Their Son; The Necklace Part 15

"Oh, no! Very small, indeed!"

With ravishment he examined the fine softness of her wrist, the wandering lines traced by the blue veins beneath the whiteness of the skin, the little dimples that adorned the back of her hand. That hand was an artist's, a dancer's. Its fingers were showily covered with rings. Alicia studied these rings. In their settings, the sapphires, the blood-red rubies, the topazes and diamonds filled with light blent into bouquets of tiny, never-fading flowers.

"Next time you go through Calle Mayor," directed the young woman, "take a good look at the necklace I've told you about. There are two necklaces in the window. One is of black pearls, the other of emeralds. I'm talking about the emerald one. You'll find it a little to the left, on a bust of white velvet."

The vision of the precious stones persisted in her memory with the tenacity of an obsession. It filled her mind and dominated all her thoughts with a dangerous kind of introspective tyranny.

Eight o'clock sounded. Enrique Darles got up.

"Going, already?" asked the girl.

"Yes, I'm going to supper."

She looked him over, from head to foot, and saw that he was slender, with an almost childish beauty, as he stood there in his modest suit of black. Then she thought about having nothing to do, that night, and how horribly bored she was going to be.

"Why not stay here and have a bite with me?" she questioned.

"What for?" he demanded.

"What a question! Why, so we shan't have to separate, so soon."

"I--well, all right. Anything you like. But I'm afraid I'll bother you."

"What an idiot you are! Quite the contrary. Your conversation will amuse me. You'll see how quickly I'll be good-natured, again."

She got up with a swift, supple movement that made her petticoats rustle and that infused a perfume of violets through the room. She pressed an electric b.u.t.ton. A maid appeared.

"Tell Leonor," she ordered, "that I have a guest. Senor Enrique is going to have supper with me."

She approached a mirror, to arrange her hair. She seemed happy, transfigured with joy.

"Have you seen the play they're giving at the Princess Theater to-night?" asked she.

"No, I haven't."

"They say it's awfully good. Shall we take it in? There's time enough, yet. We'll have supper right away."

Darles felt a bit disconcerted, and secretly investigated his pockets, estimating the money he had. Mentally he counted:

"Five pesetas, ten, fifteen."

Yes, there was enough for two seats and a carriage to come back in.

"All right, just as you like," he answered, more rea.s.sured.

"Then I'll go change my dress. I'll be back in a minute."

She vanished behind the crimson curtain that draped the door of her bedroom. The student heard a little rustling of lingerie that slid to the floor. He heard corset-steels being tightened over a soft breast; heard mysterious, silken sounds of undressing and of dressing; heard closet-doors vivaciously opened and shut.

Enrique felt upset and very happy. He had known Alicia more than a month. During that time, using his visits to Don Manuel as a pretext, he had seen the young woman several times. In spite of the intimacy of these calls he had never dared let the girl see his love. His innocence had been too great to let him approach any such difficult avowal. When Alicia had tried to help him out of the embarra.s.sment she had seen in him, and had tried to turn the conversation into confidential channels, he had evaded declaring himself. For he had been afraid of making some stupid blunder and of appearing absurd.

But now he felt calmer, more self-confident. Without quite understanding why, he suspected that Alicia's ill-humor was working to his benefit.

She was keeping him with her because she was bored, because she was afraid to pa.s.s the night alone with that gnawing desire for the jewels that in all probability could never be hers. And Enrique reflected that the necklace, made to encircle some wonderful throat, might become the symbol of a bond of love now growing up between them.

Then he realized there was something sweet and intimate in the confidence Alicia manifested by dressing so very near him, and in the complacency shown by the maid when Alicia had told her that Senor Enrique was taking supper there. These were important details that roused up his failing heart and made him understand that all this--if his own cowardice were not too great--might lead to something much more complete and exquisite than a mere chaste, warm friends.h.i.+p.

Enrique lost himself in pleasant fancies. He remembered many novels in which the daring and eloquent heroes had taken part in situations quite parallel to this now confronting him, poor country boy that he was. The beveled mirror of a clothes-press flung back at him the reflection of his tall, slim body, his black clothes, his rather poetic face. Pale, beardless, romantic-looking, why might not he be a hero, too? What surprises might not destiny have in store for his youthfulness?

