The Chronicles of a Gay Gordon. Gordon Joseph Maria

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СКАЧАТЬ target="_blank" rel="nofollow" href="#n2" type="note">[2] But, what think you? Did I care? No. I did not even realize that he was alluding to my engagement. I just thought that he had noticed that we four had passed the whole evening together, and that possibly we might be opening a friendship that might result in a liaison which might not be so judicious. We wished him good night and he passed on.

      After supper we hurried to our carriage and drove to Louise’s apartments, which were only a short distance from the Grand Hotel. Arriving there, Louise suggested that my friend should drive Estelle home and return to take her to the other ball to which she was going. This we, of course, agreed to, and Louise invited me to her apartments to have a glass of champagne while she placed herself in the hands of her maid to change her costume and we awaited the arrival of my friend and the carriage. They were delightful apartments – such as one expects Parisiennes of exquisite taste to dwell in. The dining-room was a work of art in white and gold. Sky-blue draperies, deeply embroidered in Japanese fashion, with birds of the air and fishes of the seas in such bewildering colour as only the Japanese know how to depict. Louise’s dress at the ball was in the same sky-blue tone, and – as she stood in her dining-room taking a glass of champagne before handing herself over to the tender mercies of her maid – she looked almost heavenly. Anyway, so any man would have thought if he had been in my place, and of my age, during those precious moments.

      But is there not a proverb that says: “All that glitters is not gold”? It applies not only to physical but also to mental condition. My mental condition was one of happiness. Louise was beautiful. Louise was kind, and the world was good and so was the champagne. But Nemesis was not far off.

      Presently Louise returned to me. She wished for a cigarette and a glass of champagne before her maid robed her for her second ball. Just clad in the filmiest and most fetching of wraps (I think that is the word), she looked as bewitching as if she had just floated down from the abodes of bliss and beauty. She had just sipped her glass of champagne and lit her cigarette, and leaned on the arm of the arm-chair in which I was sitting, when we heard the hall-door open and someone enter.

      “Hush!” she said; “it is Gustave! Leave him to me and say little.”

      “Louise, ma chèrie, où êtes vous?”

      It was Gustave. He drew apart the silken curtains separating the hall from the dining-room. “Voilà, je suis retourné. Mais … mon Dieu!”

      As the curtains were drawn Louise rose from the arm of the chair (I at once rose also), and in the sweetest tones, speaking in English, Louise said: “My dear Gustave. What a pleasant surprise. No? Oh, yes, for me! I thought you would not return till the day after to-morrow. So! No? Let me introduce to you my friend, an English officer. He has been so polite to me at our fête to-night.”

      Gustave and I stood facing each other; we had no need for introductions. Gustave was the bachelor brother of my prospective father-in-law. He happened also to be a particular friend of Louise’s. I knew him and he knew me. We looked calmly at each other. He was twice my age; it was not for me to speak. The piece was set as if for a dramatic scene – Louise, in her charming deshabillé; my humble self, silent but unabashed; Gustave, practically in possession of the situation. The moment was a critical one, but though Nemesis had arrived it was not the Nemesis with a flaming sword; it was the Nemesis with a somewhat more dangerous weapon, that of French politeness, which scorns to provoke personal quarrels in the presence of ladies but awaits to obtain reparation in good time in accordance with the code of honour.

      Bowing low to Louise and looking at me straight in the face, Gustave politely remarked, “It happens that I am acquainted with monsieur the English lieutenant. I regret that I have intruded and disturbed your tête-à-tête at such an hour of the morning. Pray forgive me, Louise. I have no doubt monsieur the lieutenant and I will meet by and by. N’est-ce pas, monsieur le lieutenant? Good night to you both.” And, as Louise moved, Gustave added, “Please, oh, please, do not bother. I know my way out quite well. Au revoir.” He drew the curtains aside and, turning towards us, made the politest of bows and was gone.

      “Louise,” I said, as I took her hands in mine, “it is all my fault. Can you forgive me?”

      “Mon jeune ami,” said Louise as she looked up at me. “First of all, give me one kiss. Yes, I like that; just one more. So! Ah! Good! Now you said, ‘Forgive me.’ For that I love you, because it is what a man always should say to a woman. I not only forgive you, but I think you are charmant. One more kiss – eh! ah! nice. I never allowed anyone, since I remember, even to suggest to me to ask forgiveness. Certainly not any man. Don’t be concerned; don’t be unhappy. Gustave will come by and by and will ask me to forgive him for his conduct to-night. He was rude; he was unpleasant in front of me. He suggested, by his words, things that had not happened. That was more than impolite; it was ungentlemanly, and you will see he will be very sorry and come to me and ask me to forgive him. At this moment I know not that I will forgive him. One more kiss. He is a good friend, but by no means indispensable to me. I have all I wish of my own and can please myself as to whom I choose for my friends. So don’t be concerned. Just one more kiss and I go to make ready for the ball. Ah! the hall door bell! Your friend returns. I will be with you bien vite. Silence, n’est-ce pas?” And she went to her room.

      Next minute my friend was with me. He was so full of the charms of Estelle that I had not – even if I wished – an opportunity of saying anything. Another cigarette, a couple of glasses of champagne, the presence of Louise looking sweeter than ever, all in pink silks and satins, and we were off in the carriage to leave her at the private house where her friends, she said, would be wondering what had become of her.

      We two returned home in the early hours of the morning and retired to bed. Bed was one thing. Sleep was another. The day and evening had been crowded with unexpected events, wonderful happenings and newly inspired emotions. First and foremost, one event was certain. My engagement was doomed. Why, in all creation, had I selected Louise from all those six hundred other women who had attended the ball at the Grand Hotel? Louise, who was Gustave’s friend, and Gustave, my prospective uncle-in-law? There was only one answer – “Nemesis.”

      Then I remembered my cousin’s warning at supper, “Cuidado!” Well, warnings are of no value if they are not heeded. One thing was clear. The engagement would be off. I must admit that the fault was all mine; I would not, nay, could not, offer any excuse. I had not played the game. I had failed to rise to the occasion and prove myself the correct youth that my sponsors had vouched for. So, no doubt the prospective father-in-law would soon call a family council and Gustave’s relations would be discussed – and then, an end to the affair.

      Curiously enough, this did not trouble me much. I felt that the worst harm I had done was to hurt the pride of my would-be benefactors. This might be pardonable, but, as regarded my fiancée, what should I do? There seemed to me only one way to act that was honourable. I would ask that I might be given the privilege of seeing her for the last time and ask her forgiveness. If this was refused, then I would find my own way to see her. My thoughts ran on. All the pleasures of the evening recalled themselves. A new sensation coursed through my brain. Yes; it must be so. I must be in love. Love at first sight – and in love with Louise. Was she to suffer – and I the cause of her sufferings? No. I would see her, tell her of my love for her, marry her. Louise, one more kiss – eh! Then I must have fallen asleep.

      When I returned from the world of nod my valet had brought me my morning chocolate. My brain was anything but clear. That some happenings of a surely serious nature had taken place the night before was certain. What were they? Gradually my memory recalled them. And then I dressed. As I was just ready for déjeuner my cousin sent me word that he would like to see me. I knew what it was about. Our interview was short. He was very kind. He laid all the blame on himself for expecting that the method of making marriages by arrangement would be a success where a youthful Britisher was concerned. He, however, wished I should tell him all that had happened СКАЧАТЬ