"One Of Those Ways"

Auckland Star, Volume LXI, Issue 103, 3 May 1930, Page 14 (Supplement)

"One Of Those Ways"

— by — MRS. • BELLOC LOWNDES

re: CHAPTER IX. Confidences. And now, 24 hours later, the two were iT. standing 011 what is all that remains of the most famous bridge in Christendom, the Pont d'Avignon, immortalised in poetry and song. A splendid moon was riding across the sky. The spirit of romance was abroad. They both felt very near to each other, and Angela was a little sorry that their strange, uncon™;T ventional journey was coming to an end. Not only had she enjoyed every moment of it, but _it had helped her to dull, to a certain extent, the bitter ache at her heart. She had soon become aware that, her companion was what some people call ZC- "a very fascinating man." His manners were never at fault, and he seemed to p. fall instinctively into her every mood. When she felt like talking he would talk, humorously, whimsically. He had f". been, she gathered, a rolling stone, and »■ ' he seemed to know America, as well as X Europe, though little of England. This seemed strange, as he had been with the British Expeditionary Force during the war. She was glad that he had not tried, in ~ any real sense, to flirt with her, for she ST- was well aware that she attracted him. fc. A woman, unless she be very vain, and, it may be added, very stupid, is seldom mistaken as to that. And Angela knew that the prince "liked" her. ***-; All at once he exclaimed, "You've Sr. never told me anything about yourself, Mrs. Graham! Would it be impertinent for me to ask you—?" he hesitated and then said, "What is your philosophy of life?" sr- "I don't know that I have any special tr; philosophy of life. As to myself, there's aothiag interesting to tell. lam quite X s rloso in the world. I cannot remember i-IT.. my mother, and, though I dearly loved my father, he was not much at home, Y;' being a man of business. He has now li. been dead —" she sighed—"eight years. I was never well off, but I am now what ' iZ: I suppose most people would call danism gerousiy poor. I think Major Chichester tZ- told you that I had had money losses ?" He murmured, "The Major was very it;; discreet." X- She went on, "It was a marvellous piece of luck for me your cousin wanting a companion just now and being so generous as to the terms offered. Two hung". dred and fifty a year is a lot of money, - - prince, especially as I have never had any training." They were standing under an arc light which had been put up by way of an experiment in the centre of the bridge, -s • It lit up her smiling face, while his countenance remained in shadow. %■ "And what are your views," he asked urgently, "as to the way our strange world goes on? Is there, for instance, anything of the Socialist about you." x;.. 'She looked startled. "Good heavens, 110. At least I hope not." iT "You do not feel envious of the very Z~- rich? You never feel—" he drew a 5* long breath—"as if you could spend their money for them far more wisely, far more delightfully, far more cleverly, than IP they do themselves?" Angela hesitated. "I suppose it's im- •*?; possible not to feel envious sometimes. 4 «But no, on the whole, I've never felt that like to be enormously rich. Of course *"~7~T should like to have enough." And then she laughed straight out. "Enough, prince? Ah, but that's a grand word, as once heard an Irishman say!" "Enough? Assez?" he repeated in * his good French. "Have any of us ever enough? As for me, I am a gambler by instinct. The stakes are never too high, and sometimes I win!" X s Her eyes "sparkled. "I'm something of "****«, gambler, too. I wonder if in London you ever came across Mrs. Evelyn?" "Do you mean the lady who has a £££|huge house in Mayfair, the .fashionable jgffigqnarter of the town?" he asked eagerly. ~r : ' "Yes. As far as I know there is only ' 'one Mrs. Evelyn. She's a very, very ~;-,;ijich woman, the widow of a big money lender. She has a splendid house, and is very fond of play. If you're a .gambler it's unfortunate that you never her acquaintance. Same people are wftdown on her, but I've spent some very . i!