The Arrow of Gold

“Indeed!” she was startled, then lower, “Yes.  That woman must be the centre of all sorts of passions,” she mused audibly.  “But what have you got to do with all this?  It’s nothing to you.”

She waited for me to speak.

“Exactly, Madame,” I said, “and therefore I don’t see why I should concern myself in all this one way or another.”

“No,” she assented with a weary air, “except that you might ask yourself what is the good of tormenting a man of noble feelings, however absurd.  His Southern blood makes him very violent sometimes.  I fear—”  And then for the first time during this conversation, for the first time since I left Dona Rita the day before, for the first time I laughed.

“Do you mean to hint, Madame, that Southern gentlemen are dead shots?  I am aware of that—from novels.”

I spoke looking her straight in the face and I made that exquisite, aristocratic old woman positively blink by my directness.  There was a faint flush on her delicate old cheeks but she didn’t move a muscle of her face.  I made her a most respectful bow and went out of the studio.

CHAPTER IV

Through the great arched window of the hall I saw the hotel brougham waiting at the door.  On passing the door of the front room (it was originally meant for a drawing-room but a bed for Blunt was put in there) I banged with my fist on the panel and shouted: “I am obliged to go out.  Your mother’s carriage is at the door.”  I didn’t think he was asleep.  My view now was that he was aware beforehand of the subject of the conversation, and if so I did not wish to appear as if I had slunk away from him after the interview.  But I didn’t stop—I didn’t want to see him—and before he could answer I was already half way up the stairs running noiselessly up the thick carpet which also covered the floor of the landing.  Therefore opening the door of my sitting-room quickly I caught by surprise the person who was in there watching the street half concealed by the window curtain.  It was a woman.  A totally unexpected woman.  A perfect stranger.  She came away quickly to meet me.  Her face was veiled and she was dressed in a dark walking costume and a very simple form of hat.  She murmured: “I had an idea that Monsieur was in the house,” raising a gloved hand to lift her veil.  It was Rose and she gave me a shock.  I had never seen her before but with her little black silk apron and a white cap with ribbons on her head.  This outdoor dress was like a disguise.  I asked anxiously:

“What has happened to Madame?”

“Nothing.  I have a letter,” she murmured, and I saw it appear between the fingers of her extended hand, in a very white envelope which I tore open impatiently.  It consisted of a few lines only.  It began abruptly:

“If you are gone to sea then I can’t forgive you for not sending the usual word at the last moment.  If you are not gone why don’t you come?  Why did you leave me yesterday?  You leave me crying—I who haven’t cried for years and years, and you haven’t the sense to come back within the hour, within twenty hours!  This conduct is idiotic”—and a sprawling signature of the four magic letters at the bottom.

While I was putting the letter in my pocket the girl said in an earnest undertone: “I don’t like to leave Madame by herself for any length of time.”

“How long have you been in my room?” I asked.

“The time seemed long.  I hope Monsieur won’t mind the liberty.  I sat for a little in the hall but then it struck me I might be seen.  In fact, Madame told me not to be seen if I could help it.”

“Why did she tell you that?”

“I permitted myself to suggest that to Madame.  It might have given a false impression.  Madame is frank and open like the day but it won’t do with everybody.  There are people who would put a wrong construction on anything.  Madame’s sister told me Monsieur was out.”

“And you didn’t believe her?”

“Non, Monsieur.  I have lived with Madame’s sister for nearly a week when she first came into this house.  She wanted me to leave the message, but I said I would wait a little.  Then I sat down in the big porter’s chair in the hall and after a while, everything being very quiet, I stole up here.  I know the disposition of the apartments.  I reckoned Madame’s sister would think that I got tired of waiting and let myself out.”

“And you have been amusing yourself watching the street ever since?”

“The time seemed long,” she answered evasively.  “An empty coupe came to the door about an hour ago and it’s still waiting,” she added, looking at me inquisitively.

“It seems strange.”

“There are some dancing girls staying in the house,” I said negligently.  “Did you leave Madame alone?”

“There’s the gardener and his wife in the house.”

“Those people keep at the back.  Is Madame alone?  That’s what I want to know.”

“Monsieur forgets that I have been three hours away; but I assure Monsieur that here in this town it’s perfectly safe for Madame to be alone.”

“And wouldn’t it be anywhere else?  It’s the first I hear of it.”

“In Paris, in our apartments in the hotel, it’s all right, too; but in the Pavilion, for instance, I wouldn’t leave Madame by herself, not for half an hour.”

“What is there in the Pavilion?” I asked.

“It’s a sort of feeling I have,” she murmured reluctantly . . . “Oh!  There’s that coupe going away.”

She made a movement towards the window but checked herself.  I hadn’t moved.  The rattle of wheels on the cobble-stones died out almost at once.

“Will Monsieur write an answer?” Rose suggested after a short silence.

“Hardly worth while,” I said.  “I will be there very soon after you.  Meantime, please tell Madame from me that I am not anxious to see any more tears.  Tell her this just like that, you understand.  I will take the risk of not being received.”