The Moonlit Way: A Novel Page 6

  IV

  DUSK

  She had offered him her hand; he had bent over it, seated himself, andthey smilingly exchanged the formal banalities of a pleasantly renewedacquaintance.

  A waiter laid a cover for him. She continued to concern herself,leisurely, with her strawberries.

  "When did you leave Paris?" she enquired.

  "Nearly two years ago."

  "Before war was declared?"

  "Yes, in June of that year."

  She looked up at him very seriously; but they both smiled as shesaid:

  "It was a momentous month for you then--the month of June, 1914?"

  "Very. A charming young girl broke my heart in 1914; and so I camehome, a wreck--to recuperate."

  At that she laughed outright, glancing at his youthful, sunburnt faceand lean, vigorous figure.

  "When did _you_ come over?" he asked curiously.

  "I have been here longer than you have. In fact, I left France the dayI last saw you."

  "The same day?"

  "I started that very same day--shortly after sunrise. I crossed theBelgian frontier that night, and I sailed for New York the morningafter. I landed here a week later, and I've been here ever since.That, monsieur, is my history."

  "You've been here in New York for two years!" he repeated inastonishment. "Have you really left the stage then? I supposed you hadjust arrived to fill an engagement here."

  "They gave me a try-out this afternoon."

  "_You?_ A try-out!" he exclaimed, amazed.

  She carelessly transfixed a berry with her fork:

  "If I secure an engagement I shall be very glad to fill it ... and mystomach, also. If I don't secure one--well--charity or starvationconfronts me."

  He smiled at her with easy incredulity.

  "I had not heard that you were here!" he repeated. "I've read nothingat all about you in the papers----"

  "No ... I am here incognito.... I have taken my sister's name. Afterall, your American public does not know me."

  "But----"

  "Wait! I don't wish it to know me!"

  "But if you----"

  The girl's slight gesture checked him, although her smile becamehumorous and friendly:

  "Please! We need not discuss my future. Only the past!" She laughed:"How it all comes back to me now, as you speak--that crazy evening ofours together! What children we were--two years ago!"

  Smilingly she clasped her hands together on the table's edge,regarding him with that winning directness which was a celebrated partof her celebrated personality; and happened to be natural to her.

  "Why did I not recognise you immediately?" she demanded of herself,frowning in self-reproof. "I _am_ stupid! Also I have, now and then,thought about you----" She shrugged her shoulders, and again her facefaltered subtly:

  "Much has happened to distract my memories," she added carelessly,impaling a strawberry, "--since you and I took the key to the fieldsand the road to the moon--like the pair of irresponsibles we were thatnight in June."

  "Have you really had trouble?"

  Her slim figure straightened as at a challenge, then became adorablysupple again; and she rested her elbows on the table's edge and tookher cheeks between her hands.

  "Trouble?" she repeated, studying his face. "I don't know that word,trouble. I don't admit such a word to the honour of my happyvocabulary."

  They both laughed a little.

  She said, still looking at him, and at first speaking as though toherself:

  "Of course, you are that same, delightful Garry! My youthful Americanaccomplice!... Quite unspoiled, still, but very, very irresponsible... like all painters--like all students. And the mischief which is inme recognised the mischief in you, I suppose.... I _did_ surprise youthat night, didn't I?... And what a night! What a moon! And how wedanced there on the wet lawn until my skirts and slippers andstockings were drenched with dew!... And how we laughed! Oh, thatfull-hearted, full-throated laughter of ours! How wonderful that wehave lived to laugh like that! It is something to remember afterdeath. Just think of it!--you and I, absolute strangers, dancing everydance there in the drenched grass to the music that came through theopen windows.... And do you remember how we hid in the floweringbushes when my sister and the others came out to look for me? How theycalled, 'Nihla! Nihla! Little devil, where are you?' Oh, it wasfunny--funny! And to see _him_ come out on the lawn--do you remember?He looked so fat and stupid and anxious and bad-tempered! And you andI expiring with stifled laughter! And he, with his sash, hisdecorations and his academic palms! He'd have shot us both, youknow...."

