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Updated: June 4, 2025
The recitation vivid, accompanied by the direct, expressive gesture for which Mademoiselle de Bonvouloir was so famous was followed at appropriate intervals by one or two items of instrumental music, and then Diana found herself mounting the little platform, and a hush descended anew upon the throng of people, the last eager chatterers twittering into silence as Olga Lermontof struck the first note of the song's prelude.
"I don't dislike him; but I do think he ought to be perfectly frank with you. As you say, he is your husband" pointedly. "Perfectly frank with me?" Miss Lermontof nodded. "Yes." "He has been," affirmed Diana. "Has he, indeed? Have you ever asked him" she paused significantly "who he is?" "Who he is?" Diana felt her heart contract. What new mystery was this at which the other was hinting?
Diana stared into the fire for a moment in silence. Then she asked with apparent irrelevance: "Is Mr. Errington married?" "He is not." Diana's heart suddenly sang within her. "Nor," continued Miss Lermontof keenly, "is there any likelihood of his ever marrying." The song broke off abruptly. "I should have thought," said Diana slowly, "that he was just the kind of man who would marry.
Still, the main thing for me was that in the first great and wholly modern poets that I made acquaintance with, Byron and his intellectual successors, Lermontof and Heine, I recognised again the very fundamental trait that I termed daemonic, the worship of one's own originality, under the guise of an uncompromising love of liberty.
She turned to Milling, the happy exultation that had lit her eyes suddenly quenched. "Ask the Maestro kindly to 'phone Miss Lermontof that I shall be ready at eleven," she said quietly. In some curious way this unlooked-for upset to her plans seemed to have cast a shadow across her path.
And your art should be your friend you don't need any other." Diana laughed. "You talk like old Baroni himself! But indeed I do want friends I haven't nearly reached the stage when art can take the place of nice human people." Miss Lermontof regarded her dispassionately. "That's only because you're young horribly young and warm-hearted."
The violin solo had drawn to a close Kirolski had already returned a third time to bow his acknowledgments and Errington was relieved to see that the look of strain had gone out of her face, although she still appeared rather pale and shaken. One or two friends of the violinist's were coming in at the door of the artistes' room as Olga Lermontof preceded him down the platform steps.
I was wrong, was I? Nevertheless, I'm perfectly sure that Adrienne de Gervais' past is a closed book to you although you call yourself her friend!" Diana turned away without reply. It was true Olga Lermontof had laid a finger on the weak spot in her friendship with Adrienne.
Gradually she had begun to connect the two things Adrienne, and that secret which dwelt like a shadowy menace at the back of everything. It was clear, too, that they were also linked together in the minds both of Baroni and Olga Lermontof a dropped sentence here, a hint there, had assured her of that.
"No one three years ago and to-day Max Errington writes all his plays round her." "Precisely. And it's easy enough to 'create a part' successfully if that part has been previously written specially to suit you," retorted Miss Lermontof unmoved.
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