%s£happy' hours at her house." "What does she play?" he asked abruptly. fe "Roulette. Trente-et-quarante. Chemin•'sZ de-fer." . < .. ?. ; They were walking off the bridge now, ** 'for he had seen her shiver. Mentioning f?. .oMothar Eve had brought back the past |p with cruel vividness. "I thought," he said, in a rather singuW'lar tone, "that gambling was forbidden irfk-lin London?" "Not in a private house. Surely you ... know that anyone may play, as long as it's not what is called a gambling house?" "One of those distinctions without a —difference in which your clever country--ii -men delight," he observed. "Then do they play high in this Mrs. Evelyn's house?" ~ "Sometimes very high, and slTe won't V. allow cheques. One can only play with "• '"money." -• -- "I am rather glad you don't object to 'gambling. Both my cousin and I —unSHless, of course, we are entertaining or ,^ } dining out—always spend the evening at " a casino. We never like to be too far v ifrom Monte Carlo, though after all roulT.ette is a child's game." * 'Tm afraid I mustn't indulge my *£.' gambling propensities," and she shook " r .her head. "In fact, I've sworn an oath to myself thakTll never play again!" He looked at her fixedly. "Was your -money lost in that iway, Mr 3. Graham, on the green carpet?" "Some of it was." . , "All the same. ; you must not eay 1 never play . My cousin is -—-(generous as to that sort of thing; she will certainly give you a gambling allowance." . p,", "A gambling allowance?" exclaimed - /.^Angela. .- 1 «y es . Perhaps that is not putting it quite the right way. She does not like to stake herself. She likes it to be done for her. The last lady companion always played for the Countess, and then-when they were winning the lady was allowed v - a little of the money for herself. • - Angela told herself that she would not care to accept that sort of a dole from ! her coming employer. But she did not ; think it necessary to say so.. - v She was surprised at the next question : ttfprSS pu'to her. "Then you tort . regard yourself as anenrnyof soc>:etyt "Of course not! :Why should 1! "There are many people who m their hearts cherish a grudge t , their fellows more Jucky selves. Ara you ...quite .<»pabl«.

He spoke with an undercurrent of bitterness in his vibrant voice. Again Angela felt a touch of real astonishment. Prince Draganov —to give him his new name—had all the ways of a man of wealth. As if he could see into her mind he exclaimed, "I was once enormously rich. lam now in comparative poverty. Were I to see your Mrs. Evelyn I should hate her." He uttered these strange words with volcanic energy. ''Indeed, you would do nothing of the kind! She is a dear, generous old woman." He asked, tauntingly, "Did she ever do anything for you, Mrs. Graham?" "Well, no, not exactly. But then I never wanted helping till quite lately. I'm sure that if she knew I was in a hole she'd certainly try to pull me out of it." "It is far better," he said harshly, "to pull- oneself out of one's holes, and not to depend on the Mrs. Evelyns of this curiously heartless world. But you, I see, are too sweet and good to feel envy, even of the selfish and heartless." v • How surprised Angela would have been had she known how much, of his time and thoughts during the last few days her travelling companion had devoted to careful consideration of her agreeable self and of her character. He was seldom baffled where women were concerned, for. he had made of them a lifelong study. But, try as he would, he could not make Angela Graham out. What, he wondered, had been her real relations with that disagreeable, ugly English nobleman, Lord Charwell? He knew far too much of human nature not to have seen at once, even in the few mopaents that he had spent with them in Jim Chichester's rooms, that they were not simply friends, as were, for instance, Mrs. Graham and Chichester himself. What were her views, .he also wondered, with regard to what is commonly called morality? That, again, he was very anxious to know. Was Angela a good woman? "Virtuous" was the word he used to himself. He knew much less about England than he knew about other countries, and that though he spoke the language perfectly; and of London society he knew practically nothing. In the narrow, ill-lit street down which they were now walking he moved much closer to her. "I* am longing, Mrs. Graham, to tell you something of great consequence to me, though not, I fear, to you!" There was something ardent and sincere, as well as caressing, in the tone of his voice, and she felt a little thrill. What was he going to say? "I wonder if you know what it is I long to confess to you. But I so fear to make you angry with me!" "I don't think I could ever be angry with you," she said in a low tone. "You have been so very kind to me, Prince. Already I feel that you are a true friend." Did the complicated human entity known to her now as Prince Draganov fell a touch of shame? Maybe yes, for his face did soften in the darkness. But for the moment he was intent on winning this charming creature's kindness for himself, and he knew that he had a very short time 'in which to do it. Once they were at Cannes, and both face to face with Countess