  They were laughing unrestrainedly now at the memory of that impossiblenight a year ago; and the girl seemed suddenly transformed into anirresponsible gamine of eighteen. Her eyes grew brighter with mischiefand laughter--laughter, the greatest magician and doctor emeritus ofthem all! The immortal restorer of youth and beauty.

  Bluish shadows had gone from under her lower lashes; her eyes werestarry as a child's.

  "Oh, Garry," she gasped, laying one slim hand across his on thetable-cloth, "it was one of those encounters--one of those heavenlyaccidents that reconcile one to living.... I think the moon had mademe a perfect lunatic.... Because you don't yet know what I risked....Garry!... It ruined me--ruined me utterly--our night together underthe June moon!"

  "What!" he exclaimed, incredulously.

  But she only laughed her gay, undaunted little laugh:

  "It was worth it! Such moments are worth anything we pay for them! Ilaughed; I pay. What of it?"

  "But if I am partly responsible I wish to know----"

  "You shall know nothing about it! As for me, I care nothing about it.I'd do it again to-night! That is living--to go forward, laugh, andaccept what comes--to have heart enough, gaiety enough, brains enoughto seize the few rare dispensations that the niggardly gods flingacross this calvary which we call life! _Tenez_, that alone is living;the rest is making the endless stations on bleeding knees."

  "Yet, if I thought--" he began, perplexed and troubled, "--if Ithought that through my folly----"

  "Folly! _Non pas!_ Wisdom! Oh, my blessed accomplice! And do youremember the canoe? Were we indeed quite mad to embark for Paris onthe moonlit Seine, you and I?--I in evening gown, soaked with dew tothe knees!--you with your sketching block and easel! _Quelledemenagement en famille!_ Oh, Garry, my friend of gayer days, was thatreally folly! No, no, no, it was infinite wisdom; and its memory ishelping me to live through this very moment!"

  She leaned there on her elbows and laughed across the cloth at him.The mockery began to dance again and glimmer in her eyes:

  "After all I've told you," she added, "you are no wiser, are you?You don't know why I never went to the Fountain of Marie deMedicis--whether I forgot to go--whether I remembered but decided thatI had had quite enough of you. You don't know, do you?"

  He shook his head, smiling. The girl's face grew gradually serious:

  "And you never heard anything more about me?" she demanded.

  "No. Your name simply disappeared from the billboards, kiosques, andnewspapers."

  "And you heard no malicious gossip? None about my sister, either?"

  "None."

  She nodded:

  "Europe is a senile creature which forgets overnight. _Tant mieux_....You know, I shall sing and dance under my sister's name here. I toldyou that, didn't I?"

  "Oh! That would be a great mistake----"

  "Listen! Nihla Quellen disappeared--married some fat bourgeois, died,perhaps,"--she shrugged,--"anything you wish, my friend. Who cares tolisten to what is said about a dancing girl in all this din of war?Who is interested?"

  It was scarcely a question, yet her eyes seemed to make it so.

  "Who cares?" she repeated impatiently. "Who remembers?"

  "I have remembered you," he said, meeting her intently questioninggaze.

  "You? Oh, you are not like those others over there. Your country isnot at war. You still have leisure to remember. But they forget. Theyhaven't t
ime to remember anything--anybody--over there. Don't youthink so?" She turned in her chair unconsciously, and gazed eastward."--They have forgotten me over there--" And her lips tightened,contracted, bitten into silence.

  The strange beauty of the girl left him dumb. He was recalling, now,all that he had ever heard concerning her. The gossip of Europe hadinformed him that, though Nihla Quellen was passionately and devotedlyFrench in soul and heart, her mother had been one of those unmoral andlovely Georgians, and her father an Alsatian, named Dunois--a Frenchofficer who entered the Russian service ultimately, and became ahunting cheetah for the Grand Duke Cyril, until himself hunted intoanother world by that old bag of bones on the pale and shaky nag. Hisdaughter took the name of Nihla Quellen and what money was left, andmade her debut in Constantinople.

