 
 
 Richard did not finish the sentence. It wasn't worth while. 
 
 11 
 
 The day of the entertainment arrived and Fate was propitious, 
 for it dawned cloudless. 
 
 Richard had begged off witnessing the musical tableaux, pleading 
 the added annoyance of having to change into evening dress at 
 Villa Scapa. Elinor departed with her maid and a box early in 
 the afternoon, leaving him and Domenico slinging the newly arrived 
 hammock in the belvedere at the end of the terrace, one of Elinor's 
 latest and most successful inventions. When she proposed it her 
 husband protested, less on account of what seemed an unnecessary 
 additional outlay than because it was idiotic to his mind to imitate 
 Mrs Rafferty. But Elinor insisted, saying, " You'll see," and, 
 as he lay looking out on the lake through the foliage of a huge 
 wisteria, cleverly trained to hang in festoons round the pillars, 
 he admitted that once again she had " scored." If only he could 
 stay there and dream delightful dreams instead of having that 
 confounded entertainment hanging over his head. 
 
 He had not the remotest notion how long he had been asleep
 
 VIRGINIA 195 
 
 when he was awakened by Virginia's guttural " Hulloa ! " and, 
 lazily opening his eyes, he saw the girl standing beside him. 
 
 She gurgled enjoyment of his surprise. 
 
 "Mrs Kurt sent me," she remarked. 
 
 Richard sat up rubbing his eyes. " Oh, really ! " he yawned. 
 
 " She tried to telephone and nobody answered, so I came." 
 
 "Very good of you." He was trying to understand. So far 
 she had delivered no message. " Try the hammock, won't you ? 
 Awfully comfortable," he said, getting out of it. 
 
 " I can't stop. She said I was to bring the pearls and come 
 straight back." 
 
 She spoke like a child whose mother had admonished it to do 
 as it was told. 
 
 " The pearls ? " 
 
 " Yes. She said her maid must have left them on her dressing- 
 table. She was awfully angry." 
 
 " So I imagine," he said dryly. 
 
 They went towards the house. 
 
 " How lovely you've made it. That's a beautiful hammock. 
 I love hammocks." 
 
 " Um ! I know. You sleep in one at Scapa, don't you ? " 
 
 " Who told you ? " 
 
 " I saw it." And he gave her an account of their tour of 
 inspection under Mrs Rafferty's guidance. 
 
 " She hates it. She tries to make me sleep on that couch by 
 her bed. I did once to please her, but she woke me up." 
 
 " Snoring, I suppose." 
 
 Virginia laughed. 
 
 "She does snore. She makes all sorts of noises. Besides, I 
 like to be out of doors." 
 
 They had reached Elinor's bedroom. The pearls, Richard's 
 Monte Carlo gift, lay where the maid had left them. He handed 
 them to Virginia. 
 
 " Where do you sleep ? " she asked. His bedroom was entered 
 through a dressing-room in which there was a bath and shower 
 installation. Virginia dawdled, fingering the taps. "What a 
 lovely bath ! " The window looked on to the extemporised bridge 
 and the water-steps. She leant out and saw the motor-boat. 
 " I must go. I'd forgotten. Mrs Kurt will be angry with me." 
 She put her head into his bedroom. On the bed lay his evening 
 clothes and shirt. " You're coming to the dinner, aren't you ? 
 She said I was to be sure to send the motor-boat back in plenty of 
 time."
 
 196 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " Yes, I'm in for it. What are you going to do 2 " 
 
 He lingered at the bottom of the stairs, purposely detaining 
 her. 
 
 " I'm going to look after the boats. There'll be hundreds." 
 
 " Can't the old woman's boatmen do that ? " 
 
 " Good gracious ! They'll be all dressed up. Besides, they've 
 got to do the fire- works." At the bridge she paused again, while 
 Pietro started the engine. "Don't tell Mrs Rafferty about the 
 indovinatrice," she said, and ran down the steps into the boat. 
 
 He watched the boat away into the distance, thinking. He 
 contrasted the calm friendliness of his attitude towards this girl 
 with his previous emotion and was at a loss to explain it. How 
 extraordinarily undeveloped she was mentally, yet she was de- 
 cidedly intelligent in practical things. If the whole story of the 
 indovinatrice was got up to humbug Mrs Rafferty, of course she 
 wouldn't want it given away, but somehow he felt that she would 
 mind much more her elderly patroness knowing that he had been 
 with her. What was the explanation of this peculiar ascendancy ? 
 She seemed to like being treated like a child. She had even 
 spoken of Elinor's being " very angry " with her ! Was this part 
 of a pose of general innocence 1 If so, it was very consistent and 
 involved her in doing all kinds of tiresome things that one gener- 
 ally left to servants. And she seemed to enjoy doing them. 
 To-day she had seemed to him like a rather nice boy whom an 
 older man could make a young chum of, and if he could always 
 feel like that to her it would be very jolly. Was this difference in 
 his feelings inspired by her, or must he look within himself for 
 the explanation ? Another curious instance of her effect on him 
 was that, on the last occasion, every lineament in her face, every 
 movement of her body, every detail of her manner and appear- 
 ance, had been full of significance for him. Now he was conscious 
 of no more interest in her person than if she had actually been 
 a boy. He was completely puzzled, but anyhow he intended to 
 
 see more of her, and if he got a chance that evening Oh, 
 
 that damned dinner-party ! 
 
 111 
 
 Like many disagreeable anticipations, the dinner was not so 
 bad as Richard had expected. He sat next to Contessa de Foligno. 
 She bored h m with a full description of the musical tableaux, 
 but his other neighbour was Treviso, who had a passion for art
 
 VIRGINIA 197 
 
 and owned a world-famous collection. The attitude of the 
 different guests toward each other provided him with amusement. 
 Foligno's praise of Elinor was ecstatic, and Richard noticed that 
 Travolta paid her marked attention, and the royal incognito from 
 Turin cast admiring eyes in her direction, while he conversed 
 with Princess Hohenthal. The last-named interested him. She 
 had dark, tired eyes and the manner of one whom ennui just 
 permits to breathe. Her expression was pensive to the point 
 of melancholy. Was she thinking of Carlo Bassi ? One could 
 imagine her a woman of many passionate loves, with tragic possi- 
 bilities lurking in her background. Mrs Rafferty claimed his 
 admiration. Completely at her ease, without in the slightest 
 degree showing satisfaction at her triumph, she sat majestic, un- 
 moved and bejewelled, between her two princes, as though she 
 were some ancient queen. Her small, deep-set eyes reminded 
 Richard of Kipling's Kaa who was wiser than man. She spoke 
 hardly at all, though Hohenthal appeared to be talking more to 
 her than to the dull-looking little Principessa Treviso on his other 
 side. Now and then Mrs Rafferty smiled slightly, amused by 
 something the Prince said to her, but her demeanour was as 
 aristocratically impassive as that of his own wife. In her case, 
 too, Richard divined an under-life more fully lived than others 
 knew or guessed. He could imagine that those eyes had witnessed 
 licence and lawlessness in the Wild West of her youth, when 
 men who held life cheap had fought to possess her. Under the 
 stately, assured present there still lingered the aftermath of a 
 stormy past. 
 
 After dinner Hohenthal and Richard strolled into the garden. 
 The older ladies had accompanied Mrs Rafferty to her Chinese 
 boudoir, while Foligno and Elinor, assisted by Franz von Hohen- 
 thal and Reggie, directed the arrangements for the cotillon. 
 
 " I always thought Mrs Rafferty remarkable, but to-night she 
 has excelled herself. To be a hostess est un metier comme un 
 autre, but she brings to it something individual. I'm wondering 
 what it is. What do you think ? " Hohenthal asked. 
 
 " I believe that this affair has a symbolic meaning for her. 
 One has heard lurid accounts of her past. I'm inclined to think 
 she's an artist unconsciously, and this is her masterpiece." 
 
 " Perhaps," Hohenthal replied. " All artists are builders, 
 aren't they ? " 
 
 "My idea is," Richard continued, "that the germ of her 
 ambition was formed in the mining camps of California. It was
 
 198 RICHARD KURT 
 
 behind all her actions, never lost sight of, and this is the result. 
 The foundations of her temple of fame were laid in '49." 
 
 " I dare say you're right," Hohenthal answered, " but I don't 
 think she is singular in that. Rich Americans are always seeking 
 a background. They resent being born into a present without a 
 past. I confess to sympathy with their efforts to balance cash 
 against fate." 
 
 They were pacing slowly to and fro over the grass, smoking. 
 At first, when they came out, they were alone, but guests were 
 beginning to arrive, some by boat. These appeared in twos and 
 threes, reaching the terrace from the landing-stage below. The 
 paths were illuminated with hundreds of Chinese lanterns, and 
 to the tops of the two great cedar-trees at either end of the 
 lawn powerful arc -lamps had been fixed, which threw their 
 rays over the whole front. Bound these lamps clouds of moths 
 were circling. The two men were silent a moment, watching 
 the scene, but Mrs Rafferty was evidently still in Hohenthal's mind, 
 for he continued : 
 
 " I'm glad to have come. I'm glad to have had a small part 
 in the final act," he said. "It is always good to help an artist, 
 and, after all, it's better to have any ambition than none at all." 
 Richard thought a sigh escaped him before he added : " What 
 do you think of Franz ? " 
 
 " A charming fellow." 
 
 "I know, but" he gave a little cough "has he got hold of 
 life ? Does he think at all ? He tells me nothing, you know. 
 Boys are strange creatures." 
 
 Richard was embarrassed. He had formed an opinion of Franz 
 that he certainly could not express to his father. 
 
 " He is young, Hohenthal. The more I see of youth the less 
 I feel competent to judge." 
 
 The other laughed. 
 
 "It's because you're young yourself that I asked you. You 
 talk as though you were my age." 
 
 "Life isn't measured by years. Franz is twenty -two, isn't 
 he?" 
 
 " Twenty-four. Time he began thinking." 
 
 " Then I'm very late. I'm only beginning now." 
 
 Hohenthal could not reply, for they were interrupted by a 
 servant with a message to the Prince from Mrs Rafferty. Nodding 
 with a sympathetic expression to Richard, he followed the man 
 to the house, which was now brilliantly lighted from top to bottom. 
 The windows were open and the orchestra could be heard tuning
 
 VIRGINIA 199 
 
 the instruments. Richard turned his back on the glare and 
 strolled slowly downwards. 
 
 The sbarcatoio was brilliantly illuminated. Its deep shadows, 
 flashes of light, groups of moving figures and boats, would have 
 made a fine study for a painter. As each party landed, another, 
 waiting beyond, took its place at the quayside. 
 
 The boats varied in size from the steam launch of the Duca di 
 Pordenone, the largest on the lake, to the small rowing-boat of 
 some Comasco worthy. For Mrs Rafferty had not been content 
 to confine her revel to those who could aspire to a personal in- 
 vitation. " Society," in its restricted sense, had been bidden to 
 one or the other parts of the entertainment, or to a combination 
 of the parts, according to its member's qualification. But she 
 had gone beyond this, and had sent a general invitation to all the 
 bourgeois notabilities of Como. For these a long wooden platform 
 had been erected, profusely decorated with plants and flowers, 
 lit by lanterns, with ample seats and a buffet with light refresh- 
 ments at the end. Here the more dignified of the local worthies 
 could enjoy a view of the proceedings in comfort. 
 
 Even wider had she cast her net. A welcome had been ex- 
 tended to all the inhabitants at her end of the lake to witness 
 the ftjte from the water. Chinese lanterns were given to any 
 who wished for them, so that the onlookers themselves contributed 
 to the scenic effect. 
 
 As Richard approached the landing-stage he saw numbers of 
 boats gathered in the water at some little distance from the shore. 
 On huge, flat-bottomed barges, moored to buoys, the gaunt 
 skeletons of fire-work devices, Catherine wheels and rockets, 
 displayed themselves to the gaze of the curious, whose small craft 
 clustered round them. 
 
 Richard had read of such water -fe'tes in the East. Would 
 anyone except Mrs Rafferty have risked an undertaking of this 
 magnitude in the uncertain transalpine climate ? And it now 
 occurred to him that, after all, it was not so extraordinary that 
 a woman of her origin should believe in occult gifts. Was she 
 not an Irishwoman, and was not such superstition consistent with 
 the past with which gossip endowed her ? There was inherent 
 probability in the idea. Miners are always superstitious, and she 
 was born in a mining camp. But who suggested the clairvoyant, 
 and where, by the way, was Virginia ? 
 
 He had not long to search. Clad in a blue jersey and short 
 white skirt, on her head a fisherman's cap, under which her
 
 200 RICHARD KURT 
 
 hair was completely concealed, she was standing on the jetty, 
 giving orders in short staccato sentences. He stood still and 
 watched her. The job suited her, and she did it admirably. It 
 was no easy one either. Without capable direction confusion 
 would have been certain and ugly accidents probable. Guests 
 for the cotillon had to be landed at a special stage, and conducted 
 to the upward path reserved for them, while the rank and file had 
 to be disembarked at the other end and thence directed to the 
 allotted stand. This involved the giving of orders both precise 
 and prompt by someone who would be obeyed. Obeyed she was 
 with alacrity. As Richard watched, the stream for the cotillon 
 slackened ; nearly all the guests had arrived. One more motor- 
 launch was approaching, head on. 
 
 " Backwater at once, there ! " 
 
 The white-figured boatman in the bows, boat-hook in hand, 
 signed to the engineer ; the boat moved slowly back, stern first. 
 A moment later she called out again : 
 
 " Now go ahead." 
 
 The two men on the stage stooped, holding the side of the 
 launch. Out of the little cabin issued the bent figure of Baltazzo. 
 He lifted his opera hat to Virginia, and Richard noticed that his 
 face wore the foolish grin of one whose impulse is to guffaw. 
 Espying Richard, he came towards him, holding out his hand. 
 
 " Why aren't you dancing ? " he asked. 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 " Oh, I ? I haven't danced for years. I never go to dances. 
 I only came to this because your wife told me I must. But she 
 says the favours are marvellous." 
 
 And his stooping figure passed on, his stupid, leering eyes on 
 the ground. 
 
 Richard went towards Virginia, who was less busy for a moment. 
 
 " He'll tell your wife you're here, and she'll be angry," was her 
 greeting. 
 
 " Why angry ? " 
 
 " Because you aren't dancing." 
 
 The dress she wore became her well. Her jersey, cut wide 
 round the neck, showed her strong throat and the upper part of her 
 chest, white in the fitful light. She lit a cigarette and sat down on 
 a neat coil of rope, disposed in case of need as on the deck of a ship. 
 
 " Where did you learn to do all this ? " he asked. 
 
 " It's nawthing." 
 
 " Isn't it ? I think it is something. You manage all those 
 boats and people splendidly."
 
 VIRGINIA 201 
 
 She shot a smile at him from her green eyes. 
 
 " I'm glad it's fine," she remarked. 
 
 It was on the tip of his tongue to mention the clairvoyant, but 
 something made him keep it back. 
 
 " How long will you be at this job ? " 
 
 " Till the end. I like it. I can't dance, can you ? " 
 
 Richard laughed. 
 
 "I have danced, but I'm tired of it. One gets tired of every- 
 thing in time." 
 
 "Not out-of-doors and horses and dogs." 
 
 Two boats came up dangerously close to each other; the 
 boatmen began swearing. She leapt to her feet. 
 
 " Break away there. You, forward. Drop back, you. No 
 swearing or off you go home. This isn't a trattoria." 
 
 Richard observed with amusement the men's crestfallen faces. 
 
 The incident was over ; she resumed her seat, cigarette in 
 mouth. 
 
 " They're good when you know how to manage them," she said. 
 
 He would have remained with her if he could. Her attraction 
 was strong upon him again, but it had taken another form. The 
 girl really was splendid, so capable and firm of will. 
 
 " I wish I could stop, but I suppose I must go up there. When 
 shall I see you again '< " 
 
 She rounded her lips, blowing a ring of smoke and watching 
 it wreathing away. 
 
 '* I don't know," she answered. 
 
 IV 
 
 Inevitable reaction followed the excitement of the preceding 
 days. Elinor was nervous and irritable. Richard, urging that 
 he had done his duty by boring himself to death at the revel, 
 manufactured excuses for avoiding the invitations that poured in 
 now that Elinor's position as a leader of fashion was assured. 
 This led to scenes that did not sweeten their tempers. Another 
 source of irritation for Elinor was the unfinished state of the 
 villa. She had counted on giving a sort of wind-up party at 
 Aquafonti, but this was out of the question, with workmen still 
 in the house. Baraldi was " damned " more than ever. Mean- 
 while the season waned. People began departing, the Wensley- 
 dales among the first. Reggie pleaded hard to stay, but his 
 father's health had become critical ; he had to be got home, and
 
 202 RICHARD KURT 
 
 to this urgency even such selfishness as the boy's had to give 
 way. 
 
 Richard spent most of his time exploring the lake in his motor- 
 boat. He was possessed by a spirit of unrest, Elinor said. 
 
 " I suppose you're tired of the villa before it's even finished. 
 You always do get tired of everything." 
 
 " I've not noticed that you're there much," he retorted. 
 
 And so the days passed. 
 
 If Richard at this time was tired of the villa itself he was un- 
 conscious of it. He was well aware that he was living in one of 
 the most beautiful spots on earth, in a villa of his own choosing, 
 surrounded by all that their combined taste and his father's 
 money could procure to enhance its attractions. Yet he had 
 never been so profoundly conscious of the utter uselessness and 
 emptiness of his existence. He was always alone. Several 
 times he had thought of going to see Hohenthal. Once he started 
 with that intention, only to change his mind when he was within 
 a few minutes of the Villa Carlotta. Turning about, he journeyed 
 feverishly up the lake to Luca, where he lunched at a little trat- 
 toria. He could not have explained why he was not in the 
 mood to see his friend, but he knew that the Prince's society was 
 not what he needed. He wanted to got away from thought. 
 Thinking requires some degree of placidity, and he was on edge. 
 He would have been at Ms worst with a man of Hohenthal's 
 temperament, cool, aloof and detached. He was hungering for 
 flesh-and-blood sympathy, not for intellectual stimulation. No 
 man he had ever known could help him ; a woman perhaps might. 
 What woman ? Where was he to find her ? He ran over in his mind 
 the women he had met during the past weeks. Was there a single 
 one of them to whom, even if it were possible, he could pour out his 
 heart and say say what ? I want love, I want all the tenderness 
 of your heart. I want to give you mine. It's there to give. 
 
 What would those fine ladies say to that ? It would indeed 
 be a new experience for them. Was there one of them who wanted 
 love herself or had it to give ? They didn't look like it ; they 
 didn't act like it ; perhaps some of them cared for their husbands 
 or lovers. They didn't seem to. Perhaps they loved their 
 children. Why hadn't he got a child ? With bitterness his 
 thoughts flew back to the forgotten days at Biarritz. He threw 
 himself into his boat and told the man to start the engine. 
 
 A long, shrill whistle, then another. 
 
 He was sitting in the bows, steering straight down the middle
 
 VIRGINIA 203 
 
 of the lake, his eyes fixed on the point ahead. He looked in the 
 direction of the sound. Half-a-mile away on his left, close in to 
 the shore, under the shadow of the projecting mountain, he could 
 see a white figure standing in a boat. His heart throbbed. It 
 was Virginia. He threw the wheel round and made straight for 
 her. 
 
 As his launch sped along he suddenly realised that he was 
 approaching the little bay of the boat-builders. How could he 
 have forgotten ? The boat must be nearly built by now. He 
 might have made it an excuse for meeting her. What a fool he 
 had been not to think of it. He had often wondered what she 
 was doing. His spirits rose. What a piece of luck ! 
 
 She was moving towards the shore with easy, vigorous strokes. 
 
 " Hulloa, Virginia, this is splendid. Mayn't I come into your 
 boat ? It's just the same as last time, my motor is wanted. 
 Extraordinary coincidence." 
 
 " I've got the rowlocks. Here they are." She let go of the 
 oars and held up the shining metal things. "That's why I 
 whistled." 
 
 " I'm damned glad you did." 
 
 She laughed in her peculiar way and pulled her boat close. 
 
 " All right, get in." 
 
 As he put in a foot she gave a stroke with one hand, so that the 
 two boats separated and Richard, losing his balance, almost fell 
 into the water. As it was, one leg went in, and he saved himself 
 with difficulty. 
 
 " You naughty girl. You did that on purpose." 
 
 She laughed boisterously. 
 
 " That's to punish you for not seeing about your boat." 
 
 Richard would gladly have gone in head first to find himself 
 where he was. 
 
 " Can you take me home if I send my boat away ? " he asked. 
 
 She nodded, and he gave his order to Pietro. 
 
 The dinghy was finished but for varnishing, and he expressed 
 himself delighted with it. She showed him where he could step 
 a small mast. 
 
 " She's wide in the beam and has a good keel. But you must 
 look out for squalls. They come suddenly." 
 
 He was to come and fetch it a few days later. She needed two 
 coats of varnish, Virginia said. 
 
 " Now let's go for a walk," he suggested. 
 
 " Not far. Mrs Rafferty needs me." 
 
 " Let her wait for once. To-day it's my turn."
 
 204 RICHARD KURT 
 
 They took their way towards the path of his former experience, 
 chatting as they went. 
 
 He liked her better, far better, than he had ever done before. 
 She was full of fun and mischief, playing all sorts of little jokes 
 on him. All pretence of formality was abandoned and they 
 chaffed each other like schoolboys. His bitterness of the hour 
 before melted away, every moment he felt happier. 
 
 " I didn't know you were like that," she remarked. 
 
 " Like what ? " 
 
 " Jolly. I thought you were always serious." 
 
 " No sense of humour, you mean ? " 
 
 She looked puzzled. 
 
 " I don't understand that word. I thought you only liked to 
 talk to clever people about all sorts of difficult things." 
 
 " I hate clever people. I love laughter and playing the fool." 
 
 " Do you really ? Mrs Rafferty hates jokes. She says ladies 
 never make jokes." 
 
 " That's true. What sort of jokes do you like ? " 
 
 " I don't know. Like children." 
 
 They sat down on a low, moss-covered wall. Instead of taking 
 the upward path, she had led him past it to the stream, which at 
 that season was low and murmured by them between great rocks. 
 
 ' I wish we could often be together like this." 
 
 ' Would Mrs Kurt mind ? " she asked. 
 
 ' No. I shouldn't care if she did." 
 
 ' There's no harm, is there ? " 
 
 ' Harm ? Of course not. I need a pal." 
 
 ' I know that word. Munro says it." 
 
 ' Who's Munro ? " 
 
 'Mrs Rafferty's son. He's coming next week." 
 
 ' Oh ! " 
 
 The news was not welcome. Richard wondered what sort of 
 a man this Munro Rafferty was when she broke in on his thoughts. 
 
 " He's divorced." 
 
 " Oh ! " 
 
 " In our religion one can't divorce." 
 
 " Oh, of course. You're a Catholic." Religion played such a 
 small part in Richard's life that he never thought about it. 
 Certainly he had never considered it in connection with this girl. 
 " Are you very strict ? " he asked. 
 
 " Not very, rather. I fast and go to confession." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 " Why do you always say ' Oh ! ' ? " she asked.
 
 VIRGINIA 205 
 
 He laughed. 
 
 " Because I'm stupid, I suppose." 
 
 He began talking about other things, and they got up and 
 strolled slowly back to the shore. 
 
 Gradually and quite naturally Richard's casual acquaintance 
 with Virginia ripened into as close a companionship as circum- 
 stances permitted. To some extent, indeed, circumstances 
 favoured it, for Virginia's disposition and way of behaving lent 
 themselves to freedom of intercourse. Her habit of assuming 
 that people regarded her as an overgrown child, and her willing- 
 ness to undertake any sort of service, disarmed the censorious and 
 appealed to those, like Elinor, who got into the way of making 
 use of her. 
 
 The girl soon began popping in and out of Aquafonti at any 
 odd moment to see if she was wanted for an errand. Sometimes 
 she arrived by boat, sometimes on her bicycle. At such times 
 she always asked first for Elinor. Did Mrs Kurt "need" her 
 for anything ? And Mrs Kurt generally did. Could Virginia 
 row the batdlo into Como and bring back that arm-chair from the 
 upholsterer's, or would she mind bicycling to So-and-so's villa to 
 say that Mrs Kurt would be delighted to go to tea that afternoon. 
 So frequent were her appearances that Richard got accustomed 
 to looking out for her. As soon as he got out of bed, if the morning 
 were fine, he would look up the lake towards Scapa from his bed- 
 room window to see if he could make out her white figure rowing 
 in the distance. He even resuscitated an old field-glass arid kept 
 it by him for the purpose. More than once she arrived without 
 his knowing it, and he found her working in the garden with 
 Domenico, or helping Pietro to wash the boats. She became 
 familiar with all their domestic arrangements and at meal-times 
 always found an excuse to disappear, in spite of repeated in- 
 vitations to stay. 
 
 With the autumn rains her tasks became more formidable. 
 Camelia and azalia trees of huge size had to be found, taken up 
 and transported to Aquafonti, where Domenico, with a gang of 
 labourers, planted them under Elinor's directions. This was at 
 times rather exciting. It was no small undertaking to unload 
 them from the batello and carry them to their destination. Virginia 
 was wholly at home at this work, which she evidently enjoyed.
 
 206 RICHARD KURT 
 
 The men laboured with a will for her, much to the satisfaction of 
 Elinor, whose creative enthusiasm was rekindled by this landscape- 
 gardening enterprise. 
 
 In these large-scale operations Richard had to take a hand. 
 At first Virginia went alone on her voyages of discovery, for it 
 was by no means easy to' find trees of the size wanted. Long 
 familiarity with the gardens and plantations round the lake was 
 indispensable, but besides this the owners had to be approached 
 by someone who knew how to deal with them and to drive a 
 shrewd bargain. Sometimes cash had to be displayed and a 
 written contract signed. Virginia explained this, and at the 
 same time confessed that she was not up to carrying out that part 
 of it by herself. It went, therefore, as a matter of course that 
 Richard should accompany her on such occasions, an arrange- 
 ment quite approved of by Elinor, whose garden was taking shape 
 amazingly under the new impetus. Baltazzo, among the few of 
 her friends still lingering on the lake, and a frequent visitor, said 
 it would be far more chic than Mrs Rafierty's. 
 
 Henceforward it became an accepted rule that Richard and 
 Virginia should go off together in the motor-launch or rowing- 
 boat, according to the distance of their objective. Sometimes 
 they were away from early morning till late in the afternoon. 
 Richard, on such expeditions, carried sandwiches, but, as often as 
 not, goat's milk and polenta would be provided by the peasants 
 whose trees they bought, or they would lunch at some wayside 
 trattoria. Occasionally they went by road, in which case he hired 
 a motor in the town ; or if they intended, as they generally did, 
 bringing plants back with them, Virginia borrowed a country cart 
 from the Peraldi farm and drove it herself. As the mule that 
 drew it was old and obstinate, this was a slow business, which to 
 Richard was no disadvantage. In fact he blessed the old mule 
 and preferred that mode of travel to any. 
 
 During these excursions Richard had learnt much about 
 Virginia's life. Her father was old and a confirmed invalid. 
 There were two sisters besides herself, one of whom was married 
 and lived in their house at Milan. The other was at Casana with 
 her mother, who, he gathered, was rather a curious and incalcul- 
 able person. Virginia seemed to be devoted to her father, but 
 apparently since his illness, which had been long and painful, 
 her mother had taken the reins, and it was on this account that 
 the girl for nearly a year past had been living with Mrs Rafferty. 
 Contessa Peraldi was of foreign origin, Swedish, Virginia thought, 
 but she was quite vague on the point. What mattered was that
 
 VIRGINIA 207 
 
 they did not get on together. She avowed irankly that her 
 mother disapproved of her. The Contessa wanted her to dress 
 up, Virginia said, and pay calls. She didn't like her clothes or 
 her dogs. For these Virginia was always fighting. She assured 
 Richard that her mother tried to poison them. 
 
 " They know it. Boso bit her once, he hates her. She's awfully 
 frightened of him." 
 
 Richard, recalling the huge animal's formidable appearance, 
 was not surprised. 
 
 " He's as gentle as gentle. He takes care of the babies at the 
 farm." 
 
 How far Richard at this time realised the influence of these 
 happenings on his mind it is difficult to say. He certainly believed 
 he was keenly interested in the operations he was undertaking, 
 for themselves, though he must have been aware of the increasing 
 enjoyment he derived from Virginia's company. But quite as 
 certainly he was ignorant of the hold her companionship had 
 taken upon him. He accepted the unusual situation as normal, 
 unaware apparently of its psychological effects. 
 
 The very innocence of the affair, for an affair it was, whether 
 he chose to consider it so or not, was in a way its insidious danger. 
 In taking her as she was, in regarding her as he might have re- 
 garded a nice boy, whose youthful companionship was inspiriting 
 and congenial, and called for no intellectual effort, he was accus- 
 toming himself insensibly to a stimulant as dangerous as opium. 
 He must have known that his outlook had changed, for he was in 
 buoyant spirits, and the days flew by. 
 
 On a particular morning Richard scanned the lake eagerly with 
 his glass. It had been pouring wet for two days and Virginia 
 had not turned up. Elinor was put out because the planting 
 had to be suspended, and, though he had kept out of her way as 
 much as he could and tried to read, the time had hung heavily 
 on his hands. 
 
 But the wind had changed ; it was a clear, beautiful day, with 
 just the slightest touch of frost in the air ; one of those wonder- 
 ful mornings which in October warn you that winter is coming. 
 
 She must surely come to-day, he was thinking, but there was 
 no sign of her, and he thrust his glass impatiently into its case. 
 
 The morning dragged slowly by. Half-a-dozen times he had 
 walked to the top of the garden. She might have come and be 
 helping Domenico in the bosco. Each time he was disappointed. 
 He cross-questioned the gardener's wife, who lived at the lodge
 
 208 RICHARD KURT 
 
 at the top. Had she seen Donna Virginia pass by on her bicycle ? 
 She might have gone to the Devolis, would she please look out 
 and telephone down, Mrs Kurt had something important to see 
 her about. An examination of Pietro ensued. Was he sure the 
 signorina had not passed by in her boat ? Yes, positive, the 
 signorina had not passed. 
 
 Finally luncheon was served. 
 
 Richard's impatience was not lost upon Elinor. He was never 
 good at keeping his feelings to himself. 
 
 "You seem so upset about her not coming, why don't you 
 telephone ? " she asked. 
 
 " I promised her not to telephone to Scapa unless she called 
 me up," he answered. 
 
 " Why not ? I should like to know." 
 
 " Because of old Rafferty, I suppose." 
 
 " What is it to do with her ? " 
 
 " She lives with her, practically. You know that as well as 
 I do." 
 
 " She hasn't got a monopoly of her. Other people find her 
 useful besides Mrs Rafferty. Selfish old beast." 
 
 Richard by no means underrated the value of Elinor's alliance, 
 but he was inwardly amused by her point of view. That was the 
 measure of her appreciation of Mrs Rafferty's consideration 
 towards her. It was characteristic. 
 
 The moment they finished lunch Richard went out on the 
 balcony of the library. 
 
 " By Jove ! here she comes." 
 
 The eager words escaped him involuntarily. 
 
 " How relieved you must feel ! " Elinor's tone was sarcastic. 
 
 " Well, aren't you ? You said you had a hundred things 
 you wanted her to do." 
 
 Elinor turned her head without replying. 
 
 Meanwhile Virginia was within hailing distance. She was 
 rowing her dinghy, and in the bows was the great form of Boso, 
 sitting on his haunches. 
 
 " I haven't come to stay," she shouted. 
 
 He waited till she came closer. 
 
 *' Where have you been ? " he asked. 
 
 " I've left Scapa." 
 
 She spoke quickly, but there was significance in her voice. 
 
 " What ? " 
 
 " I've left," she repeated. 
 
 " Why ? "
 
 VIRGINIA 209 
 
 " I'll tell you another time. I can't stop now. Mrs Rafferty's 
 coming to see you this afternoon. You can telephone to Casana." 
 She was turning the boat as she spoke, but Elinor, who had heard 
 the conversation, appeared on the balcony. 
 
 " How do you do, Virginia ? What's this about Mrs Rafferty ? " 
 
 Virginia didn't answer. She gurgled and looked at Richard. 
 
 " I suppose you've had a row with her ? " he said. 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " And what is she coming here for ? " 
 
 There was menace in Elinor's tone. 
 
 " Because because Oh, I don't know. She's verry 
 
 angrry." 
 
 " Is she ? She'll have to get over it, then," said Elinor, going 
 back into the house without saying good-bye to her. 
 
 Richard regarded Virginia with a set face. She turned round 
 and waved to him once, then continued on her course to Casana. 
 He watched her white figure till it disappeared.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 RICHARD was not in an amiable frame of mind. Elinor and he 
 had hardly exchanged views, but from the acerbity of her com- 
 ments on what she called Mrs Rafferty's " tyrannical behaviour " 
 he knew that she was thoroughly put out and prepared to be nasty. 
 He was glad of it. When Mrs Rafferty appeared, a couple of 
 hours later, Richard was left to receive her alone. 
 
 The old lady sat grimly in the stern of her motor-boat and 
 received Richard's bow and his arm with cold hauteur. 
 
 " So bhat's her line," he thought. With icy politeness he con- 
 ducted her to the library. Ignoring the settee and the comfort- 
 able chairs which he in turn offered her, she seated herself with 
 impassive dignity in a great, straight-backed Gothic affair which 
 had once been used by an abbot. This was an adroit proceeding, 
 for it enabled her to sit higher than anyone in the room. 
 
 " Where's your wife ' l . " she asked from her coign of vantage. 
 
 "In the garden somewhere, I believe. I told them to let her 
 know you had called." 
 
 " I hope she won't be long. What I have to say I want to say 
 in her presence." 
 
 "I trust it's nothing serious." Richard put as much sweet- 
 ness into his voice as he could command. 
 
 "I don't know what you consider serious, Mr Kurt. Your 
 scandalous behaviour is the talk of the lake, and I've come here 
 to inform your wife of it." 
 
 She had thrown down the gauntlet with a vengeance. Richard 
 now knew where he was. For once he kept his temper, realising 
 quickly that in dealing with a woman like Mrs Rafferty polite- 
 ness was his best weapon. 
 
 "You are engagingly frank, Mrs Rafferty. May I ask what 
 I have done ? " 
 
 She had been looking straight before her at the door. Instead 
 of a hat she wore a voluminous veil round her head, which shaded 
 her pallid face and swathed her throat. She thrust this back and 
 looked at him with concentrated hatred in her screwed-up eyes. 
 
 210
 
 VIRGINIA 211 
 
 " You have been doing your best to ruiii the reputation of a 
 young girl whom you met in my house, the daughter of old friends 
 of mine. If she belonged to nie I should tell my son to shoot 
 you." 
 
 Richard got quite cool. A threat of violence was less likely 
 to anger him than anything she could say. 
 
 " Pardon me, Mrs Raffercy. But it seems to me you are acting 
 as though the young lady very much belonged to you. Perhaps 
 you will tell me what your precise status is in the matter. Other- 
 wise I fear I must decline " 
 
 "Decline as much as you please." She interrupted him 
 without raising her voice. Her tone was level and unemotional, 
 the only outward sign of her rage being revealed by her mouth, 
 a harder, thinner line than ever. Even at that moment Richard 
 could not resist feeling a certain admiration for this woman's 
 personality. The intensity of her resentment communicated itself 
 to him, her whole being seemed to be absorbed by it. She was 
 not angry ; she was anger itself. He knew that this was a duel 
 between them over Virginia, in which one or the other must be 
 permanently disabled, and he was quite determined that he was 
 not going to be that one. "You shan't ruin that girl; you 
 shan't take her away from me." 
 
 " Take her away from you, Mrs Rafferty ? Is she not a free 
 agent ? Free, white and twenty-one, as Elinor would say ? " 
 
 " What would Elinor say ? " It was she herself who came into 
 the room and asked the question. 
 
 Mrs Rafferty did not move; she did not attempt to greet 
 Elinor, who stood by the door with her hand on the handle, 
 looking from one to the other. 
 
 "I've told your husband what I think of his behaviour. I 
 meant to speak to you first, but as you left him to receive me " 
 
 " Really, Mrs Rafferty, do you expect me to be waiting all day 
 on my doorstep in case you happen to call ? " 
 
 The reply was rude but very much to the point, and it made 
 Richard smile. 
 
 " I'll tell you what I do expect, Mrs Kurt. I expect that you 
 should keep an eye on your husband and stop him carrying on 
 with an unmarried girl. If you can't stop him, I can." 
 
 From Elinor's expression, as she looked at him, Richard knew 
 Mrs Rafferty's shaft had gone home. Whether she cared or not, 
 she didn't want a scandal, and this was now hanging over her 
 head. He had been sitting on the settee. He now got up and 
 moved towards the door, where Elinor still stood.
 
 212 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " 1 think I'd better leave you two ladies to discuss this matter," 
 he said. "It seems to be one that a man is not competent to 
 deal with." 
 
 Leaving the room, he quietly closed the door behind him, and 
 called to Pietro to bring out the motor-launch. A minute later 
 he was steering for Casana. 
 
 He was shown into a room on the ground floor. Apparently 
 that part of the house had only just been built, for it was in dis- 
 order, and smelt of new plaster, while the walls were damp. 
 
 Brigita Peraldi, a handsome brunette of about twenty-five, 
 came in after a few minutes, hot and out of breath, with a tennis 
 racket in her hand, which she threw on the floor, and shook hands 
 with him cordially. She expressed her regret that her mother 
 could not see him owing to her constant attendance on her 
 father. 
 
 Richard was a little at a loss. He had come prepared to set 
 forth the whole position to Contessa Peraldi, and to leave himself 
 in her hands. His conscience was clear. Possibly he had been 
 injudicious, although Virginia's disposition and actions were so 
 habitually unconventional that he could not blame himself. 
 Anyhow, frank avowal of all the circumstances was, he felt, the 
 best policy. He had been introduced to Donna Brigita at Casa- 
 bianca and had spoken a few words to her on several occasions. 
 She had made the impression upon him of being an easy-going, 
 rather reckless young woman, inclined to scoff at life and at 
 people generally. She had asked him to call at Casana and to 
 waive ceremony, expressing the hope that Mrs Kurt would not 
 expect them to call, owing to her father's illness. It had occurred 
 to Richard that she was not at all sorry to have an excuse for 
 avoiding a social formality, and that she would be pleased if he 
 came alone. She spoke English fluently, with an accent like 
 Virginia's, but her voice was softer, and her manner, though rough 
 for an Italian lady, was much more feminine than her sister's. 
 
 " Why didn't you bring your racket ? We might have had a 
 game. I've been trying to play with Virginia, but she won't try. 
 She's a funny girl. 
 
 She laughed in a chirrupy way. 
 
 " I'd like to awfully another time, though I'm utterly out 
 of form," Richard replied, wondering how much he could, and 
 ought to, say to her. 
 
 " Oh, well, we can't play a bit. Why not have a game now ? 
 We've got some rackets ; they're rather rotten. Do you mind ? " 
 
 " Not a bean. But what about shoes ? "
 
 VIRGINIA 218 
 
 " Oh, we play without. The court's rotten, so's the net, so's 
 everything." 
 
 She led the way out through the window, lighting a cigarette 
 as she went. 
 
 Richard followed rather uncertainly, trying to get his bearings 
 and anxious to say something, he hardly knew what or how. 
 
 " What a ripping motor -boat you've got. Virginia says it's 
 the fastest on the lake, except " 
 
 " I hope you'll often come out in it." 
 
 " You bet I will, if you give me the chance. Hulloa, Virginia ! " 
 
 Her sister came towards them and held out her hand to Richard. 
 She, too, was smoking. 
 
