The Price of Things | Page 3

for men. She is really an amiable creature--women like her. She is so frankly simple, since for her there are never two issues--only to be allowed her own desires--a riot of extravagance, the first place--and some one to gratify certain instincts without too many refinements when the mood takes her. For the rest, she is kind and good-natured and 'jolly,' as you English say, and has no notion that she is a road to hell. But they are mostly dead, her other spider mates, and cannot tell of it."
"I am much interested. I should like to talk to her. You say that she is happy?"
"Obviously--she is an elemental--she never thinks at all, except to plan some further benefit for herself. I do not believe in this life that she can obtain a soul--her only force is her tenacious will."
"Such force is good, though?"
"Certainly. Even bad force is better than negative Good. One must first be strong before one can be serene."
"You are strong."
"Yes, but not good. Hardly a fit companion for sweet little English brides with excellent husbands awaiting them."
"I shall judge of that."
"_Tiens!_ So emancipated!"
"If you are bad, how does your theory work that we pay for each action? Since by that you must know that it cannot be worth while to be bad."
"It is not--I am aware of it, but when I am bad I am bad deliberately, knowing that I must pay."
"That seems stupid of you."
He shrugged his shoulders.
"I take very severe exercise when I begin to think of things I should not and I become savage when I require happiness--now is our chance for making you acquainted with Harietta, she is moving our way."
Madame Boleski swept towards them on the arm of an Austrian Prince and the Russian Verisschenzko said, with suave politeness:
"Madame, let me present you to Lady Ardayre. With me she has been admiring you from afar."
The two women bowed, and with cheery, disarming simplicity, the American made some gracious remarks in a voice which sounded as if she smoked too much; it was not disagreeable in tone, nor had she a pronounced American accent.
Amaryllis Ardayre found herself interested. She admired the superb attention to detail shown in Madame Boleski's whole person. Her face was touched up with the lightest art, not overdone in any way. Her hair, of that very light tone bordering on gold, which sometimes goes with hazel eyes, was quite natural and wonderfully done. Her dress was perfection--so were her jewels. One saw that her corsetière was an artist, and that everything had cost a great deal of money. She had taken off one glove and Amaryllis saw her bare hand--it was well-shaped, save that the thumb turned back in a remarkable degree.
"So delighted to meet you," Madame Boleski said. "We are going over to London next month and I am just crazy to know more of you delicious English people."
They chatted for a few moments and then Madame Boleski swept onwards. She was quite stately and graceful and had a well-poised head. Amaryllis turned to the Russian and was startled by the expression of fierce, sardonic amusement in his yellow-green eyes.
"But surely, she can see that you are laughing at her?" she exclaimed, astonished.
"It would convey nothing to her if she did."
"But you looked positively wicked."
"Possibly--I feel it sometimes when I think of Stanislass; he was a very good friend of mine."
Sir John Ardayre joined them at this moment and the three walked towards the supper room and the Russian said good-night.
"It is not good-bye, Madame. I, too, shall be in your country soon and I also hope that I may see you again before you leave Paris."
They arranged a dinner for the following night but one, and said au revoir.
An hour later the Russian was seated in a huge English leather chair in the little salon of his apartment in the rue Cambon, when Madame Boleski very softly entered the room and sat down upon his knee.
"I had to come, darling Brute," she said. "I was jealous of the English girl," and she fitted her delicately painted lips to his. "Stanislass wanted to talk over his new scheme for Poland, too, and as you know that always gets on my nerves."
But Verisschenzko threw his head back impatiently, while he answered roughly.
"I am not in the mood for your chastisement to-night. Go back as you came, I am thinking of something real, something which makes your body of no use to me--it wearies me and I do not even desire your presence. Begone!"
Then he kissed her neck insolently and pushed her off his knee.
She pouted resentfully. But suddenly her eyes caught a small case lying on a table near--and an eager gleam came into their hazel depths.
"Oh, Stépan! Is it the ruby thing! Oh! You beloved angel, you are