Larridorff, he would not only no longer be his own master, but he would also have to be very careful, and well he knew it, not to rouse the jealousy of a woman whose only soft spot was a tigerish passion for himself. He might say tender nothings, nay, even make fierce love, to a certain type of foolish, unattractive, very rich woman. But it must be, as the Countess herself sometimes put it, "pour rire"—"all for fun"—and of a grim, useful kind. "I want to tell you," he murmured, "that I have come to love you during this wonderful journey. But do not be afraid! lam discreet. I ask only to ba allowed to worship you in secrecy and silence." Angela felt, if flattered and touched, not a little dismayed. She realised that the fact that he had made this frank, she believed sincere, avowal would be a complication, and even a very awkward complication, in her new life. So— "I think I ought to tell you," she said firmly, "that I've cared for a long time for a fellow-countryman of mine. But there is no hope of our ever being able to marry. That is the real reason why I am very glad to have left England for a while." The prince made a little gesture of helplessness. "How foolish of me not to have guessed that there must have been some far greater reason than a lack of money to make you wish to go away from all your friends. May I ask one tl®ng more, Mrs. Graham?" "You may ask me anything." His tone had become sad and pleading, and she was on the verge of tears. "All I beg of you," he said earnestly, "is to try and forget my foolish confession. Let us go'back to our old happy friendship. I promise you —nay, I swear —never to trouble you again by speaking of a sentiment which, unless I am very much mistaken, is ■ likely to endure." "But we have known each other for such a very short time; don't you think " her voice quivered, "that this is a mere case of what old-fashioned English people call 'propinquity' ? You have been thrown'with me in a very, intimate way, Prince Draganov. When life becomes normal again, as it soon will, I'm sure ■you will ask yourself what it was you ever saw in Asgela Graham." . "Do.yxiu really think that?" Putting, hie hand on her arm, he made her stop under a bright light for a moment while he gazed searchingly down into her troubled upturned face. "I want to think it," she said sincerely. Yet even as she said the words she realised that Prince Draganov possessed an.hypnotic power over her, and the disturbing sensation persisted long after they left romantic' Avignon. . But the next morning they seemingly slipped back into their former easy relationship, and .with every lap of their journeythrough sunny old Provence Angela, felt happier and more carefree than she had done for weeks and weeks Though she did not, and indeed could not,. banish Charwell from her heart, Prince Draganov, the man who said he loved her, and would always love her, jto play a great role in her imagination.'

CHAPTER X. The End of the Journey. Now at last they were in sight of their goal. Already they had passed Hyeres, which some people call "The Gate of the Riviera." Angela had never imagined anything more lovely than the country they were now passing through. Also, she was becoming-excited at the thought of seeing Countess Larridorff and starting her new life. As for the prince, he was in no hurry to end their delightful expedition. So, deliberately, he did all in his power to delay that, to him, sad moment. And it was in a little mountain fastness tucked away in a fold of the Esterel Mountains that they had their last solitary meal together—Angela Graham feeling, as she secretly put it to herself, quite sentimental. They lingered over the simple dinner till 10 o'clock, and even then, though she was unaware of it, they did not drive straight on to the town for which they were bound.. Instead, they motored through the starlit, narrow roads a long way round, inland, towards the snowcapped mountains which lies far behind the sea. For most of t'ie they remained silent, but now and again the prince would say just a word, as is the way between two close friends. At last, reluctantly, he turned the car towards the sea coast again, and within an. hour they were in Cannes. . Soon they were driving down the long, narrow main street of the town. All at once the car swung sharply to the left and a moment later there lay before them a wide expanse of sea lit up here and there by the twinkling lights of yachts and fishing boats reflected in the water. "How exquisitely beautiful," she murmured. The prince drove slowly, slowly down the now deserted sea front. He would have given years of his future life to have been able to turn round and start