 " Did she come ? " she said. 
 
 Richard looked at Brigita. 
 
 " She knows," with the low gurgle. 
 
 " She abused me like a pickpocket. Said I was ruining your 
 reputation and er lots of other pleasant things." 
 
 Both girls stood listening, evidently amused, and not at all 
 upset. 
 
 " So," he went on, " I thought the best thing I could do was 
 to come here and see your mother and explain " 
 
 The sisters simultaneously burst out laughing. Virginia stopped 
 first and touched his arm lightly. 
 
 "Don't be silly," she said. "Who cares what Mrs Rafferty 
 says ? " 
 
 So little did Brigita care, apparently, that she was too impatient 
 to hear any more and began hitting the balls against the net, 
 which was full of holes. 
 
 " Come on and play. Damn Mrs Rafferty ! " she called out. 
 
 " And so say all of us." Richard took up a racket as he spoke, 
 while Virginia sat down on a bench at the end of the court and 
 lit another cigarette. 
 
 When he got back to Aquafonti from Casana Richard found 
 Elinor in one of her worst moods. She was dressing, and re- 
 minded him that it was dinner-time and Baltazzo was coming. 
 
 "You seem rather pleased with yourself," she remarked 
 viciously. 
 
 " Why shouldn't I be ? I've had a couple of hours' jolly 
 good exercise and a dip." 
 
 " Have you ? In the meantime you landed me with that old 
 devil. She intends making it hot for you, let me tell you." 
 
 " And what d'you think I care ? "
 
 214 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " No, I don't suppose you do care if my position on the lake is 
 ruined." 
 
 " By Mother Rafferty ? What rot ! " 
 
 " Is it rot ? She's going to see Contessa Peraldi. You don't 
 seem to realise that we're mere strangers in society on suffer- 
 ance while the Peraldis are intimate with everybody, and every- 
 body will take their side." 
 
 " Their side ? What d'you mean ? Society be damned ! 
 
 And as to the Peraldis " He whistled softly and went out 
 
 of the room. 
 
 Elinor's reticence during dinner about the incident of the after- 
 noon tickled Richard greatly. He said nothing to enlighten 
 Baltazzo, but plied him relentlessly with champagne until he 
 thought him tuned to the right pitch. Then he started the ball 
 rolling. 
 
 " What do you think of old RafEerty coming here and kicking 
 up a row because the Peraldi girl and I have been going after trees 
 together ? " and he gave Baltazzo a short account of the matter. 
 
 Baltazzo blinked across the table, first at Elinor and then at 
 him. He hadn't taken it in yet. 
 
 " She's going to tell her son to shoot me, Ugo, because I've 
 taken Donna Virginia away from her." 
 
 This was too much for Baltazzo. 
 
 The vacant look gave way to one of amazement, then of hilarity ; 
 all of a sudden he held his napkin up to his blubber mouth and 
 began roaring with laughter. 
 
 Elinor looked at him with angry surprise. 
 
 "Where's the joke? I can't see it. You wouldn't laugh if 
 you were looking down Munro Rafferty's revolver barrel. You 
 don't know Americans, let me tell you." 
 
 With a violent effort Baltazzo controlled himself, and, noticing 
 Elinor's anger, did his best to "come to heel." 
 
 " But, my dear, even an American wouldn't shoot a man be- 
 cause he because his mother Please excuse me," and again 
 
 his napkin went up, and he laughed until the tears came into his 
 eyes. 
 
 Richard observed that it was slowly dawning upon Elinor 
 that there was some point in Baltazzo's mirth, but she was too 
 angry or too stupid to grasp it. 
 
 " Can't you understand ? " he asked her. 
 
 " No, I can't." 
 
 "Well, I can't explain it to you. Get Ugo to, afterwards. 
 Meanwhile, let's have coffee outside."
 
 VIRGINIA 215 
 
 They rose from the table and Baltazzo gradually subsided. 
 Much to Richard's satisfaction, their guest offered his arm to 
 Elinor, and they walked off together to the end of the terrace, 
 where Eichard could see him standing in front of her, gesticulating. 
 
 Richard soon became persona grata at Casana. He early made 
 the acquaintance of Contessa Peraldi and, in spite of her peculi- 
 arities, rather liked her. But she used the wrong method with 
 her children, whom she tried quite unavailingly to manage as 
 though they had not long since emancipated themselves. Each 
 girl went her own way, and though, as far as Richard could judge, 
 there was not the slightest harm in what they did, the suggestion 
 of control was irksome, while any attempt on their mother's part 
 to enforce it led to violent scenes. These occurred with frequency 
 and were horribly unpleasant, but the Contessa tried not to lose 
 her temper in Richard's presence. He endeavoured to show his 
 appreciation by using such influence as he possessed with her 
 daughters to encourage consideration for her, and sometimes he 
 succeeded. 
 
 He was very conscious at this time of the considerable part the 
 Peraldis played in his life. Thanks to them and their small circle 
 of younger people, he enjoyed some happy days that October, 
 sailing, playing tennis and picnicking. Their amusements were 
 entirely unintellectual, and this suited his mood. He was only 
 too glad to throw himself with zest into their pursuits, and to 
 make the most of their careless atmosphere in exchange for the 
 dreary joylessness of the life he was accustomed to. It was the 
 dead season. The hotels were empty, or nearly so, and only 
 those remained who lived permanently, or semi-permanently, 
 on the lake. 
 
 The planting was still going on, but the heaviest part had been 
 done, and Elinor began making winter plans. It was out of the 
 question to remain in the villa after the planting was finished. 
 What did Richard propose they should do ? He had no suggestion 
 to offer, and when his wife hinted at Paris he made no objection 
 so far as she was concerned. For himself, he intended to remain 
 at Aquafonti ; as to that his mind was made up. 
 
 His sudden intimacy with the Peraldi family had come, at first, 
 as a surprise to Elinor. But when, a few days after Mrs Rafferty's 
 attack on Richard, Contessa Peraldi came across and left cards,
 
 216 RICHARD KURT 
 
 she was pleased ; and Eichard noted with amusement that she 
 ordered out the launch and proceeded to Scapa the very next day. 
 He wondered what his friend the enemy had said, for Elinor 
 returned in high good humour. But he asked no questions, 
 being only too thankful to be left in peace. 
 
 Towards Virginia his feelings at this time underwent a gradual 
 transformation, so gradual that he was unconscious of it. Little 
 by little the girl became more than a jolly companion, more and 
 less than a friend. 
 
 At first he had not talked to her of himself at all, but as time 
 went on he spoke more and more freely to her. She told him, 
 during this period, a great deal about herself. He discovered, 
 rather to his surprise, that she was intensely religious. Once she 
 disappeared for several days. Brigita said she had gone to Milan 
 to stay with her married sister, but on her return he learnt, with 
 a certain dismay, that she had been in " retreat " at the convent 
 she was in the habit of visiting. He did not venture to 
 question her about this, and was unable to make certain how far 
 it was a voluntary act of self-mortification or an atonement pre- 
 scribed by her confessor. As to this side of her he was not merely 
 doubtful ; he was uneasy. He had known many Catholics, but 
 he had never reached intimacy with any Catholic woman to whom 
 her religion meant what it apparently did to this girl. For the 
 time it even checked the growing intimacy, but this was his act, 
 not hers. He began asking himself how far it was right for him 
 to allow this friendship to go. Was she deceiving herself, and 
 doing what her faith would condemn, by this association with 
 himself ? Was it possible even that he was teaching her duplicity ? 
 And yet their intercourse seemed to him so wholly innocent. 
 
 After a while this misgiving wore off, under the stimulus of her 
 detachment in a general way from religious prohibitions. She 
 sometimes went off to Mass at daybreak, but she was quite as 
 willing to go for a long ramble or a sail with him afterwards. 
 Her allusions to confession or to Mass indicated devotion to 
 her spiritual duties, but this devotion did not seem to interfere 
 with her temporal enjoyments. The only thing that still troubled 
 him in this connection was the apparent tenderness, to him 
 inexplicable, she felt for the nuns of the convent. She was quite 
 open about the attraction they had for her, but he was doubtful 
 whether this was as entirely spiritual as she seemed to imagine. 
 She certainly spoke at times about entering the convent herself. 
 At first horrified at the bare thought of what to him was the most 
 dreadful of fates for a young woman, he afterwards took her
 
 VIRGINIA 217 
 
 references to the subject more coolly, because from something 
 her mother let slip he felt fairly certain that this was a threat 
 kept up her sleeve for use when her liberty was interfered with. 
 
 After Richard's visits to Casana had become frequent there 
 was an unspoken understanding between the two girls and himself 
 that he should go to the far end of the garden, which was a large 
 one, so as to avoid Contessa Peraldi. At first he was rather un- 
 comfortable about this arrangement. " Mother would be furious 
 if you caught her when she was untidy," Virginia said. 
 
 That there was some truth in this he knew, for on one occasion 
 he had come upon the Contessa in very exiguous garments, and, 
 though she had promptly disappeared and he had pretended not 
 to see her, he was certain the encounter was unwelcome. All 
 the same, he knew that their real reason for this surreptitious, 
 though undefined, understanding was that his comings and goings 
 should not be noticed. He observed in Brigita, as in Virginia, 
 this odd mixture of frankness and something for which he could 
 not find a name. Without being exactly hypocrisy or disin- 
 genuousness, it was a sort of make-believe compounded of both, 
 at once less crude and more subtle than either. 
 
 He perceived this characteristic in talking with Virginia about 
 the nuns. 
 
 They were walking through a wood above Casana. Her mother, 
 she said, was "in a fearful temper," and had locked her in her 
 room. 
 
 " You managed to get out all right, I see." 
 
 "Yes, through the window. I slid down the water-pipe." 
 
 "Very foolish. You might easily have injured yourself. 
 Your mother would have unlocked the door in a few minutes." 
 
 " Would she ? You don't know her. She'd have kept me 
 there for a week if she could. She said, through the door, she 
 wished I would go into the convent ; it's the only place for me." 
 
 " And what did you say ? " 
 
 " I said I would some day, if " 
 
 Richard waited, but she didn't finish the sentence. 
 
 " Look here, Virginia " he sat down on a fallen tree " let's 
 talk about this a minute." 
 
 She sat down beside him. 
 
 "Well?" she said. 
 
 He was careful to avoid any touch of banter in his tone. 
 
 ** You don't seriously think of such a thing, do you ? " 
 
 " Why do you ask ? " she replied. 
 
 " Because I care. Because to my mind it's the most ghastly
 
 218 RICHARD KURT 
 
 thing a young creature like you can do. I had rather see a girl 
 I was fond of go to the devil I'd rather she were dead." 
 
 " The nuns are awfully sweet. You don't know how nice they 
 are. I'm happy when I'm there." 
 
 " Happier than you are when you're free to do what you like ? " 
 
 " I'm not free. I'm always interfered with. You're the 
 same as Mrs Rafferty. She hates the nuns." 
 
 "That's the best thing I've heard about Mrs Rafferty yet. 
 It shows she really cares what becomes of you." 
 
 "Mrs Rafferty knows I'm useful," she remarked. 
 
 "You can't believe that's the only reason. I don't exactly 
 love Mrs Rafferty, but " 
 
 She looked at him with such a curious expression that he did 
 not finish the sentence. 
 
 " I think I'll go back to Scapa," she said. 
 
 Richard was taken aback by the reply. What was the chain 
 of reasoning ? He looked at her intently, trying to find an 
 answer to his thought. Her eyes were on the ground. Under 
 his gaze she fidgeted a second, then looked up at him with a smile. 
 
 " Give me a cigarette," she said. 
 
 As they smoked in silence Brigita approached them through 
 the wood. 
 
 " Mother's looking for you," she said to her sister. 
 
 " She can look. I'm going back to Scapa." 
 
 " Isn't she a fool ? " Brigita asked Richard. 
 
 " I don't know what to say. I suppose she knows best what 
 she wants to do. I can't judge." 
 
 It began to rain, and they turned towards the farm, which lay 
 some little distance below, between them and the house. The 
 path ran by a field where the hay had been cut. At the corner 
 stood one of the small stone barns common to that mountainous 
 country, where the work is done by men and women, with an 
 occasional donkey or mule. 
 
 Virginia went towards it and began pulling at a rope which 
 had been carelessly left hanging from the small entrance, made 
 just high enough to pitch the hay through. 
 
 " What are you going to do ? " Brigita asked. 
 
 " I'm going in there while it rains. You can go to Casana. 
 I shan't." 
 
 The rope was attached to a small ladder up which Virginia 
 ran. 
 
 " It's lovely up here in the warm hay," she shouted down. 
 
 Brigita had walked on some steps and, looking back while
 
 VIRGINIA 219 
 
 Richard hesitated, called out to him : " I think you had better 
 not come to Casana. Stay with Virginia if you like. I shall tell 
 mother I couldn't find her." 
 
 " No, I'll get on home. I don't mind the rain," Richard said, 
 waving his hand to Virginia, who made no reply and hauled in 
 the ladder. 
 
 iii 
 
 As Richard's intimacy with the Peraldi family increased and 
 his absences from Aquafonti became more frequent, Elinor grew 
 restive. She did not by any means tamely accept a situation 
 which " let her in " for the role of the neglected wife without the 
 compensation of her usual suite. Baltazzo hardly counted in 
 this respect. His docile attentions, long ago taken for granted, 
 had become tedious, and he was of little or no use on the lake, 
 where in the dead season there was nowhere to go and nothing 
 to do outside the villa. 
 
 Virginia had abandoned her announced intention of returning 
 to Scapa and had renewed her visits to Aquafonti. With the ar- 
 rival of the cold weather planting and other outside operations 
 ceased, consequently there were no demands on her services. It 
 became evident, therefore, that her presence was due to Richard's 
 pleasure in her companionship, and this soon called forth allusions 
 from Elinor which increased in expressiveness as time went on. 
 
 Richard began by ignoring ironical references to his changes 
 of taste. The " Vasser prig " had receded into the past, his 
 "cow-girl friend" now took her place. Even pointed and un- 
 complimentary remarks about Virginia's appearance, dress and 
 features failed to arouse his resentment. He was conscious that 
 Elinor's life at this period was not amusing, and he would have 
 been only too glad to have provided her with congenial companion- 
 ship. Besides this, he knew that his friendship with Virginia 
 had obliterated his short-lived enthusiasm lor "creating" 
 Aquafonti, and had imposed a solid barrier between Elinor and 
 himself. He hardly made a pretence of interest in the villa and 
 its embellishment now that the fetching and planting of trees no 
 longer afforded an excuse for expeditions afield. Virginia had 
 already become an important element in his life, but he had no 
 intention of allowing himself to be drawn into an overt declara- 
 tion which might result in a definite breach with Elinor on her 
 account. He, perhaps, did not at this time know how far the 
 girl's hold on him went, for he certainly believed he was entirely
 
 220 RICHARD KURT 
 
 a free agent in the matter, and he would probably have laughed 
 at anyone who suggested that he was under a spell he could not 
 break. Possibly he was not, but when one day Elinor told him 
 that Munro Rafferty was coming to see him he went to pieces. 
 
 " If that fellow dares to speak to me about Virginia I'll kick 
 him out of the house," he said furiously. "And what the devil 
 do you mean by conspiring with him behind my back ? " 
 
 Elinor had the best of the argument with a smooth answer 
 uttered in a rather pathetic manner, as of one saddened and mis- 
 understood. 
 
 " He telephoned to you, but as you were at Casana I answered." 
 
 Richard was unappeased. 
 
 " Considering the terms I'm on with his mother it's a piece of 
 infernal impertinence for him to come here." 
 
 " You seem to forget that I have not dropped a woman who 
 has shown me a great deal of attention because she disapproves 
 of your behaviour." 
 
 " No, exactly. That's just like your damned disloyalty." 
 
 Elinor's quick temper was roused. 
 
 " Disloyalty indeed ! You're a nice one to talk. You go 
 gallivanting off with your cow-girl, with her cod-fish mouth and 
 her stupid baby talk, leaving me here alone for days together. 
 Disloyalty ! Pah ! You don't know the meaning of loyalty. 
 You never did." 
 
 She put an end to the scene by slamming out of the room in 
 the old way. 
 
 Presently Munro Rafferty called and was shown into the 
 library, where Richard sat awaiting him, reading the paper. 
 
 Mrs Rafferty's son was a rather pleasant-faced man of about 
 Richard's age, with a high colour, clean-shaved lips and a strong 
 Californian accent, which years of life in Europe had not rubbed 
 off. He began by politely excusing himself for coming to see 
 Richard under the circumstances, alluding with regret to the 
 incident of his mother's visit. He expressed himself with some 
 difficulty and was obviously embarrassed. Richard began to 
 feel sorry for him, especially when he went on to speak of his 
 having taken upon himself to represent his mother, whose health, 
 partly, he feared, owing to this unpleasantness, was causing him 
 anxiety. 
 
 "I'm really very sorry to hear it," Richard replied. "I can 
 assure you I had a teal regard for your mother in fact, I admired 
 her very much. But I don't see what I can do." 
 
 The other hummed and hawed.
 
 VIRGINIA 221 
 
 "Mr Kurt, my mother looked upon Virginia almost like a 
 daughter. It isn't as though you were hum so infatuated 
 1 mean, you know, Virginia isn't the sort of girl you know what 
 I mean she's a sort of kid plays with my children that sort 
 of thing " 
 
 Richard avoided the point. 
 
 "But I've never attempted to interfere with her seeing Mrs 
 Rafferty. As a matter of fact, some days ago she said she was 
 going back there, and when her sister " 
 
 Richard stopped. He was just going to repeat what Brigita 
 had said about Virginia being a fool if she went back. 
 
 " You were saying that she was going back. What happened 
 to prevent her ? " 
 
 Rafferty leant forward, waiting for the answer. 
 
 Richard thought a moment. What did happen to prevent her ? 
 He had never considered that till this moment. He looked 
 Rafferty in the face. 
 
 " I don't know why you ask me. How can I know what is in 
 the girl's mind ? I told her sister I couldn't judge, she must 
 know herself what she wanted to do." 
 
 The other got up. 
 
 "Anyway, I've done what I could. I leave it to you, but I 
 must say unless um unless you're in love with the girl I 
 can't see why um " He stopped, and looked rather help- 
 lessly at Richard, who stood up and faced him. 
 
 " Supposing I were in love with her, would you expect me to 
 say so ? We're strangers to each other. We don't know each 
 other's lives. Supposing I asked you why your late wife divorced 
 you ! What would you say to me ? " 
 
 This was a facer, and Rafferty knew it was. 
 
 "I'm real sorry about all this real sorry." He held out his 
 hand. Richard took it without speaking, which ended the 
 abortive interview. 
 
 Elinor came out as the visitor departed, evidently surprised 
 and uncertain whether to be pleased or sorry that nothing dramatic 
 had happened. She would have liked Richard to have had a 
 verbal, it not a physical, trouncing, but it would not have suited 
 her for the breach between her husband and Mrs Rafferty to be 
 widened or made permanent. 
 
 Richard, as always when he felt he had the best of a situation, 
 was conciliatory. 
 
 " I think he saw the whole business is a storm in a teacup," 
 he remarked.
 
 222 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " All your affairs are," Elinor replied bitterly. 
 
 " This isn't an affair. Surely I'm entitled to some sort of com- 
 panionship. I've never denied it to you. I know it's awfully 
 dull for you here now. Why don't you go to Paris ? November 
 is one of the best months there, and you've done all you can do 
 here." 
 
 " So as to leave you free, I suppose." 
 
 Richard's face showed irritation. He muttered something 
 about cutting off her nose to spite her face. 
 
 "Anything for a quiet life," she sighed. Then with more 
 alacrity : " I suppose you will at least make the arrangements, 
 as you aren't coming." 
 
 " Of course, of course," Kichard answered. 
 
 IV 
 
 The icy hand of Winter held the lake in its grasp. Biting 
 winds from across the Bergamasque Alps met the low-flying 
 snow-clouds on their way through the St Gothard, and whirled 
 them hither and thither till they got lost in the lake-basin and, 
 giving up the hopeless struggle, fell to earth, shrouding with white 
 the steep descents and hamlets clustering .round the shore. 
 
 Richard was more alone than he had ever been in his life. 
 
 After Elinor's departure he had sent away the servants, keep- 
 ing only Pietro, who looked after him and cooked his meals, 
 such as they were. For two days the fall had been so heavy, and 
 the drifts so deep, that he had been almost a prisoner in the 
 house. It was even a matter of some difficulty for Domenico to 
 bring his letters and food from the lodge, for the slope was steep, 
 and at the curves in the drive the snow lay twenty feet deep, 
 blown there as it fell by the savage wind. 
 
 Alone as he was, he was not unhappy, and he was almost getting 
 accustomed to solitude. His visits to Casana had ceased two 
 weeks after Elinor's departure, for Count Peraldi's illness had 
 taken a critical turn. He lay at death's door for many days, till 
 late one night the failing flame flickered out. Up till then 
 Virginia had called Richard up daily to give him news, but since 
 the funeral he had heard nothing. That was four weeks ago. 
 He had heard vaguely through Pietro that the funeral had taken 
 place in Milan and been an important function. Domenico, who 
 was greatly interested in all matters concerning money, hinted 
 confidentially that il signor Conte had left his affairs much in-
 
 VIRGINIA 223 
 
 votved. Beyond this, the break between himself and the Peraldi 
 family had been complete. 
 
 For the first time in his married life Richard read much. He 
 was fully aware of his ignorance. He had rarely encountered 
 anyone who could guide his taste, consequently he hardly knew 
 how to begin. But as he read more his appetite increased. 
 He was himself surprised at the equanimity with which he 
 accepted an existence which was the antithesis of everything he 
 had experienced, and at the tranquillity his new habits of reading 
 procured him. He found himself a new world and he was begin- 
 ning to explore it with a curiosity equally new. He was no longer 
 concerned, as he had been when he met Mary Mackintyre, with 
 the immense difficulty of educating himself, because the process 
 itself was so pleasant that he did not think about it at all. 
 
 During this time he often tried to think of some friend whom 
 he knew well enough to invite to face the winter rigours with 
 himself and a well-stocked library as sole resource. But he 
 could think of absolutely nobody whose society would be con- 
 genial in his new frame of mind. Sometimes he thought of 
 Virginia, wondering what was happening to her. She had always 
 told him that her father was very dear to her, and he had known 
 the reality of death too well himself to underestimate her in- 
 evitable grief. But it would be too much to say that his heart 
 went out to her. Her father had been ill a long time and was an 
 old man, and Richard felt certain that, in her case, the consola- 
 tion of religion would lighten the burden. He was reminded 
 how easily he had reconciled himself to the loss of her companion- 
 ship when he received a letter from Elinor, in which one sentence 
 ran : " I hope you appreciate your freedom to enjoy your play- 
 girl's society." He ignored the sarcastic reference in his reply, 
 chuckling to himself at the thought of how completely Elinor 
 was mistaken. Doubtless she interpreted his indulgence, and the 
 generous allowance regularly remitted, as the price of his liberty 
 to " carry on." He turned again to his books after that with an 
 added zest. 
 
 One morning he received an unexpected letter from Cyril 
 Franchard, from whom he had not heard since he left England a 
 year or more before. 
 
 Cyril's sister was married to an Englishman who lived in 
 Florence, and he was coming out to see her. Could Richard put 
 him up for a few days en routt ? 
 
 Richard was quite pleased. Cyril was an old friend for whom 
 he had a real affection. He was not one of the "sporting
 
 224 RICHARD KURT 
 
 division," but lived a rather hard-up, but somewhat cultured, 
 life of his own. Fond of books, without being a student, especially 
 devoted to collecting bric-a-brac, in which he was something of 
 a connoisseur, he lived much at his friends' houses, where he was 
 universally liked and made welcome. He was good-looking in a 
 swarthy way, and a great favourite with ladies. Richard believed 
 they must sometimes have been rather disappointed with him, 
 less on account of his lacking the gift of entertaining conversation 
 than because his estimate of women was so idealistic that he set 
 them on pedestals and left them there. But he was gentle, tact- 
 ful and discreet, and these qualities, in themselves endearing, no 
 doubt reconciled them to his romantic but Platonic devotion. 
 
 Cyril Franchard arrived. The snow had disappeared and given 
 place to brilliant sunshine and hard frost, that glorious birthright 
 of an Alpine climate. Richard met him at Como with the launch, 
 which had not been out since Elinor's departure. 
 
 Cyril was entranced with everything. Unluxurious by habit, 
 he was delighted to share the plain fare and the rather Spartan 
 habits acquired by Richard during his solitude. It was exactly 
 the life he loved, he told his host, and he so quickly proved the 
 truth of this assurance that Richard rejoiced at having him, 
 and the two friends passed delightful days. Cyril was annotating 
 an old book on eighteenth-century engravings, and worked at 
 this while Richard read. They made the most of the sunshine, 
 exploring Como, where they made an exhaustive study of the 
 cathedral and other old churches, and where Cyril picked up some 
 bargains. 
 
 One afternoonwhile his friend was ransacking a little "antiquity" 
 shop in one of the back streets Richard sat talking in the door- 
 way to the proprietor. He knew him well, as he did all such 
 dealers, from whom he and Elinor had made many purchases. 
 He liked gossiping with them, and they spoke freely to him. 
 The man began talking about Mrs Rafferty and the Peraldi 
 family. Had il signor seen Mrs Rafferty lately ? No ? She 
 was going to Paris, he believed, after the Peraldi funeral. The 
 family had come back to Casana a day or two ago from Milan ; 
 he had seen Donna Brigita but not Donna Virginia. She was 
 very unhappy, he had heard, and had not been seen by anyone 
 since her father's death. Presently Cyril came out, and they 
 walked back to Aquafonti. Cyril, never talkative, noticed that 
 Richard was rather silent, and with characteristic tact did not 
 attempt conversation. Richard was thinking of Virginia. Had 
 he been unkind ? She had asked him to the funeral in the name
 
 VIRGINIA 225 
 
 of the family, but he had written to the Contessa excusing himself . 
 He had also written to Virginia expressing sympathy, but he knew 
 the letter had been formal and perfunctory, and he had made 
 no sign since. Ought he to have done something ? 
 
 As soon as they reached Aquafonti he rang up Casana. After 
 some delay Brigita came to the telephone. He inquired after her 
 mother and Virginia. Both were well, Brigita said. Would it 
 please them if he visited them ? He would be glad to if he were 
 not intruding. She would be delighted ; it would cheer them up ; 
 certainly he was to bring his friend. Her mother would perhaps 
 not be able to receive them, but she herself would be delighted. 
 He rang off, feeling relieved. Evidently she was just the same 
 as before. 
 
 The next afternoon they went over to Casana and were received 
 by Brigita in deepest black. 
 
 Cyril treated her with the deferential sympathy one accords 
 to the utterly disconsolate, and the look of respectful devotion 
 that Kichard expected came into his eyes. Soon she was chatting 
 away quite happily, and Cyril glanced at Richard as though he 
 would say : " Isn't it wonderful how this lovely, desolate creature 
 bears up under her sorrow ? " Virginia did not appear, and 
 after a discreet interval Richard asked where she was. 
 
 *' Oh, Virginia," Brigita answered, " she's in the convent, poor 
 girl." 
 
 Cyril's calf-like eyes expressed unutterable things, but Richard 
 thought he caught a shade of mockery in her voice, and pursued 
 the subject in spite of his friend's look of shocked surprise. 
 
 *' Indeed, about the worst thing she could do, I should say. 
 I don't believe in that morbid sort of " 
 
 Cyril looked positively pained and interrupted him. 
 
 " You're not a Catholic, Richard. You don't understand how 
 they feel about such things." 
 
 Brigita's face could be very expressive at times. The girl had 
 a sense of humour which her Italian entourage had not encouraged 
 her to develop. Her eyes met Richard's, and he feared she was 
 going to laugh outright. Fortunately Cyril's tactful change of 
 subject saved the situation. He began talking about Aquafonti 
 and bric4-brac, regretting that his stay was so short that he 
 wouldn't be able to find much before he left. 
 
 " I know where there is a lot of antiques," Brigita remarked. 
 
 His interest was immediately aroused. 
 
 "A friend of ours, Marchesa Sismondo, who lives some miles 
 the other side of Como, has a house full of them. It's a wonderful
 
 226 RICHARD KURT 
 
 old place. Virginia's her particular friend ; she'd take you over 
 if she were here. The old lady is rather offended with me 
 
 because " She hesitated, adding with a comical expression : 
 
 " For a particular reason." 
 
 " That would have been delightful. What a pity your sister 
 isn't here ! " 
 
 The bargain-hunter in Cyril was aroused. 
 
 " You never can tell with Virginia. She may get tired of the 
 nuns and turn up at any moment." 
 
 Cyril's romantic sympathy would have had another shock 
 if the lure of the antique had not absorbed him to the exclusion 
 of sentiment. But he was too well-bred to pursue the subject, 
 and shortly afterwards they took their leave, promising to meet 
 the next day. 
 
 Since Kichard had been alone at Aquafonti he had lived entirely 
 in the library, even taking his meals there. There was only 
 Domenico's wife to help Pietro with the work, and he preferred 
 the room to any in the house. Cyril shared the preference, and 
 their cosy evenings were entirely to his taste. Arranging rooms 
 was an art he thoroughly understood, and he had, with Richard's 
 encouragement, moved the furniture about so as to increase 
 their comfort and enable them to sit in front of the great fireplace 
 with their books at hand and lamps conveniently placed for 
 reading. 
 
 On their way back from Casana (they had gone by road because 
 Cyril insisted upon exercise) snow had begun falling again, and by 
 the time they reached Aquafonti it was several inches deep. 
 There had been a hard frost, and it lay crisp and unmelting where 
 it fell. 
 
 After dinner they were glad to draw their arm-chairs nearer 
 to the blazing logs. They fell to talking about the Peraldis. 
 
 " What a charming girl Donna Brigita is, and so brave ! One 
 can see she's full of heart." The liberal flow of Chianti during 
 dinner had not lessened Cyril's romantic sentiments. 
 
 " Quite a good sort," Richard answered. " But Virginia's my 
 special friend. A jolly little pal." 
 
 He began giving his friend an account of her. Cyril was a 
 good listener. Perhaps this and the comfort of the cosy room 
 and its warm colour in contrast with the storm outside were the 
 immediate causes of that unaccountable emotion which took
 
 VIRGINIA 227 
 
 possession of Richard again. As he proceeded his voice grew 
 tender involuntarily. He was telling his friend about Virginia's 
 coming over to announce Mrs RafEerty's visit. 
 
 "I can't describe her to you. I had been expecting her for 
 two whole days. You know how it is when one's rather down 
 and " 
 
 He paused in his narrative, which Cyril had been following 
 closely, pulling at his pipe and gazing into the fire with an ex- 
 pression of pensive interest. He knew much, if not all, that 
 Richard's life was and had been. It was not in Richard's char- 
 acter to desire pity and, so far as he could, he had sought to protect 
 Elinor from his friend's disparaging inferences. But Cyril was 
 one of the very few who was proof against her allurements. He 
 was always courteous to Elinor, but he did not like her. This 
 was not only, if at all, because of her actual conduct as the wife 
 of Richard ; it was far more because of her spiteful tongue. Cyril 
 Franchard was too loyal to be on friendly terms with those who 
 abused his friends. And this Elinor made a point of doing, because 
 she envied others that which she could never secure. 
 
 " I was on the balcony there," Richard continued. " I wish 
 you could have seen her before you left. She's quite unlike 
 anyone else." 
 
 He went on to describe Mrs Rafferty's visit. Cyril knew Mrs 
 Rafferty by name and reputation, but his acquaintance with 
 Americans was limited to those he had met in London. One or 
 two of these were his particular friends, and he had often amused, 
 and sometimes irritated, Richard by his inability to discriminate 
 between their qualities and their defects. 
 
 " You must have tried the old lady pretty high, old chap." 
 
 " Not at all. How ? " 
 
 " What other object could she have had but to protect the girl ! 
 From your own showing, she's a child in her innocence. I must 
 say I don't think you've behaved well." 
 
 "You can't judge, Cyril." Richard was not in the least 
 annoyed with his friend. The view Cyril expressed was char- 
 acteristic of him, and quite in keeping with his attitude towards 
 women. Had Richard thought at all before starting the subject 
 he would have expected his friend's censure. Besides, he was not 
 at all certain that he had not been to some extent to blame in 
 allowing Virginia to be exposed to injurious comments. 
 
 " It's not a case of judgment." Cyril got up heavily and 
 knocked the ashes out of his pipe. "You're a married man, 
 and any girl you go about with like that has to bear the brunt
 
 228 RICHARD KURT 
 
 of it. It's rotten, of course, because I know you're not the sort 
 of man to take advantage of a young girl, but it just can't be 
 done that's all." 
 
 Richard did not reply. His thoughts were not concerned with 
 Cyril. He liked him, esteemed him, in a way, for his opinions, 
 though he generally thought them ridiculous. His thoughts were 
 of Virginia in her convent. He longed to see her again ; he was 
 hungry for her guttural voice, for her gurgle, her barking laugh, 
 the firm clasp of her hand. He walked over to the window and 
 threw it open. The cold air rushed into the warm room, deli- 
 ciously refreshing. His head felt hot ; he had a sensation of tight- 
 ness round the temples. He went out on the balcony from which 
 he had watched her white figure disappear towards Casana. 
 The snow was falling steadily. He stood there, peering into the 
 whiteness till his head and shoulders were covered with tiny 
 frosty feathers. What wouldn't he give to see her now ? 
 
 What was that ? Again ! a whistle out there on the lake 
 in such a night ! 
 
 "Cyril, come out here," he called breathlessly. "Isn't that 
 a whistle ? Listen ! " 
 
 Again this time unmistakable. He shouted back at the top 
 of his voice : " HuUoa ! Hulloa ! Hulloa ! " 
 
 " Hulloa ! " came back the answer. 
 
 He dashed out of the house, switching the light over the 
 water-steps as Virginia, white with snow from head to foot, 
 swiftly ran to the stern of her boat, so that its nose lightly glided 
 up to where he stood. 
 
 As Richard seized it, Cyril stood on the bridge above and looked 
 over, quite bewildered. 
 
 "I came about Marchesa Sismondo's antiques," Virginia 
 called up to him, as Richard helped her out. 
 
 Virginia shook off the snow, which clung to her like dust in 
 the frosty air, and mounted the steps, followed by Richard. On 
 the bridge she shook hands with Cyril without waiting for an 
 introduction. 
 
 " Brigita said you might be going at any time, and I wanted 
 to catch you." Turning her back on him, she bent towards 
 Richard. "Skin me," she said. 
 
 With a smile of amusement he pulled off the thick sweater, 
 like those worn by yachting crews, with the name of their ship 
 emblazoned on the chest ; a sailor's cap was pulled down over her 
 ears.
 
 VIRGINIA 229 
 
 They entered the library together and she took a cigarette from 
 a box, standing in front of the fire as men do. Cyril struck a 
 match. His face had a look of deep concern. 
 
 " I can't tell you how good I think it is of you, but I wish you 
 hadn't taken such a risk. It's an awful night." 
 
 " Awful ? " she laughed. " It's glorious. I could see the 
 moon rising through the snow. It will be a perfect day to- 
 morrow." 
 
 Richard went to the balcony ; the window was still open. 
 
 " By Jove ! you're right. Look, Cyril." 
 
 The moon had risen above the mountains behind Aquafonti 
 and shone through the fine, powdery snow like a mild April sun 
 through a shower. 
 
 Cyril looked disappointed. This was taking the edge off 
 romance. He was enjoying and deploring her supposed fool- 
 hardiness. 
 
 " That's all very well now, but it was awful an hour ago. 
 Really, Miss Virginia, you know, you oughtn't ' 
 
 "You don't know our lake. It's nothing. They catch the 
 best trout in this sort of weather." 
 
 As she stood in front of the fire smoking she never looked at 
 Richard. All her attention was bestowed on Cyril, who offered 
 her a drink from the tray conveniently disposed between their 
 two arm-chairs. She would have a glass of water, she said. She 
 gulped it down, handing back the glass. 
 
 " It's more comfortable here. You've changed it," she re- 
 marked, speaking to Richard for the first time. 
 
 " Fancy your noticing ! That's Cyril's touch." 
 
 Richard dropped into a chair and poured out a glassful of 
 whisky. Cyril was standing. 
 
 " Won't you sit down, Miss Virginia ? " he said politely. 
 
 Her wide mouth opened in a smile. 
 
 " Isn't he funny ? Tell him to call me Virginia, and not to 
 be so polite." 
 
 Richard laughed. 
 
 " Call her Virginia, old chap, and sit down and have a drink." 
 
 Cyril did so, looking uncomfortable. 
 
 " When shall we go to Sismondo ? To-morrow ? " she asked. 
 
 " I'd love to," Cyril answered. 
 
 " All right. I'll bring the mule from the farm and a sledge." 
 
 "Not if I know it," Richard interrupted. "I'll hire a car. 
 We'll call for you and Brigita." 
 
 " He's so grand, isn't he ? " she remarked to Cyril. " Brigita
 
 230 RICHARD KURT 
 
 won't come. Marchesa Sismondo's angry with her because she 
 won't marry her nephew." 
 
 Cyril scented more romance. 
 
 " What's the nephew like ? " he asked. 
 
 " I don't know. He's " 
 
 Something happened to Virginia's cap. As she pulled it straight, 
 Richard, whose eyes had never left her since she entered the room, 
 noticed that it was wringing wet and the melted snow was trickling 
 down her neck. She was wearing an open-necked jersey. 
 
 He got up and took hold of the cap, intending to pull it off her 
 head, but she held it on with both hands. In the struggle part 
 of her head was exposed at the nape of the neck. Richard 
 suddenly dropped his hands. 
 
 " Virginia ! Good Lord ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 "Well. Now you know." 
 
 She pulled off her cap. Her beautiful hair was cut short like 
 a boy's. 
 
 " What on earth did you do it for ? " 
 
 Richard's voice showed plainly that he was horrified. 
 
 She stood silent. Cyril looked at Richard. 
 
 " Don't ask her," he pleaded. 
 
 " I must go now. Telephone what time you'll come to-morrow. 
 Good-bye, Cyril." She held out her hand to him. 
 
 " But what's it like outside ? " Cyril asked, as he took her hand. 
 
 She pointed to the window, left uncurtained when Richard 
 shut it. 
 
 The moon was shining brightly ; there was only a ripple on the 
 water. 
 
 The three went to the bridge together. Again Virginia held 
 out her hand. 
 
 " Good-night, Cyril." 
 
 " Good-night, Virginia." 
 
 He turned with a reluctant expression and went back into the 
 house. 
 
 "Look out, going down the steps." Richard, who was a little 
 in front of her, nearly slipped as he spoke. The boat was covered 
 with a thin layer of ice, the rope by which it was moored to the 
 steps was frozen. "You can't go back in that boat," Richard 
 said. 
 
 She looked at it doubtfully. 
 
 " The rowlocks will be rather stiff." Then, as an afterthought : 
 " Lend me your dinghy." 
 
 One side of the villa being built on piles, the water flowed freely
 
 VIRGINIA 231 
 
 under it, making an ideal boat-house, which could be entered from 
 inside the house or from the little inlet by the water-steps over- 
 looked from the bridge. Richard intended getting the boat out 
 from within, since this seemed easiest, but as he reached the bridge 
 he saw that Virginia had got into her boat and was already 
 entering the archway of the boat-house. He went down again. 
 She had switched on the electric light and with the skill of a 
 born waterman had berthed her own dinghy and returned 
 with his. 
 
 " No use going in to fetch it. Good-night, Richard." 
 
