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Updated: June 4, 2025
She began now to regret that she had not gone down to the house party of Madeleine de Cahors at Alenon. At least Pierre de Folligny would have been there Chandler Cushing, and the Renauds a jolly crowd of people among whom there was never time to think of one's troubles still less to brood over them as she had been doing to-day.
Olga Tcherny paused only long enough to catch a deep breath after her momentous interview with John Markham in Washington Square and then plunged into the busy throng with De Folligny after. She had heard with some interest the reports of Hermia Challoner's engagement to Mr. Morehouse, but it had made no very deep impression upon her mind.
"I mean, that, as well as I've thought I've know you, I find that I've never known you at all. You're a creature of bewildering transitions. I hear that you're going to marry De Folligny." "And what if I am?" she flashed at him. "I'm sure I wish you every happiness. Only " He paused. "Please finish." "Nothing except that you will leave me with an unpleasant sense of having been made a fool of."
You are merely my Oedipus, the vade mecum of my unsentimental journey." But he didn't laugh. "I'll warrant you De Folligny doesn't think that," he said. "Well suppose he doesn't. Are you and I responsible for the unpleasant cast of other people's thoughts? My conscience is clear. So is yours. You know how unsentimental our journey is. So do I. Why, Philidor, can't you see?
She hated Hermia for all the things that she herself was not. Lucidity came to her slowly. After a long while she raised a disordered face and leaned her chin upon her hands, staring at the dying log. She had promised him not to speak. She could not. She had even promised to persuade De Folligny to silence. Had he mentioned the incident already? She did not know.
She rose, flicked her cigarette into the fire and then turned as if about to speak. But thought better of it. There was a long silence. "Pierre de Folligny and I are friends of long standing," she said at last. "One marries some day. Why not an old friend? The age of madness passes I am almost thirty and I have lived much. It is time " she finished wearily, "time that I married again.
It's greater even. If you ever told that story " "And De Foligny? You forget him " He came quickly over and took her hands in his. "You can seal this secret, if you will, as in a tomb. Do it, Olga. It will be magnificent of you. Give me your word your promise to keep silent to keep De Folligny silent " She had turned, her chin upon her shoulder, away from him.
De Folligny now had the center of the stage and at the proper moment she would pull the necessary wires and the thing would be accomplished. Something must be done at once. He changed into street clothes and went out, lunched alone on the way uptown and at three was standing at the door of the Challoner house. The butler showed Markham into the drawing-room and took his card.
Between Folligny and Lamballe, we were quite as closely huddled between three soldiers on furlough, a stout old priest, a travelling salesman, and a short gentleman with a pointed beard, a pair of eyeglasses and an upturned nose. At one moment our train halted and waited an incredible length of time vainly whistling for the tower-man to lift the signal which impeded our progress.
The sight of her turned me to ice. And Pierre de Folligny " She stopped again, her brows tangling. "That man! He remembered me. He presumed. He was odious. I had the butler show him the door. I I wasn't very wise, I think. But I couldn't, Philidor, I simply couldn't temporize with a man of his caliber." "D n him!" said Markham. "He told I think of Olga did " "It was De Folligny," he groaned.
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