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Updated: July 6, 2025
But here was something second-rate, third-rate, half-hearted though I, who knew, saw that the man was sweating blood to exceed his limitations. Here was merely an undistinguished turn in a travelling circus which folk like Lady Auriol Dayne only visited in idle moods of good-humoured derision.
At every stage of my knowledge I was held in the bond of secrecy. Lackaday's sensitive soul dreaded, more than all the concentrated high-explosive bombardment of the whole of the late German Army, the possibility of Lady Auriol knowing him as the second-rate music-hall artist.
"I've been waiting for that polite offer for the last half hour," she replied. What I said, I said to myself to the midmost self of my inmost being. I am not going to tell you what it was. This isn't the secret history of my life. A cloud came up over the shoulder of the hills. We descended to the miniature valley of Royat. "It's going to rain," I said. "Let it," said Auriol unconcerned.
"Thanks ever so much, darling," said Evadne. "You are so helpful." They led up to the subject, of course, very diplomatically not rushing at it brutally like Evadne, but nothing that the child said did they omit with the natural exception of the bridesmaid's dress and the wedding present. And they added little more. They were greatly concerned, dear elderly folk, about Auriol.
E.W. Auriol Drummond Hay, heir-presumptive at one time of Lord Kinnoul, was then residing in Edinburgh, owing to his official duties in the Lyon Office; he took a great interest in archaeological matters, and was for two years Secretary to the Society of Antiquaries before his departure as Consul General to the Barbary States. He died at Tangier on the 1st March 1845. Milton's Comus, v. 208.
Elodie asked: "Who is that lady?" I explained as best I could. "She is the daughter of an English nobleman, whence her title. The way to address her is 'Lady Auriol. She did lots of work during the war, work of hospital organization in France, and now she is still working for France. I have known her since she was three years old; so she is a very great friend of mine."
Other women could do it with impunity if they didn't have an infatuated man in tow at a restaurant, they'd be stared at, people would ask whether they were qualifying for a nunnery but Auriol was different. Aphrodite could do what she chose and no one worried; but an indiscretion of Artemis set tongues wagging. It was high time for something definite to happen.
"I see," said I. But I did not tell him what I saw. It looked as though the gallant fellow were simply running away. Soon afterwards, to my great relief, there came Lady Auriol swinging along on the other side of the pavement. The cafe, you must know, forms a corner.
I must ask you to bear this in mind when judging Lady Auriol. She had once fancied herself in love with an Italian poet, an Antinous-like young man of impeccable manners, boasting an authentic pedigree which lost itself in the wolf that suckled Romulus and Remus. None of your vagabond ballad-mongers. A guest when she first met him of the Italian Ambassador.
"This is a charming spot, isn't it, Madame Patou?" she remarked. Elodie, who had regarded her wonderingly as though she had bean a creature of another world, bowed and smiled. "We all talk French, my dear Auriol," said I, "because Madame Patou knows no English." "Ah!" said Lady Auriol. "I never thought of it." She translated her remark.
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