 He looked into her eyes an instant, questioning, then, pushing 
 off with his feet, jumped in. Neither spoke a word until they were 
 a hundred yards from the house. 
 
 " You'll be cold," she remarked in a matter-of-fact tone. 
 
 " Not if we both row. I'll take the bow oars." 
 
 Another advantage of Virginia's rowlock arrangement was 
 that one could sit in the bows and scull facing the other who 
 rowed standing up. Thus they could talk to each other com- 
 fortably. 
 
 " Won't Cyril be frightened ? " 
 
 Her use of the word amused Richard. Cyril might possibly 
 be shocked when he found out Richard had gone with her. 
 
 " Never mind about that. Why did you cut your hair ? " 
 
 " What does it matter ? It's less trrobble." 
 
 " That's not the reason. What is ? " 
 
 They were rowing slowly and easily. Richard was in no hurry 
 and set the pace. The moon was shining down on them so brightly 
 that he could see her face almost as clearly as by day. For a 
 moment she didn't answer, and he stopped rowing and watched 
 her as her body moved with the strokes of her oars. 
 
 " Why do you ask ? " she equivocated. 
 
 " Because I want to know. Because there's some reason you're 
 hiding from me." 
 
 She had been avoiding his gaze ; now she looked straight at 
 him with an earnest expression. 
 
 " I was in the convent and it was so peaceful. My father was 
 all I had, and " 
 
 Richard's heart gave a leap. 
 
 "You thought of you mean to say you'd do that without 
 saying a word to me ? " 
 
 " You don't care." She did not say the words sadly, she uttered 
 a half-laugh. 
 
 " I do care but that's nothing to do with it. It's a crime to
 
 232 RICHARD KURT 
 
 do such a thing. You, a young girl with your life before you. 
 It's a crime," he repeated. 
 
 " I didn't do it, did I ? " 
 
 " No ; but you were near doing it. You've shaved your hair." 
 
 " Not quite." She held both sculls in one hand and ran the 
 other through the thick, short hair. He noticed it was left fairly 
 long in front and fell naturally on either side of her forehead like 
 a boy's. 
 
 " You always said you wished I was a boy." 
 
 " I don't mind about the hair. It will grow. It's the other 
 thing." 
 
 They both began rowing again ; they were close to Casana. 
 
 " How did you get out ? Your mother did not know, surely ? " 
 
 " Naw. I slid down the water-pipe." 
 
 They ran alongside the broad pier-wall built high out of the 
 water. In former days the old Count had been a keen yachts- 
 man, and his harbour was the largest on the lake. She grasped 
 a rope fastened to a ring and stood a moment holding it. The 
 time had come to say good-bye, but Eichard lingered . He did 
 not know what to say. It would be either less than he felt or 
 more than he ought to express. He only knew that he did not 
 want to part from her, that he was suffering at the thought of it. 
 But he either could not, or dared not, say so. 
 
 " Good-night, Richard." 
 
 He held her hand an instant, then pressed it to his lips almost 
 fiercely, holding it to them until she pulled it away, and with a 
 cat-like agility half ran, half clambered on to the top of the wall. 
 
 Cyril's face expressed grave displeasure when Richard got back. 
 
 To Richard's " Sorry, old man, to have left you like this," he 
 replied with some sourness : " You took care not to take me." 
 Richard's lame excuse that he did not like to drag him out led 
 to further words. Finally, but with a certain reluctance, Cyril 
 blurted out : " You know you're in love with her. What's the 
 use of pretending you aren't ? " 
 
 Richard's reply must have surprised him. 
 
 " I wonder if I am." 
 
 Cyril, being always more or less in love in his own way, returned : 
 " As if you didn't know." 
 
 " You may not believe it, but I don't. Sometimes I think I 
 am, at others I know I'm not. She's a ripping companion 
 ripping yet she's utterly without mind but that's not the 
 reason."
 
 VIRGINIA 288 
 
 Cyril listened and said nothing. He must have known that 
 Richard was telling the truth, for he himself was, if anything, over- 
 frank by nature. Also he was enjoying the talk about it. Cyril 
 would not have owned it to himself, but the very fact that his 
 friend was sailing rather close to the wind with Virginia appealed 
 to his romantic ideas. Anything might happen, a tragedy who 
 could tell ? 
 
 "You're playing with fire." The remark was a figurative 
 smacking of the lips. 
 
 Richard had poured out a drink and was looking into the 
 fire. 
 
 " I believe I am," he answered. 
 
 "Chuck it. Go away. Come with me to Florence," Cyril 
 urged. 
 
 Richard knew he did not expect him to, knew also that he was 
 enjoying the role of the austere friend. Cyril would have dearly 
 loved to have the cruel task imposed upon him of breaking the 
 news to Virginia that this married man, whose heart was broken, 
 had summoned all his courage and will-power, and for her sake 
 renounced his love for her, and gone out of her life for ever. 
 Richard could hear him saying : " My poor girl, it is bitter, it is 
 hard now, but the day will come, et cetera." 
 
 He wondered what Virginia would have to say. He was pretty 
 certain that Brigita would whisper a word or two in dear old 
 Cyril's ear that would give him something quite new to think 
 about in connection with women. But he answered in another 
 key: 
 
 "Florence sounds inviting. I'll think about it. But, if I 
 clear out, Virginia may take it into her head to go into that 
 convent." 
 
 He recounted what Virginia had said. 
 
 " Who knows ? " Cyril remarked solemnly when Richard had 
 finished. " There are women for whom that is the only vocation. 
 After all, there's something in religion" his voice grew softer, 
 he took a deep draught of whisky and soda " in contemplating 
 the divine " 
 
 "Fiddlesticks!" 
 
 Richard jumped up and stretched himself. 
 
 " Come on to bed, Cyril. We've got to be at Casana at ten. 
 There are some bargains to be got at Sismondo, and I want you 
 to have some." 
 
 Cyril waited at the top of the stairs while Richard switched off 
 the lights.
 
 284 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " D'you believe there really is a Cellini bronze there ? Donna 
 Brigita assured me " 
 
 " I don't know. We'll see to-morrow." 
 
 Cyril accompanied Richard to his room door. 
 
 " It would be worth a fortune, you know." 
 
 " I know," repeated Richard, yawning. " Good-night, old 
 man." 
 
 vi 
 
 Richard's letters were brought to him with the cup of black coffee 
 which was his breakfast. Amongst them the following morning 
 was one from his father. Their correspondence had never been 
 frequent, but Richard had made a point of keeping in touch with 
 Mr Kurt since the latter's health had begun to fail. His feelings 
 towards him were kindly. He knew that the old man's life was 
 lonely, and he felt sorry for him. The letter was a short one, a 
 mere note : 
 
 MY DEAR RICHARD, The enclosed has been sent to me evidently 
 by mistake. Note the address. 
 
 Richard turned over the enclosed envelope. It was addressed 
 to Kurt, Esq., at his father's London house. 
 
 I don't think there is anything for me to say except that I 
 hope you will consider carefully what action you intend taking, 
 and that, so far as my poor health permits, I shall be ready to 
 advise and help you if you call upon me. Yours affectionately, 
 
 W. K. 
 
 He took out the other letter, turning it over to look at the 
 signature : " A. P. Thome." He could not recall the name and 
 began reading. It was headed " Belvedere, Galatz," and ran as 
 follows : 
 
 DEAR SIR, I regret to be compelled for self -protection to write 
 you regarding the conduct of your wife when she was staying at 
 my hotel at Drina. I have been informed from various sources 
 that this lady is spreading injurious reports regarding the manage- 
 ment and the guests. Indeed several of the latter who come 
 habitually in the autumn did not do so this season in consequence. 
 
 I cannot afford to be ruined by the spiteful tongue of a woman 
 whose behaviour was so disgraceful that my manager requested
 
 VIRGINIA 235 
 
 her to leave the hotel. If you require further information you 
 will no doubt be able to obtain it for yourself, but I may add that 
 the gentleman whose compromising actions led to the drastic 
 proceedings alluded to was named Brendon. Yours faithfully, 
 
 A. P. THORNE. 
 
 The immediate result of reading the letter was a rage so intense 
 that he was on the point of entering Cyril's room and telling him 
 that he was going to Galatz that day to chastise the blackguard 
 who had traduced his wife. On second thoughts he decided to 
 do nothing impulsive. He must think. So this was what had 
 happened ! He had always felt that there had been a disagree- 
 able incident which Elinor had hidden from him. Poor girl, poor 
 girl ! What a fool she was ! Why would she not realise that he 
 was her best friend ? If only she had told him at the time he 
 would have very soon dealt with that scoundrel of a manager. 
 Of course Elinor had been foolish. No doubt that vicious young 
 scamp had compromised her. She always trusted any plausible 
 beast of a man rather than himself. He had warned her against 
 Reggie at the start. How right he had been ! Naturally his 
 father believed the story, so would his sisters. Would his father 
 tell them ? He hardly thought so. If he didn't, who else was 
 there to know ? It depended upon the line he took. As to that, 
 Richard was not in doubt a second. He had a large writing-desk 
 in his bedroom. Seizing a sheet, he wrote : 
 
 SIR, I have received your infamous letter. Of course I do 
 not credit a word of it, and if it ever reaches my ears that you 
 have repeated your manager's lies to anyone else I shall give you 
 a thrashing first and bring an action for criminal libel against 
 you afterwards. You are now warned. Yours, etc., 
 
 RICHARD KURT. 
 
 This relieved him. His next step was to tear the letter into 
 tiny little pieces, place them in his coffee saucer and set fire to 
 them. Then he sat down and wrote to his father : 
 
 MY DEAR FATHER, I have received your letter with enclosure. 
 I need hardly tell you that I do not believe a word of what that 
 blackguard said, though I dare say Elinor has been foolish and 
 laid herself open to very unpleasant consequences. Fortunately 
 I am here to protect her. Of course you will never tell the girls. 
 I shall bitterly resent any allusion to this incident hereafter. 
 Your affectionate son, R.
 
 236 RICHARD KURT 
 
 After all, Brigita went to Sismondo. She said it was too good 
 to miss seeing Cyril flirt with the Marchesa. She was an enor- 
 mously fat woman of fifty, who had been good-looking in her 
 youth, and was all smiles and amiability, but as deaf as a post. 
 She greeted both girls affectionately and gave the whole party 
 a warm welcome. The house was one of those tumble-down 
 affairs often met with in Italy. Palladian in style and not with- 
 out grandeur, it was rapidly falling into ruins. The interior was 
 entirely barren of modern conveniences, but the proportions of 
 the rooms were noble and greatly impressed Cyril. He wandered 
 through them with widely staring eyes, examining with undisguised 
 interest the furniture and the masses of bibelots with which 
 they were crammed. The rotund Marchesa followed, explaining 
 volubly in screaming Italian, of which Cyril did not understand a 
 word. Brigita acted as interpreter and took special pleasure in 
 mistranslating, putting in names of her own invention, instead of 
 those mentioned by the Marchesa, as the painters or sculptors or 
 craftsmen responsible for the objects Cyril was regarding. Every 
 now and then Brigita said something so absurd that Cyril looked 
 up and asked her to repeat what she had said. A triangular 
 colloquy ensued, leading to much mutual misunderstanding and 
 confusion. Meanwhile Richard and Virginia wandered off together 
 into the garden, which, like the house, had once been a fine example 
 of the Italian Eenaissance, with its statues, terraces and fountains. 
 These were now either broken beyond repair, or so fragmentary 
 as to require a high degree of artistry to restore them, but the 
 general effect was beautiful in the extreme. There was a hard frost, 
 and trees and plants were a mass of sparkling diamonds. Richard 
 had started feeling morose, and had insisted on sitting in front 
 next the driver, while the other three laughed and talked behind. 
 By the time they reached Sismondo the swift drive through the 
 keen air had done its work and he had recovered his spirits. 
 
 The collation was an amusing business. There was one old 
 servant to serve it. He was also gardener and coachman, and 
 had little practice as butler ; moreover, he kept up a running 
 conversation with his mistress and the two girls during the meal, 
 so that accidents were numerous. But everybody thoroughly 
 enjoyed it, and Cyril drank freely from a great flagon of red wine, 
 which the Marchesa assured him had been in her cellars since 
 immediately after the Austrian occupation, though Brigita said 
 it came from the village osteria. Both girls were full of mischief, 
 and made chaffing remarks about the Marchesa's person to each 
 other in Italian, to the others in English, much to Cyril's dis-
 
 VIRGINIA 237 
 
 comfort. The more pained he looked the more Brigita persisted, 
 and it ended, as Cyril helped himself freely to wine, by his en- 
 joying their fooling as much as the Marchesa herself, who, quite 
 unconscious of being a butt, entered into the spirit of the thing 
 with hearty good will. 
 
 They had coffee and cigarettes at table, and Brigita produced 
 what she called a specially fine cigar. This was handed to the 
 Marchesa after Cyril had cut off the end with great care. 
 
 " The Marchesa always smokes cigars, don't you ? " Brigita 
 shouted. 
 
 The good-natured creature nodded delightedly while Cyril held 
 a match to it. 
 
 Richard was sitting between the two sisters. Suddenly he 
 got a terrific nudge from Brigita's knee ; at the same instant there 
 was a hissing sound, a cloud of smoke rose in the air, and someone 
 yelled. The old servant rushed into the room, holding up his 
 hands in dismay, and all was confusion. The cigar contained a 
 fuse or something explosive, and had gone off at the first whiff. 
 The sisters roared with laughter, and Cyril spilt a cup of black 
 coffee over his clean white flannel trousers, to Brigita's intense 
 delight. Seizing a lovely silk bandanna handkerchief out of his 
 breast-pocket, she began mopping up the stain, making it worse 
 in the process, until Virginia stopped her. 
 
 "Naw, naw, Brigita, lasci a me. I'll do it, Cyril. She's a 
 fool." Pushing her sister out of the way, she soaked her handker- 
 chief in a finger-bowl and did her best, while poor Cyril looked 
 like an unhappy sheep being sheared. 
 
 At last they settled down again, and presently the Marchesa 
 excused herself. She was going to have a siesta. They could 
 go where they pleased, and make themselves at home. After- 
 wards Signor Franchard and she would talk business. 
 
 " Have you seen a roccolo ? " 
 
 Virginia and Richard were strolling through a plantation. 
 They had left the two others to inspect the contents of the house. 
 Brigita had promised to make amends to poor Cyril by showing 
 him round, and afterwards by helping him to come to terms with 
 the Marchesa if he saw anything he wanted to buy. 
 
 The roccolo was a horribly ingenious invention for catching 
 small birds, regarded at no distant period as a " sport " by Italian 
 gentlemen. Richard, having ascertained so much, desired to 
 know nothing more. He was almost morbid on the subject of 
 cruelty to animals, and he especially loved birds.
 
 288 RICHARD KURT 
 
 *' Let's get away," he said. 
 
 They roamed farther into a wood of beech arid walnut trees. 
 Their bareness of leaf was relieved by camelias, laurels and other 
 evergreens. In a semicircle formed by some of these, with great 
 walnuts towering above them, they found a sheltered spot and sat 
 down on the fallen leaves, dried on the surface by the sun, which 
 shone as brightly as in an English June. 
 
 Virginia disposed herself against a tree-trunk and, lighting a 
 cigarette, smoked lazily and silently. As they walked he had 
 been thinking again of the letter he had received. His was an 
 unsecretive nature at any time, and under the influence of the 
 girl's easy companionship his mood became expansive. He 
 wanted badly to confide in someone. He had contemplated 
 telling the whole story to Cyril. He knew he would be sympa- 
 thetic. He would be certain even to tell him he was sure there 
 was nothing in it and the right thing was to ignore it. And it 
 was more than likely that, though Cyril did not like Elinor (and 
 Richard knew this was the case in spite of his never having even 
 hinted at it), he would disbelieve the story. Cyril's conviction 
 that all women were but a little lower than the angels in purity, 
 whatever their tempers or other defects, was so strong that he 
 would not allow himself to believe anything against the repute of 
 one he esteemed even though the proof were before his eyes. In 
 Elinor's case he would require more conclusive evidence than 
 that of a hotel-manager. And, strangely, this was not at all 
 what Richard wanted. He did not know perhaps what he was 
 seeking. Certainly not condemnation, but equally he did not 
 desire the shoddy comfort of an attitude towards life in general 
 that involved refusal to face an unpleasant situation. He had 
 at least learnt enough from life to know that damaging reality is 
 better than the most lofty sham. 
 
 He looked at Virginia, wondering if, perhaps, this girl who 
 seemed so innocent and childish had not as much capacity for 
 judging such a situation as anyone he could ask. She was a 
 woman, and in matters of sex women were sometimes more 
 intuitive than men. 
 
 Without further reflection he asked her : " What do you think 
 of Reggie Brendon ? " 
 
 Virginia's eyes were half closed. She opened them widely 
 and stared at him. 
 
 "Why do you ask?" 
 
 " Answer my question and I'll tell you." 
 
 " I think he's no good, but Mrs Rafferty likes him."
 
 VIRGINIA 239 
 
 " What does Mrs Rafferty say about him ? " Richard gazed at 
 her curiously as she considered. 
 
 " She says he's he's fascinating but dangerous." 
 
 She pronounced the words slowly, evidently quoting. Richard 
 gave a short laugh. 
 
 " Why dangerous ? " 
 
 " I shan't answer any more questions till you tell me " 
 
 "Well. I've had a letter." 
 
 Virginia made a movement that was almost a start. 
 
 "From whom ? " she asked. 
 
 " From a man called Thome." 
 
 She threw away her cigarette. 
 
 " Then you know," she said. 
 
 " Do you mean to say " Richard spoke excitedly "do 
 you mean that you know ? " 
 
 " I knaw." 
 
 " That that young villain compromised " 
 
 " He had to leave Drina at the same time as Mrs Kurt." 
 
 " Good God ! Who told you ? " 
 
 " Mrs RafFerty. The Prince told her, and when she told me 
 I left Scapa." 
 
 " You left Scapa ? " Richard was bewildered. 
 
 " Yes. Because she said you didn't mind, that you knew and 
 went away on purpose. And when I've got a when people 
 talk like that " 
 
 "You're a friend, Virginia. I understand. Look here, little 
 girl, does Mrs Rafferty, do they all, believe this damned lie ? " 
 
 A very slight, elusive smile flickered an instant in her eyes. 
 
 " I don't understand these things," she answered, " but Mrs 
 Rafferty said the Prince told her " 
 
 She hesitated. 
 
 "What did he tell her?" 
 
 " Reggie said so," she answered.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE desultory correspondence between Richard and his wife 
 during their separation was supplemented by occasional letters 
 from friends of both. To such news each made casual reference 
 when writing. In this way Elinor was made aware of Virginia's 
 hair-cutting, which Richard had not mentioned, and in regard to 
 which Elinor could not resist a sarcastic and irritating allusion. 
 Richard, on the other hand, had received at least one letter from 
 each of his sisters. It was characteristic of Ada, who met Elinor 
 by chance in a Paris restaurant, to go and call upon her, although 
 the two had not met for years and cordially disliked each other. 
 Her husband, Gaumont, was something of a man of the world, 
 and was intrigud to know what sort of a person this much discussed 
 and abused wife of his brother-in-law was. But Ada had another 
 reason for wanting to see Elinor. She was going to stay with 
 Olivia in London, and there was nothing she enjoyed more than 
 " getting a rise out of " Leslie, Olivia's husband, who, being 
 himself a snob of the first water, was always impressed and em- 
 bittered by Elinor's apparent brilliancy of entourage. The result 
 of the two women meeting was, therefore, first a letter from Olivia, 
 in which she spoke of Ada's coming to stay with her : 
 
 " She saw Elinor in Paris, and said her frocks were more wonder- 
 ful than ever. Jerome knew a man she was with called Bernas- 
 
 coni, a sort of flunkey to the Prince of . By the way, Leslie 
 
 met a man he knew called Brendon, son of that old Lord Wensley- 
 dale, who was a friend of papa's. He said he'd seen a lot of you 
 both on the lake, and the villa is delightful " 
 
 Elinor's recent letters had betrayed to his experienced mind a 
 certain disappointment. He knew that she had expected, if not 
 counted upon, seeing a good deal of Bernasconi's royal master ; 
 indeed, this personage, whom she had met incognito at Mrs 
 Rafferty's, and Franz von Hohenthal were to be the social main- 
 stays of her Paris campaign. But she had not said a word about 
 
 240
 
 VIRGINIA 241 
 
 either of them, and her [last communication, a hastily written 
 note, requested him to antedate his next remittance and send it 
 to her London bank, as she was " bored in Paris," and intended 
 leaving as soon as her spring dresses were finished. 
 
 The month was March, the season the Easter holidays, in regard 
 to which an earlier letter had expressed rather enthusiastic an- 
 ticipations. There was a hint of royal and sub-royal interests ; 
 in fact, a motor trip to Monte Carlo was more or less indicated. 
 What had happened in the meanwhile he could not tell, but 
 something had certainly gone wrong. 
 
 The next letter, dated from London, was more explicit and 
 conveyed a definite flavour of disappointment : 
 
 " One can't count on anyone," she wrote. " Your precious 
 friend Reggie made all sorts of promises of how nice he would 
 be and the good time he would give me in London, and all he has 
 done is to ask me out to dinner, alone, if you phase, and send 
 me two stupid baskets of roses, which are only a nuisance. It 
 doesn't matter, but it's one more lesson. ..." 
 
 " One more lesson ! " Richard wondered, when she wrote those 
 words, what sort of lesson the ineffable Reggie had taught her. 
 
 Following this came a letter from Ada, on her return to 
 Tours : 
 
 " I saw Elinor in Paris on my way to London. Jerome greatly 
 admired her clothes. We had supper one night together at Larue's. 
 Elinor brought two men called Baltazzo and Bernasconi. Jerome 
 
 knew Bernasconi, who is in attendance on the Prince of , and 
 
 told us he was madly in love with Tarquina, the new dancer at the 
 Opera. . . . The poor old governor seems to be awfully seedy. . . ." 
 
 Since Cyril's departure Richard's reading, becoming more and 
 more desultory, had finally ceased, while his visits to Casana 
 were now so frequent that he almost lived there. His life had 
 drifted into a day-to-day affair ; he did not heed time. 
 
 The situation in which old Count Peraldi had left his family 
 necessitated drastic reduction of their expenditure. They were 
 extreme in their methods, he knew, but he was hardly prepared 
 for their suddenly leaving the Casana house and establishing 
 themselves at the stables. These were large and commodious, 
 but it came as something of a shock to Richard when, on going 
 over one morning unexpectedly, he found the family "moving."
 
 242 RICHARD KURT 
 
 But they soon adjusted themselves to the new situation. The 
 Contessa dismissed all the servants, and insisted that she and her 
 daughters must do the work of the house themselves. To this 
 Virginia was entirely agreeable. She had always done her own 
 room, she told Richard, as she hated servants touching her things. 
 But Brigita demurred, so that the "scenes" between her mother 
 and herself were many, and Richard made a point of keeping out of 
 the way for a time, though he made use of the garden rendezvous. 
 To his surprise, Marchesa Sismondo's nephew now appeared on 
 the scene. He was little more than a youth, but had the dis- 
 sipated appearance of one who lives a night-life. As a rule he 
 lived in Milan, where he had a flat in the same street as the Palazzo 
 Peraldi. 
 
 To pacify her mother, and provide a "good excuse for not doing 
 domestic work, Brigita undertook the family business. What 
 this meant Richard did not know, but it involved frequent visits 
 to Milan for the day. He understood that there was a guardian, 
 and that the detail was managed by an employee of the late Count 
 called Rizzo, who apparently had been in the family for years. 
 Undisturbed by the reduction of their income, and indifferent to 
 the responsibilities she had undertaken, Brigita's chief employ- 
 ment seemed to consist in confusing, mystifying and bamboozling 
 this poor old Rizzo, in which proceedings she was, it appeared, 
 assisted by Cesare Sismondo. At any rate, the two generally 
 went to Milan, or came back, together, and Richard was frequently 
 entertained with accounts of " business " arrangements which, 
 though certainly comic, did not increase his confidence in Brigita's 
 management of the family affairs. 
 
 Brigita seemed to have the youthful Cesare entirely under her 
 thumb, which might, Richard thought, be quite as good for him as 
 his habitual influences. He was evidently a weak-willed youth, 
 in appearance unpleasant almost to the point of repulsiveness, 
 with his spotty skin and unhealthy, soft body. He hated every 
 form of exercise and could never be prevailed on to play tennis 
 or row. He smoked endlessly and had an abnormal appetite. 
 
 Since the family moved to the scuderia Virginia had under- 
 taken the cleaning of the stables proper, which were below, the 
 family apartments being over them. They kept only one old 
 horse, but the place was full of an unimaginable assortment of 
 harness and horse-clothing, while there were carriages and vehicles 
 of many kinds, ancient and modern. All these were to be sold, 
 but each time discussion as to which carriage and which harness 
 were to be kept and which disposed of led to altercation, with the
 
 VIRGINIA 243 
 
 result that Virginia's labours remained almost overwhelming. 
 She was very conscientious in such matters, and to keep the 
 whole concern neat and tidy involved many hours of work a 
 day. 
 
 Richard tried remonstrance, but the girl was obstinate. 
 
 " Naw, I said I would do it," was her invariable reply. 
 
 It ended by his tackling the job with her, and it became a regular 
 thing for him to turn up at a certain hour in the morning and get 
 to work with water, brushes, paste and leathers. 
 
 Now, this form of activity made a direct appeal to the Contessa, 
 who was one of those people who never want to sell anything for 
 fear they may not get full value, and go on keeping things till 
 they are useless. Consequently Richard's presence at all hours 
 of the day was taken as a matter of course, and he grew into 
 the family so completely that neither Virginia's mother nor 
 anyone else any longer questioned his assumption of a brotherly 
 intimacy. 
 
 As the weather grew warmer he got into the habit of bringing 
 over a change of clothes, and, when the Augean labours were over, 
 Virginia and he would don bathing suits under vague over- 
 garments and row off in the batello covered with an awning, with 
 wooden steps hung on to the side, for a dip. 
 
 Gradually, too, the family got accustomed to his taking any 
 odd meal with them and then disappearing. They did not know 
 whether Virginia accompanied him or not, nor did they inquire. 
 If he was not wholly conscious of the unusual terms of this 
 association, he was undoubtedly fully determined to preserve it. 
 He perfectly realised that, once Elinor returned, it could not be 
 kept going, so to speak, in the same way. Once she was back at 
 Aquaf onti and the house was full of servants, it would be a palpable 
 pretence that it was part of his obligation as a friend to wash 
 carriages and clean harness. And this reflection was causing him 
 a good deal of concern. Contessa Peraldi had an awkward way 
 of turning round and altering her point of view, and, while he was 
 determined that he would not give up Virginia's companionship 
 as long as she courted his, he had misgivings as to the eventual 
 penalty. On the whole, he inclined towards a solution that 
 implied the " squaring " of Elinor. After all, his friendship 
 with the girl was innocent enough in all conscience, and his wife 
 certainly owed him as much liberty as he accorded her. 
 
 The situation came to a head with some abruptness. 
 
 One morning in the midst of his labours Pietro brought him a 
 telegram from his wife.
 
 244 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " Returning Aquafonti tenth bringing two guests and butler 
 engage other servants writing." 
 
 This telegram brought about a swift reversal of parts. In 
 domestic emergencies Kichard was somewhat helpless, but 
 Virginia stepped into the breach with promptness and vigour. 
 She rushed off right and left on her bicycle and gathered together 
 a household with a speed that seemed to him miraculous. Aqua- 
 fonti became a scene of bustling activity that Richard intensely 
 disliked but accepted as inevitable, congratulating himself on the 
 possession of such a competent lieutenant. 
 
 Elinor's letter mentioned her guests by name. These were 
 Jason Baddingley and Cholmondeley Robinson, with both of 
 whom Richard had a passing acquaintance. He remembered 
 Baddingley as a gentle person with musical tastes who was equerry 
 to a minor royalty. Cholmondeley was an inferior painter of 
 portraits. Apparently this constituted his claim on Elinor's 
 hospitality, as she informed her husband that she had been "sitting 
 to him," and that the artist was " frightfully keen on getting the 
 right atmosphere." Apparently Elinor was to be painted in a 
 bower of roses which only bloomed suitably in the Aquafonti 
 garden. She finished off her letter with a cryptic reference to 
 Olivia, who, it seemed, was " furious " that she had asked " Jason." 
 
 With the realisation that his days of temporary liberty were 
 numbered there came to Richard a sense of weariness he vainly 
 tried to throw off. Whatever the disadvantages of the desultory 
 existence he had been leading, it had at all events been peaceful. 
 What he dreaded most was the rekindling in himself of the slowly 
 burning fire of resentment, of rebellion against fate. If he could 
 have continued indefinitely living as though he possessed no 
 powers of reflection, he thought he could gradually have evolved 
 a philosophy which would at least have made life bearable. But 
 he knew that Elinor's coming would end all that. Still it was 
 something that those two men were accompanying her. At least 
 they would serve as buffers between them and prevent oppor- 
 tunity for personal disagreement and arguments. 
 
 In due course they arrived. Richard sent a carriage to the 
 station and awaited them at Como harbour in the motor-launch. 
 The new butler, a black-browed person, sat on the box. 
 
 After the first shaking of hands Cholmondeley Robinson stood 
 aside from the embarking group, drinking in the beauty of the 
 scene. 
 
 He was a small, middle-aged man with sparse grey hair, jaunty
 
 VIRGINIA 245 
 
 manners and a Cockney accent. He was fond of gesturing with 
 his upraised right thumb, and his favourite adjective was 
 " supernal," which he applied indiscriminately. 
 
 Baddingley, whom Elinor addressed as " Jason," was a colour- 
 less creature of courteous address. He seemed to be feeling a 
 little strange, as though he didn't quite know how he'd got there 
 or what he had come for. 
 
 Elinor's chief concern was the butler, whose name was Norman. 
 She assured Richard, in faulty French, that he was in every respect 
 admirable. 
 
 Arrival at the villa was something of a ceremony and also 
 rather confusing. As Elinor knew none of the servants and they 
 did not know each other, and as Norman could not understand a 
 word they said, it ended by Richard taking command and distri- 
 buting them somewhat as one deals cards. Eventually some sort 
 of order was evolved, the guests were shown their bedrooms, and 
 tea was served on the terrace. This demanded no small exertion 
 on Richard's part, and by the time it was accomplished he was 
 in an irritable mood. When Domenico turned up in the batdlo, 
 and said that their trunks had gone astray, it was Elinor's turn. 
 If there was one thing in the world that upset her it was to be 
 parted from her trunks. Like many Americans, " living in " 
 them had become second nature to her. It was not merely the 
 inconvenience that affected her ; there was something symbolic 
 in what her trunks represented. Her sentiments were outraged 
 by the very possibility of losing them. Hers was the unreasoning 
 and horrified grief of a mother who has lost her child in a crowd. 
 
 What was to be done ? 
 
 They had finished tea. Cholmondeley Robinson had risen and 
 gone to the end of the garden. In the first rush of artistic emotion 
 engendered by the beauty of the scene he could not contemplate 
 toast and jam, let alone bread and butter. He was standing by 
 one of the pillars with his left arm on the base of one of Elinor's 
 stone bambini, while, with his right thumb held before his nose, he 
 patterned the lake and the mountains opposite. As Elinor, aghast 
 and dumbfounded by the tragedy, was questioning the waiting 
 Domenico, Robinson approached the group as though he were 
 walking in his sleep. 
 
 " Supernal ! " he muttered. " Supernal ! " 
 
 Baddingley went close up to him. 
 
 " Our trunks are lost." 
 
 Robinson jumped as though he had been kicked from the back. 
 
 " What ? I say "
 
 246 RICHARD KURT 
 
 He almost landed on Richard's feet. 
 
 " What on earth are we to do ?" he asked. 
 
 " Wait till they turn up, I suppose. I can lend you what you 
 want for to-night. " 
 
 " How like a man your sort of man ! " Elinor turned on her 
 husband savagely. " Wait while, for all you know, the trunks 
 have gone to the other end of Italy. And they're all thieves on 
 the railways in this beastly country." 
 
 " Have you got the receipts ? " he asked the gardener. 
 
 Domenico handed them to him while Elinor made a gesture of 
 enraged despair. 
 
 " I'll see about it," he said, signing to the men to follow him. 
 
 Giving the gardener instructions to be at hand when required, 
 he summoned Pietro and a few minutes later was speeding across 
 the lake in the launch. 
 
 Of course the trunks were all right. Equally, of course, Richard 
 retrieved them, with Virginia'sassistance, at Chiasso custom-house. 
 But it took the rest of the day, as they had to hire a motor and go 
 there to fetch them. The motor would not hold a quarter of 
 them. Elinor's baggage was always stupendous in quantity. 
 
 " Elinor would eat me if I risked letting them go on to Como 
 by rail. Now we've got 'em, we'll stick to them," Richard said. 
 " The motor can go to Como and you can go back in it." His 
 tone was intentionally half-hearted. 
 
 " What are you going to do ? " Virginia asked. 
 
 " Me ? Oh, I'm going to find a cart." 
 
 " You can't alone. Shall I help you ? " 
 
 Now, Richard had been hoping, almost praying, for such a 
 suggestion. His action was entirely disingenuous. There were 
 at least three other ways in which he could have assured the safe 
 delivery of the luggage, and he knew it. The whole arrangement 
 was merely a dodge to be with Virginia, and he intended to 
 take full advantage of Elinor's foolish fears in the process. He 
 knew she would be too thankful for the restoration of her 
 precious trunks to criticise his method of transporting them. 
 His decision to send away the motor was a preparatory burning 
 of boats. 
 
 " That's sweet of you, but " 
 
 He was saved making a lame allusion to the propriety of the 
 proceeding by her reply.
 
 VIRGINIA 247 
 
 " I knaw we must hire a bullock-cart like when I brought 
 things to Scapa." 
 
 The car was dismissed to Como. 
 
 Richard was well aware that bullocks were the slowest mode 
 of transport. He also knew that Virginia could equally well 
 have hired some horse-drawn vehicle. The reflection that she 
 was in the conspiracy was, for the moment, balm to his soul. 
 He did not allow himself to think. He wanted to be with her, and 
 that was all that mattered. That she was his partner in deceit 
 never occurred to him. What did occur to him, and thrilled him 
 as he thought of it, was that she wanted to be with him. His 
 heart began to throb painfully ; the choking feeling in the throat he 
 had experienced before prevented him from answering when she 
 said she would find the man with the bullocks. It was late already. 
 They were closing the station until the nine o'clock train from 
 beyond the St Grothard. He must remain with the luggage, she 
 said. He sat down on one of Elinor's enormous trunks and lit 
 a cigarette, watching Virginia disappear in search of the cart. The 
 emotion would not leave him. His heart beat excitedly ; he was 
 shaking as with ague. He made an attempt to calm himself but 
 surrendered to his sensations. His mind refused to obey his will. 
 He threw away his cigarette. " Tant pis," he said aloud. The 
 sound of his own voice helped him to master himself, but the 
 mastery was for the moment only. He was no longer self -deceived . 
 He knew that while her hold on him lasted this girl owned him ; 
 that what might happen no longer depended upon him but upon 
 her. . . . 
 
 The long wait became unbearable. The piazza was deserted. 
 Occasionally a heavy cart rattled over the cobbles. An old 
 peasant woman staggered up to the station entrance under a heavy 
 load of miscellaneous personal effects tied up in a blanket and, 
 rinding it closed, sat down on the pavement. She spat solemnly 
 into the gutter and fixed her eyes on him, blinking under the garish 
 electric light. The woman got on his nerves. He began pacing 
 restlessly, looking up and down the piazza to the streets beyond, 
 and keeping the precious baggage in sight. Gradually he ex- 
 tended his tedious perambulations to a cafe at the corner, and 
 sitting down at the small table called for a glass of grappa. This 
 set his blood tingling again worse than before. He threw down a 
 coin impatiently and walked back to the station. The old woman 
 still sat there, blinking at him. Damn her ! Why didn't Virginia 
 come ? It couldn't take such an infernal time to find a cart. He 
 began to be irritated with her. She knew he was there sitting on
 
 248 RICHARD KURT 
 
 this cursed box all the time. Couldn't she hurry? With his 
 irritation his fever increased. He went back to the cafe and had 
 another grappa. As he lifted the glass to his lips he saw her 
 figure in the distance. He swallowed the scalding stuff and it 
 almost choked him as he rushed off coughing. She was standing 
 by the heap of luggage evidently surprised at his disappearance. 
 
 " I was wondering " she said. 
 
 All his irritation vanished at the sound of her voice. 
 
 She looked hot and flushed, and had taken off her hat. Her 
 hair had grown and it fell on either side of her face, covering her 
 ears. She had on her usual short, buttoned skirt. It was made of 
 a dark grey material and was covered with dust and bits of hay. 
 He wanted to cry out, to tell her how glad he was that she had 
 returned. He felt an almost overmastering desire to seize hold of 
 her and squeeze her to him till it hurt her. Instead, he sat down 
 on the trunk, speechless, and looked at her. 
 
 "Here they come." 
 
 Four enormous white bullocks with horns like buffaloes came 
 into sight hauling a country cart, which in those parts consisted 
 of a few boards laid upon wheel axles with wooden joists or stays. 
 A boy was driving them by means of shouts and much cracking of 
 a whip considerably bigger than himself. 
 
 The next difficulty was to find someone to load the cart. 
 
 She spoke some rapid words to the boy, who immediately ran 
 across the piazza. 
 
 " I've sent him for the/occ^'m. He knows where to find them. 
 Did you think I Was a long time ? " 
 
 "Yes, I must say I did." 
 
 " I had to help Paolo harness. His father was out, and their 
 farm is more than a mile outside over there." She pointed to 
 the dark outline of the mountains which the railway pierced. 
 
 " You must be awfully tired," he said. 
 
 " I am a leetle. I shall sleep later on in the cart." 
 
 That choking sensation again caught Eichard by the throat. 
 He gulped it down and answered with apparent calm, pointing 
 to the wagon. 
 
 " In that?" 
 
 " You'll see. I'll make it comfortable." 
 
 Paolo arrived, followed slowly and with evident reluctance by 
 two lusty porters in blue overalls. They brightened up when 
 Richard displayed a five-franc piece. 
 
 " Tell them I'll give them ten if they look sharp," he said to 
 Virginia.
 
 VIRGINIA 249 
 
 Under her direction the loading was a matter of few minutes. 
 Richard noticed that she had the boxes so disposed as to leave 
 a small space just about large enough for one person to lie in. 
 In this space she had herself laid a bed of hay sacks, carefully 
 making use of a canvas hold-all which Richard identified as con- 
 taining Elinor's travelling pillows. 
 
 The boy uttered some strange sounds, there was a terrific crack- 
 ing of the long, supple whip, and the bullocks were in motion. 
 The porters stood gaping, with their caps in their hands, while 
 Virginia, lighting a cigarette, turned to Richard : 
 We'll walk uphill and ride afterwards." 
 
 It was a moonless night but very clear and star-lit. There 
 was frostiness in the air. The ascent was long but gradual, and 
 the road, made centuries before the railway, was a good one. 
 But progress was slow. They walked along together in the dust. 
 Richard, still under the full weight of his emotion, found it difficult, 
 if not impossible, to talk. Nor could he think. His reflective 
 processes were in complete abeyance. He knew that his power 
 to resist this thing that had got hold of him was gone, and he 
 ceased making an effort. At last they reached the summit. 
 
 " It will do the poor beasts good to rest while we get in," 
 Virginia said. 
 
 She called out something to the boy. The bullocks stopped 
 obediently to his shouted command, and, climbing into the fore- 
 part of the waggon, he emerged with huge armf uls of hay, which 
 he threw on the ground. The great heads bent lower under 
 their heavy yokes as they began feeding. Meanwhile Virginia 
 got in. 
 
