just such a revolt as she had felt as a girl, such a disgustedrecoil from the standards and ideals of everybody about her ashad flung her into her mad marriage with nick, now flamed insusy lansing's bosom.
how could she ever go back into that world again? how echo itsappraisals of life and bow down to its judgments? alas, it wasonly by marrying according to its standards that she couldescape such subjection. perhaps the same thought had actuatednick: perhaps he had understood sooner than she that to attainmoral freedom they must both be above material cares.
perhaps ...
her talk with ellie vanderlyn had left susy so oppressed andhumiliated that she almost shrank from her meeting withaltringham the next day. she knew that he was coming to parisfor his final answer; he would wait as long as was necessary ifonly she would consent to take immediate steps for a divorce.
she was staying at a modest hotel in the faubourg st. germain,and had once more refused his suggestion that they should lunchat the nouveau luxe, or at some fashionable restaurant of theboulevards. as before, she insisted on going to an out-of-the-way place near the luxembourg, where the prices were moderateenough for her own purse.
"i can't understand," strefford objected, as they turned fromher hotel door toward this obscure retreat, "why you insist ongiving me bad food, and depriving me of the satisfaction ofbeing seen with you. why must we be so dreadfully clandestine?
don't people know by this time that we're to be married?"susy winced a little: she wondered if the word would alwayssound so unnatural on his lips.
"no," she said, with a laugh, "they simply think, for thepresent, that you're giving me pearls and chinchilla cloaks."he wrinkled his brows good-humouredly. "well, so i would, withjoy--at this particular minute. don't you think perhaps you'dbetter take advantage of it? i don't wish to insist--but iforesee that i'm much too rich not to become stingy."she gave a slight shrug. "at present there's nothing i loathemore than pearls and chinchilla, or anything else in the worldthat's expensive and enviable ...."suddenly she broke off, colouring with the consciousness thatshe had said exactly the kind of thing that all the women whowere trying for him (except the very cleverest) would be sure tosay; and that he would certainly suspect her of attempting theconventional comedy of disinterestedness, than which nothing wasless likely to deceive or to flatter him.
his twinkling eyes played curiously over her face, and she wenton, meeting them with a smile: "but don't imagine, all thesame, that if i should ... decide ... it would be altogether foryour beaux yeux ...."he laughed, she thought, rather drily. "no," he said, "i don'tsuppose that's ever likely to happen to me again.""oh, streff--" she faltered with compunction. it was odd-onceupon a time she had known exactly what to say to the man of themoment, whoever he was, and whatever kind of talk he required;she had even, in the difficult days before her marriage, reeledoff glibly enough the sort of lime-light sentimentality thatplunged poor fred gillow into such speechless beatitude. butsince then she had spoken the language of real love, looked withits eyes, embraced with its hands; and now the other trumperyart had failed her, and she was conscious of bungling andgroping like a beginner under strefford's ironic scrutiny.
they had reached their obscure destination and he opened thedoor and glanced in.
"it's jammed--not a table. and stifling! where shall we go?
perhaps they could give us a room to ourselves--" he suggested.
she assented, and they were led up a cork-screw staircase to asquat-ceilinged closet lit by the arched top of a high window,the lower panes of which served for the floor below. streffordopened the window, and susy, throwing her cloak on the divan,leaned on the balcony while he ordered luncheon.
on the whole she was glad they were to be alone. just becauseshe felt so sure of strefford it seemed ungenerous to keep himlonger in suspense. the moment had come when they must have adecisive talk, and in the crowded rooms below it would have beenimpossible.
strefford, when the waiter had brought the first course and leftthem to themselves, made no effort to revert to personalmatters. he turned instead to the topic always most congenialto him: the humours and ironies of the human comedy, aspresented by his own particular group. his malicious commentaryon life had always amused susy because of the shrewd flashes ofphilosophy he shed on the social antics they had so oftenwatched together. he was in fact the one person she knew(excepting nick) who was in the show and yet outside of it; andshe was surprised, as the talk proceeded, to find herself solittle interested in his scraps of gossip, and so little amusedby his comments on them.
