Stephen Hudson
Kurt
LIBRARY
UNIVERSITY OP
CALIFORNIA
SAN DIEGO
3 1822 01017 5479
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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
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