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Berenice remained standing, looking thoughtfully after the little brougham, which was being driven down Piccadilly. Matravers came back to her, and laid his hand gently upon her arm. "You must not think of going yet," he said. "I want you to stay and have tea with me." "I should like to," she answered. "I seem to have so much to say to you."
Perhaps she will be there with you, Maurice." "I thought," Mr. Staggchase observed, "that old Mrs. Morison didn't approve of Mrs. Wilson." "Nobody approves of Elsie," was Mrs. Staggchase's calm reply. "I'm sure I don't; but after all she is a sort of cousin of Berenice, and she can't very well refuse to visit her. Really, there is nothing bad about Elsie.
Then their opponents lost a ball and displayed no particular diligence in attempting to find it. Berenice sat down upon a plank seat. "Your marriage," she said, "seemed always to me a piece of quixotism. I never altogether understood it." "It was an affair of impulse," he said, slowly. "Life from a personal point of view had lost all interest to me.
Her heart was filled with anger and a scowl was on her face. How she hated Helen Loraine! It was not the first time Helen had criticised her. "And Hester Alden will be another one just like Helen too goody-good to live," was her thought. Even after Berenice was being disqualified, Hester did not understand fully all that had taken place.
Urania has drawn her mantle closely round her, as if to protect herself from the keen night-air while gazing at the stars. When he has finished his Muse, he is to repair some mutilated busts of women; he was fixing the head of a finished Berenice to-day, and I proposed to him to take Balbilla as the model for his Sappho." "A good idea" said the Empress.
What did you do with her? However, I don't care. It's none of my business. I wonder, though, what sort of a story you'd have told Berenice if she'd been there." Wynne was too confused to answer this sally, although he wanted to say something about the cruelty of taking him into the ball-room. His confusion increased Mrs. Wilson's amusement. "I think I should like to be in at the death," she said.
He went back to the Rue de la Lune; but the sight of the rooms was so acutely painful, that he could not stay in them, and he took a cheap lodging elsewhere in the same street. Mlle. des Touches' two thousand francs and the sale of the furniture paid the debts. Berenice had two hundred francs left, on which they lived for two months.
The banal realms of art and the stage, with which in his absence or neglect she had trifled with here, as she had done in Chicago, were worse than useless; they were destructive. He must have a long talk with her one of these days, must confess frankly to his passion for Berenice, and appeal to her sympathy and good sense. What scenes would follow! Yet she might succumb, at that.
The hopes that M. Violette had formed as to his son's inheriting from M. Gaufre were very problematical; for the father, whom M. Gaufre had not been able to avoid receiving at his table occasionally, had been struck, even shocked, by the familiar and despotic tone of the old merchant's servant, a superb Normandy woman of about twenty-five years, answering to the royal name of Berenice.
"And whose should they be?" she demanded haughtily. "Were you beginning to believe? great stupid! Oh! and he would believe it too," she went on, addressing Berenice. "I have a man's part in What's-his-name's piece, and I have never worn a man's clothes in my life before. The bootmaker for the theatre brought me these things to try if I could walk in them, until a pair can be made to measure.
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