with an inward shrug of discouragement she said to herself thatprobably nothing would ever really amuse her again; then, as shelistened, she began to understand that her disappointment arosefrom the fact that strefford, in reality, could not live withoutthese people whom he saw through and satirized, and that therather commonplace scandals he narrated interested him as muchas his own racy considerations on them; and she was filled withterror at the thought that the inmost core of the richly-decorated life of the countess of altringham would be just aspoor and low-ceilinged a place as the little room in which heand she now sat, elbow to elbow yet so unapproachably apart.
if strefford could not live without these people, neither couldshe and nick; but for reasons how different! and if hisopportunities had been theirs, what a world they would havecreated for themselves! such imaginings were vain, and sheshrank back from them into the present. after all, as ladyaltringham she would have the power to create that world whichshe and nick had dreamed ... only she must create it alone.
well, that was probably the law of things. all human happinesswas thus conditioned and circumscribed, and hers, no doubt, mustalways be of the lonely kind, since material things did notsuffice for it, even though it depended on them as gracefulmer's, for instance, never had. yet even grace fulmer hadsuccumbed to ursula's offer, and had arrived at ruan the daybefore susy left, instead of going to spain with her husband andviolet melrose. but then grace was making the sacrifice for herchildren, and somehow one had the feeling that in giving up herliberty she was not surrendering a tittle of herself. all thedifference was there ....
"how i do bore you!" susy heard strefford exclaim. she becameaware that she had not been listening: stray echoes of names ofplaces and people--violet melrose, ursula, prince altineri,others of their group and persuasion--had vainly knocked at herbarricaded brain; what had he been telling her about them? sheturned to him and their eyes met; his were full of a melancholyirony.
"susy, old girl, what's wrong?"she pulled herself together. "i was thinking, streff, justnow--when i said i hated the very sound of pearls andchinchilla--how impossible it was that you should believe me; infact, what a blunder i'd made in saying it."he smiled. "because it was what so many other women might belikely to say so awfully unoriginal, in fact?"she laughed for sheer joy at his insight. "it's going to beeasier than i imagined," she thought. aloud she rejoined: "oh,streff--how you're always going to find me out! where on earthshall i ever hide from you?""where?" he echoed her laugh, laying his hand lightly on hers.
"in my heart, i'm afraid."in spite of the laugh his accent shook her: something about ittook all the mockery from his retort, checked on her lips the:
"what? a valentine!" and made her suddenly feel that, if hewere afraid, so was she. yet she was touched also, and wonderedhalf exultingly if any other woman had ever caught thatparticular deep inflexion of his shrill voice. she had neverliked him as much as at that moment; and she said to herself,with an odd sense of detachment, as if she had been ratherbreathlessly observing the vacillations of someone whom shelonged to persuade but dared not: "now--now, if he speaks, ishall say yes!"he did not speak; but abruptly, and as startlingly to her as ifshe had just dropped from a sphere whose inhabitants had othermethods of expressing their sympathy, he slipped his arm aroundher and bent his keen ugly melting face to hers ....
it was the lightest touch--in an instant she was free again.
but something within her gasped and resisted long after his armand his lips were gone, and he was proceeding, with a too-studied ease, to light a cigarette and sweeten his coffee.
he had kissed her .... well, naturally: why not? it was notthe first time she had been kissed. it was true that one didn'thabitually associate streff with such demonstrations; but shehad not that excuse for surprise, for even in venice she hadbegun to notice that he looked at her differently, and avoidedher hand when he used to seek it.
no--she ought not to have been surprised; nor ought a kiss tohave been so disturbing. such incidents had punctuated thecareer of susy branch: there had been, in particular, in far-off discarded times, fred gillow's large but artless embraces.