once more in the reverse direction, 011 their long, happy, their memorable expedition. They passed two huge hotels and the procession of white villas which line the land side of the Croizette. And then, at last, the car drew up in front of high, closed gates. . , . • ■ "Here we are," muttered the prince in a sombre tone. Angela looked out eagerly, and she saw that within the gates, across a courtyard, stood a large house of a somewhat peculiar appearance. Even in the darkness she could see that the villa looked round rather than square. "We mustn't make much noise," exclaimed her companion. "The counteso does not enjoy being disturbed." "I will go round to the DacK and try to awake some of the servants. If I fail we will drive back to one of the hotels " "Oh, don't let's do that!" cried Angela. "Let's make a real try to get in." Leaving her in the car, he walked away quickly to the left. Then, after what seemed, to her rsa immense time, she heard,'rather than saw, the front door of the house open. The prince ran down the steps, unlocked and swung open the great gate, and drove the car through it. , At the -top of the broad steps leading to the now open door there stood a mid-dle-aged woman with a candle in her hand. , ~ . As Prince Draganov leapt out of the car he addressed the maid in the same language which Angela had heard him use on the telephone at the Crillon. How long ago that seemed! ■Suddenly behind the woman there appeared a man-servant. But he did not come forward to try to help with the luggage. It was not till she was in the house" that she was startled to see, as the man took her dressing case from her hand in silence, that a deep gash across his forehead and left cheek gave his countenance a peculiarly horrible expression. . "Will you take the madame upstairs to her room?" said Prince Draganov to the maid. "Then Jean and I will bring up her trunk." The woman preceded Angela into a pitch-dark hall, and began going up % wide, horseshoe-shaped staircase. What a large house! Far larger than Angela had thought it to be when lookinf at it from outside. When they reached the first floor of the villa the maid lifted a curtain aside and turned into a narrow passage. Together they walked down it, and then at, last Angela's guide flung open a bedroom door, turning on the electric light in the room as she did so. In her far from good French the newcomer said apologetically, "I'm sorry we arrived so late! I'm afraid you must all have been in bed." *' _ The woman nodded grimly. Then she asked, "Can I do anything for madame ?" Said Angela just a little nervously, "No, thank you. I always do my own unpacking. I shall want very little out to-night." . She was looking round the luxuriously furnished apartment. Across the two windows blue silk curtains were closely drawn, and the room felt very airless. Suddenly the prince and the man serwant appeared at the still open door with her trunk. How quietly they must ■ have come up the staircase and down the passage;, she had not heard a sound. "Good-night," said the prince m a whisper. "I hope you will be comfortable When vou wake to-morrow morning 'ring the bell, and breakfast will be brought to you." , . , "At what time will the Countess wish to see me?" "You will be told that by the person who brings your breakfast. We are none of us early risers." , . He took 'her hand and held it m his for what seemed to her a long time. She felt a little shy, for both the servants were gazing at her with a kind of hard, and, it seemed to her, rather mocking scrutiny. ' , . , She tried to draw away her hand, but the prince kept it fast in his Goodnight," he said again. Raising her hand to his lips he kiused it. Fair lady turned away and left the room, followed by the anan. . , For a moment Angela remained standin* in the middle of the room. She was very tired—tired and:also conscious of an intense depression that had suddenly swept over her. She felt sorry that the maid, wtho was apparently going to, wait on her, had such a curious, abrupt manner. "We have been expecting you ever since 5 o'clock," said the woman suddenly, in an isolated tone. "We could not possibly have arrived any earlier," said Angela coldly. "That, madame, is not so. At the place where you had dejeuner hi 3 Highness telephoned to Madame la Comtesse. It is quite an easy run from there; three hours at the longe.lt; and the prince telephoned eight thours ago." ; Angela turned away with a decided movement and, stooping, unlocked her trunk. When she had opened the lid somethin* made 'her straighten herself and suddenly turn round. Then came a sudden and very unpleasant shock. (To be continued Saturday next.) v