frances waldeaux-第8部分

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The　next；　she　would　stay　where　she　could　see　George　sometimes；　and　try　to　forgive　the　woman　who　had　him　in　her　keeping。　　Perhaps；　after　all；　she　was　human；　as　Clara　said。　　If　she　could　forgive　Lisa；　she　could　be　happy　with　these　young　people　and　livelive　in　this　wonderful　old　world；　where　all　that　was　best　of　past　ages　was　kept　waiting　for　her。

When　they　came　to　London；　she　went　at　once　to　Morgan's　to　make　a　deposit；　for　she　had　been　hard　at　work　on　her　jokes　as　she　travelled；　and　had　received　her　pay。

〃Your　son；　madam；〃　said　the　clerk；　〃drew　on　his　account　to…day。　　He　said　he　expected　remittances　from　you。　　Is　this　to　be　put　to　his　credit？〃

〃My　son　was　in　London　to…day？

〃He　has　just　left　the　house。〃

〃Did　hehe　left　a　message　for　me？　　A　letter；　perhaps？〃

〃No；　nothing；　madam。〃

〃Put　the　money　to　his　credit；　of　course。〃　She　went　out　into　the　narrow　street　and　wandered　along　to　the　Bank　of　England；　staring　up　at　the　huge　buildings。

He　had　been　looking　at　themhe　had　walked　on　this　very　pavement　a　minute　ago！　　That　might　be　the　smoke　of　his　cigar；　yonder！

She　could　easily　find　him。　　Just　to　look　at　him　once；　to　hold　his　hand！　　He　might　be　ill　and　need　her；　he　never　was　well　in　foggy　weather。

Then　she　remembered　that　Lisa　was　with　him。　　She　would　nurse　him。

She　called　a　cab；　and；　as　she　drove　home；　looked　out　at　the　crowd　with　a　hard；　smiling　face。

Henry　Irving　that　night　played　〃Shylock；〃　and　Mr。　Perry　secured　a　box　for　Miss　Vance。　　Frances　went　with　the　others。　　Before　the　curtain　rose　there　was　a　startled　movement　among　them；　a　whisper；　and　then　Clara　turned　to　Mrs。　Waldeaux。

〃Frances；　Lisa　is　coming　into　the　opposite　box；〃　she　said。　　〃She　is　really　a　beautiful　woman　in　that　decollete　gown；　and　her　cheeks　flushed；　and　her　eyes　　I　had　no　idea！　　She　is　superb！〃

Two　men　in　the　dress　of　French　officers　entered　the　box　with　Lisa。　　They　seated　her；　bending　over　her　with　an　empressement　which；　to　Mrs。　Waldeaux's　heated　fancy；　was　insulting。　　George　came　last；　carrying　his　wife's　cloak；　which　he　placed　upon　a　chair。　　One　of　the　men　tossed　his　cape　to　him；　with　a　familiar　nod；　and　George　laid　it　aside　and　sat　down　at　the　back　of　the　box。

His　mother　leaned　forward；　watching。　　That　woman　had　put　her　son　in　the　place　of　an　inferioran　attendant。

The　great　orchestra　shook　the　house　with　a　final　crash；　and　the　curtain　rose　upon　the　Venetian　plaza。　　Every　face　in　the　audience　was　turned　attentive　toward　it。　　But　Mrs。　Waldeaux　saw　only　Lisa。

A　strange　change　came　upon　her　as　she　watched　her　son's　wife。　　For　months　she　had　struggled　feebly　against　her　hate　of　Lisa。　　Now　she　welcomed　it；　she　let　herself　go。

Is　the　old　story　true　after　all？　　Is　there　some　brutal　passion　hiding　in　every　human　soul；　waiting　its　chance；　even　in　old　age？　　It　is　certain　that　this　woman；　after　her　long　harmless　life；　recognized　the　fury　in　her　soul　and　freed　it。

〃Frances；〃　whispered　Clara；　〃when　this　act　is　over；　go　and　speak　to　them。　　I　will　go　with　you。　　It　is　your　chance　to　put　an　end　to　this　horrible　separation。　　They　are　your　children。〃

〃No。　　That　woman　is　my　enemy；　Clara；〃　said　Mrs。　Waldeaux　quietly。　　〃I　will　make　no　terms　with　her。〃

Miss　Vance　sighed　and　turned　to　the　stage；　but　Frances　still　watched　the　opposite　box。　　It　seemed　as　if　the　passion　within　her　had　cleared　her　eyes。　　They　never　had　seen　George　as　they　now　saw　him。