well--nothing of that kind had seemed of any more account thanthe click of a leaf in a woodland walk. it had all been merelyepidermal, ephemeral, part of the trivial accepted "business" ofthe social comedy. but this kiss of strefford's was what nick'shad been, under the new hampshire pines, on the day that haddecided their fate. it was a kiss with a future in it: like aring slipped upon her soul. and now, in the dreadful pause thatfollowed--while strefford fidgeted with his cigarette-case andrattled the spoon in his cup, susy remembered what she had seenthrough the circle of nick's kiss: that blue illimitabledistance which was at once the landscape at their feet and thefuture in their souls ....
perhaps that was what strefford's sharply narrowed eyes wereseeing now, that same illimitable distance that she had lostforever--perhaps he was saying to himself, as she had said toherself when her lips left nick's: "each time we kiss we shallsee it all again ...." whereas all she herself had felt was thegasping recoil from strefford's touch, and an intenser vision ofthe sordid room in which he and she sat, and of their twoselves, more distant from each other than if their embrace hadbeen a sudden thrusting apart ....
the moment prolonged itself, and they sat numb. how long had itlasted? how long ago was it that she had thought: "it's goingto be easier than i imagined"? suddenly she felt strefford'squeer smile upon her, and saw in his eyes a look, not ofreproach or disappointment, but of deep and anxiouscomprehension. instead of being angry or hurt, he had seen, hehad understood, he was sorry for her!
impulsively she slipped her hand into his, and they sat silentfor another moment. then he stood up and took her cloak fromthe divan. "shall we go now! i've got cards for the privateview of the reynolds exhibition at the petit palais. there aresome portraits from altringham. it might amuse you."in the taxi she had time, through their light rattle of talk, toreadjust herself and drop back into her usual feeling offriendly ease with him. he had been extraordinarilyconsiderate, for anyone who always so undisguisedly sought hisown satisfaction above all things; and if his consideratenesswere just an indirect way of seeking that satisfaction now,well, that proved how much he cared for her, how necessary tohis happiness she had become. the sense of power was undeniablypleasant; pleasanter still was the feeling that someone reallyneeded her, that the happiness of the man at her side dependedon her yes or no. she abandoned herself to the feeling,forgetting the abysmal interval of his caress, or at leastsaying to herself that in time she would forget it, that reallythere was nothing to make a fuss about in being kissed by anyoneshe liked as much as streff ....
she had guessed at once why he was taking her to see thereynoldses. fashionable and artistic paris had recentlydiscovered english eighteenth century art. the principalcollections of england had yielded up their best examples of thegreat portrait painter's work, and the private view at the petitpalais was to be the social event of the afternoon. everybody--strefford's everybody and susy's--was sure to be there; andthese, as she knew, were the occasions that revived strefford'sintermittent interest in art. he really liked picture shows asmuch as the races, if one could be sure of seeing as many peoplethere. with nick how different it would have been! nick hatedopenings and varnishing days, and worldly aesthetics in general;he would have waited till the tide of fashion had ebbed, andslipped off with susy to see the pictures some morning when theywere sure to have the place to themselves.
but susy divined that there was another reason for strefford'ssuggestion. she had never yet shown herself with him publicly,among their own group of people: now he had determined that sheshould do so, and she knew why. she had humbled his pride; hehad understood, and forgiven her. but she still continued totreat him as she had always treated the strefford of old,charlie strefford, dear old negligible impecunious streff; andhe wanted to show her, ever so casually and adroitly, that theman who had asked her to marry him was no longer strefford, butlord altringham.
at the very threshold, his ambassador's greeting marked thedifference: it was followed, wherever they turned, byejaculations of welcome from the rulers of the world they movedin. everybody rich enough or titled enough, or clever enough orstupid enough, to have forced a way into the social citadel, wasthere, waving and flag-flying from the battlements; and to allof them lord altringham had become a marked figure. duringtheir slow progress through the dense mass of important peoplewho made the approach to the pictures so well worth fightingfor, he never left susy's side, or failed to make her feelherself a part of his triumphal advance. she heard her namementioned: "lansing--a mrs. lansing--an american ... susylansing? yes, of course .... you remember her? at newport, atst. moritz? exactly.... divorced already? they say so ...
susy darling! i'd no idea you were here ... and lordaltringham! you've forgotten me, i know, lord altringham ....
yes, last year, in cairo ... or at newport ... or in scotland... susy, dearest, when will you bring lord altringham to dine?
any night that you and he are free i'll arrange to be ....""you and he": they were "you and he" already!