 " Come on," she cried to Richard. " It's lovely." 
 
 She disappeared behind the trunks. 
 
 He clambered in beside her. She lay with her back to the side 
 of the wagon and her head on Elinor's hold-all. There was a 
 space just sufficiently large for him to sit down in and with a good 
 deal of care to twist into a reclining posture by sharing her pillow 
 arrangements. 
 
 He stood an instant, irresolute, awkward, looking down at 
 her. 
 
 " You'll fall on the top of me when they move. Lie down." 
 
 He did as he was bid. 
 
 " There's plenty of room for your legs. Look." 
 
 With ingenuity he could just stretch them between two trunks 
 without touching her, but the position would have been cramped 
 and impossible for more than a few minutes ; the slightest move-
 
 250 RICHARD KURT 
 
 ment or jolt must perforce bring them into close contact. He 
 leant his arm on the hold-all and with his head on his hand lay 
 there, not saying anything. His heart was beating wildly. Her 
 eyes were closed. 
 
 The whip cracked ; they were off on their downward journey. 
 
 Obedient to the orders telephoned to Domenico by Richard 
 when the trunks were discovered at Chiasso, Pietro awaited them 
 at the quay-side in the batetto moored beneath the only lamp left 
 alight. 
 
 Richard had been walking alone during the last stage of the 
 journey, for Virginia still slept heavily. Nothing seemed to 
 wake her until the jolting waggon came to a standstill. Then 
 she emerged drowsily, rubbing her eyes. Once on her feet again, 
 her activity revived. They must find someone to unload on to 
 the boat. The square was deserted, but in the distance a late 
 cafe was still illuminated. Paolo was dispatched to offer liberal 
 pay, and returned with a waiter, who, sticking a napkin over his 
 shirt front, tackled the trunks with furious energy. 
 
 Soon the work was done. Pietro stood to his oars. The bullocks 
 were peacefully munching Virginia's late bed ; the urchin, for he 
 was little more, was jingling the heavy mangia Richard had be- 
 stowed on him. Virginia was to pay his father ; it was dangerous 
 to give so much money to a small boy, she said. He might be 
 robbed on his way home. 
 
 Richard began thanking her. 
 
 " Really, you've been too " The words stuck in his throat. 
 
 There was something hopelessly incongruous in the expression of 
 gratitude for the services she had rendered. 
 
 " There's nothing to thank for," she said. 
 
 How would she go home ? he asked her. Should they drop her 
 at Casana ? 
 
 " Naw, naw. It's past one o'clock. I'll take one of these." 
 She pointed to a cluster of rowing-boats let out on hire in the 
 day and now at their night moorings. " They all know me, and 
 I'll tow it back to-morrow." 
 
 She jumped into the batdlo, telling Pietro to take her along- 
 side one of them. 
 
 She quickly got to work, freeing the one she selected. 
 
 " It's a shame to leave you to row yourself home." Richard
 
 VIRGINIA 251 
 
 knew that his remark was perfunctory. ' ' You must be dreadfully 
 tired," he added. 
 
 " After that sleep ? " She uttered her short guttural laugh. 
 
 Why did it grate so unpleasantly ? 
 
 She paddled towards the entrance of the harbour, Pietro follow- 
 ing slowly, for the batello was heavily loaded. 
 
 " Shall I row you to Aquafonti in my boat first ? " she called 
 back to him. 
 
 " I shouldn't think of such a thing." 
 
 He went to the fore part of the boat and, taking the other pair 
 of oars, began rowing vigorously. 
 
 " Good-night. Sleep well," he called to her. 
 
 " Good-night," came back to him across the water. 
 
 Why did he feel this strange relief as he watched her fade into 
 the night ? Why was he glad that Pietro, not she, was rowing 
 at the other end of that heavy, flat-bottomed boat ? How had 
 he come to throw off the spell ? 
 
 in 
 
 Late as was the hour, Elinor and her guests had not gone to bed. 
 Light was showing through the chinks in the library windows as 
 Richard approached the house. On the clanging of the outside bell 
 there was an immediate blaze of light, and Cholmondeley Robinson 
 appeared on the bridge, where he danced with joy like a marion- 
 ette, exclaiming : " Supernal ! There's my valise and my easel, 
 and there's my folding stool. Supernal ! " He was followed by 
 Elinor and Baddingley. In the background the forbidding- 
 looking butler awaited an opportunity to pass through the group, 
 and the huge form of Domenico emerged from the shadows, de- 
 scending the steps to Pietro's assistance. 
 
 To Richard, tired to the verge of exhaustion by the emotions 
 of the preceding hours, the manifestations of delight with which 
 he was received came as a shock. He felt as though he had sud- 
 denly awakened in unexpected surroundings, uncertain whether 
 he liked them or not. Elinor was lavish in her praise of his 
 enterprise, and Baddingley expressed his gratitude in subdued 
 but feeling language. 
 
 They all went into the library, and Richard poured himself 
 out a stiff drink from the tray. 
 
 " You must have had an awful time. Aren't you starved ? " 
 
 Elinor's question reminded him that he had eaten nothing
 
 252 RICHARD KURT 
 
 since his luncheon. He had been completely unconscious of it 
 and felt no hunger now. His head ached, his mind was confused. 
 He wanted the solitude of his own room and bed. 
 
 He dropped into a chair and emptied his glass. 
 
 Robinson hopped round him, full of superfluous vitality. 
 
 " There's a delicious supper waiting for you," he said. 
 
 " Is there ? I don't want any, thanks all the same." 
 
 " Oh, go in and have some," Elinor urged. " It'll take them 
 ages to carry up the trunks, and then they've got to unpack our 
 things for the night." 
 
 Richard declined again. " Norman can eat it," he added. 
 
 " Drink it, you mean. There's a bottle of fizz cooling. That 
 was my idea." 
 
 Robinson's tone showed disappointment, and Richard, feeling 
 that he had meant well, got up. 
 
 " If you'll help me drink it," he said. 
 
 They all went into the dining-room, and Richard mechanic- 
 ally helped himself to some food while Robinson opened the 
 bottle. 
 
 " I'm glad you didn't have the motor-boat," Elinor remarked. 
 
 That he would have got there the best part of an hour sooner 
 was not the point, as Richard knew ; his wife didn't want her 
 dainty boat scratched or marked by the luggage. 
 
 " But how did you get all that stuff to Como ? " Baddingley 
 asked. 
 
 " By bullock-cart." 
 
 " By Jove ! You don't say. Super " from Robinson. 
 
 "Did Virginia drive it ? " from Elinor. 
 
 "No, a boy did. They took three hours to do the journey. 
 Pretty long." 
 
 He was wondering how Elinor knew the girl had been with him, 
 when his wife remarked : 
 
 " Madame Peraldi telephoned after dinner to ask if Virginia 
 were here." 
 
 " What did you say ? " 
 
 " I said ' No,' of course. She wanted to know if you were here, 
 and I told her you'd gone off somewhere or other to fetch the 
 trunks. She asked for Pietro, and it was he who told her Virginia 
 had gone with you." 
 
 " Did she seem annoyed ? " 
 
 "I'm sure I don't know, but as you hadn't informed me, 
 naturally it was rather awkward." 
 
 " I didn't have much chance."
 
 VIRGINIA 253 
 
 " You could have sent a message. / don't care only it looks 
 rather odd." 
 
 " Well, you got your trunks, didn't you ? " 
 
 Baddingley's soft voice joined in : 
 
 " And I'm awfully obliged to you. Your wife told us about 
 Miss Peraldi. I hope I shall soon have a chance of thanking her." 
 
 " By Jove ! yes," echoed Robinson. 
 
 After a restless night Richard was sleeping late the following 
 morning. He was awakened by Elinor's maid, who asked him 
 through the door to see madame before he went downstairs. He 
 rang for his coffee and ordered it to be taken to her room. She 
 was dressing herself to " sit " to Cholmondeley Robinson, and was 
 engaged at the moment in sticking innumerable pins into a 
 picture-hat set on the side of her head and covered with flowers. 
 The room was littered with dresses, lingerie and hats of every 
 description. 
 
 " Can I sit down somewhere ? " he asked. 
 
 She called the maid, who gave him a chair beside her in 
 front of the big threefold mirror. He turned the chair round so 
 as to face her, with his back to the window. Her hair looked 
 strange to him. It had a bronze tinge in it, and her lips looked 
 redder than usual, her cheeks pinker. 
 
 "Don't get into the way of doing too much maquillage," he 
 said. 
 
 " That's my business. I didn't send for you to make remarks 
 on my appearance." Her tone was cold but not angry, and she 
 continued pinning on her hat. Richard waited. " I thought 
 you might like to talk to me privately." She finished arranging 
 the hat, and threw a lace fichu over her shoulders. Her bodice 
 was open at the throat, and he saw that she had stuck a round 
 piece of black sticking plaster above one side of her left breast. 
 
 Richard was trying to think of something suitable to say by 
 way of opening. He could think of nothing. He knew this was 
 because he was indifferent, but he did not mean to show it. 
 
 " I hope you had a good time." The words came at last, 
 haltingly. 
 
 " As good as a woman can expect when her husband leaves her 
 to look after herself." 
 
 He did not attempt to recriminate. 
 
 " I had a letter from Olivia," he remarked. 
 
 " Oh, did you ? She's in a rage because she says I've taken 
 Jason away from her as if I want him."
 
 254 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " You've brought him, my dear girl, haven't you ? " 
 
 " He wanted to come. I thought he'd be a companion for you. 
 He's nothing to me, nothing whatever." 
 
 Richard wondered who was something to her, but his comment, 
 " He seems a decent sort of chap," was intended to be mollifying. 
 
 " He turned up just when Reggie let me down. He's not a bad 
 sort and he knows good people. Reggie's a beastly young cad." 
 
 " I say ! " 
 
 " Well ! Don't you call it caddish, after we've been so nice to 
 him, to ignore me in London ? His mother never even called." 
 
 " The old lord died, didn't he ? She must be in deep 
 mourning." 
 
 "As if that prevented her asking me. They treated me as 
 though I didn't exist." 
 
 " How was Paris ? " 
 
 " Not bad, at first. But when Mrs Friedberg turned up she 
 monopolised Franz. He was charming till she came, but she's 
 frightfully rich, and of course that settled it. She simply stuck 
 to him like a leech. He told me he'd give anything to get away 
 from her, but he can't, because he says he's compromised her." 
 
 "Ada wrote something about a man called Bernardi or some- 
 thing." 
 
 "Bernasconi, you mean. Tito's all right. Rather a little 
 fool. He's coming here in a day or two. He's a nuisance alone, 
 because he's so fearfully devoted. All right when there's another 
 man." 
 
 "Good thing you had Baltazzo there." 
 
 "Ugo ! He's gaga utterly gaga" 
 
 Richard laughed. 
 
 "Poor old Ugo." 
 
 The maid came in with his coffee. 
 
 " Is there anyone at Casabianca ? There ought to be. It's 
 the full spring season." 
 
 " Don't know ; not been there." 
 
 " What have you been doing ? " 
 
 Richard remained silent an instant. 
 
 " Helping Virginia clean harness mostly," he replied boldly. 
 
 Elinor jumped up quite in her old manner. 
 
 " You're a fool, that's all I can say. You'll simply make that 
 spiteful old cat, Mother Rafferty, madder than ever. You mark 
 my words. She'll cut us next." 
 
 " I shouldn't be surprised." 
 
 Richard's tone was reflective. He was thinking of what
 
 VIRGINIA 255 
 
 Virginia had told him about Brendon at Sismondo. Should he 
 say something, some slight hint, that would put Elinor on her 
 guard ? Was it not his duty to warn her, unpleasant as it was ? 
 
 She broke in on his thoughts. 
 
 " No, I dare say not. You've got hardened to doing things 
 that injure me by now." 
 
 Her remark decided him to say nothing. Ignoring his silence, 
 she continued : 
 
 " Anyway, you might take your guests over to Casabianca. It 
 will be precious dull for them here." 
 
 " My guests ? " he repeated. 
 
 " Well, our guests if you like." 
 
 He got up slowly and was going out of the room when she 
 called him. 
 
 " Richard, we've got to make it up with that old beast, Mrs 
 Rafferty. Can't you give up that girl ? She's nothing to you, 
 is she ? " 
 
 " I don't know," he said. 
 
 Elinor looked at him steadily. 
 
 " Do you mean you care for her ? " 
 
 " I don't know, I tell you. It's no use asking me." 
 
 " Well, I can tell you. It's simply one of your ideas. If I 
 thought she'd make you happy, I'd " 
 
 " What would you do ? " 
 
 " Divorce you if you liked." 
 
 He did not reply. 
 
 Richard went back to his room and dressed. When he got 
 downstairs he found Baddingley reading a book. 
 
 " Like a run across the lake ? " he asked him. 
 
 Baddingley would be delighted. 
 
 Richard ordered out the boat and " rang up " Casana. After 
 some time Brigita came to the telephone. Virginia had gone off 
 early, she didn't know where. Her mother was in an awful 
 temper because Virginia had gone with him to Chiasso. She 
 didn't know whether he had better come over or not. Couldn't 
 he manage to see Virginia first somehow and arrange what she 
 was to say ? No, she couldn't tell him where to find her. Virginia 
 had not told her where she was going. Richard replaced the 
 receiver, feeling distressed. He had " rung up " from a sudden 
 impulse to know how Virginia was. While he was waiting he 
 became conscious that he wanted to hear her voice, and he was 
 intensely disappointed when her sister answered. Again his
 
 256 RICHARD KURT 
 
 feelings had undergone a change. The reaction of the night 
 before had left him ; he was again longing to see her, and the 
 very difficulty of finding her increased his desire. With every 
 minute he became more impatient. By the time Baddingley and 
 he stepped into the boat he was living for that one purpose. He 
 answered his guest's gentle remarks at random, and, turning the 
 boat's head towards Como, he ordered Pietro to drive the engine 
 as hard as it could go. 
 
 The man who hired out boats at Como was well known to 
 Richard, and in answer to his inquiry told him that Donna Virginia 
 had returned the one she had borrowed before he got there in 
 the morning. No, he had not seen her. Cursing under his breath, 
 Richard steered up the lake again. Where could she be ? He 
 was consumed with impatience. If only he could see her for a 
 moment and put things straight before she saw her mother. All 
 sorts of fantastic possibilities floated across his anxious vision. 
 Her mother could be violent when she lost her temper ; she might 
 refuse her the house, as she had often threatened, and Virginia, 
 not knowing where to go, might return to Scapa. Once she got 
 into Mrs Rafferty's clutches again he would be unable to see her 
 at all. Why hadn't he been kinder, gentler to her last night ? 
 What had come over him all at once ? His memory flew back 
 to their j ourney in the bullock-waggon. At the thought his heart 
 began throbbing again. What caused the reaction against her 
 afterwards ? She had been such a splendid little friend, utterly 
 unselfish. But stop did he still regard her like that ? Hadn't 
 she somehow ceased to be that last night, and hadn't she become 
 something different ? Why was that ? Had there been grounds 
 for the change on his side 1 She was just the same, just as simple 
 and innocent. Up to the last, trying to serve him, offering to 
 row him back to Aquaf onti, tired as she was. And now she was 
 paying for her devotion to him. She was being persecuted, and 
 he, instead of protecting her, was questioning. What was he 
 questioning ? He had been mad. He loved her, he supposed, 
 without knowing it. Had he ever been in love before ? He had 
 often wondered. And men sometimes got mad when they fell 
 in love. His thoughts flew on and on ; suddenly they were 
 interrupted. Pietro was asking him something. 
 
 The boat had ceased to move and it lay off the Hotel Casabianca. 
 Both Pietro and Baddingley were looking at him inquiringly. 
 Richard pulled himself together. 
 
 " Casabianca. We'll go ashore and have a look round, shall 
 we?"
 
 VIRGINIA 257 
 
 As they glided up to the landing-stage a boatman in a white 
 sailor's dress with a crown on his arm took off his hat. Hardly 
 noticing him, Richard let Baddingley pass along the boarded 
 gangway and began questioning Giacomo, the Casabianca boat- 
 man. Had he seen the signorina ? Yes, he had seen the signorina 
 rowing up the lake in her dinghy, towards Scapa, he supposed. 
 Richard, his fears confirmed, went up the steps. A few yards 
 away, in front of the hotel, was seated a group of persons, near 
 which stood Baddingley. As Richard got closer he saw that one 
 of these was Prince Hohenthal. Had it been possible he would 
 have evaded notice ; he was not in the mood to talk to anyone, 
 particularly anyone he esteemed. But the Prince had seen him 
 and had signalled a greeting in the Continental way. Shaking 
 hands with Richard, the Prince introduced him to the lady beside 
 whom he was sitting : 
 " Lady Daubeny, my friend Mr Kurt." 
 Baddingley was talking to the other lady. 
 " Susan gave me such a delightful description of your villa, 
 Mr Kurt. She said it was the loveliest thing she had ever seen." 
 Richard, distracted and confused, was wondering who Susan 
 might be when the Prince came to the rescue. 
 
 " Lady Wensleydale and her sister have both deserted me. 
 I counted upon you at my end, you know, Julia." 
 Lady Daubeny turned to the other lady. 
 
 " Gladys dear, this is Mr Kurt, who owns that villa Susan 
 spoke about." 
 
 " Yes. I've been hearing about it from Mr Baddingley," she 
 answered, bowing to Richard, who remained standing, uncom- 
 fortable and longing to escape. 
 
 But there was no chance of it. Baddingley, introduced to 
 Lady Daubeny by his friend Mrs Prothero, took a seat between 
 the two ladies, and Richard was reluctantly drawn into the 
 conversation. 
 
 But an incident more trying to his nerves and patience was 
 to follow. 
 
 Mrs Rafferty, staff in hand, her small dog on her arm, came 
 towards them from within the hotel, accompanied by another 
 lady. Richard perceived Munro Rafferty some paces in the rear. 
 The Prince rose to meet them, lifting his hat. Richard got up and 
 strolled towards the stone balustrade and, leaning on it, looked 
 into the lake. He didn't greatly care, but he wanted to avoid 
 meeting Mrs Rafferty. He was thinking he could edge away 
 gradually when someone touched his arm. It was Munro Rafferty.
 
 258 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " My mother would like to say ' How d'you do ' to you, Mr 
 Kurt." 
 
 Shaking hands, they walked back to the party which Mrs 
 RafEerty and her companion had joined. Eichard bowed to his 
 enemy. 
 
 She held out her hand with its short, broad -tipped fingers. 
 
 " I'm very pleased to see you again, Mr Kurt. I've just 
 got back to Scapa. Let me introduce you to Mademoiselle 
 de Mirepoix, who is going to spend the summer with me, I 
 hope." 
 
 " Ah ! The summer, I never said that." The beautiful, blonde- 
 haired girl spoke English with a strong but agreeable French 
 accent. She bowed graciously to Richard, shaking her finger at 
 Mrs RafEerty, who sent her back as responsive a look as her im- 
 passive features could express. This exchange enabled Richard 
 to recover from his surprise at Mrs Rafferty's cordiality. So 
 far from being delicate, the situation appeared to be perfectly 
 natural. There was no shadow of resentment in her manner as 
 she asked him how he had spent the winter. She did not even 
 put to him any but the most ordinary questions about how he 
 had spent the time, though she referred several times in an easy 
 way to Virginia, alluding to her father's death and the Peraldi 
 family as though she were quite aware of, and approved, his 
 intimacy with them. The moment she mentioned Virginia's 
 name Richard's formal remarks and replies became almost 
 monosyllabic. He was no longer distracted or bored. Im- 
 patience remained, but he could curb it now that he felt under- 
 neath Mrs Rafferty's indifferent demeanour a change of attitude 
 regarding the girl and his friendship with her. This change, it 
 seemed to him, she fully intended him to perceive. He noticed 
 that she never mentioned Elinor's name. She asked him to 
 come to Scapa, going so far as to propose taking him back 
 there to lunch, and, when he declined, she begged him to call 
 and bring his friend that or any afternoon. But Richard, while 
 quite willing to be on terms of politeness with Mrs Rafferty, 
 was fully determined to go no further than courtesy de- 
 manded. He had had one experience and did not mean to 
 risk another. Evidently she suspected that he distrusted her 
 when, after they had conversed for some time, she called to 
 her young French friend to change her seat to a chair between 
 them. 
 
 " Odette is the sweetest creature I ever knew," she whispered 
 to Richard, " and angelic to me."
 
 VIRGINIA 259 
 
 It was as though she meant to convey to him how completely 
 Virginia had been replaced. 
 
 Presently the party broke up, but not before Hohenthal had 
 extracted a promise from Richard to lunch with him on the follow- 
 ing day and bring with him any friend he liked. Again Richard 
 could not fail to understand that the invitation was not extended 
 to his wife. 
 
 iv 
 
 As they sped across to Aquafonti Baddingley expressed 
 pleasure. 
 
 " Delightf ul meeting an old friend in such a nice way. In 
 England one pays a call for ten minutes or one is bored at a 
 tiresome dinner." 
 
 Richard hardly heard what he said ; he was still thinking of 
 Virginia. Where was she ? How could he find her ? He could 
 regard one danger as removed, at all events for the moment. Mrs 
 Rafferty had obviously transferred her interest to Mademoi- 
 selle de Mirepoix, but this made him still more anxious to see 
 Virginia. He wanted to tell her and hear what she had to say 
 about her former patroness's change of heart. 
 
 They found Elinor posed in front of the belvedere. The 
 wisteria was in full bloom and certainly made a wonderful back- 
 ground. Cholmondeley Robinson seemed immensely pleased with 
 himself, and was dancing about in front of the picture with his 
 maulstick in his hand, but he turned round at their approach. 
 Baddingley started to give Elinor an account of their morning 
 experience. When he mentioned Mrs Rafferty she looked at 
 Richard curiously. He had not been listening. He was con- 
 sidering whether it would be an opportune moment to " call up " 
 Casana and had decided to wait until later, as this was their 
 luncheon hour and the Contessa would be quite likely to come 
 to the telephone. 
 
 Elinor asked him a question but had to repeat it. 
 
 " What did Mrs Rafferty say ? " 
 
 " She said Let me see. Oh, the usual sort of thing." 
 
 His answer was careless, but it was intentionally evasive. 
 He was unpleasantly conscious of the awkwardness of talking 
 about Mrs Rafferty's attitude in front of Elinor's friends, but 
 Baddingley then made a remark that could not fail to attract 
 Elinor's attention. 
 
 " I thought she was most kind ; she asked us to come to lunch
 
 260 RICHARD KURT 
 
 any time wanted me to see her garden. She must have a 
 beautiful place." 
 
 Elinor's eyes again questioned Richard. He knew he would 
 have to stand the fire of cross-examination at the first opportunity. 
 It came quickly. Robinson disappeared with his picture and 
 Baddingley followed him. 
 
 " Did she really ask you to lunch ? " Elinor began. 
 
 ' Yes. She was very polite." 
 
 ' Only that. Not cordial ? " 
 
 ' I suppose she was cordial. What does it matter ? " 
 
 ' It does matter. It matters very much to me." 
 
 ' Why ? I don't care a damn whether she's civil or not." 
 
 ' To you but what about her being civil to me ? Do you 
 care about that ? " 
 
 Richard felt embarrassed. Virginia's revelation at Sismondo 
 was in his mind, but he affected unconcern. 
 
 " I care, yes, in a way. I mean if her not being civil could 
 harm you in any way. But how could it ? " 
 
 " What a question to ask ! Will you never understand that a 
 woman can always be harmed by the spite of other women ? " 
 
 " As long as your husband protects you " 
 
 " Protects ? Your protection won't protect me from her 
 impertinence. You've had a taste of it. What sort of a char- 
 acter d'you think she's given you ? " 
 
 " I don't know and I don't care. Besides, she's perfectly 
 satisfied now." 
 
 " Satisfied ? What do you mean ? " 
 
 Richard tried in a few words to explain how Mrs Rafferty had 
 spoken about Virginia to him. This evidently impressed Elinor, 
 for she said nothing until they entered the house. Then she 
 turned round suddenly. 
 
 " Did she ask after me ? " 
 
 Richard hesitated for a second. 
 
 " Oh yes. The usual sort of thing." 
 
 Elinor at once showed satisfaction, but he asked himself 
 whether it would not have been kinder in the end to have told 
 her the truth. 
 
 They were finishing luncheon when the telephone bell rang. 
 Richard at once left the table. To his great relief Virginia's 
 voice answered. 
 
 " I'm at Casana," she said. 
 
 He poured out a flood of questions. Where had she been ?
 
 VIRGINIA 261 
 
 What had she been doing ? He had hunted for her everywhere. 
 Had her mother said anything ? Could he see her ? 
 
 Her reply conveyed to him that someone, possibly Madame 
 Peraldi, was listening to the conversation. 
 
 " Mother wants to ask you about letting Casana." 
 
 He was on the point of asking hastily what on earth she meant 
 when it struck him that he had better take the enigmatic utter- 
 ance for granted. 
 
 " Please tell her I'll come and see her this afternoon about it." 
 
 He heard her repeat the message. The next word was " Good- 
 bye." 
 
 " One minute," he pleaded breathlessly. " Do tell me how 
 you are." 
 
 As the deep, guttural " I'm all right " came back to him, Elinor 
 issued from the dining-room, followed by her guests. 
 
 "My, how tender we are!" she remarked with sarcastic in- 
 flection. 
 
 Richard hung up the receiver and was about to reply angrily 
 when Robinson interrupted him with some innocuous expression, 
 and his annoyance passed. 
 
 Baddingley was told off to remain with Elinor at Aquafonti 
 while Robinson accompanied his host to Casana. Richard was 
 to send back the motor-boat for them and join them later at 
 Casablanca. 
 
 The taking of Robinson was a shrewd move of Richard's. 
 Contessa Peraldi was awaiting them alone, neither girl was in 
 sight. The moment she alluded to the letting it was quite apparent 
 to Richard that he was supposed to have a tenant in view. The 
 idea had, of course, never entered his head, but he recognised 
 it as a cue and did his best to respond when Robinson un- 
 expectedly took up the running with : " I know a man who'll 
 jump at it." 
 
 Cholmondeley Robinson now became a person of supreme 
 importance and Richard dropped into the background. The 
 whole place had to be shown to the little man, who was immensely 
 flattered by the Contessa's warm cordiality. The artist was a 
 snob of the genial and simple kind. As he rather slowly added 
 titled people to his acquaintance, he made the most of them to 
 each other. 
 
 The tenant he had in view was not, he told the Contessa, a
 
 262 RICHARD KURT 
 
 gentleman of rank, because he was American. On the other 
 hand, he was very rich and would spend lots of money on the place. 
 He was a great friend of a great friend of his, Lady Mountjoy, 
 the beautiful Lady Mountjoy whose portrait by himself had (he 
 didn't say the words, but they were to be inferred) created a 
 sensation at last year's Academy. 
 
 Madame Peraldi was a very naive person. Of uncertain, 
 possibly humble, origin, she was easily impressed, and had no 
 notion whatever of social differences. Her daughters were 
 always greatly amused when she laid down the law to them on 
 such matters, adjuring them to be on their best behaviour on a 
 particular occasion when the Duca and Duchessa di Pordenone, 
 or some other notability, came to call. Invariably they seized 
 the opportunity as a signal for outrageous behaviour on purpose 
 to provoke the poor lady and cause her to exhibit her simplicity 
 by an outburst of anger, or at least to betray ungoverned re- 
 sentment. 
 
 Madame Peraldi led Robinson out of the scuderia, talking to 
 him in a mixture of Italian and English. She spoke Italian in- 
 correctly and with a strong accent of Germanic origin, which 
 accounted for her daughters' guttural pronunciation. But this 
 did not affect Robinson, who would have understood as little had 
 she used the purest Tuscan. Grasping an occasional English 
 word, he wagged his head and gesticulated in what he believed 
 to be the expressive foreign fashion, with odd little ejaculations 
 mostly in what he thought was French. 
 
 In the midst of this Richard managed to escape and finally 
 discovered Virginia in the boat-house, a huge building reached 
 from the garden by a tunnel under the road. On the water lay 
 a number of boats of all sizes and shapes. She was sitting cross- 
 legged on the deck of a racing-cutter sorting sails and ropes, and 
 was apparently so absorbed in her work that she did not notice 
 he was there. 
 
 At his call she looked up, uttering the familiar " Hulloa ! " 
 
 " Shall I come down to you ? " he asked. 
 
 " If you like. But look out, she capsizes easily." 
 
 He got on to a rope ladder dangling from a gangway round the 
 wall and descended till he was on a level with her head, swinging 
 to and fro. She grasped him by the calves, pulling her craft 
 under him. 
 
 " Jump now." 
 
 He let go and fell on to her. The light, flimsy thing, shaped 
 like a great tray, heeled over and deposited them both in the
 
 VIRGINIA 
 
 water, she still holding his legs and he head downwards. He tried 
 to make for a sort of raft with iron rings in it used as a buoy, but 
 she held on to him, and down they went again, a confused medley 
 of arms and legs. Her head was somewhere under him, and, 
 as she rose again, she carried his legs upwards on her shoulders, 
 so that he hung with his head under water, choking. He shook 
 himself loose and came to the surface, gasping ; his hair was over 
 his eyes and he had swallowed a lot of, by no means clean, water. 
 They struggled on to the raft and sat in their drenched clothing 
 looking at each other. She began laughing and he joined in. 
 
 " Hulloa! There's your hat." 
 
 She was into the water again, head first, striking out for the 
 entrance. She came back with the Panama in her strong white 
 teeth and clambered up again beside him. 
 
 The weather was none too warm, nor was the water. Richard's 
 teeth began chattering. 
 
 " You're blue," she said. " I'll give you some dry clothes." 
 
 She jumped into a fat little dinghy and, loosening the moorings, 
 made him get in. Piloting it across, she made fast to one of the 
 fixed step-ladders, up which she ran like a monkey. He followed 
 slowly, oozing water. 
 
 At the far end of the boat-house a space was boarded off for a 
 dressing-room, formerly used by the late Count and his crew after 
 yacht-racing on the lake. Into this she disappeared. 
 
 " Here's a towel for you," she called from within. 
 
 He found her overhauling a bundle. She extracted from it a 
 pair of blue sailor's trousers and a jersey, which she threw to him. 
 
 " What about you ? " he asked. 
 
 " Me ? I've often worn these." 
 
 She pulled down a tarpaulin sheet suspended from a rafter 
 above, and he heard her wet things fall on the wooden boards 
 with a plop as he began taking off his own. 
 
 " I'm supposed to be going to Casabianca," he said. 
 
 At this they started laughing again, so heartily that they did 
 not at first hear someone calling. 
 
 " Look, there's Pietro." Virginia touched his arm. 
 
 The man was trying to speak to him from the motor-boat, 
 which lay outside the entrance to the boat-house. The signora 
 had told him to come and fetch il signore and his guest. 
 
 Richard told him to lie to outside. 
 
 " I suppose I shall have to go over and change. Damned bore." 
 He looked waveringly at Virginia. 
 
 " Why don't you send him with a message ? " she suggested.
 
 264 RICHARD KURT 
 
 Pietro had backed away in obedience to his orders and was out 
 of sight from inside. 
 
 " I'll send him presently," Richard said. 
 
 Virginia was squeezing out his clothes, hanging them next her 
 own on a rope. He sat down on a heap of sails and watched her. 
 She looked more like a boy than ever, like a fisher-lad wearing his 
 father's trousers. She had suspended them from her shoulders 
 by a stout piece of cord for braces and had rolled them up to the 
 knee. 
 
 " I'm trying to sell the boats," she remarked. " I sold one this 
 morning." 
 
 The unlooked-for bathe had for the moment put it out of his 
 head to ask her where she had been. 
 
 "So that's what you were doing," he answered. 
 
 " I sold it to Uberto Devoli, the one who plays tennis." 
 
 He was about to ask her a question when there was the sound of 
 a whistle. 
 
 "That's Brigita." She placed two fingers on her teeth and 
 produced a horribly shrill sound, laughing when he put his fingers 
 in his ears. Brigita peered at them from the steps leading to the 
 tunnel. Cesare Sismondo was with her. 
 
 " Sei pazza!" the older sister shouted. 
 
 " E tu," Virginia's voice echoed back. 
 
 A rapid interchange followed of which Eichard could not 
 understand a word, but that it was lively was evident from the 
 girls' expressive features and the grin on Cesare 's ugly mouth. 
 It ended in Brigita looking annoyed and turning to go. Richard 
 called to her : 
 
 " What's up, I say ? " 
 
 Brigita came towards them, still followed by the youth. 
 Nodding her head towards Virginia, she remarked : 
 
 " She's a fool." 
 
 Virginia shrugged her shoulders and went on wringing Richard's 
 socks. 
 
 " She makes up a story and doesn't tell me a word," Brigita 
 continued. 
 
 Virginia came forward with a sock in her hand. 
 
 " I made up ! You said it. Mother said so. Ask her." 
 
 Oesare joined in in Italian, supporting Brigita. 
 
 " Shut up." Richard threw the words at him savagely and 
 the youth collapsed. 
 
 Brigita laughed. Her sense of humour and general " don't- 
 careishness " never allowed her to be angry for long. " Your
 
 VIRGINIA 265 
 
 friend's a funny man. He and mother are behaving as though 
 they had known each other for years, and they can't understand 
 each other a bit." 
 
 Brigita finished with a peal of laughter. 
 
 " By the way, you might give him a message for me," Richard 
 said. 
 
 "All right. What?" 
 
 " Tell him I've had a ducking, and he's to go on to Casabianca 
 in the motor-boat and send it back for me." 
 
 " What did you say his name was ? " Brigita asked. 
 
 As he spelt it out for her and she repeated it, he heard Virginia 
 say something about Mrs Kurt being angry if she were kept 
 waiting. 
 
 " Yes, that's it, ' Chum-m-ly,' " he repeated ; " and, Brigita, 
 never mind about sending back the boat, I'll row myself back in 
 one of yours." 
 
 Brigita and her shadow, Cesare, departed. She was looking 
 forward to practising upon Robinson the pronunciation of his 
 ridiculous name. 
 
 " You were quite right about Elinor," Richard said. 
 
 " I thought she might be angrry." 
 
 The girl had finished hanging up the things and she moved 
 towards the tunnel. 
 
 " Where to now ? " he asked, following her. 
 
 " I'm going to see Boso." 
 
 " Boso ? Oh ! the dog ? " 
 
 " Yes ; he's at the farm." 
 
 She quickened her pace, then ran. Dodging behind some 
 shrubs, she raced along a small path concealed from the house, 
 which led, with many twists and turns, steeply upwards. He 
 followed, out of breath. She threw herself on a wooden seat built 
 round a tree at the side of the path and crept round it, craning her 
 head forward. 
 
 " Sh ! Sh ! " She put her finger to her mouth. 
 
 They had climbed a couple of hundred feet in the few minutes' 
 swift run. The tree grew on a sort of headland. From its other 
 side there was a clear view of the house, garden and lake. Voices 
 came up to them indistinctly. The figures of Madame Peraldi 
 and Robinson, followed by Brigita and Cesare, came into sight. 
 Outside on the lake Pietro was manoeuvring the motor-boat to 
 the stone steps in the harbour wall. 
 
 It was obvious to Richard that Virginia intended evading the 
 others so that they might be alone together. But why did she
 
 RICHARD KURT 
 
 make a mystery about it ? He did not attempt to conceal from 
 her his desire to be with her. Ought he to put it into words now 
 that he knew she felt as he did ? 
 
 He had still not recovered his breath when she got up again. 
 He asked no question, but walked beside her. She pushed in 
 front of him, striding so swiftly in the wet canvas shoes on her 
 bare feet that he could not keep up with her. His feet were 
 unstockinged too, but his brown leather shoes were sodden and 
 heavy and hurt him. 
 
 " Can't we sit down somewhere ? " he asked. 
 
 " In a minute." 
 
 She led on until he saw that they were on the road to the farm, 
 but, as they approached it, she jumped on to a broken wall and 
 slipped down the other side. He followed clumsily. It was not 
 high, but he was tired and footsore. She had sat down with her 
 back to it. He did the same. 
 
 " I wish I had a cigarette," he remarked. 
 
 She drew her case from her pocket. 
 
 " I'd put it in the dressing-room. But don't smoke now ; 
 you're out of breath." 
 
 " I'm dying for one." 
 
 " Wait a few minutes longer." 
 
 She rose to her feet again and, keeping under the wall, led on to 
 the end of the field, where she climbed back over it. Scrambling 
 after her, Richard saw before him the little stone barn where she 
 had sought shelter from the rain on the day they had talked about 
 the nuns. 
 
 The rope was not hanging down this time and the barn door was 
 closed. For an instant Virginia looked puzzled ; then an idea 
 seemed to strike her. Stooping down, she searched in the coarse 
 grass growing round the base of the wall. 
 
 " I thought so. Give me your back." 
 
 She held up an iron pin triumphantly. 
 
 Richard stood with his arms against the wall. She was on his 
 shoulders in a second, forcing the wooden shutter open. It came 
 loose and she threw it inward. 
 
 " Look out ! Stand fast ! " 
 
 Using his shoulders as a lever, she gave a jump and with an 
 effort wriggled into the barn. 
 
 " Wait," she called. 
 
 He heard her rummage about inside. Something hit him on 
 the head. It was the rope. Without waiting, she made her end 
 fast within. Richard was not good at swarming, but, as his chest
 
 VIRGINIA 267 
 
 reached the level of the floor, she seized him under the arms and 
 hauled him in. He threw himself on the hay, panting. Through 
 half -closed eyes he watched her carefully replace the wooden door. 
 Then she sat down opposite him and took out her cigarette-case. 
 
 " Now you can smoke," she said, handing it to him. " There 
 are matches inside." 
 
 He lit a cigarette, inhaling great mouthf uls of smoke. 
 
 " I'm done to a turn," he said, but his drowsy comfort was 
 complete. " I think I shall stay here for ever. Do smoke." 
 
 She refused. 
 
 " There are only three, and I don't care for smoking like you 
 do." 
 
 What a little brick she was, he thought. So unselfish always. 
 And what fun these adventures were. 
 
 He looked at her through his closing eyes. She was piling the 
 hay together, making herself a bed. How clever she was at this 
 sort of thing. A child of nature, if ever there were one. What a 
 different being from Elinor and all those other women. This was 
 the real sort of life ; the other was a tedious sham. If only, if 
 only 
 
 What was that sound ? He opened his eyes, wondering where 
 he was. He had been asleep, of course. What woke him ? 
 Virginia was speaking. What was that she said ? He stared 
 across at her. She lay on her back, with her head on one arm ; 
 her lips were moving, but her eyes were closed. She was talking 
 in her sleep. " Boso, quick I Quick, Boso!" she was saying. 
 She was dreaming of the dog. She seemed to be having an 
 adventure. She began moving her arms about wildly. She 
 struck at something, making incoherent sounds. Her legs moved. 
 She lifted herself up and down, turned over on her face. She 
 must be dreaming of swimming. Her movements became violent. 
 He got frightened. He went over to her and touched her gently 
 on the shoulder. " Wake up, Virginia, wake up." She still 
 continued throwing herself from side to side, muttering incoher- 
 ently. He touched her more firmly, began shaking her. Her 
 breath came in gasps, her shoulders and chest heaved, she flung 
 wide her arms. He took hold of them and pulled, almost lifting 
 her from the ground. She tore them away from him and with a 
 wild movement grasped him round the legs, locking her arms 
 together so that he overbalanced and fell upon her. She con- 
 tinued struggling violently, pulling him to her so that he could 
 not free himself. Her mouth opened and shut like a dog's about 
 to bite. Suddenly she fastened upon one of his calves with her
 
 268 RICHARD KURT 
 
 teeth and bit him so that he could not help exclaiming aloud : 
 " Virginia, stop ; you're hurting ! " She let go and wrestled with 
 him, hurling herself upon him so that he feared that she would 
 injure herself. She twined her trousered legs round him, holding 
 him as in a vice ; her muscles were like steel ; he gave up trying 
 to free himself. He let her throw him about, use him as she liked. 
 His alarm had given place to amazement at her strength, and 
 now he was no longer amazed. The terrific wrestle with the girl 
 roused him. Clasping her supple, writhing body in his arms he 
 used all his strength and, lifting her well off the floor, threw her 
 on her back in the hay. At last she was exhausted. She ceased 
 struggling and lay panting with wide-open mouth and closed eyes. 
 The perspiration ran down her face in great drops, glueing her 
 hair to her forehead. Gradually, as he watched her, her breathing 
 became more regular. She lay motionless. The minutes passed. 
 She had turned over on her side and was apparently sleeping as 
 calmly as a child. 
 