To calm himself he began looking at the little bronze and porcelain figures in the cabinets. There were cowled gnomes, dogs, cats looking into a little mirror, with astonished grimaces. Then Darles studied the marble clock and the big vases on the chimney-piece. He examined the portraits and the little fancy pictures, of slight merit but gaudily framed, that covered the green wall-paper almost to the ceiling. And in a kind of a.n.a.lytical way he reflected that these portraits, these little paintings, these pretty, frivolous furnis.h.i.+ngs were the aftermath of all the mercenary love-affairs which had taken place here in this apartment.

His attention was now called to a large collection of picture post-cards stuck into a j.a.panese screen. There were dancers, love-making scenes and all sorts of things. Nearly every card bore the signature of some man, together with a line or two of dedication. Many of the cards were dated from Paris--that City of the Sun, beloved by adventurers--while others had come from America, from Egypt or elsewhere. And all the cards seemed a kind of incense offered to the beauty of the same woman. Through all the longings of exile, and from every zone, memories had come back to her. You might almost have thought the warmth of her flesh had infused a deathless glow in all those wanderers.

Alicia Pardo came in again, bringing with her a gust of violet perfume.

"Have I kept you waiting long?" asked she. "I hope not. Come on, now, let's go to the dining-room. If we want to get to the theater in time, we mustn't lose a minute."

It was a light, pleasant supper--vegetable soup, partridges _a l'anglaise_, lobster and crisp bacon, then a bit of orange marmalade and dead-ripe bananas. At the theater, they had a couple of seats in the second row. The play had already begun, when they got there. None the less, Goldie's presence roused up interest among the masculine element in the boxes. Numbers of opera-gla.s.ses focused themselves at her. On the stage, an actor profited by one of his exits to give her an almost imperceptible smile, to which she replied with a nod.

Such marks of attention usually fill men of the world with pride and complacency. But they disturb young lovers. According to the temperaments of such youthful blades, public recognition of this kind excites jealousy or shame. Enrique Darles felt suppressed and ill at ease. A wave of hot blood burned in his cheeks. Not for one instant did it occur to him that these grave, rich gentlemen--old men who never win the favors of the demi-monde along the flowery path of real affection--might be envying his beauty and his youth.

Alicia felt, in the student's silence, something of the embarra.s.sment that possessed him.

"What's the matter with you?" asked she. "Are you ashamed of being seen with me?"

Enrique tried to seem astonished.

"Ashamed?" he repeated. "How could I be? On the contrary----"

And his fingers closed over hers with unspeakable ardor.

At the end of the act, the audience began to applaud. Many enthusiastic voices called: "Author! Author!" Alicia clapped her hands wildly.

"Oh, how I'd like to know him!" cried she.

Enrique also applauded noisily, to please her. The curtain rose again, in the midst of that uproarious tempest of triumph, and the author appeared. His profile was aquiline; his theatrical triumphs and loose way of living had enveloped him in a cloud of prestige, blent of talent and scandal. He looked a little above forty, but his lithe body still kept all the graceful activity of youth. The spot-light brilliantly illuminated him; he smiled, with the arrogant expression and gestures of a conqueror. Still applauding, Alicia exclaimed to Enrique:

"_Isn't_ he lovely? I've got to get some one to introduce me to him. My friend Candelas knows him very well."

And her big green eyes widened with emotion. Her curly reddish hair shook like a lion's mane, over her willful forehead. At that moment, Enrique Darles once more felt himself small and obscure. He saw his love meant nothing in the exuberant life of this girl. While he had been holding her pretty little hand, a few minutes before, he had thought her conquered and in love with him. Now all of a sudden he beheld her transfigured, beside herself, her scatter-brained little head flung back in an att.i.tude of giving, that offered the victorious playwright her snowy throat. Ethnological reasons underlie woman's adoration of everything strong, s.h.i.+ning, violent.

"If I were not here," thought Darles with melancholy, "surely she would go to him."

The student got back his gayety, during the second act. Alicia pressed up against him, slyly and nervously, and her restless curls produced little electric ticklings on his temples. When the play was done, the ovation broke out again, and the author once more appeared. Enrique's applause was only mild. For a moment he thought the playwright's eyes fell with avidity on Alicia. This painful impression still lay upon the student as they went out into the street. The young woman walked beside him, holding his arm and s.h.i.+vering with cold in her handsome gray cloak.

The night was sharp. Rain had been falling. Alicia said:

"Well, where are we going?"

He answered, in surprise: