His Own People | Page 9

upon something almost grotesquely
out of place: a large, new, perfectly-appointed card- table with a sliding
top, a smooth, thick, green cover and patent compartments.
He halted before this incongruity, regarding it with astonishment. Then
a light laugh rippled behind him, and he turned to find Madame de
Vaurigard seated in a big red Venetian chair by the fire.
She wore a black lace dress, almost severe in fashion, which gracefully
emphasized her slenderness; and she sat with her knees crossed, the
firelight twinkling on the beads of her slipper, on her silken instep, and
flashing again from the rings upon the slender fingers she had clasped
about her knee.
She had lit a thin, long Russian cigarette.
"You see?" she laughed. "I mus' keep up with the time. I mus' do
somesing to hold my frien's about me. Even the ladies like to play
now--that breedge w'ich is so tiresome--they play, play, play! And
you--you Americans, you refuse to endure us if we do not let you play.
So for my frien's when they come to my house--if they wish it, there is
that foolish little table. I fear"--she concluded with a bewitching
affectation of sadness--"they prefer that to talkin' wiz me."
"You know that couldn't be so, ~Comtesse~," he said. "I would rather
talk to you than--than--"
"Ah, yes, you say so, Monsieur!" She looked at him gravely; a little
sigh seemed to breathe upon her lips; she leaned forward nearer the fire,
her face wistful in the thin, rosy light, and it seemed to him he had
never seen anything so beautiful in his life.
He came across to her and sat upon a stool at her feet. "On my soul," he

began huskily, "I swear--"
She laid her finger on her lips, shaking her head gently; and he was
silent, while the intelligent maid--at that moment entering --arranged a
tea-table and departed.
"American an' Russian, they are the worse," said the Countess
thoughtfully, as she served him with a generous cup, laced with rum,
"but the American he is the bes' to play wiz." Mellin found her
irresistible when she said "wiz."
"Why is that?"
"Oh, the Russian play high, yes--but the American"--she laughed
delightedly and stretched her arms wide--"he make' it all a joke! He is
beeg like his beeg country. If he win or lose, he don' care! Ah, I mus'
tell you of my great American frien', that Honor-able Chanlair Pedlow,
who is comin' to Rome. You have heard of Honor-able Chanlair
Pedlow in America?"
"I remember hearing that name."
"Ah, I shall make you know him. He is a man of distinction; he did sit
in your Chamber of Deputies--what you call it?--yes, your Con-gress.
He is funny, eccentric--always he roar like a lion --Boum!--but so
simple, so good, a man of such fine heart--so lovable!"
"1'll be glad to meet him," said Mellin coldly.
"An', oh, yes, I almos' forget to tell you," she went on, "your frien', that
dear Cooley, he is on his way from Monte Carlo in his automobile. I
have a note from him to-day."
"Good sort of fellow, little Cooley, in his way," remarked her
companion graciously. "Not especially intellectual or that, you know.
His father was a manufacturer chap, I believe, or something of the sort.
I suppose you saw a lot of him in Paris?"
"Eh, I thought he is dead!" cried Madame de Vaurigard.
"The father is. I mean, little Cooley."
"Oh, yes," she laughed softly. "We had some gay times, a little party of
us. We shall be happy here, too; you will see. I mus' make a little
dinner very soon, but not unless you will come. You will?"
"Do you want me very much?"
He placed his empty cup on the table and leaned closer to her, smiling.
She did not smile in response; instead, her eyes fell and there was the
faintest, pathetic quiver of her lower lip.

"Already you know that," she said in a low voice.
She rose quickly, turned away from him and walked across the room to
the curtains which opened upon the hall. One of these she drew back.
"My frien', you mus' go now," she said in the same low voice.
"To-morrow I will see you again. Come at four an' you shall drive with
me--but not--not more--now. Please!"
She stood waiting, not looking at him, but with head bent and eyes
veiled. As he came near she put out a limp hand. He held it for a few
seconds of distinctly emotional silence, then strode swiftly into the hall.
She immediately let the curtain fall behind him, and as he got his hat
and coat he heard her catch her breath sharply with a sound like a little
sob.
Dazed with glory, he returned