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Updated: May 27, 2025
“‘The one I had in my mind was Theodosia!’ Allègre consented to answer. ‘Originally a slave girl—from somewhere.’ “My mother can be marvellously indiscreet when the whim takes her. She finds nothing better to do than to ask the ‘Master’ why he took his inspiration for those two faces from the same model. No doubt she was proud of her discerning eye. It was really clever of her.
Henry Allègre, if any man, might have been certain of his own power; and yet, look: I was a chit of a girl, I was sitting with a book where I had no business to be, in his own garden, when he suddenly came upon me, an ignorant girl of seventeen, a most uninviting creature with a tousled head, in an old black frock and shabby boots. I could have run away. I was perfectly capable of it.
She had been inciting her son all the time to undertake wonderful salvage work by annexing the heiress of Henry Allègre—the woman and the fortune. There must have been an amazed incredulity in my eyes, to which her own responded by an unflinching black brilliance which suddenly seemed to develop a scorching quality even to the point of making me feel extremely thirsty all of a sudden.
For I seem to remember hearing that after attending for a while some school round the corner the child had been set to keep the books of that orange business. However it might have been, the first fact in Rita’s and Allègre’s common history is a journey to Italy, and then to Corsica. You know Allègre had a house in Corsica somewhere.
Not one in a million. Perhaps not one in an age.” “The heiress of Henry Allègre,” I murmured. “Precisely. But John wouldn’t be marrying the heiress of Henry Allègre.” It was the first time that the frank word, the clear idea, came into the conversation and it made me feel ill with a sort of enraged faintness. “No,” I said. “It would be Mme. de Lastaola then.”
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