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The two ladies had been likened to Divine and Earthly Love, or to Venus Urania and Venus Pandemos a comparison which was manifestly unfair to both of them. It was during this summer bathing that Madame Steynlin had made acquaintance of what was, at the time, the Master's favourite disciple. His name happened to be Peter Peter Arsenievitch Krasnojabkin.
If he had not been so simple-minded he could have wheedled any amount of money out of her. The affair had now been going on for four month quite a long while, as such affairs went. Not for the first time did Madame Steynlin experience the drawbacks of her house, as regards natural situation. It was, as Don Francesco often pointed out, "the most unstrategic villa on Nepenthe."
One could trust Madame Steynlin to attend to the commissariat department. She knew how to gladden the human heart. That of Peter the Great was gladdened to such an extent that he soon began to perform a Russian peasant dance, A PAS SEUL, to the delight of the assembled guests.
And never, by any chance, did they accord with her uncommon and rather ripe style of beauty. Madame Steynlin was too romantic to dress well. She trimmed her heart, and not her garments. A tidy little income, however, enabled her to eke out lack of taste by recklessness of expenditure. This particular hat, it was observed, must have cost a fortune.
These exotics were happy as children, full of fun and laughter; none more so than the young giant Krasnojabkin, whose name had been coupled by scandalmongers with that of Madame Steynlin. An admiring audience had gathered around him while he performed a frenzied cancan in an open moonlit space; he always danced when he had enough to drink. The judge looked on with envy.
One might do worse than leave him in possession of his present appointment on Nepenthe. The Deputy freed his prisoner; it was unavoidable. But the Russians remained in gaol, and this was always something to the credit of Signor Malipizzo. . . . Madame Steynlin, on hearing of Peter the Great's arrest, was stricken dumb. She wept the bitterest tears of all her life.
She was rather particular, however, about stiff collars and things; the appearance and conversation of her retinue, she avowed, should be of the kind to pass muster in good society. Madame Steynlin liked to have not more than one man escorting her at a time, and he should be young, healthy-looking, and full of life.
"How delightful!" replied the bishop, slightly embarrassed. "And where," he added, laughing "where does one dine?" "I don not dine. Madame Steynlin used to give nice evening parties," he continued reflectively, and with a shad of sadness in his voice. "Excellent little dinners! But she is so taken up with Russians just now; they quite monopolise her house. Down there; do you see, Mr. Heard?
We seem to live in a world of echoes." "A world of masks, Madame Steynlin. It is the only theatre worth looking at. . . ." The lady was too happy to consider how the miracle had been wrought, though she suspected dirty work at the bottom of it. She never discovered how simple had been the method of Mr.
One owes something to oneself, N'EST CE PAS? as Muhlen had said. On waking he bethought him of an invitation to tea with Madame Steynlin. He would have listened gladly to her music and her instructive and charitable talk about Nepenthe and its inhabitants. But he was afraid of meeting Russians there. The lady seemed to be specializing in Muscovites just then, and Mr.
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