 "Virginia." Once again he stooped over her, touching her 
 shoulder quite gently. 
 
 She sat up, rubbing her eyes. He saw that the whites were 
 bloodshot. 
 
 " I dreamt I was drowning. Did I talk ? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes. I was frightened," he answered. 
 
 " Frightened ? Why ? " She gazed at him with utter surprise 
 in her grey -green eyes. 
 
 " I thought some harm might happen to you." 
 
 " Naw. I often have dreams like that. Then I walk and talk 
 in my sleep. At first they were frightened, but it's nawthing." 
 
 For a time they did not speak. She took out a handkerchief 
 and rubbed her face, then threw her hair back and tidied it with 
 her hands. 
 
 " I wonder what time it is," he said at last. 
 
 She pulled the rough door to the side and peered out. 
 
 " About seven, I think." 
 
 " I'm afraid I must be going," he said. 
 
 She got up and again put her head out, looking to right and 
 left, then took the rope and threw it over the doorway. He 
 made no move, but sat looking at her. 
 
 " I don't want to go, you know." 
 
 She pulled the rope in again. 
 
 " Your wife will be angrry if you're late." 
 
 " It isn't that. It's you I care about. Virginia, look here. 
 This sort of thing can't go on."
 
 VIRGINIA 269 
 
 " What can't ? " She looked at him with astonishment. 
 
 " I mean I " he stammered. 
 
 " I'll row you back," she said. 
 
 " Hadn't I better go alone ? Supposing we meet your 
 mother or Brigita ? " For the first time he had a feeling of 
 guiltiness. 
 
 Instead of answering, she threw out the rope, saying : " You 
 go first." 
 
 He slid down, bruising his hands. She followed, carefully 
 closing the door first. Then she replaced the iron pin. 
 
 They had not gone ten yards before a youth overtook them on 
 the path. He saluted Virginia and at a few words from her ran 
 on ahead. 
 
 " He works on the farm. I told him to let out Boso." 
 
 Waiting till the lad went through a gate some distance farther 
 on, she put her fingers to her mouth and whistled. In another 
 moment the huge beast came bounding towards them, manifest- 
 ing exuberant delight at seeing his mistress. 
 
 They reached the boat-house without meeting anyone. While 
 he made her dinghy ready, she put his things together, making a 
 great roll of them. She made the dog jump in, then let herself 
 down by a rope, and handed him his pocket-book, cigarette-case 
 and other articles. 
 
 " I'm afraid your watch is spoilt," she said, as they pushed 
 out into the lake. " I'll have it done for you. There's a Swiss 
 in the town who knows." 
 
 He handed it to her, but she shook her head as she rowed. 
 
 " Naw. Give it me another time. I might lose it." 
 
 She swung to her oars easily, as tireless as though she had 
 been resting all day. He watched her, astonished, sitting in 
 the bows with the huge dog between them. 
 
 " Aren't you ever tired ? " he asked. 
 
 " Why should I be ? I've been sleeping all the afternoon 
 nearly." 
 
 In a few minutes they would be at Aquafonti. He was loth 
 to say good-bye. 
 
 '* If I had proper clothes and some cigarettes I wouldn't go 
 in yet," he said, speaking his thoughts. 
 
 '* But you must eat." 
 
 " We could go to some osteria." 
 
 He liked flirting with the notion, although he knew he would 
 not do it. He would have liked to stay with her, but the desire 
 was not strong upon him then. It was more a vague hankering
 
 270 RICHARD KURT 
 
 with a promise in it. And he wanted to observe her response to 
 his suggestion. 
 
 " Naw. You had better go in. Mrs Kurt will be angrry." 
 
 The reiteration of the expression in her guttural accent mildly 
 irritated him. 
 
 " Why do you always say angry ? I don't care a damn about 
 her anger." 
 
 " She's your wife, isn't she ? " 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 He looked up at her, and she looked down at him, as she bent 
 forward to the long sweeping stroke. She uttered her barking 
 laugh. 
 
 " When one's married one has to do things. Munro had to. 
 He told me so." 
 
 " Told you what ? " 
 
 " About his divorce," she answered. 
 
 Richard reflected a moment, made up his mind. 
 
 " Sometimes I think I'll get divorced." 
 
 He watched her face intently, anxious to see whether what 
 he said affected her. She showed not the slightest sign of sur- 
 prise, only laughed her short laugh again as she answered : 
 
 ' It doesn't seem difficult in England. Here one can't." 
 
 ' I'm thinking seriously of it," he went on. 
 I don't think so." 
 Why " 
 I don't knaw. Because you're good." 
 
 Was she trying to be ironical ? He looked at her inquiringly, 
 repeating her word : 
 
 " Good ? " 
 
 " Yes. You let her do what she likes. Mrs Rafferty said it." 
 
 They were close to the villa. He could see shadows on the 
 blinds in Elinor's bedroom. She was dressing for dinner. 
 
 " Stop rowing, Virginia. I want to know when I shall see 
 you. To-morrow ? " 
 
 " I'm going to take the skiff to Uberto Devoli to-morrow." 
 
 Instantly there rose within him a wild feeling of jealousy 
 mingled with distrust. Devoli ? He remembered him rather 
 a good-looking young man studying law at Milan University. 
 His promise to lunch with Hohenthal came into his mind. While 
 she was delivering the boat to this Devoli he would be miles up 
 the lake. He was consumed with jealousy at the thought. He 
 must do something, but what ? 
 
 " What time are you going to take the boat ? " he asked.
 
 VIRGINIA 271 
 
 " Why ? " Her tone expressed innocent surprise. 
 
 Forcing himself to speak unconcernedly, he answered : 
 " Because I thought you wouldn't mind taking my watch to be 
 mended first. And perhaps you could borrow one for me mean- 
 while. I really need one." 
 
 His ruse succeeded. 
 
 " Of course. When shall I give it you ? " 
 
 Richard thought a moment. 
 
 ** I've got to lunch at Hohenthal's. I could tow the skiff up 
 for you on my way." 
 
 Virginia agreed with alacrity. He was to be at Casana at 
 eleven and she would have the watch for him. 
 
 She landed him at Aquafonti and pushed off immediately, 
 Boso taking his place in the bows. Waving his hand to her, he 
 ran up the steps with his damp bundle, feeling as though a load 
 had been lifted from him.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 RICHARD did not see Elinor until he joined the party just before 
 dinner, at which Baltazzo was also present. But she had no in- 
 tention of ignoring his failure to put in an appearance at Casa- 
 bianca, where, it seemed, his presence had been for some reason 
 desirable. It started by Robinson saying : " The Contessa and 
 I looked everywhere for you," and his reply : " Didn't Brigita 
 give you my message ? " The little artist was then easily manip- 
 ulated into a flowery description of Madame Peraldi's attractive 
 personality, but Richard's success was short-lived. Elinor 
 returned to the charge. How did it happen ? What did he 
 put on ? Where did they go ? and so forth. These questions 
 her husband parried more or less evasively, but the final one 
 was a home thrust. 
 
 " But where were you when Pietro went back for you ? " 
 
 " Up at the farm. We went for the dog." 
 
 " How very odd ! " The inflection of Elinor's voice was 
 coldly sarcastic. " Pietro went up there to find you and you 
 couldn't be found." 
 
 Richard had had enough of the duel and closed discussion by 
 shrugging his shoulders. This sign of indifference was effectual, 
 but was not lost on Baltazzo, who leered towards Elinor mean- 
 
 Richard cared, if possible, less than he appeared to, but his 
 thoughts went uneasily to Virginia. How would she explain 
 matters to her mother ? 
 
 The conversation became a little strained, but was enlivened as 
 the champagne, which Richard had ordered, began to flow. 
 
 After dinner talk reverted to the Peraldi family. It seemed 
 to Richard as though it were impossible to keep them off the 
 subject. Robinson was possessed by it, and Baltazzo appeared 
 to be longing to show how much he knew about the Peraldis and 
 their affairs. His remarks, less restrained after copious libations, 
 became more personal. Robinson, unaccustomed to hearing this 
 free discussion of the nobility from the inside, was obviously 
 
 272
 
 VIRGINIA 273 
 
 impressed by Baltazzo's cynical remarks about this new titled 
 friend and her family. 
 
 " Brigita is trying to catch young Sismondo." 
 
 " You don't mean that young man with the pale face a 
 marquis something ? " Robinson asked eagerly. 
 
 Baltazzo continued with an oracular nod. 
 
 " But she won't succeed." 
 
 " Why ? " Elinor was all ears. 
 
 " Dry up, Ugo," Richard broke in. 
 
 " Wet blanket as usual," Elinor muttered, with a sneer. 
 
 Richard swallowed his coffee and got up. 
 
 " Let's have a look at the camelias, Baddingley." 
 
 He had noticed Jason's face when Elinor spoke, and knew 
 the invitation to leave the others to their gossip would be 
 welcome. 
 
 For the rest of the evening Richard avoided any attempt at 
 discussion with his wife, and this was made easier than it mjght 
 otherwise have been by the support of Baddingley, who showed 
 signs of enjoying his society. Strolling about the garden, they 
 got on the subject of music, and Richard was inveigled into 
 becoming his guest's audience while he improvised very badly 
 after Wagner on the indifferent grand piano in the Louis- 
 Seize drawing-room. It had been painted old gold colour and 
 made use of to show off a magnificent piece of brocade, in the 
 centre of which Elinor had placed a great silver vase full of 
 flowers. Baddingley was enjoying himself enormously when the 
 others entered, but it was clear that Elinor, at all events, was not 
 sufficiently compensated by his improvisation for the disturbance 
 of her decorative arrangement. The brocade had been thrown 
 on a chair and the silver vase deposited on the floor. With a 
 withering look at the unconscious Jason, whose eyes were directed 
 ecstatically to the ceiling, she replaced both, not without un- 
 necessary noise, on the bare space at the end of the piano, and 
 resumed conversation with the other two men. Richard seized 
 the opportunity to leave the room. He was a prey to uneasy 
 thoughts about Virginia. Had there been trouble at Casana, and 
 how had the girl explained their disappearance ? He had not 
 dared to telephone ; besides, it was much too late. Virginia's 
 habit was to go to bed before eight, unless she took it into her 
 head to pass the night in a boat or in some other unusual place. 
 He went into the library and poured himself out a drink. Then 
 he took up the paper and tried to read. Finally he gave it up 
 and went to bed.
 
 274 RICHARD KURT 
 
 Evidently he fell asleep at once, for it was only shortly after 
 midnight when he was awakened by Elinor, who unceremoni- 
 ously flared the electric light in his face. She stood at the foot 
 of his bed in her evening dress, with her arms resting on the 
 brasswork. 
 
 " Pray pardon this unusual visit," she remarked with an 
 affectation of formal phrasing ; then added : " I've no designs 
 on you." 
 
 He lit a cigarette and waited. 
 
 " You are so secretive, and keep such curious hours, that I 
 thought you might be gone in the morning." 
 
 He still remained silent, half stupid from the sudden waking. 
 
 " May I ask whether you will honour us with your company 
 at lunch to-morrow ? Mrs Prothero and Lady Daubeny are 
 coming." 
 
 " I'm afraid I can't. I promised to lunch with Hohenthal." 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! You've a strange idea of the way to treat 
 your guests." 
 
 " I've told you before, they're not my guests. You asked them, 
 and you can't complain if I leave you to entertain them. Not 
 that I want to go to Hohenthal's. I'd much rather not." 
 
 He did not add that the prospect of lunch at Aquafonti was 
 equally unattractive. 
 
 " Evidently that's why you accepted." 
 
 " I let myself in, but I'm not going to argue about it." 
 
 " You could have said you had friends staying. In any case, 
 it's bad manners to ask you without me." 
 
 " It isn't. He's living en gar$ona,iid he told me I could " 
 
 He was on the verge of saying " bring a friend " when he re- 
 membered Virginia. 
 
 " What did he say ? " 
 
 " I can't remember exactly." 
 
 " May I ask if you propose to keep the motor-boat all day ? " 
 
 " Not if you want it." Kichard began to see light and stopped 
 to consider. " Do you want it ? " he added. 
 
 " I promised to take Lady Daubeny and Mrs Prothero up the 
 lake in the afternoon. In fact, I rather think they want to call 
 on the Prince." 
 
 " Oh, that's all right. I'll send I mean I'll come back directly 
 after lunch." 
 
 " Thank you kindly." Elinor walked out of the room with 
 dignity and without wishing him good-night, while Kichard con- 
 gratulated himself on having an excellent excuse for leaving
 
 VIRGINIA 275 
 
 Hohenthal's immediately after the meal. Before then he could 
 come to some arrangement with Virginia. 
 
 Though his mind was relieved on that point he could not sleep. 
 He went over the events of the afternoon, from the incident 
 of the capsizing boat to when she left him. He could find no 
 solution to the riddle he asked himself about the girl. In all his 
 tangled experience he had known no one in the least like her, 
 nor did he remember ever having heard of a man being placed 
 in so extraordinary a position as his. By far the most puzzling 
 part of Virginia was her apparent guilelessness. But it was 
 asking too much to expect him to believe that she was fast 
 asleep during such happenings as those in the barn. He recon- 
 structed in his mind the earlier scene at the mill. That had 
 staggered him ; but it was nothing to the later one ; and if it could 
 be admitted that such a thing could take place once, surely reason 
 rebelled against its repetition. Then the journey in the bullock- 
 wagon. Could any girl be so simple, so completely artless, as 
 to invite physical contact of so close a kind as that without 
 realising its inevitable consequence ? And if she was aware of 
 the results to which she was exposing herself, what a vista of 
 determined deceit that conclusion opened up. He lay revolving 
 these considerations quite calmly. His brain was unusually 
 clear always after sleep, and the emotions of the day were now 
 succeeded by an access of mental energy. His will was in 
 charge, and he could think out the situation without physical 
 effects. Was it possible that the three separate incidents were 
 mere links in the chain of her design, and that with almost un- 
 imaginable subtlety she had deliberately planned to ensnare him ? 
 If so, she had, for instance, upset the boat on purpose. When 
 she did it she calculated upon his being unable to keep any 
 appointment until he had changed his clothes, and she had de- 
 termined to use her wits to detain him. When she ran up the 
 path the barn was in her mind. The dog was a mere pretence. 
 Her scheme was to get hold of him, to force him to minister to 
 her desires, to make him her slave. 
 
 Richard was entirely emancipated from the sentimental tradi- 
 tion which stamps as degrading to the woman physical desires 
 which are permitted to the man. The attitude which girls are 
 generally encouraged to adopt towards men, the sickly pretence 
 that a female is not a human being with human longings, always 
 filled him with disgust. To him feminine artifice employed to 
 gratify a natural desire for love was always excusable. He 
 loathed the cant which exonerates the shallow coquette who
 
 276 RICHARD KURT 
 
 seeks to capture a rich husband and condemns a girl for desiring 
 a mate. But it was the amazing duplicity of Virginia's method 
 that he could not understand. What was the object of this 
 deceit ? Was she self -deceived also 1 Did she imagine that 
 by yielding her body, without actually admitting it to him or 
 to herself, she was in some strange way preserving her right to 
 be innocent and to act the part ? Were her child life, her child 
 manners, her child thoughts, so necessary to her that she 
 would give up everything rather than sacrifice them ? Did 
 she think that this was the only way to preserve her own 
 personality ? 
 
 To him this lack of frankness, this winnowing of the letter of 
 virtue from the spirit of sham, was the one tremendous fault that 
 was hers, irremediable, unless by some means she cast it away 
 and stood forward for life's lesson, a woman free to dispose of 
 herself as she pleased. 
 
 He must, he would, bring her to the test. How, he knew not. 
 If she came through it, well there was always divorce possible. 
 He did not deceive himself. He knew she could never be the 
 wife he desired, the wife he had dreamed of. But her claim 
 would outweigh his right to await the ideal. He would marry 
 her and be as good a husband as he could. But if she failed 
 under the test, he would at all costs put her away from him. She 
 had become an obsession. He thought of nothing else. This 
 hold on him was unbearable. Through his senses he was a slave 
 to this girl. She could do what she liked with him and would 
 realise it more and more. He knew that, as certainly as day was 
 coming, the morbid longing would return, and that he would be 
 thinking of one thing only, how he could manage to be with her 
 alone. 
 
 When Richard opened heavy eyes on his morning's letters he 
 observed one from his father. He turned over the envelope, the 
 writing on which attracted his attention. Mr Kurt's calligraphy 
 was characteristic of his personality, very neat, with carefully 
 formed letters. Richard noticed that the address was shaky and, 
 tearing open the envelope, he saw that the margin at the side was 
 not level, and that the spacing between the lines was irregular. 
 His father must be getting much worse. And so it proved. He 
 wrote from the villa in the south of France.
 
 VIRGINIA 277 
 
 " I am afraid I cannot give you a good report of myself. My 
 cough has become painful and I seem to grow weaker every day. 
 I feel that I may not last long, and for this reason I should like 
 to see you. I had thought of asking you to come here, but I 
 have decided to hasten my return to England. I am anxious to 
 see your uncle and wind up certain business matters, and have 
 therefore decided to leave here on the 25th and travel by easy 
 stages to London. I shall stop a night in Genoa and one in Milan, 
 where, perhaps, you could spend a few hours with me on the 
 27th." 
 
 Richard stopped reading to consider to-day was the 15th 
 twelve days hence. 
 
 " You will, I am sure, understand and pardon me for saying 
 that I do not feel equal, in my present condition, to seeing 
 Elinor. Please give her my kind messages and let me know if I 
 can count on seeing you. I shall stay at the Hotel Cavour." 
 
 Richard swallowed his coffee and immediately began a letter 
 to his father. He began several. He wanted badly to write 
 something of what he felt, but it refused to come. There was 
 too much to say. It was not that he longed to pour out 
 words. His father had never possessed the sympathy and under- 
 standing that cause the heart to overflow. But Richard was 
 shocked and distressed at the possible imminence of his father's 
 death. The ugly idea occurred to him that he was caught un- 
 prepared again, as he had been caught when his mother died. 
 There were things that ought to be said. It seemed impossible 
 that they two were to part for ever in this world without mutu- 
 ally laying bare, at least to some extent, their thoughts. To 
 Richard a parting without some such exchange was against nature 
 and eternal justice. He had no longing to embrace his father, 
 to tell him that under all their misunderstandings there had been 
 a deep, abiding love on his side. He knew it was not so. But 
 he did intensely desire to tell him that, though they could not 
 see eye to eye, he recognised his own shortcomings. He did want 
 his father to know that he understood how great his disappoint- 
 ment in himself had been, and that in many ways he had been 
 juster in his judgment than Richard had realised until now. 
 He sat with the pen in his hand thinking. If only he could truth- 
 fully say of himself : "I have learnt life's lesson at last. I have 
 found the key to happiness, or even to contentment. It is
 
 278 RICHARD KURT 
 
 this " But he knew he could not, that he did not know 
 
 where to look, and that he doubted if such a key existed. Ad- 
 mission that the past had been a failure through his own fault 
 would have some value if he could point to a consoling present, 
 or at least to a hopeful future. But though he would put as good 
 a face on it as he could when he saw his father, he would lack 
 the confidence to reassure him. The best he could hope to do 
 would be to evade confession that once more his journey through 
 life had ended in a blind alley. At last he wrote a kindly letter, 
 expressing his concern about his father's health and his anxiety 
 to see him. But he carefully avoided any reference at all to the 
 perplexities that filled his mind. 
 
 Depression lay heavy on him while he dressed. He did not go 
 in to Elinor, having no intention of telling her of the letter. She 
 was at all times the last person he wanted to see when he was 
 sad or worried. He went out into the garden and found Badding- 
 ley, whose manner when he said " Good-morning " gave him an 
 impression of embarrassment. His guest had a letter in his 
 hand. 
 
 " I'm afraid I must go ofl at short notice," he said. 
 
 " Really ? I'm awfully sorry," Richard replied. 
 
 " You see it's a matter of pressing business. My lawyer " 
 
 "Don't bother to explain," Richard interrupted. "I know 
 only too well how these things happen. Have you looked up the 
 trains ? I can help you." 
 
 They went in to study Bradshaw. Baddingley decided to 
 take the afternoon train vi the St Gothard. 
 
 " I wonder if you'd let me row over to Casabianca in one of 
 your boats. I'd like to see Mrs Prothero a moment. You see 
 
 she was to come here to lunch and " Baddingley again 
 
 showed obvious discomfort. 
 
 " I'll run you across in the launch," Richard said. " I'm just 
 going to order it." 
 
 Baddingley laid a timid, detaining hand on his host's arm. 
 
 "And would you mind telling Mrs Kurt I'm so immensely 
 sorry to leave it's a great disappointment " 
 
 Richard hesitated a moment. 
 
 " I'll tell you what, Baddingley. Write a note and I'll see 
 to it. I won't disturb her now. She sometimes sleeps badly." 
 
 While Pietro made ready the motor-boat Baddingley wrote his 
 note and handed it to Richard, who, putting it in his pocket, 
 noticed that his guest observed the action with apprehension. 
 
 " Forgive me, Kurt. You see as I'm going away so suddenly,
 
 VIRGINIA 279 
 
 it may rather upset the luncheon-party. Don't you think one 
 ought to let Mrs Kurt know beforehand. I shouldn't like " 
 
 Richard reflected, scrutinising the other's face, which wore an 
 uncertain expression. Then suddenly running his arm through 
 Badding ley's he walked him up the terrace. 
 
 " Look here, Jason " he had never addressed him intimately 
 before "there's been some sort of row between you and 
 Elinor." 
 
 The other tried to interrupt, but Richard pressed his arm and 
 continued : 
 
 " It's no use saying there hasn't. I know it. But will you 
 oblige me by ignoring it and staying on ? Come on, let's call 
 it done. What do you say ? " 
 
 He stopped short and dropped his guest's arm, facing him 
 squarely. 
 
 " But really, you see, I must go back in a day or two anyhow. 
 It's it's " Baddingley stammered and broke off. 
 
 " A day or two from now is a different matter. Come up the 
 lake with me to Hohenthal's and your friends will join you there 
 afterwards with Elinor." 
 
 Richard had hardly uttered the words on the impulse of the 
 moment when he regretted them. He was willing to try to 
 patch things up for Elinor, but not at the sacrifice of his 
 day with Virginia. He saw that it would be almost impossible 
 for him to arrange a meeting with her if Baddingley accompanied 
 him. Luckily Baddingley himself saved the situation. 
 
 " Thanks enormously. I couldn't do that. You see I should 
 have to be here for Mrs Prothero. She and Lady Daubeny are 
 coming er partly on my account. You see we're very old 
 friends." 
 
 Badding ley's anxiety not to be indiscreet in regard to his share 
 in the coming of his friends amused Richard. It was so char- 
 acteristic of the harmless, gentle creature whose whole life was 
 devoted to these niceties of social intercourse. 
 
 " Oh, as you like. Anyhow I can destroy this, can't I ? " 
 
 Baddingley still looked ill at ease. 
 
 " You see, it's a little awkward. Mrs Kurt seemed to be greatly 
 offended with me last night." 
 
 '* Nonsense. How could she be ? It's her way. Don't take 
 any notice." 
 
 Baddingley looked slightly consoled, and Richard tore up the 
 note. 
 
 " You are too sensitive."
 
 280 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " I suppose I am," he said. " I'll go and write to this lawyer 
 chap and tell him I'll see him at the end of next week." 
 
 Meanwhile Richard ran up to his wife's room. Elinor was still 
 in bed, but had breakfasted. 
 
 *' I've only come in for a minute to ask you to be decent to 
 Baddingley. He was on the verge of leaving this afternoon." 
 
 She looked up in surprise. 
 
 " What for ? " 
 
 " Something you did or said last night." 
 
 " What do you mean ? I've said nothing. I suppose he 
 expected all of us to sit still and listen to his rotten strumming." 
 
 " I know nothing about that. I got him to stop on because 
 I thought you'd be put out, especially as you've asked his friends. 
 Can't you make it up and have done with it ? " 
 
 "Make it up? There's nothing to make up." 
 
 " Never mind. Ask him to play to you and he'll be perfectly 
 happy." 
 
 He went out of her room without waiting for her reply. 
 
 As he steered for Casana Richard's thoughts returned to his 
 father. He was so much absorbed in his reflections that he did 
 not notice that Pietro was lying to outside the harbour wall until 
 Virginia called to him. She was in the racing-skiff, which she 
 was manoeuvring with a jib and one oar. She quickly hauled in 
 the sail and threw the tow-rope to Pietro, with a mat to protect 
 the hull of the motor-launch. She jumped in lightly beside 
 Richard and they started. 
 
 He got little from her about her mother, except that Madame 
 Peraldi, on seeing Boso, had shaken her fist at her, while Brigita 
 had said the old lady was too much delighted with Robinson and 
 his assurance of a tenant to think of anything else. Virginia 
 broke off to exchange some rapid sentences with Pietro. 
 Richard heard the word podere repeated several times, and it 
 was evident she was questioning him. 
 
 " He says he never went to the other side where Boso is," she 
 remarked to Richard, who, not understanding the abrupt comment, 
 asked what she meant. 
 
 " He came to look for us to bring you to Casabianca, and mother 
 told him to go to the farm, that's all." 
 
 Richard understood now. She had made Pietro believe they 
 were there by obtaining from him an admission that he had not 
 searched all through the outbuildings, one of which she used as 
 a kennel. This was, he realised, another example of the dis-
 
 VIRGINIA 281 
 
 ingenuousness with which she converted a dubious situation into 
 an innocent one, thus causing others to believe their suspicions 
 groundless. 
 
 " Was Mrs Kurt angrry last night ? " she asked in her dis- 
 jointed way. 
 
 " Not that I know of. Why should she be ? " 
 
 " Brigita said so." 
 
 What did the girl mean ? These elliptical remarks were some- 
 times intensely riling. It bored him to ask a lot of questions 
 about a matter to which he was indifferent, but he liked to get 
 to the bottom of things. He detested obscurity. 
 
 " Why are you so mysterious ? Can't you spit it out ? " he 
 said rather irritably. 
 
 " It's nawthing. Only Brigita said Mrs Kurt was angrry that 
 those people were going to Scapa." 
 
 More ambiguity. What a peculiar talent this girl had for 
 making herself unintelligible. He didn't care a straw about 
 the whole thing, but he was determined to elicit the facts. This 
 he succeeded finally in doing, but he thought he had rather 
 annoyed Virginia in the process. 
 
 It appeared that Brigita had accompanied Robinson to Casa- 
 bianca and had found Elinor sitting alone with Baltazzo, while, 
 not far off, Mrs Rafferty was taking tea with Lady Daubeny and 
 Mrs Prothero. Baddingley was sitting at their table, and evi- 
 dently Elinor had made a spiteful remark about him. After Mrs 
 Rafferty's departure Baddingley introduced Elinor to his friends, 
 but their acceptance of her invitation to luncheon had evidently 
 been cold and induced by pressure on his part. Mrs Rafferty, it 
 seemed, had also found means to ask Brigita to come to Scapa 
 the following day, and had told her that Lady Daubeny and Mrs 
 Prothero were to meet Prince Hohenthal at tea. This was the 
 little imbroglio which lay at the bottom of Baddingley 's embarrass- 
 ment. It was an illuminating example of the female spitefulness 
 Elinor provoked, and from which Richard had on numberless 
 occasions tried to protect her. It was no new experience to him 
 to scent a malignity towards his wife out of all proportion to the 
 petty considerations involved. Now he understood why Elinor 
 had needed his presence at Casabianca. 
 
 Meanwhile they were lying off the Devoli villa, and Virginia 
 began hauling in the skiff. 
 
 What are you going to do ? " Richard asked. 
 
 " I'll get in and run up the sails. Uberto will see. You can 
 leave me."
 
 282 RICHARD KURT 
 
 Did she say this on purpose to rouse his jealousy ? He thought 
 his irritable manner had piqued her. Was this to pay him back ? 
 If so, she had certainly scored. He was jealous, damnably jealous, 
 and nothing would induce him to leave her with this Uberto. 
 But he was faced with a new difficulty. He had never yet made 
 the slightest attempt at an open declaration of his feelings towards 
 her. He had accepted without protest a situation which denied 
 him the power, if not the right, to object even when she intended 
 doing something that would cause him positive anguish. The 
 means by which she had obtained a hold on him as strong as any 
 open avowal would have secured her, without the responsibility 
 that such an avowal would have entailed on herself, dawned on 
 him in all its amazing subtlety. It filled him with an impotent 
 rage that only added fuel to the fires of his jealousy. Supposing 
 he were now boldly to declare that he would not leave her 
 alone with this young man what reason could he give that had 
 any force except the true one ? And was he prepared on the 
 spot to have it out with her, to tell her bluntly that he knew she 
 had tried to fool him ? Supposing she played utter innocence, 
 what could he do ? And supposing, alarmed perhaps, or even 
 smitten with the sort of contrition her religious upbringing in- 
 culcated, she were to commit a coup de t$te and go into the con- 
 vent '? No, he dared not risk it ; but again he resolved that, sooner 
 or later, in one way or another, he would force the issue. She 
 should have to choose between facing the consequences of her 
 
 own acts or His mind refused to consider the alternative 
 
 then. Putting aside his thoughts with an effort, he stopped her 
 as she was getting into the sailing boat. 
 
 ' I don't want to leave you here," he said simply. 
 
 ' But I must show Uberto the skiff's all right. He's bought 
 it.' 
 
 ' I know he has ; and if he's not satisfied I'll buy it." 
 
 She looked at him incredulously. 
 
 'You! Why?" 
 
 * Because I don't want you to stay here. I want you to come 
 up the lake with me." 
 
 He spoke firmly ; his mind was made up. If she did not give 
 way he would stay there with her, if he stayed all day. 
 
 " He'll want to see that the spars and sails and ropes are all 
 right." 
 
 " Very well. We'll see him later on our way back." 
 
 She considered for a moment. 
 
 " We'll have to anchor her, then."
 
 VIRGINIA 288 
 
 " Right you are. How do we do it ? " 
 
 She jumped on to the light craft and got into the cock-pit. 
 She disappeared, searching under the fore-deck. 
 
 " It's all right. There's a stone." 
 
 While she sat down on the deck and tied the hawser firmly 
 to it, Richard clambered in beside her. Together they lifted the 
 heavy weight and cast it into the water. 
 
 " $Tow come along," he said. 
 
 She followed him into the launch. 
 
 " But I must see Uberto afterwards." 
 
 " You shall see him." 
 
 She gazed towards the large white villa with its garden con- 
 ventionally planted with palm-trees. From under one of them a 
 tall, thin figure ran out to which she waved her handkerchief 
 and then putting both hands to her mouth shouted : " Torniamo! 
 Torniamo / " while Richard steered up the lake. 
 
 iii 
 
 Richard knew she was aware that his jealousy had been 
 aroused, and it humiliated him that he could not come to grips 
 with her as he wanted. He was like a man who has claims which 
 he can only enforce by repudiating an obligation with no moral 
 or legal sanction behind it, but binding nevertheless. He was 
 perfectly conscious that he had every right to demand loyalty 
 of her, but he was powerless to tell her so until their partnership 
 in deceit was dissolved. For a partnership it was, though an un- 
 willing one on his side, and unless his self-respect asserted itself 
 by forcing admission from her, the relationship must continue 
 with all its evil effects. He fully realised that her hold was only 
 on his senses, and that his weakness in this respect was the 
 measure of her power to degrade him in his own eyes, to develop 
 that in him which he despised. He knew that what held him 
 was not the honest passion of love a man feels for a woman 
 who is dear to him. He had experienced reaction too fully not 
 to have learnt that if she inspired desire in him she also inspired 
 repugnance. Already he was conscious that, as the morbid desire 
 she had provoked increased, so would the spontaneous counter- 
 action, until, as must ever be in such a contest, the real triumphed 
 over the imaginary. In that day she would be nothing to him, or 
 worse ; she would be a memory from which he would shrink. 
 Yet he felt he had the power to release himself and to help
 
 284 RICHARD KURT 
 
 her while there was yet time, if she gave him the smallest 
 opening for frankness. He owed her something, though not so 
 much as a man more fettered by tradition would imagine, and it 
 was in her power to secure, if not a husband, at least a friend 
 who would stand by her always. 
 
 He was sitting alone in the stern. One could steer from either 
 end, and she had gone to the bows and taken the wheel. It was 
 her favourite seat, getting all the breeze, and he always left the 
 stern rudder when she was in the boat. He went forward and 
 sat opposite her. She was dressed in white again ; now she 
 hardly ever wore anything on her head. She did not move at 
 his approach, but kept her eye on the point she was making for. 
 
 " I had a letter from my father this morning. I'm afraid he's 
 failing fast," he began. 
 
 She turned her head at once. 
 
 " No ? I'm so sorry." 
 
 " He wants to see me. I shall meet him in Milan." 
 
 She plied him with questions. How long had Mr Kurt been 
 ill ? What was the illness ? How old was he ? Was he alone ? 
 Poor old man, she wished she could take care of him. Why 
 didn't Richard go to him immediately ? 
 
 He tried to explain in few words how matters stood. Before 
 that he had told her enough of his past life for her to grasp 
 its salient features, and she knew that his relations with his 
 father, though much improved since his mother's death, were 
 not deeply affectionate. When, therefore, she began talking to 
 him as though she were correcting a child who was being naughty 
 to its mamma, he found it difficult to restrain a feeling of 
 annoyance. 
 
 " You don't understand, Virginia. He's not the sort of man 
 one can treat like that. Supposing I told you you ought to throw 
 your arms round your mother's neck and promise her to be good ? " 
 
 She was nonplussed at this for a moment, but returned to the 
 charge. 
 
 " I feel so sorry for the dear old man. Why don't you go to 
 see him now ? I should if I were you." 
 
 " He wouldn't like it. He's made his plans." 
 
 " But you could go there in a day and come back the next." 
 
 " It really wouldn't do any good. It would simply be taking 
 a tiresome journey for no object." 
 
 " You don't mind travelling, do you ? I love it." 
 
 " Love sitting in the train all day ? "
 
 VIRGINIA 285 
 
 " Yes. I love it. I love watching the fields and rivers and 
 trees fly by." 
 
 Her childish talk had no charm for him at that moment. He 
 ignored it and tried to concentrate his thoughts. 
 
 " And you go all along the sea," she prattled on, " for 
 miles and miles. I've been all the way along the Ligure. It's 
 lovely." 
 
 " I should rather like you to see my father when he comes to 
 Milan. You'd understand then," he remarked. 
 
 " I should love to see him. I know I should be fond of him. 
 But I think you ought to go to him now." 
 
 Richard looked at her. For an instant the blood rushed to his 
 head and he felt the choking in his throat, but he set his teeth 
 and forced himself to speak calmly. 
 
 " Supposing I were to would you come too ? " 
 
 She answered without an instant's reflection, but character- 
 istically : 
 
 " I'm sure mother wouldn't mind my going to see your father." 
 
 Richard kept hold of himself. 
 
 " We might find the connections bad and have to stop some- 
 where on the road, you know." He watched her face as he spoke. 
 
 " That wouldn't matter. I trmist you," she answered. 
 
 When they reached Villa Carlotta Richard showed Virginia 
 a basket. 
 
 " That's your lunch," he said " eggs, milk, cheese, cherries. 
 I had it made up myself. There are sandwiches for Pietro." 
 
 She fully entered into, and approved of, his arrangement that 
 she was to await him with the boat. There was shade under the 
 trees overhanging the inlet and shelter, if wind came up, within 
 the spacious boat-house. 
 
 " I shan't be more than an hour or so," he said, and, wishing 
 her good-bye, he walked up toward the house. 
 
 Looking back once, he saw that she was placing cushions in 
 the bottom, of the boat preparatory to her inevitable sleep. He 
 could not repress the reflection that it was just as well that 
 Pietro was a particularly unemotional individual and a steady 
 family man to boot. So far had his experience of Virginia brought 
 him that he had altogether ceased to trust her. When once 
 Richard's confidence in a person was shaken he could never 
 believe in him or her again. And this distrust, first-fruit of the 
 desire with which she had inflamed him, was a torture. The 
 moment she was out of sight his imagination got to work and
 
 286 RICHARD KURT 
 
 pictured her employing the methods with which he was familiar on 
 anyone whom chance threw across her path. It might, for all 
 he knew, be Uberto Devoli one day, himself the next. How 
 could he know ? What he did know was that she was evidently 
 prepared to go off with him at a moment's notice on a journey 
 of uncertain duration and of uncertain possibilities. Yet the 
 astonishing thing was that, until he came on the scene, Virginia, 
 from all accounts and he had done his best to find out never 
 had any men friends at all. Brigita had said this, so had her 
 mother. Baltazzo had told him she was known for it, and was 
 regarded as eccentric for preferring to be Mrs Kaflerty's slave 
 to taking part in the social life of girls of her own age. And 
 this was the same girl who had determinedly set herself to rouse 
 in him emotions such as he had never before experienced, and 
 of a violence he could not control. By what means had she dis- 
 covered her power ? For, if it was instinctive, she could never 
 have displayed so much deliberate calculation in exercising it. 
 
 To his surprise the first person he met when he reached the 
 house was Mademoiselle de Mirepoix. The beautiful young 
 woman accompanied him inside in search of the Prince, who, she 
 said, was showing her friends the garden. She knew Richard 
 was coming, she explained, with a look that at any previous time 
 in his life he would have regarded as more than flattering ; she 
 had waited for him on purpose. She had a manner that, pre- 
 occupied as he was, he could not but find engaging. Her voice 
 was soft and musical ; her perfect English was agreeably empha- 
 sised by the French accent and occasional use of French idioms. 
 Instead of platitudes about the beauty of the lake or of her host's 
 garden, she engaged his interest with a personal reference. 
 
 " I thought you looked haunted that day at Casabianca." 
 
 This description of her impression of him pulled Richard up 
 sharply. 
 
 " Haunted ? " he asked. The repetition of the word was not 
 mechanical. 
 
 " Mrs Rafferty said you wanted to get away from us, but I 
 thought you looked as though you wanted de vous ddbrouiller." 
 
 " It is adroit of you to talk about me, Mademoiselle. Men 
 always like that, don't they ? " 
 
 This parrying of her question brought a responsive smile. 
 
 " I wanted to talk to you then but you gave me no 
 opportunity. Do tell me now, are you never coming to 
 Scapa ? "
 
 VIRGINIA 287 
 
 " Since you ask me, Mademoiselle, I don't think so." 
 
 " What a pity ! " 
 
 She put a peculiar seriousness into her tone, dropping her 
 voice. They had passed through the house to the entrance on 
 the other side. No one was in sight, and they moved towards a 
 garden -seat. 
 
