Cosmopolis -- Volume 2

to it, such an evening would have marked the prelude to one of those nights of insomnia when the mind exha

ickened her blood. She had breakfasted, 'a l'anglaise', following the rule to which she claimed to owe the preservation of her digestion, upon eggs, cold meat, and tea. She had made her complicated toilette, had visited her daughter to ascertain how she had slept, had written five letters, for her cosmopolitan salon compelled her to carry on an immense correspondence, which radiated between Cairo and New York, St. Petersburg and Bombay, taking in Munich, London, and Madeira, and she was as faithful in friendship as she was inconstant in love. Her large handwriting, so elegant in its composition, had cove

od near her with a face such as Bonifagio gave to his Pharisees. He managed the seven hundred hectares of Piove, near Padua, Madame Steno's favorite estate. She had increased the revenue from it tenfold, by the draining of a sterile and often malignant lagoon, which, situated a me

om the silkworms at about fift

ncy," replied

ed times fifty makes five thousand," res

Excellency," sa

id the Countess, "and as much for the Japanese...

ency. And ab

at remains of the last crop, but not at less than six francs. You know it is necessary that our casks be emptied and cleaned after the mon

lency. And

the express to Florence to-day at two o'clock. You will reach Verona to-morrow mornin

and she knew that the door of the antechamber opened. It seemed that the administrator took away in his portfolio all the preoccupation of this extraordinary woman. For, after concluding th

t send any one hither. Bring me the card." Then, turning toward the young man, "Well

"I, who no longer have anything, not even my bed. I went to t

which might result therefrom. She, on the other hand, admired the strange youth who, in his misfortune, could find such joviality at his command. He had evidently expended as much care upon his toilette as if he had not to take some immediate steps to assure his future, and his waistcoat, the color of his shirt, his cravat, his yellow shoes, the flower in his buttonhole, all united to make of him an amiable and incorrigibly frivolous dand

le of the celebrated palace had called forth a scandal to which it was essential to put an end. The Countess had forgotten that she had assisted, without a protestation, in that sale. Had she not known through Hafner that he had bought at a low price an enormous heap of the Prince's bills of exchange? Did she not know the Baron well enough to be sure that M. Noe Ancona, the implacable creditor who sold the palace, was only the catspaw of this terrible friend? In a

which to study her. Answer me frankly, would she not make the prettiest little Roman princess who could kneel in her wedding-gown at the tomb of the apostles? Can you not see her in her white gown, under her

ed up, "but she is not fair. And you know, to me, a woman who is not fair-ah, Counte

ty, youth, intelligence, fortune, and even, if I have read my little friend aright, the beginning of an interest, of a very deep interest. And, for a little, you would make a declaration to me. Come, come!" and she extended to him for a kiss her beautiful hand, on which gleamed large emeralds. "You are

his head with a most comical gesture. "I can not decide l

know? In twenty-four hours, in forty-eight, in six months, what difference will there be, I pray you? We must l

d the Pri

be disguised in her, when there were practical decisions in which she was to take part. "The only serious objection you made to me when I spoke to you of t

d the Pri

o. You told me so yourself.... Become the Baron's son-in- law, and you will have news of your robbers. I know.... There is the Baron's origin and the suit of ten years ago with all the 'pettogolezzi' to which it gave rise. All that has not the common meaning. The Baron began life in a small way

, b

oncluded Madame Steno. "That it may

the desk. "I, who have never known in the morning what I would do in the evening, I, who have always li

t to myself this morning, and I have an appointment at eleven o'clock!".... She looked at the timepiece on her table, which indicated twenty-five minutes past ten. She had heard the door open. The footman was already before her and presented to her a card upon a salver. She took the card, looked at it, frowned, glanced again at the clock, seemed to hesitate, then: "Let him wait in the small salon, and say that I will be there immediately," said she, and turning again toward Ardea: "You think you have

ised-have directed me. I should have speculated on the Bourse, as she did, with Hafner's counsel. But not in the quality of son-in-law. I should not have been obliged to marry. And she would not now have such bad tobacco.".... He was on the point of lighting one of the Virginian cigarettes, a present fr

nd saltpetre, which he preferred to the tobacco of the American, he mechanically glanced at the card which t

t, with astonishm

oleslas

he deserted office. "She had no need to bid me not to go. I

he hall, and was like a pendant to the terrace. It formed, with the dining-room, the entire ground-floor, or, rather, the entresol of the house. Madame Steno's apartments, as well as the ot

at man had been hers, with the vibrating communion of a voluptuousness unbroken for two years, that woman maintains a sort of physiological, quasi-animal instinct. A gesture, the accent of a word, a sigh, a blush, a pallor, are signs for her that her intuition interprets with infallible certainty. How and why is that instinct accompanied by absolute oblivion of former caresses? It is a particular case of that insoluble and melancholy problem of the birth and death of love. Madame S

