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"Vainly," she cut him short. There was a pause. "Whom shall I invite, then?" "I don't know any of them. How should I have preferences?" She remembered the Duke. She looked round and saw him still standing in the shadow of the wall. He came towards her. "Of course," she said hastily to her host, "you must ask HIM." The MacQuern complied.
You must not defy our dear little Duke. He is not used to it. It is not done." "I don't know," said The MacQuern, with a stony glance at the Duke, "that he has anything to do with the matter." "He is older and wiser than you. More a man of the world. Regard him as your tutor." "Do YOU want me not to die for you?" asked the young man.
"Why is this?" asked the Duke, looking from one to the other. The MacQuern, with Scotch caution, was silent. But the impulsive Marraby Madcap Marraby, as they called him in B.N.C. said "It's because I won't lie!" and, leaping up, raised his glass aloft and cried "I give you Zuleika Dobson, the fairest witch that ever was or will be!" Mr. Oover, Lord Sayes, Mr.
"You make me feel slightly unwell," said the Duke. "And YOU are the most d-dis-disobliging and the unkindest and the b-beastliest person I ever met," Zuleika sobbed at him through her hands. The MacQuern glared reproaches at him. So did Melisande, who had just appeared through the postern, holding in her arms the great casket of malachite. A painful scene; and the Duke gave in.
Of course I cannot both hold this view and remain President of this club. MacQuern Marraby which of you is Vice-President?" "He is," said Marraby. "Then, MacQuern, you are hereby President, vice myself resigned. Take the chair and propose the toast." "I would rather not," said The MacQuern after a pause. "Then, Marraby, YOU must." "Not I!" said Marraby.
And now the last rank between her and the Duke was broken, and at the revealed vision of him she faltered midway in some raillery she was addressing to The MacQuern. Her eyes were fixed, her lips were parted, her tread had become stealthy. With a brusque gesture of dismissal to the men beside her, she darted forward, and lightly overtook the Duke just as he was turning towards the barges.
But as a man, after what she had done to him last night, and before what he had to do for her to-day, he would not go out of his way to meet her. Of course, he would not actually avoid her. To seem to run away from her were beneath his dignity. But, if he did meet her, what in heaven's name should he say to her? He remembered his promise to lunch with The MacQuern, and shuddered.
So, not without reluctance, but unanimously, he had elected The MacQuern, of Balliol, and Sir John Marraby, of Brasenose. To-night, as he, a doomed man, went up into the familiar rooms, he was wholly glad that he had thus relented. As yet, he was spared the tragic knowledge that it would make no difference.* * The Junta has been reconstituted.
"Ah, I should not dare to impose my wishes on you," said she, dropping his hand. "Even," she added, "if I knew what my wishes were. And I don't. I know only that I think it is very, very beautiful of you to think of dying for me." "Then that settles it," said The MacQuern. "No, no! You must not let yourself be influenced by ME. Besides, I am not in a mood to influence anybody. I am overwhelmed.
The moon titters in my face. I can stand it no longer. I will no more of it. Tomorrow I die." The flushed faces of the diners grew gradually pale. Their eyes lost lustre. Their tongues clove to the roofs of their mouths. At length, almost inaudibly, The MacQuern asked "Do you mean you are going to commit suicide?" "Yes," said the Duke, "if you choose to put it in that way. Yes.
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