The Ghost: A Modern Fantasy Part 25

"There are Archdukes?"

"Why! the air is thick with them. Why do men think that a woman is flattered by their ridiculous 'attentions?' If they knew how sometimes I can scarcely keep from laughing! There are moments when I would give anything to be back again in the days when I knew no one more distinguished than a concierge. There was more sincerity at my disposal then."

"But surely all distinguished people are not insincere?"

"They are insincere to opera singers who happen to be young, beautiful, and rich, which is my sad case. The ways of the people who flutter round a theatre are not my ways. I was brought up simply, as you were in your Devons.h.i.+re home. I hate to spend my life as if it was one long diplomatic reception. Ugh!"

She clenched her hands, and one of the threads of the necklace gave way, and the pearls scattered themselves over her lap.

"There! That necklace was given to me by one of my friends!" She paused.

"Yes?" I said tentatively.

"He is dead now. You have heard--everyone knows--that I was once engaged to Lord Clarenceux. He was a friend. He loved me--he died--my friends have a habit of dying. Alresca died."

The conversation halted. I wondered whether I might speak of Lord Clarenceux, or whether to do so would be an indiscretion. She began to collect the pearls.

"Yes," she repeated softly, "he was a friend."

I drew a strange satisfaction from the fact that, though she had said frankly that he loved her, she had not even hinted that she loved him.

"Lord Clarenceux must have been a great man," I said.

"That is exactly what he was," she answered with a vague enthusiasm.

"And a great n.o.bleman too! So different from the others. I wish I could describe him to you, but I cannot. He was immensely rich--he looked on me as a pauper. He had the finest houses, the finest judgment in the world. When he wanted anything he got it, no matter what the cost. All dealers knew that, and any one who had 'the best'

to sell knew that in Lord Clarenceux he would find a purchaser. He carried things with a high hand. I never knew another man so determined, or one who could be more stern or more exquisitely kind.

He knew every sort of society, and yet he had never married. He fell in love with me, and offered me his hand. I declined--I was afraid of him. He said he would shoot himself. And he would have done it; so I accepted. I should have ended by loving him. For he wished me to love him, and he always had his way. He was a man, and he held the same view of my world that I myself hold. Mr. Foster, you must think I'm in a very chattering mood."

I protested with a gesture.

"Lord Clarenceux died. And I am alone. I was terribly lonely after his death. I missed his jealousy."

"He was jealous?"

"He was the most jealous man, I think, who ever lived. His jealousy escorted me everywhere like a guard of soldiers. Yet I liked him even for that. He was genuine; so sincere, so masterful with it. In all matters his methods were drastic. If he had been alive I should not be tormented by the absurd fears which I now allow to get the better of me."

"Fears! About what?"

"To be frank, about my debut at the Opera Comique. I can imagine," she smiled, "how he would have dealt with that situation."

"You are afraid of something?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"I don't know. I merely fear.... There is Carlotta Deschamps."

"Miss Rosa, a few minutes ago you called me your friend." My voice was emotional; I felt it.

"I did, because you are. I have no claim on you, but you have been very good to me."

"You have the best claim on me. Will you rely on me?"

We looked at each other.

"I will," she said. I stood before her, and she took my hand.

"You say you fear. I hope your fears are groundless--candidly, I can't see how they can be otherwise. But suppose anything should happen.

Well, I shall be at your service."

At that moment some one knocked and entered. It was Yvette. She avoided my glance.

"Madame will take her egg-and-milk before going to rehearsal?"

"Yes, Yvette. Bring it to me here, please."

"You have a rehearsal to-day?" I asked. "I hope I'm not detaining you."

"Not at all. The call is for three o'clock. This is the second one, and they fixed the hour to suit me. It is really my first rehearsal, because at the previous one I was too hoa.r.s.e to sing a note."

I rose to go.

"Wouldn't you like to come with me to the theatre?" she said with an adorable accent of invitation.

My good fortune staggered me.

After she had taken her egg-and-milk we set out.

CHAPTER XII

EGG-AND-MILK

I was intensely conscious of her beauty as I sat by her side in the swiftly rolling victoria. And I was conscious of other qualities in her too--of her homeliness, her good-fellows.h.i.+p, her trustfulness. The fact that she was one of the most famous personalities in Europe did not, after our talk, in the least disturb my pleasing dreams of a possible future. It was, nevertheless, specially forced upon me, for as we drove along the Rue de Rivoli, past the interminable facades of the Louvre, and the big shops, and so into the meaner quarter of the markets--the Opera Comique was then situated in its temporary home in the Place du Chatelet--numberless wayfarers showed by their demeanor of curiosity that Rosetta Rosa was known to them. They were much more polite than English people would have been, but they did not hide their interest in us.

The jewels had been locked away in a safe, except one gorgeous emerald brooch which she was wearing at her neck.

"It appears," I said, "that in Paris one must not even attend rehearsals without jewels."

She laughed.

"You think I have a pa.s.sion for jewels, and you despise me for it."

"By no means. n.o.body has a better right to wear precious stones than yourself."