“I told my maid to telephone you I was going away.”
“You couldn’t make time to do it yourself, I suppose?”
“We rushed off suddenly; I’d hardly time to get to the station.”
“You rushed off where, may I ask?” Van Degen still lowered down on her.
“Oh didn’t I tell you? I’ve been down staying at Chelles’ chateau in Burgundy.” Her face lit up and she raised herself eagerly on her elbow.
“It’s the most wonderful old house you ever saw: a real castle, with towers, and water all round it, and a funny kind of bridge they pull up. Chelles said he wanted me to see just how they lived at home, and I did; I saw everything: the tapestries that Louis Quinze gave them, and the family portraits, and the chapel, where their own priest says mass, and they sit by themselves in a balcony with crowns all over it. The priest was a lovely old man—he said he’d give anything to convert me. Do you know, I think there’s something very beautiful about the Roman Catholic religion? I’ve often felt I might have been happier if I’d had some religious influence in my life.”
She sighed a little, and turned her head away. She flattered herself that she had learned to strike the right note with Van Degen. At this crucial stage he needed a taste of his own methods, a glimpse of the fact that there were women in the world who could get on without him.
He continued to gaze down at her sulkily. “Were the old people there? You never told me you knew his mother.”
“I don’t. They weren’t there. But it didn’t make a bit of difference, because Raymond sent down a cook from the Luxe.”
“Oh, Lord,” Van Degen groaned, dropping down on the end of the sofa. “Was the cook got down to chaperon you?”
Undine laughed. “You talk like Ralph! I had Bertha with me.”
“BERTHA!” His tone of contempt surprised her. She had supposed that Mrs. Shallum’s presence had made the visit perfectly correct.
“You went without knowing his parents, and without their inviting you? Don’t you know what that sort of thing means out here? Chelles did it to brag about you at his club. He wants to compromise you—that’s his game!”
“Do you suppose he does?” A flicker of a smile crossed her lips. “I’m so unconventional: when I like a man I never stop to think about such things. But I ought to, of course—you’re quite right.” She looked at Van Degen thoughtfully. “At any rate, he’s not a married man.”
Van Degen had got to his feet again and was standing accusingly before her; but as she spoke the blood rose to his neck and ears. “What difference does that make?”
“It might make a good deal. I see,” she added, “how careful I ought to be about going round with you.”
“With ME?” His face fell at the retort; then he broke into a laugh. He adored Undine’s “smartness,” which was of precisely the same quality as his own. “Oh, that’s another thing: you can always trust me to look after you!”
“With your reputation? Much obliged!”
Van Degen smiled. She knew he liked such allusions, and was pleased that she thought him compromising.
“Oh, I’m as good as gold. You’ve made a new man of me!”
“Have I?” She considered him in silence for a moment. “I wonder what you’ve done to me but make a discontented woman of me—discontented with everything I had before I knew you?”
The change of tone was thrilling to him. He forgot her mockery, forgot his rival, and sat down at her side, almost in possession of her waist. “Look here,” he asked, “where are we going to dine tonight?”
His nearness was not agreeable to Undine, but she liked his free way, his contempt for verbal preliminaries. Ralph’s reserves and delicacies, his perpetual desire that he and she should be attuned to the same key, had always vaguely bored her; whereas in Van Degen’s manner she felt a hint of the masterful way that had once subdued her in Elmer Moffatt. But she drew back, releasing herself.
“Tonight? I can’t—I’m engaged.”
“I know you are: engaged to ME! You promised last Sunday you’d dine with me out of town tonight.”
“How can I remember what I promised last Sunday? Besides, after what you’ve said, I see I oughtn’t to.”
“What do you mean by what I’ve said?”
“Why, that I’m imprudent; that people are talking—”
He stood up with an angry laugh. “I suppose you’re dining with Chelles. Is that it?”
“Is that the way you cross-examine Clare?”
“I don’t care a hang what Clare does—I never have.”
“That must—in some ways—be rather convenient for her!”
“Glad you think so. ARE you dining with him?”
She slowly turned the wedding-ring upon her finger. “You know I’m NOT married to you—yet!”
He took a random turn through the room; then he came back and planted himself wrathfully before her. “Can’t you see the man’s doing his best to make a fool of you?”
She kept her amused gaze on him. “Does it strike you that it’s such an awfully easy thing to do?”
The edges of his ears were purple. “I sometimes think it’s easier for these damned little dancing-masters than for one of us.”
Undine was still smiling up at him; but suddenly her grew grave. “What does it matter what I do or don’t do, when Ralph has ordered me home next week?”
“Ordered you home?” His face changed. “Well, you’re not going, are you?”
“What’s the use of saying such things?” She gave a disenchanted laugh. “I’m a poor man’s wife, and can’t do the things my friends do. It’s not because Ralph loves me that he wants me back—it’s simply because he can’t afford to let me stay!”
Van Degen’s perturbation was increasing. “But you mustn’t go—it’s preposterous! Why should a woman like you be sacrificed when a lot of dreary frumps have everything they want? Besides, you can’t chuck me like this! Why, we’re all to motor down to Aix next week, and perhaps take a dip into Italy—”
“OH, ITALY—” she murmured on a note of yearning.
He was closer now, and had her hands. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you? As far as Venice, anyhow; and then in August there’s Trouville—you’ve never tried Trouville? There’s an awfully jolly crowd there—and the motoring’s ripping in Normandy. If you say so I’ll take a villa there instead of going back to Newport. And I’ll put the Sorceress in commission, and you can make up parties and run off whenever you like, to Scotland or Norway—” He hung above her. “Don’t dine with Chelles tonight! Come with me, and we’ll talk things over; and next week we’ll run down to Trouville to choose the villa.”
Undine’s heart was beating fast, but she felt within her a strange lucid force of resistance. Because of that sense of security she left her hands in Van Degen’s. So Mr. Spragg might have felt at the tensest hour of the Pure Water move. She leaned forward, holding her suitor off by the pressure of her bent-back palms.
“Kiss me goodbye, Peter; I sail on Wednesday,” she said.
It was the first time she had permitted him a kiss, and as his face darkened down on her she felt a moment’s recoil. But her physical reactions were never very acute: she always vaguely wondered why people made “such a fuss,” were so violently for or against such demonstrations. A cool spirit