Was　that　her　son？　　Was　it　that　little　priggish；　insignificant　fellow　that　she　had　made　a　god　of？　　He　was　dull；　commonplace！　　Satisfied　to　sit　dumb　in　the　background　and　take　orders　from　those　bourgeois　French　Jews！

The　play　went　on；　but　she　saw　nothing　but　George　and　his　wife。

There　was　the　result　of　all　her　drudgery！　　The　hot　summers　of　work　in　the　filthy　poultry　yards；　the　grinding　out　of　poor　jokes；　the　coarse；　cheap　underclothes　（she　used　to　cry　when　she　put　them　on；　she　hated　them　so）。　　Years　and　years　of　it　all；　and　for　that　cold；　selfish　fop！

His　mother　saw　him　leave　the　box；　and　knew　that　he　was　coming。

〃Oh；　good…evening；　George！〃　she　said　gayly；　as　he　opened　the　door。　　〃A　wonderful　scene；　wasn't　it？　　I　have　always　wished　to　see　Irving　in　‘Hamlet。'〃

〃This　is　‘Shylock；'〃　he　said　gravely；　and　turned　to　speak　to　the　others。　　They　welcomed　him　eagerly；　and　made　room　for　him。　　He　had　lost　something　of　the　cold；　blase　air　which　had　ennobled　him　in　the　eyes　of　the　young　women。　　He　looked　around　presently；　and　said　with　a　comfortable　shrug：

〃It　is　so　pleasant　to　talk　English　again！　　My　wife　detests　it。　　We　speak　only　French。　　I　feel　like　an　alien　and　outcast　among　you！〃　　He　laughed；　his　mother　glanced　at　him　curiously。　　But　Lucy　turned　her　face　away；　afraid　that　he　should　see　it。　　As　he　talked；　George　noted　the　clear…cut　American　features　of　the　girls；　and　their　dainty　gowns；　with　a　keen　pleasure；　then　he　glanced　quickly　at　the　opposite　box。

〃Ah！〃　said　Jean　to　Mr。　Perry。　　〃The　soiled　lace　and　musk　are　beginning　to　tell！　　He　is　tired　of　Lisa　already！〃　〃I　never　liked　the　fellow；〃　said　Mr。　Perry　coldly。　　〃But　he　is　hardly　the　cad　that　you　suppose。〃

He　fell　into　a　gloomy　silence。　　He　had　wasted　two　years'　salary　in　following　Lucy　Dunbar　about；　in　showering　flowers　on　her；　in　posing　before　her　in　the　last　fashions　of　Conduit　Street；　and　yet　when　this　conceited　fellow　came　into　the　box　she　was　blind　and　deaf　to　all　besides！　　Her　eyes　filled　with　tears　just　now　when　he　talked　of　his　loneliness。　　Lonelywith　his　wife！　　A　married　man！

George；　when　the　curtain　fell　again；　sat　down　by　Frances。

〃Mother；〃　he　said。

〃Yes；　George。〃　　Her　eyes　were　bright　and　attentive；　but　her　countenance　had　fallen　into　hard　lines　new　to　him。

〃I　went　to　Morgan's　this　afternoon。　　You　have　been　very　liberal　to　us。〃

〃I　will　do　what　I　can。　　You　may　depend　upon　that　amount；　regularly。〃

He　rose　and　bade　them　good…night；　and　turned　to　her　again。

〃Wewe　are　coming　to…morrow　to　thank　you。　　MOTHER？〃　　There　was　a　hoarse　sob　in　his　throat。　　He　laid　his　hand　on　her　arm。　　She　moved　so　that　it　dropped。　　〃We　will　come　to…morrow；〃　he　said。　　〃Did　you　understand？　　Lisa　wishes　to　be　friends　with　you。　　She　is　ready　to　forgive；〃　he　groped　on；　blundering；　like　a　man。

〃Oh；　yes；　I　understand。　　You　and　Lisa　are　coming　to　forgive　me　to…morrow；〃　she　said；　smiling。

He　looked　at　her；　perplexed　and　waiting。　　But　she　said　no　more。

〃Well；　I　must　go　now。　　Good…night。〃

〃Good…night；　George！　　〃Her　bright；　smiling　eyes　followed　him　steadily；　as　he　went　out。


Mrs。　Waldeux　tapped　at　Clara's　door　that　evening　after　they　reached　home。

〃I　came　to　tell　you　that　I　shall　leave　London　early　in　the　morning；〃　she　said。

〃You　will　not　wait　to　see　George　and　his　wife？〃

〃I　hope　I　never　shall　see　them　again。　　No！　　Not　a　word！　　I　will　hear　no　arguments！〃　　She　came　into　the　room　and　closed　the　door。　　There　was　a　certain　novel　air　of　decision　and　youth　in　her　figure　and　movements。　　〃I　am　going　to　make　a　change；　Clara；〃　she　said。　　〃I　have　worked　for　others　long　enough。　　I　am　going　away　now；　alone。　　I　will　be　free。　　I　will　live　my　own　lifeat　last。〃　　Her　eyes　shone　with　exultation。