 " It's very flattering of you to want me to come." Kichard 
 was trying to penetrate her reason for making this effort to attract 
 him. 
 
 " Yet you resist. I do want you to come, I don't deny it." 
 
 " Please don't think me insensible. Shall I be frank ? " 
 
 " I don't think you can help being frank." The girl turned 
 her laughing eyes upon him. 
 
 " What is the use of explaining if you know ? " he asked. 
 
 " I don't want you^ to explain. I want you to come. You 
 see, I don't mind begging you." 
 
 " Is it fair to put me in the position of refusing ? " 
 
 " Don't refuse. Come, come to-day will you ? " 
 
 Approaching voices gave him an excuse for not replying. In 
 the distance three persons were coming towards them, of whom 
 one was the Prince. He came forward and held out his hand to 
 Richard, introducing him to Monsieur and Madame de Bremond, 
 " whose charming sister you are fortunate in knowing already." 
 
 After a short exchange of civilities Richard drew him aside, 
 explaining that he would have to leave immediately after luncheon 
 as his wife required the use of the motor-launch. 
 
 " As to that, my dear Kurt, there is no difficulty. I will take 
 you in mine. We are all going to Scapa. I will see to it." 
 
 Here was a dilemma. To own to his host that Virginia had 
 accompanied him would be not only embarrassing but unfair to 
 the girl. What was he to do ? To plead another engagement 
 would be a too obvious pretence after his previous rather over- 
 done expression of regret that he was forced to leave. A few feet 
 away he caught Mademoiselle de Mirepoix' eyes upon him. 
 Meanwhile the Prince, taking his acceptance for granted, suggested 
 walking towards the house, so that he could send an immediate 
 message to his guest's boatman. 
 
 There was simply nothing to be done but resign himself 
 and let matters take their course. Yet he was inwardly chafing 
 to a degree that almost robbed him of self-control. Now Virginia 
 would be free, and of course the first thing she would do would 
 be to go to the Devoli villa. His impotence maddened him. 
 Hours would pass before he could get to her, and, meanwhile, what
 
 288 RICHARD KURT 
 
 would she be doing ? What a fool he had been to come ! What 
 would it have mattered if he had been impolite ? He could have 
 taken Virginia up the lake and sent the boat back to Elinor, 
 spent the whole afternoon with the girl and had a good excuse 
 for not getting back till late. Elinor would never have known, 
 and he wouldn't have cared if she had. He heard the Prince 
 giving his order and conjured his wits for some plan, but found 
 none. As the servant turned on his heels an idea flashed into his 
 mind. 
 
 " Pardon me, Prince, may I send a message to my man ? " 
 His host nodded courteous assent, and Richard, following the 
 servant into the house, asked for pencil and paper. 
 
 DEAREST V. (he hastily scrawled), The Prince insists on 
 taking me back in his launch. I trust you not to go to Devoli's 
 without me, but to take the boat straight to Aquafonti. I'll 
 see you somehow later will ring up Casana before dinner any- 
 how. R. 
 
 With a significant look he handed the servant the note and ten 
 lire. The man's impassive face gave no sign, but Richard caught 
 the reflection of Mademoiselle de Mirepoix' figure in a large 
 Venetian mirror, and saw that she had been a witness of the little 
 incident from the other end of the hall, where she stood talking 
 to her sister. As they went into the dining-room she remarked 
 softly : 
 
 " I knew Virginia was in the boat." 
 
 He was too much surprised to reply. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Mirepoix did not chatter. On the contrary, 
 she talked little on end, but she put out feelers, and, when 
 she obtained a response, led him gradually into conversation. 
 Madame de Bremond sat at his other side and joined in at odd 
 moments, while her husband, a dignified-looking personage with 
 a serious expression, talked to the Prince in low, earnest tones. 
 Richard thought he divined that, whatever Mademoiselle de 
 Mirepoix' purpose was in wishing to attract him, whatever reason 
 there was for her apparent interest in his concerns, her sister was 
 not a party to either. Indeed, what perhaps loosed his thoughts 
 for a time from their perpetual bondage was the curious fancy 
 that this lovely and intelligent girl was engaged in an enterprise 
 on her own account and that this enterprise was purely intellectual. 
 He could not have explained why she produced upon him an 
 effect of elusiveness. Her manner was charming, her amiability
 
 VIRGINIA 289 
 
 infectious. Her way of expressing herself was witty, without 
 strain or pose, and her evident desire to please him was too frank 
 and unaffected to be other than gratifying. Yet he felt that with 
 all these delightful qualities there was something lacking, some 
 temperamental deficiency, perhaps, that nullified all her efforts 
 to get the desired sort of hold on his sympathy and imagination. 
 At no moment was his concern alienated from Virginia. This 
 gracious and sophisticated creature, charming though she might 
 be, had not for an instant suggested to his mind an alternative 
 attraction. She was simply " out of the running " as a possible 
 rival to Virginia, yet Eichard would have welcomed any 
 respite from his thraldom, even at the hands of Mademoiselle 
 de Mirepoix. 
 
 On the way to Scapa in the Prince's motor-launch Mademoiselle 
 de Mirepoix made a final effort to induce Richard to call on Mrs 
 Rafferty. This effort took the form of a suddenly disclosed 
 interest in Elinor. She had heard so much of Mrs Kurt, she said, 
 and she would so much like to know her. The day had gone for 
 ever when Elinor's interests in social directions made a claim 
 upon him. He could not guess what Mademoiselle de Mirepoix 
 was driving at and he did not desire to know. But if her purpose 
 was to involve him in any intrigue by dragging in Elinor, he 
 would resist it. 
 
 " My wife will be delighted to see you at Aquaf onti, Made- 
 moiselle. I dare say Mrs Rafferty will bring you." 
 
 She looked at him curiously. 
 
 " I thought you might take me there yourself this afternoon." 
 
 " Unfortunately she has gone up the lake with friends, Made- 
 moiselle, otherwise I should have " 
 
 She interrupted him with a silvery laugh. 
 
 " You are not awfully pressing, are you ' l . " 
 
 This exchange in undertones where they sat within earshot of 
 the others could not, to Richard's relief, be sustained, and for the 
 rest of the way conversation became general. Reaching Scapa, 
 he declined with polite resolution to go up to the house. 
 Mademoiselle de Mirepoix did not attempt to conceal her 
 chagrin when he accepted the Prince's offer of his boat to take 
 him home, and she remained a moment while the others 
 went forward. 
 
 " Now you will go and find Virginia." 
 
 She made a charming figure against the wisteria-covered wall 
 of the boat-house, with a pink parasol behind her blonde head.
 
 290 RICHARD KURT 
 
 Impatient as he was to go, Richard could not help contrasting 
 the attractions of this beautiful young woman with those of 
 Virginia. It was a dreadful waste of charm. He did not in the 
 least understand it, but he knew that the French girl was utterly 
 powerless to break the spell. 
 
 " I wish I could help it." 
 
 He spoke on impulse, and as the words escaped him he was 
 conscious of disloyalty. 
 
 Again the look of curiosity came into her face. 
 
 " Then why ? " she asked. 
 
 Richard lifted his hat and she had no alternative but to offer 
 her hand. 
 
 " Adieu, Monsieur," she said. 
 
 As she turned and followed the others Richard was uncom- 
 fortably aware of her disappointment. 
 
 Speeding past the Devoli villa, Richard noticed that the skiff 
 was no longer at anchor. Instantly he became a prey to sus- 
 picion. For a moment he contemplated being dropped there, 
 but, on reflection, decided against it. After all, he had no right 
 to assume that Virginia had gone against his express wish. He 
 did not believe she had, but he was without confidence, and he 
 knew her capacity for devious explanation or excuse. Other men, 
 especially Italians, would most likely take a different view of her 
 subtleties. He could indeed imagine that some would be well 
 enough pleased to play into he"r hands. Uberto Devoli seemed 
 a decent sort of lad, but he might have seen her often without 
 Richard knowing it. Virginia was quite capable of carrying 
 on a triangular intrigue if she chose, and what right or power 
 had he to assert himself in the case of Devoli or anyone else ? 
 On the contrary, Devoli was a young unmarried man, and had far 
 more right to her favours, if it came to that. So Richard went 
 on torturing himself till he got to Aquafonti. 
 
 He immediately " called up " Casana. At first no one answered, 
 and when, after some time, Contessa Peraldi's voice came through 
 the telephone Richard promptly hung up the receiver. To arouse 
 her suspicions would do no good and might complicate matters. 
 On more than one occasion she had been taken with sudden panic 
 on discovering the absence of one or the other of the girls, and 
 had sent people tearing off right and left in search of them, ringing 
 up everybody she could think of with wild inquiries as to their 
 whereabouts. Why on earth couldn't Virginia have brought the 
 motor-boat to Aquafonti as he had asked l . She knew she could 
 have taken one of his boats to row across to Casana. And the
 
 VIRGINIA 291 
 
 damnable part of the situation was that he had no right to protest. 
 She was not his chattel, nor was she his mistress in her own eyes, 
 whatever she might be in his. It simply could not go on like 
 this ; his position was unendurable. It must be one thing or 
 the other. He would tell her so that very day ; he would drag 
 some sort of avowal from her. She must and should face the 
 alternatives. He wandered aimlessly into the garden. It would 
 soon be looking its very best when the roses, of which many were 
 yielding their first blooms, were in full flower. Elinor had suc- 
 ceeded wonderfully, triumphantly. The camellias, nearly over, 
 but still a mass of faded bloom, had been succeeded by azaleas 
 and rhododendrons. The carved stone bridge over the torrent, 
 and the steps, were almost covered with flowering boughs. Wher- 
 ever he looked his eyes fell on some beautiful effect of colour or 
 some promise of it. On the balcony round the upper floor of the 
 house stood great tubs, from which the tendrils of climbing 
 geraniums already fell in pink clusters far below the wrought-iron 
 rails. He went slowly up the steps to the bridge and, crossing 
 the drive, pursued his way up the torrent bed. The cinerarias, 
 cunningly protected against the rush of spring floods by cemented 
 stones, were growing into giant plants. He reached a turn in 
 the drive again and stood a moment looking at its long sweep. 
 All along the low wall roses had been trained, and at each corner 
 great terra-cotta vases of eighteenth-century design were planted 
 with cornflowers. What a blaze of blue they would be ! And so 
 on, all the way upwards till he reached the lodge, the white walls 
 of which would soon be almost hidden by the yellow wealth of a 
 Gloire de Dijon rose-tree. Generally it was Richard's habit to 
 go in for a chat with Domenico's wife. She was a cheerful woman 
 with a large family, and during the winter he had often spent a 
 pleasant quarter of an hour smoking by their fire of logs, watch- 
 ing the children eat their polenta or looking over their exercise 
 books. But to-day he turned away with only a passing greeting 
 to Flora, although he had not seen her for weeks. He was not 
 in the mood to talk, for he could not force cheerfulness he did not 
 feel. How different everything was from the winter ! He had 
 been quite happy then, living alone and with no superfluity of 
 comfort either. How little that sort of thing counted ! He had 
 almost enjoyed the cold and frugal, indifferent meals. These 
 occasional visits to the lodge on his way into, or back from, Como 
 over the frozen snow, the companionship he got from Domenico 
 or Pietro, were quite enough relief to his solitude. Then Cyril 
 came, and at first it had seemed so delightful. He ran over the
 
 292 RICHARD KURT 
 
 weeks of care-free, ever-growing intimacy with Virginia, his work 
 in the stables, the girls' rows with their mother. The whole 
 gamut of his winter and spring experiences danced through his 
 memory. And then had come the change. Was it, at least in part, 
 his own fault ? He tried hard to be honest with himself, but he 
 could not see how he could have acted, or even have thought, 
 otherwise. As long as possible he had regarded Virginia 
 as the innocent girl her outward actions made her appear. Of 
 course he could, even after her reappearance during Cyril's visit, 
 have avoided her. It would not have been easy ; indeed the 
 only hope would have been to go away, as his old friend had 
 suggested. And if he had, what then ? He would have had to 
 come back eventually when Elinor returned, and what would his 
 life have been then ? What would it be now, supposing he made 
 a superhuman effort and gave her up ? What was the good of 
 deceiving himself ? He knew that there was not a ray of happi- 
 ness, not a moment's contentment, to be got out of the empty 
 shell of his married existence. He realised now that all this 
 beauty and charm of scene, all the idle luxury of his life, had only 
 made its emptiness more apparent. That idea, the seeking an 
 objective cure for a subjective malady, the creating of an atmos- 
 phere of happiness out of material things, the building of a shrine 
 for the worship of nothinginess, was the greatest illusion of all. 
 As he pursued his way downwards he no longer looked about him 
 for pleasing evidences of Elinor's creative taste. His feeling 
 towards Aquafonti was ripening into something near akin to 
 hate. 
 
 iv 
 
 Richard found Elinor and Robinson having tea in the winter- 
 garden. Richard saw at a glance that she was in a bad temper 
 and that the little painter was uncomfortably aware of it. 
 His face lightened when Richard sat down and accepted the cup 
 passed to him by his wife, who did not look up and preserved a 
 stony silence. 
 
 " Where's Jason ? " he asked, more to break the embarrass- 
 ment than because he wanted to know. 
 
 Robinson, seeing that Elinor made no sign of replying, answered : 
 
 " He stopped at Scapa with Lady Daubeny and Mrs Prothero. 
 Lovely place it looked. To tell the truth, I hoped Mrs Kurt 
 would call, so that I could see it." 
 
 He stopped, looking again at Elinor and then at her husband.
 
 VIRGINIA 293 
 
 " And I told you Why don't you go on ? " 
 
 Robinson fidgeted. His self-inflicted social discipline dictated 
 unwilling reticence, but he was longing to know what underlay 
 his hostess's resentment of Mrs Rafferty. 
 
 Elinor cast a withering glance at him and fire leapt into her 
 eyes. 
 
 " He needn't be so mealy-mouthed. I told him old Rafferty 
 is a spiteful old cat, and I hate her, and I wouldn't go to see her 
 if she begged me to on her knees." 
 
 Richard was thinking that there was little enough likelihood 
 of that. Robinson's look said : " There, now." 
 
 " And," went on Elinor recklessly, " I consider it vile form 
 of Jason to go there. I ask his friends here to please him, take 
 them up the lake and then, if you please, they calmly leave me 
 alone and go off to call on a woman I'm not on speaking terms 
 with. Charming guests ! " 
 
 Richard was exceedingly bored. Time was when he would have 
 been humiliated by his wife's lack of dignity, but he had ceased 
 to care. And yet he hankered to smooth things over, to let her 
 down as easily as circumstances permitted. 
 
 " You mustn't be so hard on Jason," he interposed. " Mrs 
 Rafferty asked him to come the other morning when she was 
 calling on his friends. I got let in for luncheon at Hohenthal's 
 at the same time. One can't sometimes get out of things." 
 
 '' Can't one ? I can when I choose. Not that I in the least 
 care. He's welcome to live with Mrs Rafferty for the rest of his 
 life. Thank goodness he's going soon, and I sha'n't be bored 
 with his rotten playing and his mooning sentimentality." 
 
 With this she gathered together her gold bag and other rattling 
 objects and sailed out of the room. 
 
 " I'm sorry Mrs Kurt's so annoyed," Robinson was beginning, 
 but Richard stopped him. He could put up with the scene, but the 
 sympathy of this little outsider was unbearable. 
 
 " I'm going over to Casana. Do you care to come ? " 
 
 The painter jumped up and followed Richard to the bridge. 
 
 " Rather ! " he exclaimed. " I've had a letter from Mortimer 
 J. Palk." 
 
 " Have you ? Who's he ? Pietro ! " Richard called down to 
 the boatman to make ready. He was again wildly impatient 
 to find Virginia. 
 
 " You mean to say you've never heard of Palk, the great 
 packer, of Chicago." 
 
 "No. Why?"
 
 294 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " He's the richest man in the Western States. He's told me 
 to take Casana for him. Doesn't care what rent he pays." 
 
 " Good." 
 
 " I stayed with him at Chicago and painted his daughters. 
 
 Lovely girls, One's the Duchess of , the other's married 
 
 to . They'll be coming here jolly for you make the lake 
 
 brilliant stay with them have a supernal time cut out Mrs 
 RafEerty." 
 
 The words reached Richard's ears vaguely and disjointedly as 
 he sat at the wheel in the bows. A stiff breeze was blowing and 
 he had to steer across the waves with some care to avoid their 
 breaking over the prow. 
 
 " You'd better get aft," he said, " if you don't want a shower- 
 bath." 
 
 Robinson assented with alacrity and scrambled back to the 
 stern just in time to save himself as an unusually high wave curled 
 over the nose of the boat and drenched Richard to the skin. He 
 had looked away for a moment, scanning the distance to see if 
 there were any sign of Virginia. A few minutes later he swung 
 his launch under the wall of Casana harbour. 
 
 With the help of Pietro the painter clambered on to the wall. 
 
 " I'll be back for you presently," Richard called to him, and, 
 shoving off, headed for Casabianca. Mrs RafEerty would have 
 to provide her guests with the means of getting home. She might, 
 of course, send them by road in her motor, in which case he would 
 miss Virginia, if she had gone there. Anyhow he would inquire 
 at the hotel. So he held his course, swearing inwardly at the un- 
 certainty, but more determined than ever that he would see her 
 somehow that day. 
 
 The breeze freshened. It was behind him now. The waves 
 lifted the lightly-built boat and bore it along so that at times the 
 screw was out of the water and he found it difficult to steer. 
 If it got rougher he would have to take shelter at Casabianca and 
 go back by road himself. Pietro left the engine and came forward, 
 asking him to steer under the headland of Bellabocca so as to get 
 smoother water. As Richard turned the wheel the man uttered 
 an exclamation and pointed. Ahead of them, beating up against 
 the wind, was a small racing skiff, close-hauled and reefed until 
 the jib looked the size of a pocket-handkerchief and the mainsail 
 no larger than a tablecloth. 
 
 " Ecco la signorina." 
 
 For an instant Richard hesitated, then, turning the wheel 
 again, he made straight for the skiff.
 
 VIRGINIA 295 
 
 It was a foolish thing to do, for the launch was not built for 
 heavy seas, and if the motor got flooded they would be helpless. 
 But Richard did not stop to think. He intended to reach the 
 sailing boat at any cost. What happened afterwards didn't 
 matter. The wind and waves were doing the work, the screw 
 was out of the water as much as in it, and they tossed about like 
 a cork, but so far they were shipping no water. Pietro had pulled 
 up the rubber mat that ran the length of the bottom and made a 
 sort of defensive work round the motor with it and the cushions. 
 Rapidly they approached the skiff. Richard strained his eyes. 
 That was her figure in white, but she was not alone. There was 
 someone else. Devoli was with her, of course. Richard drew 
 in his breath. A fury of jealousy seized him. " By God ! " he 
 muttered, and then again : " By God ! " They were huddled 
 together on the extreme edge of the deck at the stern. Close 
 reefed as she was, the skiff was heeling over until her bits of sails 
 seemed almost to lie on the water. But the cockleshell, Virginia 
 had told him, was as safe as a lifeboat, impossible to capsize. 
 They were close now not two hundred yards away. Only then 
 he realised with rage the sheer uselessness of his enterprise. Even 
 if he left Pietro to manage the launch alone, how was he to board 
 the skifi ? At the best of times Richard was unskilled in handling 
 anything bigger than a rowing boat. In that sea he knew he was 
 utterly incapable of getting alongside. If he tried to, he would 
 certainly smash the launch, possibly the skiff as well. But he 
 held on, confident in Virginia's capacity to rise to the emergency. 
 She would tell him what to do when the time came. As he gazed 
 ahead he saw her jam the tiller down and tack. It was beautifully 
 done, just at the right moment, and the light skiff swung into the 
 wind again with scarcely a tremor in her sails. A second later 
 the mainsheet fell, the jib flapped, she lay bobbing uncertainly. 
 He could see Virginia plainly now. She put her hands to her 
 mouth and shouted, but he could only distinguish one word : 
 " Terno." Richard yelled at Pietro asking what she meant. 
 The boatman shrugged his shoulders and kept his eyes on his 
 engine ; he evidently thought the whole proceeding foolhardy. 
 Richard steered straight for the skiff, keeping as close as he could. 
 Now they were within hailing distance. She hung over the stern, 
 lying on her stomach with one hand to her mouth, the other on 
 the tiller, her bare legs hanging over the cockpit. 
 
 " There's a good harbour at Terno. Keep under the shore." 
 
 " And you ? " he shouted back. 
 
 " We'll follow."
 
 296 RICHARD KURT 
 
 They were side by side now, not twenty feet apart. Devoli 
 was standing in the cockpit with his hand on the mainyard, ready 
 to haul at a word from her. For the first time he saw that there 
 was a third person in the boat. The dishevelled head of Bad- 
 dingley appeared close to Virginia's legs. 
 
 Unable to make head or tail of the whole business, but still 
 raging in his heart, Kichard steered for Terno. Looking back, 
 he saw that Virginia had set her shred of a mainsail and was 
 running before the wind, close on his track. 
 
 Eichard left Pietro to see to the motor launch and, jumping 
 into a small boat, rowed alongside the skiff as Virginia brought 
 her into the harbour. While Devoli dilated with enthusiasm upon 
 the merits of his new purchase, Baddingley expressed profuse 
 gratitude to his skipper. 
 
 " I thought my last hour had come," he remarked half seriously. 
 Virginia poked fun at him as he got into Eichard's boat. 
 
 " That's nawthing. Not half-a-gale," she said, busying herself 
 in berthing her ship. 
 
 So far Eichard had not said a word to her, and she steadily 
 avoided his eye. But he did not budge from the side of the skiff. 
 It took some time to make fast. Virginia insisted on leaving 
 everything shipshape. Then she disappeared into the cockpit 
 to put on her boots and stockings, carefully wrapped in an oilskin. 
 Finally they got into Eichard's boat. Virginia behaved as 
 though she were in high spirits, chaffing Devoli on his appear- 
 ance. They were a bedraggled party. Baddingley was dryest 
 in places, but had sat in a pool of water and looked dejected 
 and uncomfortable. 
 
 " I had no idea I was coming in for that sort of an experience 
 when you offered to sail me back," he said to Virginia. 
 
 " The tramontane, comes up queekly," she answered ; " the 
 only thing is to reef down queek also." 
 
 They walked on abreast towards Devoli's villa, which was some 
 two miles on the road to Como. Virginia ignored Eichard com- 
 pletely and started a voluble conversation in Italian with Devoli 
 about the skiff and sailing generally. The young man spoke 
 English well and Eichard's irritation grew. 
 
 " Can't you talk English ? " he broke in rudely. 
 
 She uttered her short, barking laugh. 
 
 " Oh yes, if you like." 
 
 He knew she was purposely annoying him. He didn't care, 
 but he meant not to give her a chance of talking to her com-
 
 VIRGINIA 297 
 
 panion without his hearing what she said. Devoli, quite a 
 pleasant youth, with nice manners, could not fail to notice 
 Richard's surliness. The latter was aware of this, but his friend- 
 ship with Virginia was too well known for the youngster to be 
 ignorant of it. If he did not want to accept it he could take the 
 consequences. Richard was in no mood to be conciliatory, but 
 Virginia, who as a rule had nothing to say, was loquacious. 
 
 " Did you feel sea-sick ? " she asked Baddingley. 
 
 " Not exactly ; but I was jolly glad to get ashore." 
 
 " You ought to have gone back by road," Richard remarked. 
 
 " Well, you see, there were five ladies to go in the motor and 
 Miss Virginia offered to row me ; then we saw our young friend 
 sailing and he took us on board." 
 
 So that was how it happened. Richard was thinking. He 
 was not satisfied, but he did not mean to ask any more questions 
 then. 
 
 When they reached the lodge at the top of the garden 
 Virginia announced her intention of borrowing a boat from Devoli 
 and rowing across to Casana. For an instant Richard was 
 dumbfounded at her audacity ; then he whipped out : 
 
 " You shall do nothing of the sort. You've done enough 
 larking for one day, and I don't intend you to get drowned when 
 you've been in my company. I'm responsible to your mother. 
 Come along." 
 
 She made an attempt at argument, but Richard knew perfectly 
 well it was to provoke him, and that she had no desire whatever 
 to row across in the gale. Unaccountably, he was certain that 
 she was quite indifferent to Uberto Devoli. It was the scantiest 
 justice to the young fellow to admit that he said nothing to 
 encourage her. She gave in with the manner of a little girl to 
 her governess, bidding the boy an effusive farewell, and, as they 
 walked on, she ostentatiously kept on the other side of Baddingley. 
 Aquafonti was rather over a mile farther, and Virginia never 
 stopped talking, but addressed herself entirely to the gentle Jason, 
 plying him with questions of all sorts and manifesting an extra- 
 ordinary interest in his replies. So much so that he was quite 
 enlivened, and, when she suggested that he should come and bathe 
 with her and Brigita the following day, he was delighted. 
 
 "We'll all go. I'll fetch you in the bateVo. Mr Robinson too." 
 She didn't mention Richard. " It's always fine after the iramon- 
 tana. Brigita will bring Cesare. It will be lovely."
 
 298 RICHARD KURT 
 
 At Aquafonti lodge she refused to go down to the villa. She 
 would walk on to Como, she said. Her bicycle was there, being 
 repaired, and she wanted to get it anyhow. So Richard asked 
 Baddingley to go on with a message from him : 
 
 " Tell Norman not to wait if I'm not back by dinner-time." 
 
 Virginia protested, but Richard was firm ; he had made up his 
 mind to accompany her and have an explanation. 
 
 Along the first hundred yards he said nothing. She increased 
 her pace. It was not much over a mile to Como, and there was a 
 short cut down some steps which led immediately into the out- 
 skirts of the town. Once they got there it would be difficult for 
 Richard to talk freely. He knew that she was intent on avoid- 
 ing discussion and he was equally determined not to be balked. 
 
 " Look here, Virginia," he opened suddenly, " I must have a 
 talk with you. I don't want to go into the town. Up there we 
 can sit down for a moment." 
 
 He pointed to the mountain-side at their left and took hold 
 of her arm. 
 
 " I sha'n't be able to get my bicycle, and mother will be angry." 
 
 " Rot ! " he answered impatiently. " You don't mind if your 
 mother's angry when it's something you want to do, and Til 
 send you back in a cab." 
 
 " What do you want to talk about ? " 
 
 " I'll tell you in a minute. Come on, don't make me beg, 
 I don't feel like it." 
 
 His manner was decided. She shot a glance at him from her 
 green eyes and uttered a short, hard laugh. 
 
 " I don't want you to beg, but you are funny." 
 
 He still held her arm, and she allowed him to lead her to a steep 
 path through the low scrub which fringed the road. He scrambled 
 up it, pulling her after him. A couple of hundred feet above, there 
 was an old mule-road, long disused. It was the precursor of the 
 metalled highway which still ended at Terno. Beyond that 
 village the mule-path became again the only means of communi- 
 cation, except by water, with the farther hamlets on that side 
 of the lake. 
 
 " W iow ! " she called out. 
 
 He was pulling her after him somewhat roughly, regardless of 
 thorns and brambles. One of these had caught her linen dress 
 and, before he could stop, had torn a great hole in it.
 
 VIRGINIA 299 
 
 " Awfully sorry," he gasped, breathless. 
 
 She put her hand through the rent and, in doing so, tore it 
 wider. He could see that her breeches under it were wet through. 
 In his angry impatience he had forgotten that they had not a 
 dry stitch on them. 
 
 " I'm afraid you're soaked. I ought to get you home at once, 
 but I must say something first. If you keep warm it won't hurt 
 you." 
 
 " I don't care." 
 
 They were on the path. A few yards away stood one of the 
 small half-ruined shrines which occasionally dotted the old mule- 
 road. Taking off his flannel jacket, he threw it round her shoulders 
 and pulled her down by him on the broken flags. 
 
 " Naw, I won't." She tried to throw it off, but he held it 
 firmly over her chest with one hand, while with the other he clasped 
 her round the waist. Both were breathing hard after the rapid 
 climb. 
 
 " Keep quiet, Virginia, and listen to me." 
 
 She continued to struggle with him, so that he had to use some 
 strength to restrain her. As she resisted he exerted himself more. 
 He seized her round the legs and threw her across him, but she 
 wriggled away, and it became a sort of rough-and-tumble wrestling 
 match. The sense of her warm body against his, her breath upon 
 his face, the smell of her wet hair and her skin, suddenly over- 
 whelmed him. Again came that sensation of overmastering desire, 
 painful in its intensity, a desire to hurt or be hurt to destroy 
 rather than to possess ! A mingling of rage and of pain that had 
 to be assuaged, and could not be until . . . She fell upon him and 
 seized his hand with her teeth, biting hard. He pulled it, bleed- 
 ing, away. The pain maddened him still more. He crushed her 
 body to him and held her as in a vice with his legs and arms so 
 that she could not move. She lay panting in his embrace. He 
 put his mouth upon hers, but she tore her face away, burying it 
 in his chest. He had to loosen his hold from sheer fatigue, and 
 she broke away, standing, with her knuckles on her hips, looking 
 down upon him. 
 
 " You see you can't make me," she gasped through her sobbing 
 breath. 
 
 " Make you what ? " 
 
 " Put on your coat." 
 
 Richard got up. The delirium had passed, but he was un- 
 manned. 
 
 " I'll take you into Como," he said.
 
 300 RICHARD KURT 
 
 They walked along the path which led down to the main road, 
 a little farther on, at the short cut to the town. At that point 
 she stopped. 
 
 " You'd better go back now. I'll run from here." 
 
 " Virginia." Richard took her hand, gently this time, and 
 forced her to face him squarely. " I can't go on like this. Do 
 you care what I feel ? " 
 
 '' Of course I care." 
 
 " Then why do you do things that you know make me un- 
 happy ? " 
 
 " Unhappy ? " 
 
 " Why didn't you come straight back as I asked ? Why did 
 you go to Scapa ? " 
 
 " Because I promised." 
 
 " Promised who ? " 
 
 " Brigita." 
 
 He knew this was a subterfuge and did not pursue the 
 question. 
 
 " Why won't you be straight with me ? " 
 
 " I am." 
 
 " No, you're not. You knew I didn't want you to see Devoli 
 without me." 
 
 " You never said so. You said not to go there. Besides, 
 your friend had to get back." 
 
 " There you are again. Virginia, listen. Will you do what 
 I ask you in future ? " 
 
 " I always do. Odette said I was very good." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Because I didn't mind your leaving me and going to lunch 
 with other people." 
 
 " You know I'd rather have been with you. What else did 
 she say ? " 
 
 For an instant she hesitated, then gave her short laugh. 
 
 " She said you you were in love with me." 
 
 " And what did you say ? " 
 
 " I said you couldn't be because you're married." 
 
 " What did she say then ? " 
 
 " Nawthing. Mrs Rafferty got angry." 
 
 " Angry ? Why ? " 
 
 " She told Odette she believed she was in love with you too. 
 She said one was enough, and Odette said you wouldn't look at 
 her because " 
 
 " Go on."
 
 VIRGINIA 301 
 
 " Because of me." 
 
 "Well, that's true. That's why I think I've the right to 
 expect you to do what I ask you." 
 
 " But I'm not your wife." 
 
 " Would you like to be ? " 
 
 " You don't want to marry me. You love Elinor too much. 
 You're not like Munro. You are kinder. You would never 
 leave her." 
 
 " If I did, would you come away with me ? " 
 ' If you got divorced ? " 
 
 ' I didn't say that. Divorce would come afterwards." 
 ' I don't know. I don't understand." 
 * Will you think about it and tell me ? " 
 ' When ? " 
 ' To-morrow, if possible." 
 
 ?' I'll try." 
 
 He had been holding her hand during all the time they had 
 been speaking. He lifted it to his lips gravely but she pulled it 
 away. 
 
 " It's not fit to kiss. Good-bye." 
 
 She was about to dart off, but he caught her up and stopped 
 her. 
 
 " I must see you to-morrow. What time ? Where ? " 
 
 "Come and bathe with the others. It will be such fun." 
 
 " My dear child, can't you give that up ? " 
 
 " I will, if you like, but it will be lovely. We'll duck your 
 friend the artist. Do come, won't you ? " 
 
 " All right, cut along." 
 
 She ran down the path and he turned back, thinking. 
 
 What a kid she was after all ! If only he could believe in her 
 and trust her, would it be such a mistake to marry her ? He felt 
 drawn to her again in the old way. Her youthfulness fascinated 
 him. Richard had been robbed of his youth and, for that reason, 
 loved youth the more in others. And there lurked within him a 
 strange uncertainty. Had he given her a proper chance ? She 
 was still a riddle to him. Did she feel towards him something 
 she could not feel for another man ? Had he roused her sex 
 instinct without herself realising it, so that she had been taken un- 
 awares ? Were his suspicions groundless in so far as her acting in 
 the same way to other men was concerned ? She had never shown 
 the slightest interest in anyone else since their friendship had 
 begun. Evidently Mrs Rafferty had been furious at Mademoiselle 
 de Mirepoix' interest in the affair. Why, unless she was jealous ?
 
 302 RICHARD KURT 
 
 And if this was the reason, Mademoiselle de Mirepoix must be to 
 her now what Virginia had been. Yet could two girls be more 
 dissimilar ? From the first moment he saw Virginia he had felt 
 her sex of which he was never conscious when with Mademoiselle 
 de Mirepoix. It was all very puzzling, but perhaps the solution 
 of the puzzle of Mademoiselle de Mirepoix would supply the 
 explanation of the riddle of Virginia. 
 
 When Richard reached the villa, Norman gave him the inter- 
 esting piece of news that Count Bernasconi had arrived unex- 
 pectedly and was then dressing for dinner. Richard was rather 
 pleased than otherwise ; the more men there were about, the freer 
 he would be. Knowing Elinor as he did, he was not surprised to 
 find her temper improved. The faithful Baltazzo had turned up, 
 and the four men were standing round her chair in the winter - 
 garden in attitudes which suggested greater or less degrees of 
 devotion. She was making herself charming to Bernasconi, and, 
 when Richard appeared, she introduced the new guest as " Tito, 
 who was such a dear to me in Paris." Baltazzo screwed his face 
 into a smile as he shook hands with his host, but, relapsing into 
 sulky ill humour, he eyed " Tito " vindictively as he bent over 
 Elinor. Robinson came bubbling up to Richard. 
 
 " I say, old chap, you forgot all about poor little me. I 
 waited till the last moment and then had to telephone for a 
 carriage." 
 
 " You mean old Madame Peraldi did. A two-horse one, and it 
 cost him twenty francs. He's awfully sick about it." 
 
 It never took Elinor long to discover people's weaknesses, 
 especially those of her male acquaintances. The painter, so she 
 told her husband, was " damned mean." On the journey out he 
 had paid for nothing, even leaving her to give her own " tips." 
 Evidently she had confided her discovery to Baltazzo, as he 
 chortled with delight at her remark. Richard had, in truth, com- 
 pletely forgotten that he had left his guest at Casana. 
 
 " I'm so sorry," he said. " Did Baddingley tell you about 
 our adventure ? " 
 
 " Donna Brigita came back in Mrs Rafferty's motor. By 
 Jove ! she's an extraordinary woman. I'd like to paint her." 
 
 Baltazzo glanced at Elinor, whose expression was vicious. 
 
 " Why don't you offer to ? I dare say Jason could manage 
 it for you, she's such a great friend of his." 
 
 Elinor's voice was heavily weighted with sarcasm. 
 
 Baddingley protested gently :
 
 VIRGINIA 303 
 
 " Not yet, quite, Mrs Kurt." 
 
 She turned her back on him with a sneer and began talking 
 to Bernasconi in undertones with overdone vivacity. 
 
 During dinner the conversation was entirely personal. Starting 
 at the head of the table, where Elinor sat between Bernasconi and 
 Baltazzo, the badinage found an easy butt in Baddingley, but 
 Richard opposed its personalities with generalities. Robinson 
 initiated discussion about Mademoiselle de Mirepoix. She had 
 accompanied Mrs Rafferty and Brigita to Casana. All three had 
 turned up at the scuderia, much to the painter's satisfaction. He 
 loved adding to the list of his notable acquaintances, and he now 
 talked quite familiarly about the Contessa and her family as 
 though they were old friends. 
 
 " Topping girl, Brigita made Mrs Rafferty climb up the steps. 
 Jolly steep they are too." 
 
 Bernasconi, a small, light-haired man, in the blue uniform of 
 an Italian cavalry officer, appeared to be greatly interested. His 
 bird-like face was unsuitably decorated with an upturned 
 moustache of the bristling Prussian sort. He had an amusing 
 giggle which he made use of without discrimination until it became 
 wearisome, but this lent him the spurious success almost always 
 secured by the hilarious. The giggle was accompanied by little 
 eager gestures and squirmings of the body. He had a way of 
 twisting himself round and jumping up and down on his chair 
 when he talked. He spoke broken English, but understood it 
 better than Baltazzo. These two, the one from Turin, the other 
 from Milan, confined themselves to French when they addressed 
 each other, which they rarely did. 
 
 " The Mirepoix girl " Baddingley's eyebrows lifted a trifle 
 as Robinson thus alluded to the lady he barely knew " said her 
 brother lives over his stables too. He's got a private staircase 
 into it from his bedroom. Kisses them good -night before he goes 
 to bed, I suppose." 
 
 He looked round the table, expecting general amusement at 
 his sally, but even Bernasconi for once did not giggle. 
 
 " Ah ! Raoul de Mirepoix, c'est ga. He has his stable at 
 Chantilly, and sleeps over it since they poisoned his mare, 
 Mayflower." 
 
 Robinson subsided, feeling he had made a fool of himself, and 
 a discussion of the brother and sister followed. 
 
 Baltazzo, of course, knew all their family history, and a good 
 many of what he called details inedits regarding the lady. This 
 interested Elinor a great deal more than the names and pedigree
 
 304 RICHARD KURT 
 
 of the brother's race-horses which " Tito " was pouring into her 
 left ear. She turned her attention for the first time during dinner 
 to Ugo, who, delighted to gratify her curiosity and his own love of 
 gossip well spiced with salacious innuendo, felt he was scoring off 
 his rival. 
 
 At a given moment there was a silence, which generally 
 happens when two of a company are anxious to exchange a 
 confidence. 
 
 " Can't you talk, all of you ? Ugo wants to tell me something." 
 
 Elinor bent her head towards the Milanese. 
 
 " On dit qu'elle est une " His bloodshot, bibulous eyes leered 
 
 above the hand he ^placed beside his mouth as he whispered the 
 additional word. 
 
 " Tito " heard it, as Elinor intended he should. His giggle 
 of enjoyment was evidence of that. But Robinson did not. He 
 looked at one and the other inquiringly, anxious to be in the 
 know. 
 
 " By the way, Mrs Kurt, the French girl wants awfully to 
 know you." 
 
 Laughter from the three at the end of the table saluted the 
 innocent remark. Looking puzzled, he said sheepishly to Richard : 
 " She does really," which made it worse. 
 
 Baltazzo's guffaw, Tito's giggle and Elinor's toneless titter 
 chorused again. 
 
 After dinner Robinson followed Richard into the library, 
 where he had gone to fetch a box of cigarettes. 
 
 " I say," asked the painter, " what was the joke at dinner ? 
 I wish you'd tell me." 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know. I know nothing about Mademoiselle 
 de Mirepoix. She seems charming." 
 
 " I thought so too. Mrs RafEerty asked me if I didn't think 
 her lovely. She says she's the prettiest girl in Paris. Mrs 
 Rafferty's awfully rich, isn't she ? " 
 
 " I believe so." 
 
 " She'd make a supernal portrait. I told her so." 
 
