The Place of Honeymoons
axicab. He wanted to roar and lash and devour something. Instead, he could only twist the ends of his mustache savagely. So she was a grand duchess,
ll she heard his voice, she had forgotten all about
admit smashing those ten articles of advisement known as the decalogue and yet deny the inherent quality which surrenders the admission-vanity. However you may look at it, man's vanity is a complex thing. The vanity of a woman has a definite and commendable purpose: the conquest of man, his purse, and half of his time. Too indifferent! Was it possible that he had roused her enmity simply because he had made it evident that her charms did
t of their continental cousins. On the little isle they were satisfied to marry soubrettes and chorus girls. Here, the lady must be no less a personage than a grand-opera singer or a premi
uring all these weary months he had drawn a melancholy picture of himself as a wounded lion, creeping into the jungle to hide its hurts, when, truth be known, he had taken the ways of the jackass for a model. He saw plainly enough now. More than this,
ed by their bitter snows, were susceptible to volcanoes; they courted them as a counterbalance. Perhaps he had spoken roughly, but his temper had not been under control. One thing he recalled with grim satisfaction. He had sent a barbed arrow up t
, and he was inclined to believe that the prevarication had its source in the pomegranate lips of the Calabrian. To give the old barb one more twist, to l
y in gaining admission to the house. He knew enough of these general receptions; the announcing of his name would have conveyed nothing to the host, who knew perhaps a third of his guests, and many of these but slightly. But such an adventure was distasteful to Courtlandt. He could not overstep certain recognized boundaries of convention, and to enter a man's house unasked was colossal impudence. Beyond this, he realized that he could have accomplished nothing; the advantage would have been hers. Nor could he meet h
called to
lties; and he went about the affair with his usual directness. It was only at rare times that he ran his head into a cul-de-sac. If her chauffeur was regularly employed in her service, he
scana?" Courtlandt asked of the
ed the requirements of a gentleman, grumbled an affirmative. The limousine
y directly, or do you
e's car most of the time, especially at night.
ult moment for Courtlandt. The chauffeur waited wond
Mons
ed by the tone, which contained
lle's car till she comes. I wish
legs. "Thanks, Monsieur. It is very du
realized that his proposal had
gentleman I mean mademoiselle no harm. I am known to her. All she has t
about you? I never saw you before, and for two seasons I have driven mademoiselle in Paris. She wears beautiful jewels to-night. How do I know that
ckhe
perfectly understood. "Là, là!" he
ly disconcerting, too, to have found an honest man when he was in desperate need of a dishonest one. He had faced with fine courage all sorts of dangerous wild animals; but at this moment he hadn't the courage to face a policeman and endeavor to explain, in a foreign tongue, a situation at once so delicate and so singularly open
uch a proposition. The man had been either an American or an Englishman, for all his accuracy in the tongue. Bah! Perhaps he had heard her sing that night, and had come away from the Opera, moonstruck. It was not an isolated case. The fools were always pestering him, but no one had ever offered so uncommon a bribe: five hundred francs. Mademoiselle might not believe that part
walked up and down, never going twenty feet beyond the limousine. He couldn't see the face. The long dark coat had a military cut about the hips and shou
opened the door and saw to it that she was comfortably
s it, F
red francs, Mademoiselle, if I wo
hide in the car? Why di
Mademoiselle, b
ima donna dropped the bunch of
tall, with light hair and mustache. But as I had never seen him be
u know hi
, Madem
, call the police. You have done w
to the third car from the limousine, an
out the most beautiful, blue, Irish eyes in the world. She rubbed her fingers carefully up and down the faint perpendicular wrinkle above her nose. It was always there on nights like this. How she longed for the season to end! She would fly away to the lakes, the beautiful, heavenly tinted lakes, the bare restful mountains, and the clover lawns spreading und
nature. A flash of sunshine called to her voice; the beads of water, trembling upon the blades of grass after a summer shower, brought a song to her lips. Hers was a God-given voice, and training had added to it nothing but confi
erous applause that had followed her two songs. Ah, how that man Paderewski played! They two had cost the ambassador eight thousand francs. Fame and fortune! Fortune she could understand; but fame! What was it? Upon a time she believed she had known what fame was;
m was bare and cheaply furnished. He took off his coat but retained his hat, pulling it down still farther over his eyes. His face was always in shadow. A round chin, two full red lips, scantily covered by a blond mustache were all that could be seen. He began to walk the floor impatiently, stopping and listening whenever he heard a sound. He waited less than an hour for the
went up the stairs instead of taking the lift, and though the hall was dark, she knew her way. She unlocked the door of the apartment and entered, swinging the door b
e stopped before the mirror over the mantel, touched her hair lightly, detached the tiara of emeralds ... and became
is I!" sa
e mantel and picked up a magazin
room, or I
wly. "Do so," he said. "I should m
e was very white, but
burning powder filled the room. The Burmese gong clanged shril
in; there ought to be half a dozen bullets left. No? Then, good-by!" He left the apartment without another
the woman who had fired it leaned heavi
? Mon Dieu, what is it?" A pretty, sleepy-eyed young woman, in a night-dress, rus
ten him. It went off accidentally. Oh, Ce
n the lower hall, a shout of warning, a patter of steps; then the hall door slammed