The Betrayal of John Fordham. Farjeon Benjamin Leopold

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СКАЧАТЬ were not used to the ways of monsieur and madame; and there had been complaints from visitors. The sick gentleman in the next apartment – "

      "Enough," I said, impatiently. "I leave your hotel within the hour, and I will never set foot in it again."

      He was grieved, devastated, but if monsieur had so resolved —

      These uncompleted sentences were very significant, and afforded a sufficiently clear explanation of the proceeding. With suppressed anger I ran my eye down the account, and pointed to an item of five francs for brandy.

      "Supplied this morning," he explained, "to monsieur's order. Five francs – yes, monsieur would find it quite correct."

      "I required only a small glass," I said. "It is an imposition."

      He trusted not; such an accusation had never been brought against him. Would monsieur be kind enough to produce the decanter? A proper deduction would be made if only one small glass had been taken.

      "Produce the decanter! Certainly I will."

      I called to Barbara to give me the decanter, and, her white arm bared to the shoulder, she handed it out to me. It was empty. I blushed from shame.

      "Does monsieur find the account correct?"

      "It is correct. Here is your money."

      He receipted the bill and departed with polite bows and more deprecatory waving of his hands. As I sat with my closed eyes covered by my hand, Barbara touched my shoulder. I looked up into her smiling face.

      "Have I made myself beautiful, dear?"

      Most assuredly she would have been so in other men's eyes, for she was eminently attractive, but she was not in mine. Her beautiful outside served only to accentuate what was corrupt within.

      "Why do you not answer? Are you not proud of your wife?"

      Proud of her? Great God! Proud of a woman who had brought this shame upon me, and who, but an hour ago, was as degraded a spectacle as imagination could compass.

      "Don't get sulky again," she said, and as I still did not speak, she asked vehemently, "What is the matter now?"

      "Simply that we are turned out of the hotel," I replied.

      "Is that all? The insolent ruffians! It is a thousand pities we ever came here. But why get sulky over it? Paris is crammed with hotels, and they will only be too glad to take our money."

      "It is not that, Barbara. I wish to know if you drank all the brandy in the decanter."

      "All? It wasn't more than a thimbleful. And see what good it did me."

      "Did you finish it before you promised never to touch spirits again?"

      "What a tragedy voice, and what a tragedy face! Of course I did. Do you think I would be so dishonorable as to break a promise I gave you – you, of all, men? That isn't showing much confidence in me."

      "You will keep that promise faithfully, Barbara?"

      "I should be ashamed to look you in the face if I did not mean to keep it faithfully. You will never find me doing anything underhanded or behind your back, John."

      I rallied at this. My happiness was lost, but there was a hope that our shame would not be revealed to the world. As for what had occurred in this hotel, once we were gone it would soon be forgotten. The swiftly turning kaleidoscope of life in Paris is too absorbing in its changes to allow the inhabitants to dwell long upon one picture, especially on a picture the principle figures in which were persons so insignificant as ourselves.

      "Not a sou," cried Barbara, snapping her fingers in the faces of the servants who swarmed about us when we were seated in the carriage; "not one sou, you greedy beggars!" We drove out of the courtyard, and Barbara, turning to me, said in her sweetest tone, "I hope you will be very good to me, John, for you see how weak I am. Oh, what I have gone through since you put the wedding ring on my finger! The dear wedding ring!" She put it to her lips and then to mine. "I do nothing but kiss it when I am alone. It means so much to both of us – love, faithfulness, truth, trust in one another. All our troubles are over now, are they not, love? And we are really commencing our honeymoon."

      CHAPTER VII

      There was no difficulty in obtaining accommodation at another hotel. The choice rested with me, for I was not particular as to terms, I had no scruple in spending part of my capital, my intentions having always been to adopt a profession, and not to pass my days in idleness. My inclination was for literature; I was vain enough to believe that I had in me the makings of a novelist, and I had already in manuscript the skeleton of a work of fiction upon which I intended to set to work when I was settled down in life. Before our marriage I had confided my ambitious schemes to Barbara.

      "Delightful!" she exclaimed. "My husband will be a famous author. What a proud woman I shall be when I hear people praise his books!"

      I brought away from the hotel letters which had arrived for me, and Barbara carried the bouquet I had purchased for her on the previous night. The moment we were in our new quarters she called for a vase, and placed the flowers in water. The brooch I had purchased at the same time was still in my pocket; the device of two hearts entwined was a mockery now in its application to Barbara and myself.

      "How sweet of you to buy these flowers," she said, with tender glances at me. "You will always love me, will you not – you will always buy flowers for me? I have heard people say that marriage acts upon love like cold water on fire – puts it out, but I should die with grief if I thought that would be so with us. What are your letters about, dear?"

      They were from agents, giving me particulars of two houses, either of which would be a suitable residence for us when we returned to London, and set up housekeeping. Barbara and I had made many pleasant journeys in search of a house, and we had selected two in the neighborhood of West Kensington. One was unfurnished, the other had been the residence for a few months of a gentleman who had furnished it in good style, and was desirous of selling the furniture and his interest in the lease. I preferred the former, Barbara the latter, and I now gave her the letters to read. The furnished house was offered to me for a sum which I considered moderate, and an answer had to be given immediately, as another likely purchaser was making inquiries about it.

      "Now sit down, like a good boy," said Barbara, "and send the agent a cheque, and settle it at once. It will be the dearest little home, and we shall be as happy as the day is long."

      I had no heart to argue the matter; after the experiences of the last twenty-four hours one house was as good to me as another. A home we must have, and I earnestly desired to avoid contention, so for the sake of peace I did as Barbara wished, and wrote to the agent to close the bargain. While I was attending to my correspondence Barbara was bustling about and chatting with a chambermaid with whom she appeared to be already on confidential terms.

      "What delightful rooms these are," she said, looking over my shoulder as I was writing, "and what a clever business man my dear boy is! I am ever so glad we moved from that disagreeable hotel. You must consult me in these things for the future; I have an instinct which always guides me right. The moment I entered the place I knew we should not be comfortable there. Go on with your letters while Annette assists me to unpack. You must not look on, sir; I shall not let you into the secrets of a lady's wardrobe till we have been married a year at least. When you have finished your letters you can arrange your private treasures while I am arranging mine, or if you are too tired you can lie on the sofa and smoke a cigar. Would it shock you very much if I smoked СКАЧАТЬ