  As the young fellow sat there watching her, all the petty gossip ofEurope came back to him--anecdotes, panegyrics, eulogies, scandals,stage chatter, Quarter "divers," paid reclames--all that he had everread and heard about this notorious young girl, now seated thereacross the table, with her pretty head framed by slender, unjewelledfingers. He remembered the gems she had worn that June night, a yearago, and their magnificence.

  "Well," she said, "life is a pleasantry, a jest, a bon-mot flung overhis shoulder by some god too drunk with nectar to invent a betterjoke. Life is an Olympian epigram made between immortal yawns. What doyou think of _my_ epigram, Garry?"

  "I think you are just as clever and amusing as I remember you,Nihla."

  "Amusing to _you_, perhaps. But I don't entertain myself verysuccessfully. I don't think poverty is a very funny joke. Do you?"

  "Poverty!" he repeated, smiling his unbelief.

  She smiled too, displayed her pretty, ringless hands humorously, forhis inspection, then framed her oval face between them again and madea deliberate grimace.

  "All gone," she said. "I am, as you say, here on my uppers."

  "I can't understand, Nihla----"

  "Don't try to. It doesn't concern you. Also, please forget me as NihlaQuellen. I told you that I've taken my sister's name, ThessalieDunois."

  "But all Europe knows you as Nihla Quellen----"

  "Listen!" she interrupted sharply. "I have troubles enough. Don't addto them, or I shall be sorry I met you again. I tell you my name isThessa. Please remember it."

  "Very well," he said, reddening under the rebuke.

  She noted the painful colour in his face, then looked elsewhere,indifferently. Her features remained expressionless for a while. Aftera few moments she looked around at him again, and her smile began toglimmer:

  "It's only this," she said; "the girl you met once in your life--thedancing singing-girl they knew over there--is already an episode to beforgotten. End her career any way you wish, Garry,--natural death,suicide--or she can repent and take the veil, if you like--or perishat sea--only end her.... Please?" she added, with the sweet, trailinginflection characteristic of her.

  He nodded. The girl smiled mischievously.

  "Don't nod your head so owlishly and pretend to understand. You don'tunderstand. Only two or three people do. And I hope they'll believe medead, even if you are not polite enough to agree with them."

  "How can you expect to maintain your incognito?" he insisted. "Therewill be plenty of people in your very first audience----"

  "I had a sister, did I not?"

  "_Was_ she your sister?--the one who danced with you--the one calledThessa?"

  "No. But the play-bills said she was. Now, I've told you somethingthat nobody knows except two or three unpleasant devils--" She droppedher arms on the table and leaned a trifle forward:

  "Oh, pouf!" she said. "Don't let's be mysterious and dramatic, you andI. I'll tell you: I gave that woman the last of my jewels and shepromised to disappear and leave her name to me to use. It was my ownname, anyway, Thessalie Dunois. Now, you know. Be as discreet and niceas I once found you. Will you?"

  "Of course."

  "'Of course,'" she repeated, smiling, and with a little twitch of hershoulders, as though letting fall a burdensome cloak. "Allons! With afree heart, then! I am Thessalie Dunois; I am here; I am poor--don'tbe frightened! I shall not borrow----"

  "That's rotten, Thessa!" he said, turning very red.

  "Oh, go lightly, please, my friend Garry. I have no claim on you.Besides, I know men----"

  "You don't appear to!"

  "Tiens! Our first quarrel!" she exclaimed, laughingly. "This is indeedserious----"

  "If you need aid----"

  "No, I don't! Please, why do you scowl at me? Do you then wish Ineeded aid? Yours? Allez, Monsieur Garry, if I did I'd venture,perhaps, to say so to you. Does that make amends?" she added sweetly.

