The End of Her Honeymoon | Page 4

if we don't mind two very small rooms--unluckily not on the same floor. But some people are going away to-morrow and then she'll have free some charming rooms overlooking the garden."
He took a ten-franc piece out of his pocket as he spoke, and handed it to the gratified cabman:--"It doesn't seem too much for a drive through fairyland"--he said aside to his wife.
And Nancy nodded contentedly. It pleased her that her Jack should be generous--the more that she had found out in the last three weeks that if generous, he was by no means a spendthrift. He had longed to buy a couple of Persian prayer carpets in that queer little warehouse where a French friend of his had taken them in Lyons, but he had resisted the temptation--nobly.
Meanwhile Madame Poulain was talking, talking, talking--emphasising all she said with quick, eager gestures.
"They are going to put you in their own daughter's room, darling. She's luckily away just now. So I think you will be all right. I, it seems, must put up with a garret!"
"Oh, must you be far away from me?" she asked a little plaintively.
"Only for to-night, only till to-morrow, sweetheart."
And then they all began going up a winding staircase which started flush from the wall to the left.
First came Madame Poulain, carrying a candle, then Monsieur Poulain with his new English clients, and, last of all, the loutish lad carrying Nancy's trunk. They had but a little way to go up the shallow slippery stairs, for when they reached the first tiny landing Madame Poulain opened a curious, narrow slit of a door which seemed, when shut, to be actually part of the finely panelled walls.
"Here's my daughter's room," said the landlady proudly. "It is very comfortable and charming."
"What an extraordinary little room!" whispered Nancy.
And Dampier, looking round him with a good deal of curiosity, agreed.
In the days when the H?tel Saint Ange belonged to the great soldier whose name it still bears, this strange little apartment had surely been, so the English artist told himself, a powdering closet. Even now the only outside light and air came from a small square window which had evidently only recently been cut through the thick wall. In front of this aperture fluttered a bright pink curtain.
Covering three of the walls as well as the low ceiling, was a paper simulating white satin powdered with rose-buds, and the bed, draped with virginal muslin curtains, was a child's rather than a woman's bed.
"What's that?" asked Dampier suddenly. "A cupboard?"
He had noticed that wide double doors, painted in the pale brownish grey called grisaille, formed the further side of the tiny apartment.
Madame Poulain, turning a key, revealed a large roomy space now fitted up as a cupboard. "It's a way through into our bedroom, monsieur," she said smiling. "We could not of course allow our daughter to be far from ourselves."
And Dampier nodded. He knew the ways of French people and sympathised with those ways.
He stepped up into the cupboard, curious to see if this too had been a powdering closet, and if that were so if the old panelling and ornamentation had remained in their original condition.
Thus for a moment was Dampier concealed from those in the room. And during that moment there came the sound of footsteps on the staircase, followed by the sudden appearance on the landing outside the open door of the curious little apartment of two tall figures--a girl in a lace opera cloak, and a young man in evening dress.
Nancy Dampier, gazing at them, a little surprised at the abrupt apparition, told herself that they must be brother and sister, so striking was their resemblance to one another.
"We found the porte cochère open, Madame Poulain, so we just came straight in. Good night!"
The young lady spoke excellent French, but as she swept on up the staircase out of sight there came a quick low interchange of English words between herself and the man with her.
"Daisy? Did you notice that beautiful young woman? A regular stunner! She must be that daughter the Poulains are always talking about."
And then "Daisy's" answer floated down. "Yes, I noticed her--she is certainly very pretty. But do be careful, Gerald, I expect she knows a little English--"
Dampier stepped down out of the cupboard.
"That American cub ought to be put in his place!" he muttered heatedly.
Nancy turned her face away to hide a little smile. Jack was so funny! He delighted in her beauty--he was always telling her so, and yet it annoyed him if other people thought her pretty too. This young American had looked at her quite pleasantly, quite respectfully; he hadn't meant to be offensive--of that Nancy felt sure.
"I suppose you have a good many Americans this year?" went on Dampier in French, turning to Monsieur Poulain.
"No, monsieur, no. Our