 " Why didn't you ask her to give you a sitting ? " 
 
 Robinson stroked his face. 
 
 " You see, I didn't get much of a chance. Brigita went off 
 with the French girl and Mrs RafEerty got impatient. She must 
 have a deuce of a temper." 
 
 " What makes you think so ? " 
 
 " The way she sent me to look for them. She told me to find 
 them, and be quick about it, and bother my portraits."
 
 VIRGINIA 305 
 
 Richard could not help smiling at Mrs Rafferty's characteristic 
 indifference to Robinson's sense of his own importance. 
 
 " Try her again," he suggested. " Offer to paint her and 
 Mademoiselle de Mirepoix together." 
 
 " By Jove ! Grand idea. But her fiance is coming in a few 
 days, Some big-wig in Rome, old enough to be her father, 
 Brigita told me." 
 
 " That will be interesting news to Baltazzo. Tell him." 
 
 Robinson tripped off and, when Richard brought the cigarettes, 
 they were hard at it again over their coffee. This time the painter 
 was admitted to the happy little circle, only Baddingley being 
 out in the cold. So once again Richard took " Jason " for a 
 tour round the garden. 
 
 vi 
 
 The bathing party duly came off. Robinson immensely en- 
 joyed being " ducked " by the two sisters. The ducking con- 
 sisted in one of the girls diving underneath him and seizing his 
 legs, while the other did leap-frog over his head. These antics were 
 kept up for some time, and Richard, getting sick of them, got back 
 into the batello. Baddingley was shy at first and swam about in a 
 lady-like way by himself, but Brigita swam after him and, turning 
 on her back, gave him a shower-bath with her feet. Cesare had 
 refused to come, which apparently by no means displeased her. 
 At all events she and Jason became so friendly that, on the way 
 back, they started discussing what they could do together that 
 afternoon. It ended by her asking Richard to take them all up 
 the lake in the motor-boat. When Virginia, who stood rowing 
 in the bows while Richard looked after the stern oars, expressed 
 delight at the suggestion, he assented. 
 
 " How lovely ! We'll go to the latteria at Traverse and drink 
 cream." 
 
 She had thrown off the large bath-gown and was rowing 
 in her bathing dress, as Richard was in his. The three others 
 were sitting under the awning in their bath-gowns, looking 
 rather like Arabs. All the arrangements for the bathe had been 
 made by Virginia, who had rowed over for them. 
 
 As the batello glided up to Aquafonti water -steps, Elinor, in a 
 delicate turquoise -blue peignoir, appeared on the balcony above, 
 with " Tito " in full regimentals in close attendance. She watched 
 the proceedings with a cold, disdainful eye, but the sisters were 
 not in the least abashed.
 
 306 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " Mind you come early for us," Virginia called, as she pushed 
 off. 
 
 " May I ask what arrangements you have made with your 
 friends ? " 
 
 Elinor was awaiting Richard on the bridge, and looked over the 
 top of her two guests' heads, as they walked into the house in 
 their long bath-gowns, looking a trifle ridiculous. 
 
 Richard told her. " Of course you and Bernasconi will come 
 too," he added. 
 
 " Very good of you. So I've got to be saddled with those two 
 hoydens the entire afternoon." She turned angrily on her heels 
 and walked into the house. 
 
 " What did you want to do ? " he called after her, but she did 
 not answer. 
 
 Richard was pretty certain she had no plans of her own. She 
 very rarely had ; for Elinor was entirely without initiative. What 
 she liked was for him to propose something, and then, either to 
 turn it down or throw cold water on it. He knew, too, that she 
 did not even particularly want to be alone with " Tito." She 
 never liked being alone with an admirer for long. They all bored 
 her sooner or later, and Bernasconi was not the kind to prove an 
 exception. What she really liked best was a partie a trois, con- 
 sisting of herself and two suitors who were thoroughly jealous of 
 each other. Failing this, she preferred Richard to make the third. 
 His personality lent her a certain prestige, though for worlds she 
 would not have admitted it, and it had the effect of stimulating the 
 devotion of the particular gallant in hand at the time. He had 
 been through this often enough and long enough to know that 
 she was now only playing the part of a dog in the manger. She 
 was vaguely but spitefully resentful that the bathers had evidently 
 enjoyed themselves. Not that " Jason " was any use to her. 
 He had never been for a moment under her charm, though she 
 had imposed at first on his gentleness. He was one of those men 
 who like being managed up to a certain point by a woman if her 
 method is tactful. But Richard knew that Elinor shocked and 
 rather frightened him, and that under his mild manner there 
 was a clearer perception of his hostess's character than she 
 imagined. As for Robinson, he could never exist for her except 
 as a lay figure or a butt. She had simply taken him up/avte de 
 mieux. A cleverer woman than she would have been only too 
 glad to get them both off her hands with the two girls, but one of 
 Richard's greatest difficulties had always been Elinor's remarkable 
 faculty for standing in the way of her own advantage. He was
 
 VIRGINIA 307 
 
 not himself keen on the latteria party, although he meant to find 
 means of being alone with Virginia during the afternoon, but, 
 in spite of his obsession and his doubts and difficulties, he liked 
 to see people enjoy themselves. As a matter of fact, the bathing 
 performance had left by no means a pleasant taste in his mouth. 
 He did not at all like the way Virginia had behaved. He had not 
 had a moment's jealousy, but the indifference she showed to what 
 he might feel was a cause of renewed misgiving about her. It 
 had seemed suitable enough for her to expose herself before him. 
 In the old days he had regarded this as one of the proofs of her 
 attractive innocence, but when she rowed in her wet bathing dress 
 that morning he had seen her with different eyes. The display 
 had seemed to him immodest, almost wanton. He had wondered 
 to himself what his feelings would have been if she had been his 
 wife. 
 
 During luncheon Robinson was irrepressible in his tribute to 
 what he called " those topping Peraldi girls." Elinor's disparag- 
 ing comments did not silence him, but, when she went so far as to 
 talk about their " indecent behaviour," Baddingley protested 
 in his gentle, deprecating way. 
 
 " Really, Mrs Kurt, I assure you not. They were like two 
 jolly schoolgirls." 
 
 " You're a simpleton, Jason. You make me sick. You remind 
 me of Richard's friend, Cyril Franchard. If a woman accosted 
 him in Piccadilly he'd invent some story to explain that she was 
 an innocent virgin." 
 
 Bernasconi's giggle relieved the tension. Elinor was highly 
 susceptible to appreciation of her incisiveness, and when her pro- 
 nouncement that silk stockings should be worn with bathing 
 costume, as " they always are at Deauville," met with Robinson's 
 artistic approval she became mollified. 
 
 To Richard's relief Baltazzo turned up after lunch in his launch, 
 bringing with him his niece, Principessa dal Fazzo, a pretty little 
 woman, recently married and much in love with her husband, a 
 notorious roue. Elinor had taken a great fancy to her during 
 the last summer, after hearing from Ugo that his niece admired 
 her extravagantly. 
 
 It occurred to Richard that there was a design behind Baltazzo 's 
 bringing his niece. Ugo's was always a losing game, but he never 
 seemed to be aware of it, or, if he was, he must have been satisfied 
 with les beaux restes of more successful claimants. His bids for 
 Elinor's notice or approval were sometimes effective, as when he 
 trotted out some new piece of gossip detrimental to people she
 
 308 RICHARD KURT 
 
 disliked, but he never seemed to get any further. If his latest 
 device was, as it appeared, to play off Madelena dal Fazzo against 
 Elinor, it was particularly clumsy. " Tito " had reached the 
 stage familiar to Richard, when he hung on her every word and 
 sought permission or approval for everything he said or did. 
 Whatever line she took he followed, running at her heels like a 
 terrier. For this reason, if for no other, Richard knew that she 
 would very soon be sick of him. She loved to reduce her suitors 
 to pulp, but, having done so, she quickly got to the point of posi- 
 tively hating them. The only chance " Tito " might have had of 
 saving himself from this fate would have been in paying court to 
 the pretty little Principessa. But he did not know this, and he 
 would do exactly the opposite. He would show his devotion to 
 Elinor by complete indifference to, or by depreciating the charms 
 of, the other, and thereby would seal his doom. There was nothing 
 that bored Elinor so much as a passionate lover. 
 
 Baltazzo's arrival smoothed matters over, and the party 
 divided into its component parts, Elinor and Bernasconi going 
 with Baltazzo and his niece, while the others went with Richard, 
 whose motor-boat was much the faster. He had run across, 
 picked up the Peraldi sisters, and started on his way up the lake, 
 before Baltazzo's launch had left Aquaf onti. Doubtless Elinor was 
 trying on various hats and veils. She always took special trouble 
 about these things when there was a woman with any pretension 
 to smartness in the party. 
 
 Gentle Jason was positively gleeful. Cesare Sismondo had 
 again been disposed of ; Brigita evidently wanted a change and 
 was making the most of her opportunity. She used her large 
 dark eyes and mocking smile with great effect. Robinson had a 
 return of aesthetic enthusiasm, and became lyrical to Richard about 
 " the wondrous colour of lake and sky," the unique " values " 
 of " bits that ought to be done," and the " supernal charm " of 
 everything " in this wondrous land of Italy." Richard did not 
 much mind. His eyes were fixed on Virginia steering in the bows. 
 Her thick bronze hair had grown ; it reached the base of her 
 neck now, and was blown out behind her like the locks of an angel 
 in a mediaeval picture. As long as he could see her, and know she 
 could not get away from him, he could be patient. He would 
 have her to himself for an hour somehow before the day was over. 
 If he went and sat by her, Robinson, whose skin was unusually 
 thick, would probably change his seat also, and, if he didn't, Brigita 
 would make some excuse to send him to the other end of the boat. 
 Richard wondered idly how far Brigita would go with Baddingley.
 
 VIRGINIA 309 
 
 He was of the susceptible kind, and unsuspecting. If she wanted 
 him to marry she would not have much difficulty, and a decent 
 English gentleman of sufficient, if not abundant, means would be 
 a better match than that scrofulous Sismondo, with his nasty, 
 slothful ways. Suddenly Virginia called out to Kichard. He got 
 up and went to the bows. 
 
 " Shall we call at the Lavernos and ask Maria ? " 
 
 Maria di Laverno, a girl of about twenty, was a great friend of 
 the sisters. Richard had often met her at Casana and played 
 tennis with her. She was a hearty girl, not at all of the Italian 
 type. Her mother was American and a hypochondriac, who 
 spent most of her time travelling about the Continent to different 
 spas, leaving her husband in Rome, where they were reputed to 
 live. The girl stayed on the lake in the spring and summer with 
 a person who was supposed to be a chaperon to her and a governess 
 to her little brother. Occasionally one or other of her parents 
 put in an appearance for a short time., but never together. 
 
 This suggestion of Virginia's met with immediate encourage- 
 ment. Richard, bidding her steer for the Lavernos, went to the 
 stern and told Brigita. 
 
 "Maria! Splendid. She'll turn your head, Mr Cho Choi " 
 
 " Robinson's easier," Richard suggested. 
 
 " But he likes to be called the other, don't you, Mr Choi ? 
 
 He explained it to mother she didn't understand a word all 
 about his grandmother. You can tell it to Maria, she'll love it." 
 
 Brigita rattled on with her chaff, accompanied by laughter. 
 Robinson was a little embarrassed, but not really aware that she 
 was ridiculing him. She went on to tell him about the Lavernos, 
 touching up her account of them in a way that was Ukely to 
 impress him. 
 
 She'll tell me all he says back," she whispered in Richard's 
 ear. 
 
 Maria di Laverno accepted the invitation with alacrity. As 
 it happened, she was sitting on their terrace wall with her little 
 brother, who was fishing. She wanted to get a hat and wrap, but 
 Virginia insisted on her tumbling on board just as she was. 
 
 " We've got plenty of wraps, and you look lovely," she said. 
 
 The girl had a broad, freckled face and sandy hair, but she 
 had the good looks of one who lives much in the open air. Her 
 wide mouth, with its white even teeth, her short white skirt, 
 showing a well-shaped pair of legs clad in transparent silk stockings, 
 gave the general impression of a free and easy person. 
 
 Brigita introduced Robinson to her.
 
 310 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " I can't pronounce his name. He'll tell you afterwards. It's 
 something to do with his grandmother. He paints pictures of 
 all the beauties in England. Perhaps he'll paint yours." 
 
 They were off again. Richard, going forward, saw Baltazzo's 
 launch in the distance behind them. 
 
 " At last," he said, sitting down by Virginia. 
 
 " I asked her on purpose." 
 
 Richard's heart throbbed. Was she going to admit frankly 
 she wanted him to herself ? She had never yet owned as much. 
 
 " It was a grand idea of yours fetching your friend. I was 
 wondering how on earth I could get to talk to you." 
 
 She turned her green eyes upon him. 
 
 " You see I wanted " She hesitated. " You know what 
 
 you said about my thinking " 
 
 Richard looked back at the others ; the two couples were busy 
 talking. Brigita's head was very close to Baddingley's. 
 
 " Well, dear ? " There was more than a hint of tenderness 
 in his encouragement. 
 
 A flush stained her cheek an instant and died away. 
 
 " There's something I haven't told you." 
 
 " A new mystery ! What's that ? " 
 
 " About don't say anything to anyone except Brigita I'm 
 going to Australia." 
 
 " To Australia ! Good God ! what for ? " 
 
 " I want to go. Dear old Fanny is there." 
 
 " Who's she ? " 
 
 " Our old governess ; but she isn't very old. She married a 
 farmer in Western Australia." 
 
 " The most god -forsaken wilderness on earth. What in 
 heaven's name put such a thing into your head ? " 
 
 " We've often talked about it with Maria Brigita and I. She 
 wants to come too. That's what I meant." 
 
 There was something absolutely baffling in this sudden 
 switching on of a new project. She seemed to take a peculiar 
 delight in springing fresh sensations upon him. So this nonsense 
 was at the back of her wanting her friend Maria to come. Could 
 she really imagine he was going to take any part in their ridiculous 
 schoolgirl plans of adventure, and mix the other girl up in their 
 business? She must have some reason of her own. What was it? 
 For, underneath what appeared to be the ingenious scheme of a 
 madcap girl, he felt again that there was a devious explana- 
 tion. His hopes that at last she was going to be frank fell to zero. 
 Even if she did care for him, what use was that if she had not the
 
 VIRGINIA 311 
 
 courage to own it to him ? Was it possible that, to preserve in 
 his eyes the guise of innocence, and to act that part to herself, 
 she would go to the length of involving a third party, and that a 
 girl younger than herself, in her intrigue ? 
 
 The latteria was a farm adjacent to the property of a wealthy 
 Milanese who made a hobby of dairying, and who had hit upon 
 this method for making his enterprise pay. The farmhouse was 
 a small chalet in the Swiss style, with stalls below for the half- 
 dozen Jersey cows. It was prettily situated, standing back from 
 the lake under the mountain-side, on the upper slopes of which 
 were the pastures. In front of the chalet tables were spread under 
 the trees, and on fine afternoons in the " season " months these 
 were rarely unoccupied for long. Apart from villa-residents, hotel - 
 visitors from Traverse and Ravolta found it an agreeable object 
 for a trip in the inviting awning-covered boats rowed by lusty 
 lake-men in duck suits and coloured sashes. 
 
 Richard's party arrived early and so had the place to themselves. 
 Virginia immediately went in search of the farm -manager, who, 
 like all others of his kind, was a special friend of hers. She sent 
 him flying for bowls of cream, panetone and strawberries, while she 
 arranged the tables, refusing Baddingley's polite offers of assist- 
 ance. Richard knew her ways too well to interfere, and sat under 
 the trees watching her preparations curiously. The pains she 
 took were characteristic. She was conscientious to a degree in all 
 such matters, priding herself on the domestic capacity which she 
 undoubtedly possessed. Notwithstanding his disappointment, 
 Richard was again deeply under her spell. She looked, he thought, 
 more attractive than usual, and was at her best in these practical 
 matters. One of her qualities certainly was that she never 
 minded work of any kind within her powers, and was quite con- 
 tent to play her useful part without either thanks or appreciation. 
 Her indifference to the elegancies was underlined by a positive 
 preference to be ignored in a social or intellectual sense. There 
 was not a shade of affectation in it, and she was as incapable of 
 envying those whom the world flattered and admired as she was 
 of competing with them. If ever, Richard reflected, he had known 
 a girl cut out to be the wife of a ranchman, a tea-planter or a 
 dweller in the waste spaces of the earth, it was she. But he was 
 not, and never could be, that type of man. Once he had thought 
 he could, but he was a boy then, and had paid dearly enough for his 
 illusion. Could he ever be so mad as to risk the experiment again 
 for the sake of this girl whose body was all she had to give ?
 
 312 RICHARD KURT 
 
 By the time Baltazzo's launch appeared everything was in 
 readiness. Elinor's arrival was stately. " Tito " stepped ashore 
 first, and handed her out of the boat with much show of deferential 
 care. She lifted her fawn-coloured skirt daintily as she stepped, 
 in her high-heeled shoes, gingerly up the plank to the shore, like 
 the picture of a princess in a fairy-story. Madalena del Fazzo 
 tripped after her with Bernasconi, and Baltazzo brought up the 
 rear with a sulky expression on his bloated countenance. 
 
 The collation was a success. Elinor deigned to be gracious, 
 and Robinson, who only discovered that Baltazzo's niece was a 
 principessa when he found himself sitting next her at table, de- 
 lighted Virginia by his effusive remarks. Unaware, apparently, 
 that in Italy the supply of princes is plentiful, he treated her as 
 though she were a royalty, in which behaviour Brigita encouraged 
 him by various signs and by doing so herself. The little lady 
 knew there was some sort of a joke when Brigita addressed her 
 as " Madame," and used the third person in offering her some 
 more cream, but she was too shy before so many strangers to 
 say anything, and Robinson became more and more impressed. 
 Elinor, sitting at the other end of the table between Baltazzo 
 and Bernasconi, apparently did not take in the by -play. 
 
 In the midst of the entertainment Pini arrived with a party in 
 a gondola, the only one on the lake. He was, as usual, absurdly 
 overdressed, and came gushing self-consciously up to Elinor, 
 expressing the hope that she and her friends would come on to 
 him afterwards. He had Donaldo, the great tenor, staying with 
 him. That was he in the gondola. The lady was Miss Frick, the 
 American heiress. He had only come to get some cream, as he was 
 expecting a few friends. Would Elinor promise ? Elinor promised 
 with dignity, introducing him to the principessa. 
 
 " Quel rasta ! " Baltazzo muttered, as the cavaliere glided away 
 with the motion of a danseuse. 
 
 Bernasconi, agog with interest, wanted to know who he was. 
 
 " His father was a bootmaker in Buenos Ayres." Baltazzo's 
 thick lip curled with contempt, but Elinor turned on him. 
 
 " Shut up, Ugo. What does that matter ? He knows every- 
 one." 
 
 " Ma che ma chere amie" Ugo answered, shrugging his 
 shoulders. 
 
 " You needn't come if you don't want to," Elinor continued. 
 
 At this Baltazzo kept silence, and Robinson began questioning 
 Maria di Laverno, who looked at Brigita. 
 
 " He's a cavaliere," remarked the latter, as though this inferior
 
 VIRGINIA 313 
 
 distinction in itself settled it, " of the Order of " she mumbled 
 some rubbish " and he gives wonderful parties and gets himself 
 photographed in all sorts of costumes. Tell him you think he's 
 beautiful, and he'll ask you to paint his portrait." 
 
 When it came to the question of who was going on to Pini's 
 Maria protested she wasn't dressed for it, and, on Brigita saying 
 that she wasn't either, but intended going if only, she added in 
 an aside behind her hand in Italian, to see Robinson make a fool 
 of himself, she laughingly assented. Richard definitely declined. 
 One of the boats could come back for him afterwards ; he intended 
 to stay where he was. 
 
 " With Virginia," Elinor suggested. 
 
 " Yes, with Virginia," he repeated, as his wife exchanged 
 meaning glances with Ugo. 
 
 Virginia had disappeared after seeing that everyone was served. 
 Richard had noticed this without surprise, and, when the launches 
 started, he went in search of her. He found her sitting in the 
 living-room of the farm-manager with a couple of small children 
 beside her. She was holding a huge bowl of cream to her lips. 
 The children's faces were smeared with strawberry- juice ; they 
 had all three been enjoying a private feast. Richard sat down 
 by them happily. 
 
 " They've all gone," he remarked. 
 
 Virginia expressed surprise. 
 
 " Back home ? " 
 
 " No. To Pini's. He turned up after you disappeared." 
 
 " Did Maria go too ? " 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 " What a pity ! " 
 
 The two children looked at them with eyes that expressed 
 wonder at this unknown language. She pulled out a handker- 
 chief and wiped their faces, then dismissed them to their 
 mother. 
 
 " Why did you say a pity ? " he asked, as they strolled upwards 
 through the grove. 
 
 " I wanted her to ask you about Australia." 
 
 " I say, Virginia, I wish you'd drop that rotten idea. If you 
 said British Columbia even, but Western Australia ! You've 
 no idea what a beastly country it is, and it takes months to get 
 there." 
 
 " I knaw one rides for four days to get to the farm." 
 
 " You aren't really serious about it ? I mean, you haven't 
 made up your mind ? "
 
 314 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " I wrote to Fanny some time ago. It's not a new thing. Ask 
 Brigita, she knows." 
 
 " Why do you want to go ? " 
 
 " I don't want to stay here, and I want to live out of doors and 
 ride and have horses and dogs." 
 
 " You need not go to Australia for that. You need not go 
 farther than Ireland. I'll take you there if you like." 
 
 " You couldn't do it." 
 
 " I can and I will. It only depends on you." 
 
 " How could I ? " 
 
 " How could you what ? " 
 
 " How could I go off with you like that ? " 
 
 They had reached the end of the little wood and emerged on 
 to grassy slopes. He was about to throw himself down, but she 
 pointed upwards. 
 
 " Let's go higher ; it's nicer," she said. 
 
 Even at that moment he felt her lack of frankness. Why 
 couldn't she say : " It's safer." 
 
 They followed the zigzag path for some distance. At a 
 point where they could look back and see the lake spread 
 out before them she stopped, and they lay down side by side 
 in the long, sweet-smelling grass. He gave her a cigarette, 
 lighted it and his own, inhaled a deep breath and began to 
 talk. 
 
 " This is my idea. I have never made any secret to Elinor 
 that some day I might want to be free. For years I've told her 
 that if if ever I came across a woman I wanted to marry I should 
 ask her to divorce me. Now I tell you that, if you say yes, I'll 
 leave her, but " 
 
 She interrupted him. She showed plainly that she didn't 
 want to hear what was coming. 
 
 " She might not let you." 
 
 " Kefuse, you mean ? She can't." 
 
 " You wouldn't do it. She might be sad. You couldn't like 
 that, you're so good." 
 
 " It wouldn't be easy, but I will do it if you say yes." He 
 looked at her earnestly. " I mean this," he added. 
 
 She did not answer. She gazed at the lake, covered with bright 
 flashing dimples, and blew a mouthful of smoke into the soft air, 
 watching it as it wreathed away. 
 
 " Virginia, what is your answer ? " he persisted. 
 
 " I'm not fit to be your wife. I'm ugly, and I don't know how 
 to dress up, and "
 
 VIRGINIA 315 
 
 "That's my affair. I shouldn't expect you to. You like 
 children, don't you ? That's more important." 
 
 " I love them." 
 
 " Well, would you like to have a child of your own ? " He 
 watched her face closely as he asked her. She didn't move her 
 eyes, but a very slight smile flickered round her large mouth. 
 At the corners of it he noticed the dark golden down above her 
 full red lips. 
 
 " Why do you say that ? " 
 
 " Because it's a natural consequence of marriage. That's 
 what one marries for." 
 
 She seemed to be pondering his answer. 
 
 " But you're married already. Why haven't you any 
 children ? " 
 
 " Because Elinor wouldn't have any. Now it's too late." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Because we don't love each other. You know that, or I 
 shouldn't talk of leaving her. Virginia, give me your answer. 
 Shall I leave her ? " 
 
 " When ? " 
 
 " Now to-morrow, any time you say." 
 
 " How could I ? What would mother say ? What would 
 everyone say ? I don't care for myself." 
 
 " If you don't care, say you'll come. God knows I don't." 
 
 Richard spoke passionately. He meant every word he said. 
 He was ready, more than ready, to throw everything over. He 
 was weary, beyond words, of his life. And yet he knew that he 
 would not take the final step unless she went with him. 
 
 " Why don't you wait until I go to Australia ? " 
 
 " And go with you ? " 
 
 "With me and Maria. It will be lovely on the sea. We 
 might go in a sailing ship. Brigita would love it." 
 
 So this was the wonderful scheme, a sort of glorified school- 
 girl adventure under his auspices. 
 
 " How do you know Maria would come ? Her mother would 
 probably object." 
 
 " Naw, naw. Her mother said she didn't care." 
 
 " What's the use of mixing Maria up with it ? Give up 
 Australia and come with me. We'll go to British Columbia. 
 It's a beautiful country, with mountains and plains and forests. 
 A glorious climate. We'd live on horseback. But I can't play 
 at it with a lot of girls. It wouldn't answer anyhow. Brigita 
 couldn't stand a hard life."
 
 316 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " Maria and I could go first. Then you could come afterwards 
 if you wanted to." 
 
 " And what should I be doing all that time ? Just hanging 
 about ? No, it can't be done like that. I'll go anywhere you 
 like, to Australia even, if you insist, but you must come with me. 
 Will you ? " 
 
 " I don't knaw. I must think. There's your boat." 
 
 She jumped up and pointed to the lake. The launch, with its 
 white awning, was scudding through the gleaming ripples towards 
 the latteria, a thousand feet below them. They walked down- 
 wards slowly, and Richard did not speak another word. But he 
 was thinking a good deal. He saw through her purpose 
 now. She was ready to accept him on her own conditions, and 
 one of these was that, at all costs, she intended to save her face. 
 How far her childish scheme was a genuine product he could not 
 be certain, but In any case it was clear that she meant to avoid 
 scandal. There would be every justification for that if she would 
 frankly admit it. But this was exactly what she would not do. 
 And could anything be more unthinkable than that he should 
 throw up everything and go off to the Antipodes without a clear 
 understanding with her ? Would she give him up if he forced 
 her to choose between burning her boats and losing him ? And, 
 if so, was he prepared to accept that alternative ?
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 ROBINSON, to his joy, was invited by Pini to spend a week with 
 him before returning to England. He departed a couple of days 
 after the latteria party, taking his unfinished portrait of Elinor 
 with him. Baddingley had left the evening before, escorting 
 Lady Daubeny and Mrs Prothero, who were returning to London 
 via Paris. 
 
 Elinor expressed relief that two of her guests were gone, and 
 said she would not be sorry when " Tito " followed them. 
 Richard did not know, nor did he care, whether this was true, 
 but the morning before his father was due to arrive at Milan he 
 announced the fact to her for the first time. 
 
 " I may have to remain the night," he said. 
 
 Elinor made no comment, and he added : 
 
 " I tell you in case you prefer Bernasconi to go beforehand." 
 
 " You mean for appearance sake ? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes ; or possibly for your own." 
 
 She tossed her head. 
 
 " Pshaw ! It makes no difference to me one way or the other. 
 I can lock my door if he threatens to be obstreperous." 
 
 Richard let the question go at that. He no longer cared to 
 disguise his indifference to her doings or to her criticism of his 
 own, and her acrid comments on his constant telephonings, his 
 comings and goings to and fro by unconcealed arrangement with 
 Virginia were, he knew, well earned. He took no pleasure in 
 provoking them, but he was past attempting inventions to account 
 for his frequent absences and abrupt departures. He was well 
 aware that this state of things could not continue, but, without 
 exactly welcoming the crisis that he realised was impending, he 
 was so fully prepared for it that it gave him no concern. 
 
 The evening of the 26th he went across the lake after dinner. 
 On these occasions he always rowed the dinghy with the high row- 
 locks, so that he had his back to Aquafonti as he went, but he 
 knew that Elinor and " Tito " were watching him away, and he 
 could imagine that he was affording his guest the amplest possible 
 
 317
 
 318 RICHARD KURT 
 
 excuse for pressing his attentions on the neglected wife. He 
 made a reference to this when he climbed up a rope ladder in the 
 boat-house, where Virginia awaited him. He did not intend to 
 let her pretend to herself or to him that she was unconscious of the 
 significance, and of the consequences, of their intimacy. 
 
 " Bernasconi must think I'm a most obliging husband," he 
 remarked. 
 
 " Why ? " she asked innocently. 
 
 " I leave the coast clear for him. He can make love to Elinor 
 as much as he likes." 
 
 Virginia's answer was unusually sagacious. 
 
 "As much as she likes." 
 
 " I believe she's bored with him. Anyhow, I don't care. The 
 whole thing's got to come to an end. I think I shall tell my 
 father to-morrow." 
 
 " Poor old man. Won't it make him unhappy ? " 
 
 " Unhappy ! It will be the best piece of news he's had for a 
 very long time. That's just why I don't like telling him." 
 
 " I don't understand." 
 
 " You know I've always told you that my family hate Elinor." 
 That's one of the reasons I've stuck to her so long. I couldn't 
 leave her to their mercy. That's my trouble now. I'm not 
 altogether independent. I can't settle money on her. And I 
 owe a lot at Aquafonti still." 
 
 They were sitting on bundles of sails in the cubicle where 
 Richard had changed after falling into the water. She had hung 
 a lantern on the wall, and it glimmered fitfully. It had been a 
 fine evening, but, as darkness fell, a warm haze obscured the 
 stars, and inside the boat-house the outlines of the boats were 
 but dimly perceptible in the gloom. 
 
 " That's another reason not to go away yet," she said. 
 
 " Go away ? " 
 
 " I mean what you said about my going with you. How can 
 you like that ? "' 
 
 Without knowing it, apparently, she had hit on the weak 
 point in Richard's half -formed plan. It had always been in his 
 mind when he proposed to take her away, but he had not thought 
 out a solution. He would clear out if Virginia made up her mind 
 to go with him, whatever the consequences, but, if that happened, 
 he knew later on he would suffer remorse. That was, in a sense, 
 the conscientious side of Richard's character. He had not the 
 slightest hesitation about leaving Elinor, but he could never 
 have forgiven himself if he had left her " with the bag to hold."
 
 VIRGINIA 319 
 
 He would be able to give her a part, even the larger share, of his 
 settled income, but he could not dispose of the capital ; and to 
 clear out, leaving debts behind him, was a horribly unpleasant 
 prospect. Moreover, his settled income was relatively small, 
 and if he gave her two-thirds of it, that would be about half of 
 what she would need to keep going in what she would consider 
 a decent way. 
 
 " That's why I think I shall tell my father. But if I do, and he 
 helps me, will you come away with me when the time comes ? " 
 
 " Why can't you come afterwards when I'm at Fanny's ? " 
 
 " So you're on that damned Australian idea again ? " 
 
 The girl gave a half laugh. 
 
 " It will only be a few months. Then we can go somewhere 
 else." 
 
 " It won't do. It's no use to me. You've got to stay with 
 me or " 
 
 He broke off because he had not the courage to threaten. If 
 she accepted the alternative of his leaving her definitely, and 
 he believed she was so sure of her hold on him that she was 
 quite capable of it, he knew he would not have the courage to 
 face a divorce. It simply would not be " good enough." The 
 prospect of the long cold wranglings and distresses of legal pro- 
 cedure, with nothing to keep him going meanwhile, was one he 
 did not feel equal to. To go clear away, putting himself in the 
 wrong, and giving his solicitor instructions to make as handsome 
 an arrangement as possible for Elinor, was a different thing 
 altogether, but he would not go alone. It was his physical desire 
 for her that made it seem worth while to risk inevitable reaction, 
 if not actual disaster afterwards, but, so far from there being any 
 solid foundation for marriage, he was even then certain that a 
 protracted separation would, if he could steel himself to it, cure 
 him of his obsession. 
 
 She interrupted his thoughts by a characteristic switching on 
 of a new idea. 
 
 " May I come with you to-morrow ? I'd love to see your 
 father." 
 
 The suggestion was welcome. Richard had been uneasy at 
 leaving her. Besides, her company before and after the meeting 
 would be comforting. But, it suddenly occurred to him, supposing 
 he had to remain the night ? He looked at her ; the blood rushed 
 to his head. But he answered calmly : 
 
 " Yes, if you would really like to only I don't know, till I see 
 him, whether he will be well enough "
 
 320 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " I'll come and wait. You can telephone," she answered 
 simply. 
 
 The blind alley into which their previous talk had led seemed 
 no longer to exist, and when, after an abrupt good-night, Richard 
 started homewards his mind was busy working out a new solution 
 of his perplexities. 
 
 If his father saw Virginia and took a fancy to her, it might make 
 matters easier for him. The money obstacle would not prevent 
 him from going away with her, but, if it were removed, there would 
 be nothing to stand in the way but herself. And if, on the other 
 hand, her coming were to precipitate that choice of alternatives 
 he urgently wanted to bring about, could these two contingencies 
 be fused and, in that case, force a final decision ? 
 
 Richard found Virginia waiting for him at Como station. 
 She was very neatly and suitably dressed in a well-cut tailor 
 suit, neat felt hat and man's shirt and tie. To his surprise he 
 noticed that, for the first time in his experience, she was not 
 wearing leggings. Under her short, plain skirt her shapely 
 calves displayed themselves in the unfamiliar guise of black 
 silk stockings, in a pair of well-made patent-leather shoes with 
 low heels. 
 
 " How nice you look ! " he remarked. 
 
 " Mother said I was to dress up to see your father." 
 
 How like her, he thought, this method of conveying her mother's 
 covering approval of her journey with him, and to shift on to the 
 same shoulders acknowledgment of a directly flattering speech. 
 To have frankly accepted ever so slight a compliment regarding 
 her appearance would, to her queer conception of herself, have 
 implied coquetry. 
 
 Only on reaching Milan he observed that she had brought a 
 bag with her. It was rather a cumbersome affair, he found, on 
 lifting it from the rack. 
 
 " I'm going to stay the night with Louise," she said. 
 
 Richard had never met her married sister, whose husband was 
 a cavalry officer and in consequence frequently away with his 
 regiment. He made no comment on her remark, but followed the 
 porter who was carrying their two valises to the exit of the station. 
 Arrived there, he stood in doubt a moment. 
 
 " I don't know whether I shall spend the night or not. It
 
 VIRGINIA 821 
 
 depends on my father. What d'you think ? Shall I leave my 
 bag en depdt here ? " 
 
 Virginia did not think he had better do that. It wasn't like 
 England ; they might steal it or break it open. Why not leave 
 it in the care of the Hotel Suisse opposite ? He could always 
 send or call for it. 
 
 He accepted the suggestion ; the porter shouldered the luggage 
 again, and they walked across the square. 
 
 While Richard was paying the porter Virginia gave instructions 
 to the concierge, who disappeared, taking both their bags with 
 him. 
 
 " I'm leaving mine too. I've got several things to do, and it 
 would be in my way," she told him. 
 
 His father's train was due at twelve ; it was not yet eleven, 
 and he proposed accompanying her to her sister's. 
 
 " I'd like to make her acquaintance," he said. 
 
 Rather to his surprise she demurred to the suggestion. Her 
 sister was " funny " ; also she would not be prepared to receive 
 a stranger without warning. She thought it better he should 
 not go with her ; besides, she had several commissions to do 
 for her mother. 
 
 Accordingly he drove her to a sort of Milanese Whiteley's, 
 where she told him to dismiss the cab, and produced a long list 
 from her pocket. 
 
 " Good Lord ! that will take all day." 
 
 " Naw, naw. But you can leave me." 
 
 Richard thought he would ; but how could he communicate with 
 her after he had seen his father ? 
 
 She was evidently prepared for this emergency, for she 
 took out of her pocket a letter-case she was always methodi- 
 cal in her ways and drew from it a carefully folded piece of 
 paper. 
 
 " That's the number," she said. " Old Rizzo will answer if 
 I'm not in the room. He's awfully deaf. Only say ' Virginia ' 
 loud and he'll call me. What time will you ring up ? " 
 
 " Supposing we say after lunch, between two and three." 
 
 He left her to her shopping. 
 
 Walking aimlessly through the Galleria Umberto, he ran into 
 Cesare Sismondo, looking as unwholesome as ever and much over- 
 dressed. He intended passing him by, but the youth greeted him 
 affably and held out a podgy hand. 
 
 " You in Milan ? Come to lunch at Cova's. Dora Scotti, the 
 actress, is lunching with me."
 
 322 RICHARD KURT 
 
 Richard declined with cold politeness and tried to pass on, but 
 the other detained him. 
 
 " Have you seen Brigita lately ? " he asked. 
 
 Richard nodded uncommunicatively. 
 
 " We're brouilUs." 
 
 Richard lifted his eyebrows. 
 
 " I couldn't stand the way she treated me." His voice became 
 confidential. " To say the truth, I was getting frightened any- 
 how." 
 
 Richard did not want to hear any more and walked on, but 
 the youth was not to be thrown off. 
 
 " Too many lies,' he continued. " Louise would have found 
 it out when she came back, and there would have been trouble." 
 
 It revolted Richard to make use of this unpleasant creature, 
 but he had to ask a question : 
 
 " Where is Louise ? " 
 
 " In Piedmont. She hasn't been here for months. Her 
 husband's regiment is at grand manoeuvres now. They won't 
 be back till July. Brigita always came to my flat." 
 
 Richard had got his information at a price. 
 
 " Good-day," he said curtly, and without more ado walked 
 stiffly away. 
 
 So Virginia's story about Louise was a pure invention. One 
 more example of her endless duplicity. If she knew Louise was 
 away she must also be in Brigita's confidence, and the two sisters 
 had put their heads together to hoodwink their mother while 
 each carried on her separate intrigue. For, what else was his 
 affair with Virginia but an intrigue, if regarded unequivocally ? 
 It had not been that at the start, but it had degenerated into it. 
 Moreover, it had not even the flavour of romance or the justifica- 
 tion of mutually avowed passion. Elinor's affairs were venial 
 in comparison. Richard's self-esteem shrank at the realisation 
 of his own morbid weakness. He was going to introduce this 
 girl to his father, knowing that her innocence was a sham by 
 which the old man would certainly be duped, in order to secure 
 means whereby his wife could be cast off and himself freed to 
 take Virginia away with him. He was actually contemplating 
 marriage with a girl capable of a deceit deeper than that of a 
 courtesan. She was to be the mother of children by him. Was 
 this a foundation upon which to rebuild his life ?
 
 VIRGINIA 823 
 
 iii 
 
 Richard was prepared to see his father looking ill, but not for 
 what he saw when, walking along the platform peering into the 
 compartments, he espied a little group at the door of one im- 
 mediately ahead of him. 
 
 The guard was receiving packages handed from within, and Mr 
 Kurt, with the aid of his servant, a decent-looking man of mature 
 years, slowly and with evident difficulty descended just as Richard 
 reached the spot. His father's beard had lost its reddish tinge ; 
 it was snow-white ; his cheeks were sunken ; his low collar looked 
 much too large for him. 
 
 " How are you, Richard ? " 
 
 At the sound of his voice, which still had something of the 
 old ring in it, at the sight of the shrunken figure which tried to 
 straighten itself, at the glance of the black eyes which yet evoked 
 memory of their old fire, Richard sustained a grievous shock. 
 He gave his father his arm, and they walked slowly towards 
 the station entrance. Every now and then Mr Kurt stopped 
 to cough, and, passing his stick to the hand within Richard's 
 arm, he used the other to hold to his mouth a handkerchief 
 into which with painful effort he spat the mucus from his 
 throat. He tried several times to speak, but had to give it up. 
 He managed to bring out at last : 
 
 " I'm rather a wreck, I'm afraid." 
 