〃And　　Where　are　you　going？〃　stammered　Miss　Vance；　dismayed。

〃I　don't　know。　　There　is　so　muchit　has　all　been　waiting　so　long　for　me。　　There　are　the　cathedralsand　the　mountains。　　Or　the　Holy　Land。　　Perhaps　I　may　try　to　write　again。　　There　seems　to　be　a　dumb　word　or　two　in　me。　　Don't　be　angry　with　me；　Clara；〃　throwing　her　arms　about　her　cousin；　the　tears　rushing　to　her　eyes。　　〃I　may　come　back　to　you　and　little　Lucy　some　time。　　But　just　now　I　want　to　be　alone　and　fancy　myself　young。　　I　never　was　young。〃

When　Lucy　stole　into　her　old　friend's　chamber　the　next　morning　as　usual　to　drink　her　cup　of　coffee　with　her；　she　found　the　door　open　and　the　room　in　disorder；　and　she　was　told　that　Mrs。　Waldeaux　had　left　London　at　daybreak。



CHAPTER　VII

During　the　year　which　followed；　Mr。　Perry　was　forced　to　return　to　the　States；　but　he　made　two　flying　trips　across　〃the　pond；〃　as　he　called　it；　in　the　interests　of　his　magazine；　always　running　down　his　prey　of　notorieties　in　that　quarter　of　Europe　in　which　Miss　Vance　and　her　charges　chanced　to　be。

When　he　came　in　July　he　found　them　in　a　humble　little　inn　in　Bozen。　　He　looked　with　contempt　at　the　stone　floors；　the　clean　cell…like　chambers；　each　with　its　narrow　bed；　and　blue　stone　ewer　perched　on　a　wooden　stool；　and　he　sniffed　with　disgust　when　breakfast　was　served　on　a　table　set　out　in　the　Platz。

〃Don't　know；〃　he　said；　〃whether　I　can　digest　food；　eating　out　of　doors。　　Myself；　I　never　give　in　to　these　foreign　ways。　　It's　time　they　learned　manners　from　us。〃

〃I　have　no　doubt；〃　said　Miss　Vance　placidly；　〃that　you　can　find　one　of　the　usual　hotels　built　for　rich　Americans　in　the　town。　　We　avoid　them。　　We　search　out　the　inns　du　pays　to　see　as　far　behind　the　scenes　as　we　can。　　I　don't　care　to　go　to　those　huge　houses　with　mobs　of　Chicagoans　and　New　Yorkers；　and　have　the　couriers　and　portiers　turn　the　flashlights　on　Europe　for　me；　as　if　it　were　a　burlesque　show。〃

〃Now；　that's　just　what　I　like！〃　said　Perry。　　〃I　always　go　to　the　houses　where　the　royalties　put　up。　　I　like　to　order　better　dishes　and　give　bigger　tips　than　they　do。　　They　don't　know　Jem　Perry　from　Adam；　but　it's　my　way　of　waving　the　American　flag。〃

〃I　am　afraid　we　have　no　such　patriotic　motive；〃　said　Clara。　　〃My　girls　seem　to　care　for　nothing　now　but　art。　　We　have　made　this　little　inn　our　headquarters　in　the　Tyrol　chiefly　out　of　love　for　the　old　church　yonder。〃

Mr。　Perry　glanced　contemptuously　across　the　Platz　at　the　frowning　gray　building；　and　sat　down　with　his　back　to　it。

〃Art；　eh？　　Well；　I've　no　doubt　I　could　soon　catch　on　to　Art；　if　I　turned　my　mind　that　way。　　It　pays；　too；Art。　　Not　the　fellows　who　paint；　but　the　connoisseurs。　　There's　Miller　from　our　town。　　He　was　a　drummer　for　a　candy　firm。　　Had　an　eye　for　color。　　Well；　he　buys　pictures　now　for　Americans　who　want　galleries　in　their　houses。　　He　bought　his　whole　collection　for　Stoutthe　great　dealer　in　hams。　　Why；　Miller　can　tell　the　money　value　within　five　dollars；　at　sight；　of　any　picture　in　Europe。　　He's　safe；　too。　　Never　invests　in　pictures　that　aren't　sure　to　go　up　in　price。　　Getting　rich！　　And　began　as　a　candy　drummer！　　No；　ma'am！　　Art's　no　mystery。　　I've　never　taken