"ah, there's one of them--of my great-grandmothers," streffordexplained, giving a last push that drew him and susy to thefront rank, before a tall isolated portrait which, by sheermajesty of presentment, sat in its great carved golden frame ason a throne above the other pictures.
susy read on the scroll beneath it: "the hon'ble diana lefanu,fifteenth countess of altringham"--and heard strefford say: "doyou remember? it hangs where you noticed the empty space abovethe mantel-piece, in the vandyke room. they say reynoldsstipulated that it should be put with the vandykes."she had never before heard him speak of his possessions, whetherancestral or merely material, in just that full and satisfiedtone of voice: the rich man's voice. she saw that he wasalready feeling the influence of his surroundings, that he wasglad the portrait of a countess of altringham should occupy thecentral place in the principal room of the exhibition, that thecrowd about it should be denser there than before any of theother pictures, and that he should be standing there with susy,letting her feel, and letting all the people about them guess,that the day she chose she could wear the same name as hispictured ancestress.
on the way back to her hotel, strefford made no farther allusionto their future; they chatted like old comrades in theirrespective corners of the taxi. but as the carriage stopped ather door he said: "i must go back to england the day after to-morrow, worse luck! why not dine with me to-night at thenouveau luxe? i've got to have the ambassador and lady ascot,with their youngest girl and my old dunes aunt, the dowagerduchess, who's over here hiding from her creditors; but i'll tryto get two or three amusing men to leaven the lump. we might goon to a boite afterward, if you're bored. unless the dancingamuses you more ...."she understood that he had decided to hasten his departurerather than linger on in uncertainty; she also remembered havingheard the ascots' youngest daughter, lady joan senechal, spokenof as one of the prettiest girls of the season; and she recalledthe almost exaggerated warmth of the ambassador's greeting atthe private view.
"of course i'll come, streff dear!" she cried, with an effort atgaiety that sounded successful to her own strained ears, andreflected itself in the sudden lighting up of his face.
she waved a good-bye from the step, saying to herself, as shelooked after him: "he'll drive me home to-night, and i shallsay 'yes'; and then he'll kiss me again. but the next time itwon't be nearly as disagreeable."she turned into the hotel, glanced automatically at the emptypigeon-hole for letters under her key-hook, and mounted thestairs following the same train of images. "yes, i shall say'yes' to-night," she repeated firmly, her hand on the door ofher room. "that is, unless, they've brought up a letter ...."she never re-entered the hotel without imagining that the lettershe had not found below had already been brought up.
opening the door, she turned on the light and sprang to thetable on which her correspondence sometimes awaited her.
there was no letter; but the morning papers, still unread, layat hand, and glancing listlessly down the column whichchronicles the doings of society, she read:
"after an extended cruise in the aegean and the black sea ontheir steam-yacht ibis, mr. and mrs. mortimer hicks and theirdaughter are established at the nouveau luxe in rome. they havelately had the honour of entertaining at dinner the reigningprince of teutoburger-waldhain and his mother the princessdowager, with their suite. among those invited to meet theirserene highnesses were the french and spanish ambassadors, theduchesse de vichy, prince and princess bagnidilucca, ladypenelope pantiles--" susy's eye flew impatiently on over thelong list of titles--"and mr. nicholas lansing of new york, whohas been cruising with mr. and mrs. hicks on the ibis for thelast few months."