 Richard pressed his father's arm against his own side without 
 answering. A motor-car awaited them. As he almost lifted him 
 in, Richard noticed with a pang how light he was. Always a 
 slight man, he had become a shadow. Once seated in the 
 carriage, and after a moment's rest, the buoyancy his son 
 knew so well asserted itself. He made a joking allusion to his 
 condition : 
 
 " I can't smoke, that's the worst of it. Two small cigars after 
 meals. What d'you think of that ? " 
 
 Richard expressed sympathy as best he could. 
 
 " How many cigarettes do you smoke a day ? " Mr Kurt 
 looked at Richard as he asked this in his old piercing manner, but 
 the eyes were glassy. 
 
 "About twenty." 
 
 " Not so bad, not so bad." 
 
 Richard was amazed at his father's equanimity. He always 
 had been astonishingly resilient, and indifference to his own 
 ailments was one of his marked characteristics.
 
 824 RICHARD KURT 
 
 Richard wanted to tell the man to drive to the hotel at once, 
 but Mr Kurt would not let him. 
 
 " No, no. Why be so extravagant ? Scott will be here in a 
 minute with the hand -luggage." 
 
 " I hope he's attentive,' Richard asked. 
 
 "The best servant I ever had, but he wouldn't suit you." 
 
 The short laugh was smothered by another fit of coughing, 
 through which, however, he contrived to convey an impression of 
 smiling. When he had relieved himself he added : "He can't 
 polish boots." 
 
 Richard accepted the chaffing allusion to his smartness with 
 the best laugh he could muster. 
 
 " I don't care so much as I used to." 
 
 " Don't you ? " 
 
 Mr Kurt's eyes were directed to Richard's feet with a whimsical 
 expression as Scott and a porter appeared. 
 
 He would not hear of lunching at the hotel. 
 
 " Bad and expensive," he said. " In Italy any little restaurant 
 gives you eatable food." 
 
 " Won't it tire you too much ? " Richard suggested. 
 
 " Not any more than the hotel. I expect I shall cough a bit." 
 
 His father's smile was the more pathetic because of its 
 whimsicality. 
 
 After a wash, Mr Kurt proposed that they should walk 
 "stroll," he called it to the Galleria. He remembered a 
 restaurant there which he had particularly liked years ago. 
 
 " I remember once," he remarked, as, leaning on Richard's 
 arm, they slowly walked up the Via Veneto, " your poor mother 
 and I lunched there." He stopped to cough. He had a light 
 overcoat on his arm which, with his old independence, he had 
 refused to let Richard carry when they started. Now, with the 
 need for use of a handkerchief, it was too much for him, and 
 his son quietly relieved him of it. " I can see her sitting 
 there with me now," he went on, as soon as he recovered his 
 breath, " outside, at a small table. It was on the left-hand side 
 as you enter from the Scala. She so enjoyed watching the people, 
 especially the opera -singers, strolling through. I should like to 
 try and find it." 
 
 "I think I know which it is." Richard was thinking of his 
 
 mother as she must have looked in those far-off days. But his 
 
 concern for his father blotted out the picture ; the effort to talk 
 
 while walking was so evidently beyond his powers. 
 
 They were passing Cova's and Mr Kurt immediately recalled
 
 VIRGINIA 325 
 
 it. "Ah! Kistorante Cova, where I took her to tea. They 
 made a delicious cake then, called what was it called ? " He 
 stood and looked in at the shop -window, in which were displayed 
 all kinds of cakes and bonbons. He was breathing with difficulty 
 and now leant heavily on his son's arm. 
 
 " Do you mean panetone ? They make it still," Kichard said. 
 
 " That's the name panetone. Do they really ? I should 
 like to buy one. Freddy and Sissy will appreciate that much 
 better for them than sweets." 
 
 He was thinking of his brother's grandchildren. Kichard had 
 not mentioned his sisters' names. He had a feeling of resentment 
 towards them for allowing their father to be alone like this. One 
 or the other ought to have accompanied him ; it would have been 
 little enough for them to do after all he had done for them. 
 
 They entered the shop, within which there was a kind of bar. 
 A group of young men were standing together drinking vermouth 
 cocktails, talking and laughing loudly. One or two of them re- 
 cognised Richard and nodded, looking at Mr Kurt with curiosity. 
 Richard found a chair for his father. 
 
 " Who are they ? " the old man asked in a whisper. 
 
 " Some of ihejeunesse doree of Milan," his son whispered back. 
 
 " Beastly habit, the aptritif." 
 
 Richard noticed that his father's remark had been overheard 
 and that one of the party was Sismondo, who sheepishly turned 
 his back, making a remark in an undertone to his neighbour. 
 
 The panetone was duly purchased, as were several boxes of 
 marrons glacis. It was a lifelong habit of Mr Kurt never to 
 return home from his travels empty-handed. 
 
 " Olivia loves them," he said. " By the way, do you know you 
 used to be a great one for sweets 1 Magnum bonum jujubes were 
 what you liked." Mr Kurt gave his short laugh. To Richard's 
 relief, for once, it was not followed by a cough. " I got a big bill 
 from a chemist 'account rendered.' It alarmed your poor 
 mother. She thought it was for medicines, but it turned out to 
 be magnum banvms." 
 
 Richard remembered the incident and also the indignant letter 
 his father wrote him on the subject. It happened at his first 
 school, when he was about ten, and was his first adventure in 
 running up bills. 
 
 Mr Kurt rose with difficulty and they crossed the street. 
 Richard held up his hand to stop a large red automobile which 
 was bearing down on them. The driver, a young man showily 
 dressed, shoved down his hand -brake with an angry expression.
 
 326 RICHARD KURT 
 
 Kichard could imagine he was cursing " the old fool " for getting 
 in his way when he was late for lunch as it was. 
 
 They proceeded slowly through the arcade. 
 
 " That's the very place. It hasn't changed a bit. I remember 
 it perfectly." 
 
 Mr Kurt pointed with his stick to a restaurant at the corner of 
 two arcades. It was a well-known and much -frequented place, 
 crowded now, as Richard could see, inside and out. Nobody 
 troubled about them. The waiters were far too busy flying about 
 with orders and dishes to bother about an exhausted old man. 
 Richard lifted his hat to a middle-aged man sitting alone at a 
 small table, beside him an empty chair on which a diminutive 
 dog lay curled up. 
 
 Will you allow my father to use that chair until I can secure 
 a table ? " he asked in his best Italian. 
 
 The man was reading the paper propped up in front of him 
 against the carafe. Without answering or looking up, he seized 
 the small animal and put it in his lap. 
 
 "Thank you very much," Richard said, pulling the chair 
 towards his father. 
 
 Leaving him a moment, he passed inside and placed a five -franc 
 piece in the hand of the restaurant -manager. With urbane alacrity 
 this person set about finding a table. All those outside were 
 occupied, but Richard knew his father wanted to lunch there and 
 pressed the man to make room. Ignoring his " Ma signore, e 
 impossible," he thrust another five francs into his palm. That 
 settled it ; room had to be made somehow, and it was. Notwith- 
 standing some muttered, and some louder, protests from the 
 disturbed occupants, their tables were moved closer and an extra 
 one was produced from within and placed in an excellent position. 
 
 Mr Kurt bowed with ceremonious politeness to the gentleman 
 with the dog, who, a little embarrassed when for the first time he 
 looked up and saw that the outrage on his pet was comparatively 
 justifiable, bowed back with some show of civility. 
 
 "Wonderful how polite they are in Latin countries," the old 
 man remarked as he took his new seat. " So obliging too. 
 Imagine them in England making room for two strangers like 
 this." 
 
 Richard handed the menu-card to his father, who took out 
 his spectacles and looked it carefully over. 
 
 " What d'you say to risotto con tartuffi with a costeletta Milanese 
 to follow and a fasco of Chianti ? " 
 
 " Excellent."
 
 VIRGINIA 327 
 
 How far Mr Kurt's enjoyment of his lunch was due to a re- 
 kindling of old memories, a sort of temporary rejuvenescence, 
 Richard could not tell, but to his satisfaction his father un- 
 doubtedly ate a good meal and was remarkably cheerful. He 
 seemed determined to go on as he had always done. It was not 
 a case of deluding himself or of making an effort for the sake of 
 his son. He made no secret to Richard of his serious state of 
 health, but he ignored it as far as his physical powers enabled him 
 to, and this to Richard was as entirely characteristic as was his 
 unstudied avoidance of any serious references. There was no 
 possible opening for his son to express in ever so slight a way 
 something of what was in his mind. It had always been so, and 
 it would, Richard now realised, continue thus to the end. His 
 father had always avoided anything in the nature of an exchange 
 of thoughts. His hatred of coming to grips with that in life which 
 could not be weighed or measured in material terms had become 
 so much a part of him that his self-expression was atrophied. 
 Whatever he felt, he could only sense it physically. Emotions 
 which had their source in spiritual experience were beyond his 
 grasp. 
 
 When the coffee was brought Mr Kurt touched his son's arm. 
 
 " What cigarettes do you smoke ? " he said. 
 
 Richard handed him his cigarette-case. 
 
 " I've taken to these cheap Italian things. They're not up to 
 much." 
 
 His father selected one and examined it. 
 
 "Ah ! I know them. Macedonias. I used to like them for 
 a change." 
 
 Putting it in his mouth, he struck a match, offered a light to 
 Richard and lit his own. But the first whiff he inhaled brought 
 on, as his son feared, a violent fit of coughing which lasted some 
 minutes. 
 
 " I'm afraid," he managed to get out, " that's my last cigarette." 
 He looked at it ruefully a second, then produced a cigar. "I 
 can't inhale, that's the worst of it," he continued, cutting off the 
 end. 
 
 He did not light it at once, to Richard's relief, who threw his 
 own cigarette away. 
 
 "No, no. Smoke, my boy, smoke. It doesn't hurt me. I 
 never minded other people being able to do things I couldn't do 
 myself. D'you know" he again touched his son's arm and 
 spoke still lower " I've had to give up the rooms. They gave 
 me up at last."
 
 328 RICHARD KURT 
 
 The reference to his old passion stirred Richard. He knew 
 what the deprivation implied. 
 
 " I often think of that wonderful stroke of luck of yours. 
 How long was that ago ? " 
 
 " About eight years, I think." 
 
 " Was it '? Eight years ! Um ! Well, that's all over for me. 
 Your uncle always said the rooms would kill me. Anyhow I 
 shall have died fighting. D'you know " he looked round to see 
 that he was not overheard " my last bout was the best I ever 
 had. Huit-onze five times running, and I played maximums on 
 all the chances after that I had a go at trente-et-quarante and 
 well, it was a very good finish, very good." 
 
 Richard did his best to be sympathetic. 
 
 " I'm unregenerate, I'm afraid, Richard ; an old sinner. I 
 only hope my example will cure you." 
 
 " I don't think I ever shall gamble again. I don't really like 
 gambling." 
 
 Mr Kurt looked at his son with an expression that was almost 
 wistful. 
 
 "I'm glad you don't, my boy. It's like opium, just like 
 opium." 
 
 The old gentleman signed to the waiter to bring the bill and 
 looked it over carefully. 
 
 " Very moderate. Twelve francs fifty, and one franc fifty for 
 the waiter. That's less than twelve and six for a meal that you 
 couldn't get in London. You're lucky to live in Italy." 
 
 Richard repressed a smile. He did not think so now. 
 
 Mr Kurt took his son's arm and they paced slowly on through 
 the arcade. 
 
 " There used to be a shop outside the galleria opposite the 
 Duomo where they sold silver things, hand-carved ; very nice 
 things they made. I should like to go there." 
 
 They found the place. It was a jeweller's and silversmith's 
 concern, and Richard's taste, trained to the antique, found little 
 to admire in the work of, as the assistant assured them, the best 
 Italian artists. A silver statuette of a horse appeared especially 
 to strike Mr Kurt's fancy. 
 
 "Very well made," he said, "very well made. How much 
 is it ? " 
 
 The man named what Richard thought a preposterous figure. 
 For the amount named he could have bought a really fine example 
 of Empire silver. His father had never cared for horses either. 
 What could he see in this commonplace reproduction ? But he
 
 VIRGINIA 329 
 
 did not attempt to disparage the object when Mr Kurt asked him 
 what he thought of it. 
 
 " It certainly is a good model of a thoroughbred horse," he 
 answered. 
 
 " Well, you must know. You used to be fond of horses. By 
 the way, Dick " Richard could not recall his father having used 
 the familiar nickname since he was a child " I don't think 
 I ever saw any of those horses you bred." He smiled again 
 whimsically, then turned to the shopman : " Pack it up." 
 
 The parcel was handed to Richard. It was quite heavy and, 
 having his father to think of, he was about to suggest that it 
 might just as well be sent to the hotel, when Mr Kurt said : 
 ' You're to keep that as a little souvenir of our meeting." 
 
 Deeply touched, Richard patted the old man's hand as it lay 
 on his arm. 
 
 " Thanks. Thanks very much. I shall treasure it." 
 
 The last time he had received a spontaneous present of that 
 kind from his father was on his eighteenth birthday. 
 
 " I think I must take a cab and get back to the hotel now. I 
 dare say you can find something to do while I rest." 
 
 " You needn't bother about me, governor. I only want to 
 be with you." He answered as he felt. 
 
 IV 
 
 It was only after they had driven back to the hotel, and Mr 
 Kurt had retired to his room, that Richard suddenly remembered 
 his promise to telephone to Virginia. The girl had gone clean out 
 of his head. He looked at his watch ; it was past four. They 
 must have sat a long time over their coffee. Wondering what 
 she must be thinking, he went to the telephone. A feeble voice 
 answered, and though he shouted " Virginia " into the receiver, 
 as she had instructed him, he could elicit no distinguishable re- 
 sponse. He went to the door, and calling a taxi from the rank, 
 told the man to drive to the palazzo Peraldi. It was a huge build- 
 ing, with an archway entrance large enough to admit vehicles of 
 any size to the square courtyard round the four sides of which 
 it was built. In the lodge of the concierge he found an old man 
 who, in answer to his inquiry for Virginia, showed no interest 
 whatever. " Primo piano destra," he emitted in a mechanical 
 tone when he heard the name, without looking up. Richard 
 mounted the great staircase. The balustrade was carved in an
 
 330 RICHARD KURT 
 
 ornate manner ; there were heavy gilded chandeliers at each turn, 
 and the wide steps were dirty and had been freely used for ex- 
 pectoration. Richard tried the electric bell without result, but, 
 in answer to his repeated thump of the bronze knocker, a vener- 
 able person, wearing spectacles on an immense hooked nose 
 above a long, white, goat-like beard, opened the door, bowing 
 low and putting his hand behind his ear to catch the visitor's 
 name. Finally he appeared to understand, and showed Richard 
 into an enormous saloon. The walls were covered with pictures 
 by inferior Italian masters of past epochs, and in the centre an 
 irregular and shapeless mass covered with discoloured sheets gave 
 the gruesome impression of an island of the dead. Richard tried 
 to explain that he had been unable to telephone to Virginia, but 
 gave up the hopeless attempt. "Donna Virginia " had gone out ; 
 the old man did not know where, or when she would be back. 
 Would the egregio signore wait ? Perhaps he would be more 
 comfortable in the cassa. Richard was wondering what to reply 
 when an elderly woman of bright appearance entered the room. 
 She greeted Richard with a look of understanding, and, pointing 
 to her ear, uttered some words of patois of which he only under- 
 stood " Signer Rizzo." Approaching the old gentleman, she 
 shouted some more unintelligible sentences into his ear and half 
 led, half pushed, him out of the room. Signing to Richard to 
 follow her, she preceded him along a lofty, wide corridor, and, 
 throwing open a door, ushered him into a chamber scantily 
 furnished like a sitting-room used as a bedroom. 
 
 " La signorina verra /ra poco," she shouted, either under the 
 impression that he would understand better if only she spoke 
 loud enough or from her association with " old Rizzo." 
 
 " II signore mole caffe '\ " she asked. 
 
 Richard did not, but he lit a cigarette and sat down ; where- 
 upon she nodded to him in a friendly fashion and departed. 
 
 There was no sign of Virginia's belongings in the room. A 
 huge four-poster bed with dusty-looking crimson damask curtains 
 stood against one wall and had been prepared to sleep in. Upon 
 a table standing on high inlaid legs and covered with a plush 
 tablecloth washing utensils had been placed. Richard thought 
 it one of the most depressing rooms he had ever been in. He got 
 up and stood by the window, which looked out on the courtyard. 
 He had not finished his cigarette when Virginia rushed into the 
 room, breathless. 
 
 " Why didn't you telephone ? " 
 
 Richard had no excuse ready, nor did he try to think of one.
 
 VIRGINIA 331 
 
 " I clean forgot. My father being so ill put everything out of 
 my head. I telephoned afterwards but I couldn't understand a 
 word. So I came on here." 
 
 " Where is your father now ? " 
 
 " He's resting. I'm going to see him again, but he doesn't 
 expect me to stay the night. I could meet you after dinner and 
 take you back to Como. It will be rather late though." 
 
 " Oh, never mind about me. It's your poor old father. You 
 ought to stop and see him off to-morrow." 
 
 " I don't think he'd like me to. He's very independent, will 
 be till the end. He's got a very attentive servant." 
 
 Virginia looked shocked. 
 
 " A servant ! But you're his son. That's better than a 
 servant." 
 
 Richard pondered a moment. 
 
 " I'll think about it. Perhaps I will stop. But what about 
 you ? " 
 
 " I'm all right. Louise is away, so I shall stay here. It's all 
 ready for me. And Caterina comes back in the morning early and 
 she'll give me breakfast. We can meet at the train." 
 
 The matter-of-fact way in which she accepted her sister's 
 absence disarmed Richard for the moment. His mind was pre- 
 occupied with his father. 
 
 " About your seeing my father," he began. " I'm afraid " 
 
 " I know," she interrupted. " He's too ill. But give him my 
 love and tell him how sorry I am." 
 
 " I can't do that unless I tell him all about you. He doesn't 
 even know you're here. He wouldn't understand." 
 
 " It doesn't matter, then, but you must stay and take care of 
 him." 
 
 " You mean," Richard looked at her keenly, " I ought to remain 
 with him, stop at his hotel, and all that ? " 
 
 " If he wants you to, of course, but you said he was I forget 
 the word." 
 
 " Independent. He certainly is. He's never been accustomed 
 to having me dancing attendance upon him. It would fidget 
 him." 
 
 " Oh, then, don't do it. But you must see him off. It would 
 be unkind not to. He only wants to save you trouble." 
 
 Richard made up his mind. 
 
 " All right. I will," he answered. " I'll stop at that hotel 
 near the station. But what will you do about dinner ? " 
 
 " Dinner ? " She laughed as though the idea was absurd.
 
 332 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " Caterina will make me some coffee and I shall get a 
 panetone." 
 
 " Let's go and get it now," he suggested. 
 
 She acquiesced, and, calling Caterina, gave her some instructions 
 in a few rapid sentences. 
 
 He wanted to go to Cova's but she objected. There were too 
 many grand people there and she knew a better place. They 
 debated where and how to meet. 
 
 " My father said he'd have a light, early dinner. I'm to be at 
 the hotel at half -past six. He's sure not to stop up long. I could 
 meet you at half -past nine. Supposing I come to your house ? " 
 
 " Naw, not there. The concierge would see you come in and 
 he might think it funny." 
 
 " Shall we say at the Hotel Suisse then ? " 
 
 "All right."" 
 
 They had reached her shop. The panetone was purchased ; but 
 Richard had noticed a dairy on the way and, retracing their steps, 
 he went in and bought a quart of cream and some new-laid eggs. 
 A little farther on he secured a basket of Alpine strawberries. 
 
 " It will be like the latteria," she said. " I wish I had those 
 dear little children to eat all this with me." 
 
 They carried the parcels between them, and Richard took leave 
 of her outside the palazzo Peraldi. He observed that the concierge, 
 as before, paid not the slightest attention as she entered. 
 
 Richard thought his father looked exhausted when he went 
 up to his room to fetch him for dinner. So much so that he 
 suggested their having the meal upstairs, but Mr Kurt resolutely 
 declined. 
 
 " Dine in my bedroom ! Not till I'm on my last legs," was 
 his reply. 
 
 It never occurred to him that he ought to have a sitting-room. 
 So far from that, he had taken an ordinary single bedroom, with 
 another smaller one for his servant across the passage. 
 
 " He ought to be in an adjoining room," Richard remarked. 
 
 " That's what the hotel people said when they tried to put me 
 into one of their grand apartments. That was all very well in 
 your dear mother's day. I don't need such luxury." 
 
 He was struggling with his shoes, his man standing by uneasily. 
 For Mr Kurt had never yet allowed a servant to do such things for
 
 VIRGINIA 833 
 
 him, partly because he detested self-indulgence, but also, Richard 
 knew, feeling the same himself, because the implied servility of 
 the act offended his own sense of virility. Richard insisted on 
 helping him ; it was indeed necessary, for his father began to 
 cough violently with the effort. Mr Kurt had dressed for the 
 evening, as he had done all his life. Richard smelt the familiar 
 mouth-wash, the equally familiar eau-de-Cologne on the large, fine 
 handkerchiefs, two of which Mr Kurt had always carried, so that 
 he should never be without a clean one. H put each in its re- 
 spective pocket and made a joking remark about having to treble 
 his daily allowance of them. The lift was at the other end of 
 the corridor and Richard sent Scott on to ring for it. Mr Kurt 
 had to stop three times on the way to cough. Richard's heart 
 misgave him. How long could an old man in such a state last ? 
 He marvelled at what one could only call his stoicism, but dreaded 
 the actual pain he feared must be in store for his father before 
 the end. 
 
 Their dinner was brief. The dining-room was fairly full, and 
 Richard bowed to the Folignos, who were with a party at a table 
 in one corner. Mr Kurt wanted to know who they were, and, 
 chiefly to save him from talking, Richard gave an account of 
 Mrs Rafferty's fete the previous summer. 
 
 "Mrs Rafierty ? Let me see." Mr Kurt was trying to place 
 the name. " Your mother used to know her. I think she met 
 her at Nauheim. A handsome woman with a very weak heart." 
 
 He was quite interested in his son's description of the great 
 event, but Richard avoided mentioning Elinor's share in it. His 
 wife's name had not been mentioned by either of them, but 
 something in connection with Mrs Rafferty's party must have 
 reminded Mr Kurt of her. 
 
 " I hope Elinor didn't mind your coming to see me," he said. 
 
 " No. She quite understood." 
 
 " Is she happy on the lake ? " 
 
 " As happy as she can be anywhere." 
 
 Mr Kurt did not pursue the subject, but afterwards, when they 
 had left the dining-room and found a corner in the lounge hall, 
 where coffee was brought, he suddenly put to Richard an em- 
 barrassing question : 
 
 " Are you happy yourself at last ? " 
 
 What was he to say ? It was an opening if he wanted to make 
 use of it. Perhaps the last one he would ever have. He looked 
 gravely at his father, who had directed his eyes in the old keen 
 way upon him when he asked the question, but had immediately
 
 334 RICHARD KURT 
 
 withdrawn them. What was the use of telling him now what 
 could in any case amount only to a small part of the story ? It 
 was too late. His father was too ill. Eather let him think that 
 things were going on as they always had, neither better nor worse. 
 Besides, Richard wanted to spare Elinor, and, if he once began to 
 discuss his situation, it would be impossible to stop half-way. 
 He would only be giving a false impression if he exonerated her 
 at his own expense by telling his father of his affair with Virginia , 
 and making out that he sought freedom from Elinor to marry 
 the other. These thoughts flashed through his mind as he paused. 
 
 " I don't think happiness is ever continuous, governor. I'm 
 happy at times at least, almost happy." 
 
 "You're a queer fish, Richard. You puzzle me. What is it 
 you want ? " 
 
 " I don't think I can tell you that. I don't know exactly 
 myself." 
 
 " But I thought from the way you wrote that you were delighted 
 with your life on the lake. You said the villa was perfect and 
 that you had charming friends." 
 
 There was uneasiness, almost a querulous note, in Mr Kurt's 
 voice, and Richard was concerned to soothe him. 
 
 " Governor, please don't misunderstand. It's not anything 
 more of that kind I want. I can't thank you enough for all 
 you've done. I'm afraid I've been fearfully extravagant." 
 
 Mr Kurt's expression showed a certain relief. 
 
 " I can't say it was exactly cheap. Is it all paid ? " 
 
 For an instant Richard hesitated between two conflicting 
 influences. He wanted to be straightforward with his father 
 and he wanted to spare him anxiety on his account. He knew 
 Mr Kurt would give him the money he required and that this would 
 make all the difference in his present situation, but it went terribly 
 against the grain to allow such considerations to intrude during 
 their meeting. He wanted to keep this unique experience clear 
 from the taint of money. It was the only time in their two 
 lives that father and son had spent some hours alone together with, 
 Richard felt, entire satisfaction to both. He made up his mind 
 and answered firmly : 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Are you sure, Richard ? " He scanned Richard's face again. 
 
 " As sure as I can be, governor. Please don't bother yourself. 
 I'm perfectly comfortable about that sort of thing." 
 
 Mr Kurt smiled wryly. 
 
 " You always were, you know, for a time."
 
 VIRGINIA 835 
 
 Richard was distressed. Why couldn't his father simply say 
 that, if there were anything owing, he could apply to his junior 
 partner, who had always been his intermediary in such matters ? 
 Why did he still worry himself about what, relatively speaking, 
 were trifles ? 
 
 " I can manage with what I've got. Please don't think about 
 it." 
 
 " Very well, my boy. I'll take your word for it." 
 Nothing more was said on the subject. Richard managed to 
 introduce other topics, and soon afterwards his father said he 
 would go to bed. 
 
 "Not to sleep, though, I'm afraid," he added with his char- 
 acteristic smile. 
 
 They parted almost immediately after Richard got him to his 
 room. Mr Kurt would not hear of his son seeing him off the next 
 morning. The train left at eight, he said, and there was no object 
 in Richard's putting himself out. He would be all right. 
 " Good-bye then, governor. I have loved seeing you." 
 " Good-bye, my boy. Make the best of things." 
 Richard lingered a moment ; he felt again the old shyness. He 
 longed to say something, he did not know what, a tender word, 
 anything almost. The farewell was so inadequate. His father 
 was sitting on a chair tugging at his shoes. Once more Richard 
 went down on his knees and pulled them off. Getting up, he put 
 his arm on the old man's shoulder and kissed him on the cheek. 
 Then he went softly out of the room. 
 
 VI 
 
 Richard found Virginia waiting for him at the Hotel Suisse. 
 She was sitting in a corner of the hall looking at a picture paper, 
 and, as he came to her, drew his attention to some photographs 
 of Italian cavalry performing wonderful feats of horsemanship at 
 the manoeuvres. 
 
 " Could you do that ? " she asked like a child. 
 
 Richard, fresh from parting with his father, was not in the 
 mood to respond, but the picture made him think of something 
 he wanted to find out. 
 
 " I don't know. It's only playing to the gallery. I want a 
 drink." 
 
 He rang for a waiter and ordered whisky, but changed his mind 
 and told him to bring the wine list. He hated spirits.
 
 336 RICHARD KURT 
 
 " How was poor Mr Kurt ? " Virginia asked. 
 " Bad, I'm afraid. I hated leaving him, but he didn't want 
 me to see him off. What d'you say to our taking a late 
 train ? " 
 
 "Naw. I shall go back to Via Grimaldi. Caterina would 
 be frightened if she didn't find me in the morning, and I promised 
 old Rizzo to take some papers back to mother, and he's going to 
 give them to me to-morrow." 
 
 Richard reflected. 
 
 " What about Louise ? " he asked suddenly. 
 
 " She's gone to Aspro in Piedmont with Giulio. I never 
 thought of the manoeuvres going on." 
 
 "Has she been gone long? " The question was asked in a 
 purposely careless tone. 
 
 " I don't know exactly when she went." 
 
 They were interrupted by the arrival of the waiter with the 
 wine list. Richard ordered a bottle of Swiss champagne. 
 
 " Quite decent stuff that Mauler," he remarked as the man 
 went to fetch it. He felt unnerved and in need of stimulant ; 
 he was still under the influence of the emotion his father's con- 
 dition had aroused in him. 
 
 She began questioning him about what had happened during 
 the day. Richard told her about the silver horse ; he had left it 
 in the care of the cowierge when he came in. She begged him to 
 show it her, but just then the waiter returned with the champagne. 
 
 " All right," he said. " But let me have a drink first. You 
 must have some too." 
 
 She shook her head, but he prevailed on her to take half a glass, 
 to which she added water. He emptied his and poured out 
 another. The wine revived him ; his exhaustion made him feel 
 its effect immediately. 
 
 " By the way, I saw that beast Sismondo to-day. He told me 
 he and Brigita had quarrelled." 
 
 For an instant her expression betrayed that she was startled, 
 but as quickly it changed to her habitual look of ndivett. 
 
 " What did he mean ? " she asked. 
 
 Was this disingenuousness ? If so, she was acting her part well. 
 He was determined to probe further. 
 
 " He said Louise had been away a long time all the spring, in 
 fact. It looks rather queer, doesn't it ? " 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "About Brigita and him." 
 
 She hesitated a moment, then said :
 
 VIRGINIA 337 
 
 " I don't know anything about it. Brigita never told me 
 Louise was away. She often goes away and comes back again. 
 Mother thought so." 
 
 " Thought what ? " 
 
 "That she was here." 
 
 Richard did not care to go into the matter any further. Any- 
 how he would be unable to penetrate to the truth. She was 
 adept at evasiveness. 
 
 " It's no concern of mine," he said. " But I thought I'd tell 
 you what that young cad said." 
 
 "Cesare tells stories when he's angry. Perhaps it isn't true 
 about Louise. I'll find out and tell you." 
 
 Richard drained his glass and refilled it. 
 
 " I don't care. Brigita is quite capable of managing her own 
 affairs. But I've something to say to you. Virginia, will you 
 decide now, to-night ? " 
 
 " Decide ? " she repeated, as though she didn't understand. 
 
 " Yes. Decide to come away now at once. We're here ; 
 we've got a change of things. We can clear out by the first train 
 to London." 
 
 " What would your poor old father say ? " 
 
 " We should meet in London. I'd explain everything. He'd 
 see me through, and we could go clean away." 
 
 For a minute she seemed to be thinking it over. 
 
 "Did you tell him anything ? " she asked. 
 
 " Nothing about you. What would be the use till you made 
 up your mind ? " 
 
 " But you said you would have to arrange something for your 
 wife." 
 
 " I could do that afterwards, in London." 
 
 She was silent again for a moment. 
 
 " I couldn't. Not like that. I should be frightened." 
 
 " Frightened of what ? " 
 
 " To make your poor father unhappy. Perhaps it would kill 
 him, then I should have done a wicked thing." 
 
 " You needn't fear that. He might disapprove, that's all." 
 
 " Then it would be wrong. I thought you said to go because 
 it would be right and to make you happy." 
 
 " It wouldn't be right in a worldly sense, of course, but it would 
 be right from my point of view. That is if you care enough for 
 me to make the sacrifice." 
 
 " It isn't that. I don't care for myself if it would make you 
 happy. But I can't go like that now. I must think. How 
 
 y
 
 338 RICHARD KURT 
 
 could I leave mother like that and Boso ? She'd have him 
 killed." 
 
 Richard gulped down another glass of champagne. His blood 
 began to tingle in his veins, his head felt hot, his reasoning power 
 was in abeyance. 
 
 " All right. I shan't say any more. I can't make you 
 come." 
 
 She put her hand on one of his, but the gesture was hesitating. 
 
 "Don't be angry with me. I'll do anything else you like." 
 
 His heart gave a jump. 
 
 " Do you mean that anything ? " His pulses throbbed. 
 
 " Yes. I always want to please you." 
 
 " I know all that. But will you show you love me ? Will 
 you belong to me altogether ? " His voice trembled with emotion. 
 
 " I don't know what you mean," she answered. 
 
 " You've never said you loved me. You've never kissed me." 
 He seized her hand, pressing it hard, and fixed his eyes on hers. 
 " You know what I mean ? " 
 
 She looked round. One or two people were moving about the 
 hall on their way to their rooms. At a table some feet away an 
 elderly woman sat drinking a lemon squash and staring at them. 
 Virginia pulled her hand away and looked solemn. 
 
 " How can I when you're married ? It would be wicked," 
 she answered. 
 
 He finished his wine there was no more in the bottle and 
 rose to his feet. 
 
 " Well, I shan't say any more. I'll see you home." 
 
 She began fumbling in her pockets, first in one, then in the 
 other. She pulled various things out, laid them on the table and 
 put them back again two small folded handkerchiefs, a ring with 
 two little keys on it, her letter-case, a purse. 
 
 " I've lost it," she whispered. 
 
 " Lost what ? " 
 
 " My latch-key." 
 
 For an instant Richard did not realise the significance of her 
 remark. Then it flashed into his brain. 
 
 " You'll have to spend the night here, that's all." He tried to 
 master himself and speak quietly. 
 
 " Yes. I hope they've got a room. I'll go and see." 
 
 Her tone was perfectly matter-of-fact, and she walked across 
 to the bureau to inquire, leaving him standing there, looking 
 dazed. 
 
 She came back at once.
 
 VIRGINIA 339 
 
 " There's only a suite left, but they'll let me have the small 
 room. I'll have my bag taken up now." 
 
 She crossed the hall to where the concierge sat behind his desk, 
 and, giving him an order, returned to Richard. 
 
 " I'd better say good-night now." 
 
 He put his hand inside her arm above the elbow, pressing it 
 spasmodically, and walked with her to the lift, where a porter 
 stood with her bag. 
 
 " I'll come up with you," he said. 
 
 The man showed her the room, which was the smaller of two 
 adjoining each other in a small self-contained apartment with 
 a, private bathroom and entrance. 
 
 " Take the bigger one," Richard said. " It's much nicer. This 
 one will do for me." He turned to the man and gave him a couple 
 of francs. " Bring my bag up, will you, and tell the people at 
 the office." 
 
 He spoke now with complete self-control and confidence. The 
 man disappeared on his errand. Virginia took possession of the 
 larger room without more ado and turned to him with her barking 
 laugh. 
 
 Now you must show me the horse," she said. 
 
 A quarter of an hour later, Richard went downstairs for a final 
 drink. Before leaving Virginia he showed her the silver horse, 
 which she greatly admired. She did not make the slightest 
 allusion to his decision to remain the night, and apparently took 
 for granted his occupying the next room to hers. She went about 
 her preparations for the night while he was still in the room in a 
 systematic, orderly way, and when he bade her good-night he 
 heard her lock the door. 
 
 He called for another pint of champagne and drank one glass 
 after another till it was finished. Its only effect appeared to be 
 that his pulses throbbed more wildly. His brain was perfectly 
 clear. He informed the clerk at the office that he would be leaving 
 the next morning, and inquired of the concierge quite deliber- 
 ately how the trains ran. He judged he had been downstairs 
 over half-an-hour. He had made up his mind to a course of 
 action if his anticipations were confirmed when he went upstairs. 
 He proceeded leisurely to the lift and, reaching the suite, went 
 within and locked the outer door which led into the corridor. 
 His first action on reaching his room was to try the door between 
 Virginia's room and his. It was still locked. He went into the 
 little passage which led to the bathroom past her outer door. 
 This was slightly ajar. Back in his room, he threw off his clothes
 
 340 RICHARD KURT 
 
 and without an instant's hesitation, without troubling to avoid 
 noise, he walked back into the passage, opened her door boldly 
 and switched on the electric light. 
 
 She lay on the bed apparently fast asleep. The bed-clothes 
 had been thrown back, and she was clad in pyjamas. Her head 
 rested on her arm, her face being turned away from his as he stood 
 over her, listening to her regular breathing. 
 
 At dawn he left her. She had never opened her eyes through- 
 out that delirious night. Now she lay motionless, her tangle of 
 bronze hair deep sunk in the pillow he had placed beneath her 
 head before leaving her. Just once he looked back, then went 
 into his room. He needed what sleep he could still get. His 
 heavy eyes fell on a piece of paper pinned to his pillow. On 
 it, written in her clear, childish writing, were these words : " After 
 you went downstairs I found the latch-key. So I shall go away 
 early or Caterina will be frightened. I'll meet you at the station 
 if you telephone what time." He folded the note up and put it 
 in his pocket-book. 
 
 At seven he woke. He jumped up and went into her room. It 
 was empty. All evidences of the room having been used had 
 been obliterated. The crumpled pillows had been shaken, the 
 bed made, the washstand and its utensils cleansed, the used towels 
 hung in their place. 
 
 With a violent movement he tore back the bed-clothes and 
 scattered them partly on, partly off the bed. He hurled the 
 pillows about anyhow and cast the towels on the floor. The 
 jug had been refilled with fresh water. He poured some into the 
 basin and made great splashes on the stand and on the carpet. 
 Then, raging, he went back into his room. 
 
 The passionate moment passed. To it succeeded a deadly 
 feeling of disgust, of repugnance, of loathing. It overwhelmed 
 him, like a moral nausea as irresistible as sea-sickness. 
 
 He shaved and dressed himself feverishly, then hastily threw 
 his things into his valise. 
 
 A single thought was in his mind, a thought that shaped itself 
 into a resolve increasing in strength with every minute that 
 passed. He would never go back to the lake. Never again 
 should that girl get hold of him, never. He would endure anything 
 now rather than go on in the same way. His manhood demanded 
 this of him, the call was urgent. He had given her every chance ; 
 she had preferred this brazen deceit, this damnable pretence of
 
 VIRGINIA 341 
 
 innocence. After such a night as that, could he meet her again 
 as though nothing had happened ? Could he start afresh, seeing 
 her daily with that cursed lie in their hearts, that bond of a 
 mutual degradation ? Could he act a part, day after day, and be 
 enthralled again, dominated by a desire that throttled, by a mere 
 physical impulse that had not even a name ? Could they go 
 on befouling truth and masquerading as playfellows ; getting up 
 and going to bed with falsehood ; eating it, drinking it, wallowing 
 in it! 
 
 No ; any life would be better than this hideous sham. 
 
 What else might happen he did not care, he must set himself 
 free from this. He would leave the lake now and for ever. 
 
 He ran downstairs with his bag in his hand. He had just time 
 for a cup of coffee. 
 
 When he reached the platform his father was being helped into 
 the train. Bichard jumped into the compartment after him.
 
 THE RIVERSIDE PRESS LIMITED, EDINBURGH
 
 Henry James 
 
 ANEW Uniform Edition 
 of the Tales, the text 
 following the Definitive Edi- 
 tion. The following volumes 
 are now ready : 
 
 The Turn of the Screw : The 
 Aspern Papers : Daisy Miller : The 
 Lesson of the Master : The Death 
 of the Lion : The Reverberator : 
 The Beast in the Jungle : The 
 Coxon Fund : Glasses : The Pupil : 
 The Altar of the Dead : The 
 Figure in the Carpet : The Jolly 
 Corner : In the Cage. Other 
 volumes in preparation. 
 
 Fcap 8vo, clot by gi/t, $s. 6d. 
 net each. Postage $d.
 
 Compton Mackenzie 
 
 R COMPTON MACKENZIE'S 
 novels are eight in number : 
 
 The Passionate Elopement 
 
 Carnival 
 
 Sinister Street : Volume I. 
 
 Sinister Street : Volume II. 
 
 Guy and Pauline 
 
 Sylvia Scarlett 
 
 Sylvia and Michael 
 
 Poor Relations 
 
 These are all published by Martin 
 Seeker at Number Seventeen Buck- 
 ingham Street, Adelphi, in a uniform 
 type and style.
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 A 000818565 4