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He was informed, moreover, that by taking the two-o'clock train to Havre he could sleep that night at the Hôtel Frascati, and motor out to Melcourt easily within an hour in the morning. It began then to occur to him that what had presented itself at first as a prosaic journey from Boston to Paris and back was becoming an adventure, with a background of castles and noble dames.
"If there had been only one such case it might have been allowed to pass; but what do you say of De Cretteville? what of De Melcourt? what of Lord Wendover?" "I have nothing to say but this: that for such scandal I've a rule, from which I have no intention of departing even now: I neither tell it, nor listen to it, nor contradict it.
She was ready for this question, and had made up her mind to answer it frankly. "Yes. I was afraid he was advancing the money on that account. I felt so right up to to a few days ago." "And what happened then?" "Drusilla told me he'd said he wasn't." Madame de Melcourt let that pass. "Did you think he'd fallen in love with you all of a sudden when he came that night to dinner?"
Splendid!" he commented, now at one point and now at another of the information Peter was imparting. "Sell his estate and pay up? That's downright sporting, isn't it?" "Oh, he's sporting enough." "And what a grand thing for you to get your money back. I thought you would some day if Vic de Melcourt ever came to hear of what you'd done; but I didn't expect it so soon." Davenant turned away.
Having descried it from a long way off, he knew that with reasonable luck it could not overtake him soon. There were many chances, indeed, that it might never overtake him at all. Times might change; business might improve; he might come in for the money he expected from his old Aunt de Melcourt; he might die.
"Oui, c'est bien Madame George Eveleth. Oui, oui. Non. Je comprends. C'est Monsieur de Melcourt. Oui oui Dites-le-moi tout de suite j'insiste Oui oui. Ah-h-h!" The last, prolonged, choking exclamation came as the cry of one who sinks, smitten to the heart. Mrs. Eveleth was able to move at last. When she reached the other room, Diane was crouched in a little heap on the floor. "He's dead?
Madame de Melcourt made signs of trying to look anywhere and everywhere, up to the ceiling and down at the floor, rather than be a witness of so much embarrassment. She emphasized her discretion, too, by making a great show of seeing nothing in particular, toying with her rings and bracelets till Olivia had sufficiently recovered to be again commanded to send for Davenant.
"Tell him I'm here and that I want to have a look at him. Use my name so that he'll see it's urgent. Then you can sign the telegram with your own. Cousin Cherry! Stuff!" Later that day Madame de Melcourt was making a confession to Rodney Temple. "Oui, mon bon Rodney. It was love at first sight. The thing hadn't happened to me for years." "Had it been in the habit of happening?"
'broken lights'? 'We are but broken lights of Thee! Dear Tennyson! And no word yet from Madame de Melcourt." "I don't expect any now," Olivia explained. "If Aunt Vic had meant to write she would have done it long ago. I'm afraid I've offended her past forgiveness." She held her head slightly to one side, smiling with an air of mock penitence. "Dear, dear!" Mrs. Temple murmured, sympathetically.
She cried for the joy of the present, for the trouble of the past, and for the relief of clinging to some one to whom she had a right. Madame de Melcourt would have cried with her, had it not been for the effect of tears on cosmetics. "There, there, my pet," she murmured, soothingly. "Didn't you know your old auntie would come to you? Why didn't you cable?
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