n her blue eyes, in her smile, in her entire person, some thing at once so gracious and so inaccessible, which gives to an abandoned lover the mad longing to strike, to murder, a woman who smiles at him with such a smile. At the same time she was so beautiful in the morning light, subdued by the lowered blinds, that she inspired him with an equal desire to clasp her in his arms whether she would or no. He had recognized, when she entered the room, the aroma of a p

the hand she had extended to him on entering. "Excuse me, I thought you alone. Will you b

am in all things for the immediate. When one has something to say, it should be said, one, two, three?.... First, there is not much to say, and then it i

a smile of atrocious hatred. The good-nature displayed by her cut him to the heart, and he continued, already less sel

fixedly in the face without lowering her proud eyes,

intimate friends to support her. She was not sure that the madman who confronted her was not armed, and she believed him perfectly capable of killing her, while she could not defend herself. But a part had to be played sooner or later, and sh

seeking for word

mory? I do not know whether you recall our last meeting? Pardon, I meant to say the last but one, since we met

I do not very much like your style of expression. It is the second time you have addre

ng, decided her whom he thus addressed to precipitate the issue of a

ow and feel it to be. Instead of writing to me, as you did, letters which rendered replies impossible to me; instead of returning to Rome and hiding yourself like a malefactor; instead of coming to my home last night with that threatening face; instead of

st week of that fatal absence! But to think that you should tell it to me some day like that, in that calm voice which

women, who have the respect, the religion of their sentiment. I have that respect; I practise that religion. I repeat that I loved you a great deal, Boleslas. I did not hide it from you formerly. I was as loy

urning as I did? You did not know that one does not dally with one whom one loves as I love you?.... It is not true.... You have not been loyal to me, since you took this man for a lover while you were still my mistress. You had not the right, no, no, no, you had not the right!.... And what a man!.... If it had been Ardea, Dorsenne, no matter whom, that I might not blush for you.... But that brute, that idiot, who has nothing in his favor, neither good looks, birth, elegance, mind nor t

wounded in the man she adores, possessed her, "you shall not speak twice of one of my friends as you have just spoken. You have deeply offended me, and I will not pardon you. In place of the friendship I offered you so honestly, we will have no further connections excepting those of soc

friends! And I lent myself to it!.... I accepted such baseness-that to-day you might take shelter behind the two innocents!... No, it shall not be.... you shall not escape me thus. Since it is the only point on which I can strike you, I will strike you there. I hold you by that means, do

her, to break objects around him, to call forth a terrible scandal. She had the presence of mind of an audacity more courageous still. An electric bell was near

own," said she to the footman whom her ring had summoned. That phrase was the drop of cold water which suddenly broke the furious jet of vapor. She had found the only means of putting an end t

rous and most cruel deeds, in an ex

d: "She is my comrade, she is my friend.".... And she thought so. To lean upon her in that critical moment was only natural to her. In the tempest of indignation which shook Gorka, the sudden appeal to innocent Alba appeared to him the last degree of

you!" Then, when he heard the door open:

who entered, she said: "You know the carriage is to come at te

ent aureole around her fair head. Her delicate bust was displayed to advantage in the corsage Maitland had chosen for her portrait, a sort of cuirass of a dark-blue materia

hat she called, in an odd but very appropriate way, the sensation of "a needle in the heart," of a sharp, fine point, which entered her breast to the left. She had slept a sleep so prof

versation between two men, who did not know Alba to be behind them, had formed the principal part of the doubt, which, by turns, had increased and diminished, which had abandoned and tortured her, according to the signs, as little decisive as Madame

is she this morning? A

elle, I will bear your love to Maud." ....He had regained all the courtesy which a long line of savage 'grands seigneurs', but 'grands seigneurs' nevertheless, had instilled in him. If his bow to Madame Steno was very ceremonious, he put a special grace in the low bow with which he took leave of the Contessina. It was merely a trifle, but the Countess was keen enough to perceive

my veil and fe

not mistrust while she resumed her conversation with Peppino that poor Alba, on reentering her chamber, wiped from her pale cheeks two large tears, and that she opened, to re-read it, the infamous anonymous letter received the day before.