  She clasped her white hands on the cloth and looked at him with thatengaging, humorous little air which had so easily captivated heraudiences in Europe--that, and her voice with the hint of recklessnessever echoing through its sweetness and youthful gaiety.

  "What are you doing in New York?" she asked. "Painting?"

  "I have a studio, but----"

  "But no clients? Is that it? Pouf! Everybody begins that way. I sangin a cafe at Dijon for five francs and my soup! At Rennes I nearlystarved. Oh, yes, Garry, in spite of a number of obliging gentlemenwho, like you, offered--first aid----"

  "That is absolutely rotten of you, Thessa. Did I ever----"

  "No! For goodness' sake let me jest with you without flying intotempers!"

  "But----"

  "Oh, pouf! I shall not quarrel with you! Whatever you and I were goingto say during the next ten minutes shall remain unsaid!... Now, theten minutes are over; now, we're reconciled and you are in good humouragain. And now, tell me about yourself, your painting--in otherwords, tell me the things about yourself that would interest afriend."

  "Are you?"

  "Your friend? Yes, I am--if you wish."

  "I do wish it."

  "Then I am your friend. I once had a wonderful evening with you....I'm having a very good time now. You were _nice_ to me, Garry. Ireally was sorry not to see you again."

  "At the fountain of Marie de Medicis," he said reproachfully.

  "Yes. Flatter yourself, monsieur, because I did _not_ forget ourrendezvous. I might have forgotten it easily enough--there wassufficient excuse, God knows--a girl awakened by the crash ofruin--springing out of bed to face the end of the world without amoment's warning--yes, the end of all things--death, too! Tenez, itwas permissible to forget our rendezvous under such circumstances, wasit not? But--I did _not_ forget. I thought about it in a dumb, calmway all the while--even while _he_ stood there denouncing me,threatening me, noisy, furious--with the button of the Legion in hislapel--and an ugly pistol which he waved in the air--" She laughed:

  "Oh, it was not at all gay, I assure you.... And even when I took tomy heels after he had gone--for it was a matter of life or death, andI hadn't a minute to lose--oh, very dramatic, of course, for I ranaway in disguise and I had a frightful time of it leaving France!Well, even then, at top speed and scared to death, I remembered thefountain of Marie de Medicis, and you. Don't be too deeply flattered.I remembered these items principally because they had caused mydownfall."

  "I? I caused----"

  "No. _I_ caused it! It was I who went out on the lawn. It was I whocame across to see who was painting by moonlight. That beganit--seeing you there--in moonlight bright enough to read by--brightenough to paint by. Oh, Garry--and you were _so_ good-looking! It wasthe moon--and the way you smiled at me. And they all were dancinginside, and _he_ was so big and fat and complacent, dancing away inthere!... And so I fell a prey to folly."

  "Was it really our escapade that--that ruined you?"

  "Well--it was partly that. Pouf! It is over. And I am here. So areyou. It's been nice to see you.... Please call our waiter." Sheglanced at her cheap, leather wrist watch.

  As they rose and left the dining-room, he asked her if they were notto see each other again. A one-eyed man, close behind them, listenedfor her reply.

>   She continued to walk on slowly beside him without answering, untilthey reached the rotunda.

  "Do you wish to see me again?" she enquired abruptly.

  "Don't you also wish it?"

  "I don't know, Garry.... I've been annoyed in NewYork--bothered--seriously.... I can't explain, but somehow--I don'tseem to wish to begin a friendship with anybody...."

  "Ours began two years ago."

  "Did it?"

  "Did it not, Thessa?"

  "Perhaps.... I don't know. After all--it doesn't matter. I think--Ithink we had better say good-bye--until some happy hazard--liketo-day's encounter--" She hesitated, looked up at him, laughed:

  "Where is your studio?" she asked mischievously.

  The one-eyed man at their heels was listening.