young girl should be, in playing, with regard to M. Maitland the role she has already played with

ad the words exchanged with Dorsenne comforted her, and how reassured had she been by the Countess's imperturbability on the entrance of Boleslas Gorka! Fragile peace, which had vanished when she saw her mother and the husband of her best friend face to face, with traces in their eyes, in their gestures, upon their countenances, of an angry scene! The thought "Why were they thus! What had t

ended to rejoin Madame Steno, it was not any more possible to perceive on those hands, freshly gloved, the traces of that tragical childishness, than it was possible to discern, beneath the large veil which she had tied over her hat, the traces of tears. She found the mother for whom she was suffering so much

your mind. The step shall be taken to-day, a

my decision all the afternoon. It is true," he added, philosophic

e were talking of Fanny'

everal minutes later, w

s, in the victoria which

nd's s

ntessina, "you think

this long time! I remember how, in 1880, after his suit, he came to see me in Venice-you and Fanny played on the balcony of the palace- he question

ted, too, to go, as she was going, to Maitland's studio, behind her two English cobs, which t

self lived. That analogy again possessed her, and she again felt the "needle in the heart" as she recalled what she had heard before from the Countess of the intrigue by which Baron Justus Hafner had, indeed, ensnared his future son-in-law. She was overcome by infinite sadness, and she lapsed into one of her usual silent moods, while the Countess related

ier.... He had no sooner conceived that bitter suspicion than he felt the necessity of proving it at onc

go with you that we may have

ppointment, but in an hour I shall perhaps have occa

aid Peppino,

eslas, and, raising hims

e too low for his frien

n five minutes you drive

nd the Place de la

as suddenly transformed into a fine Roman steed, the botte itself into a light carriage as swift as

nd in a duel. If I had not to liquidate that folly," and he pointed out with the end of his cane a placard relative to the sale of his

e Steno had repaired to the other. What would it avail him to know it and what would the evidence prove? Had the Countess concealed those sittings-those convenient sittings-as the jealous lover had told Dorsenne? The very thought of them caused the blood to flow in his veins much more feverishly than did the thoughts of the other meetings. For those he could still doubt, n

f counterfeit Alhambra, a portion of which he rented to his brother-in-law. During the few moments that he stood at the corner, Boleslas Gorka recalled having visited that house the previous year, while taking, in the company of Madame Steno, Alba, Maud, and Hafner, one of those walks of which fashionable women are so fond in Rome as well as in Paris. An irrational instinct had rendered the painter and his paintings antipathetic to him at their first me

he large square, the ruin, the row of high houses, his cab. He appeared to himself so absurd for being there to spy out that of which he was only too sure, that he burst into a nervous laugh and reentered his cab, giving his own address to the cabman: Palazzetto Doria, Place de Venise. The cab that time started off leisurely, for the man comprehended that the mad desire to arrive hastily no longer possessed his fare. By a sudden metamorphosis, the swift Roman steed became a common nag, and the vehicle a heavy machine which rumbled along the streets. Boleslas yielded to depression, the inevitable reaction of an excess of violence such as he had just experienced. His composure could not last. The studio, in wh

He was very near his own home, for he was just at that admirable square encumbered with the debris of basilica, the Forum of Trajan, which the statue of St. Peter at the summit of the column overlooks. Around the base of the sculptured marble, legends atte

n so imperative a tone that the horse began again to trot as he had done before, and the cab to go quickly through the labyrinth of streets. A wave of tragical desire rolled into the young man's heart. No, he would not bear that affront. He was too bitterly wounded in the most sensitive chords of his being, in his love as well as his pride. Both struggled within him, and another instinct as well, urging him to the mad step he was about to take. The ancient blood of th

nd before Madame Steno! Ah, what pleasure it would give him to see her tremble, for she surely would tremble when she saw him enter the studio! But he would be correct, as she had so insolently asked him to be. He would go, so to speak, to see Alba's portrait. He would dissemble, then he would be better able to find a pretext for an argument. It is so easy to find one in the simplest conversation, and from an argument a quarrel is soon born. He would speak in such a manner that Maitland would have to answer him.

fools," said he to himself, descending from his c

dissipated his excitement by replying with this simple phra

r is not

as. "I have an appointment with Madame and

s are strict," re

t Chapron. Chance decreed that the latter should send for a carriage in which to go to lunch, and that the carriage should be late. At the sound of wheels stopping at the door, he looked out of one of the windows of his apartment, which faced the street. He saw Gorka alight. Such a visit, at such an hour, with the persons who were in the ateli

, in order to dispose of him in case an altercation should arise between the importunate

Boleslas. "Monsieur Maitland has made an appointment with m

, and it is impossible for me to undertake to open it to show you the picture, since I have not the key. As fo

minutes ago, enter this house and I, too, saw their carriage drive away.".... He felt his anger increase a

ich he did not acknowledge, but which slightly tinted his complexion. The manner of Madame Steno's former lover see

ken,-Monsieur,

a tone which is not the one which I have a right to expect from you.... When one charges

so in enigmas. I do not know what you mean by 'a certain business,' but I know that it is unbefitting a gentlem

Boleslas, beside himself, "and you have not constit

t in his right hand. It was the work of a second, and the two men were again face to face, both pale with anger, ready to collar one another rudely, when the sound of a door closing above their hea

shall have the honor of sendi

ho will send you two. You shall answer

ng I ask of you," he added, "that no names be mentioned. There would be too many persons involved.

ough the streets in his cab, after giving the cabman the address of the Palais Castagna. "Yes, there is a man.... He was very insolent just