‘You must excuse me for abandoning you to the Szympliça, John. I suppose you could not say a word to one another.”
Why not? She’s a very nice woman; and we got on together splendidly. I always do manage to hit it off with foreigners, However, it was easy enough in her case; for she could speak broken English and didn’t understand it, whereas I could speak French but couldn’t understand the way she talked it — she’s evidently not a Frenchwoman. So she spoke to me in English; I answered her in French; and we talked as easily as I talk to you.”
Meanwhile Adrian could not refrain from commenting on Mary’s choice. “I wonder why she married that man,” he said to Aurélie. “I cannot believe that she would stoop to marry for money; and yet, seeing what he is, it is hard to believe that she loves him.”
“But why?” said Aurélie. “He is a little commercial; but all the English are so. And he is a man of intelligence. He has very choice ideas.”
“You think so, Aurélie!”
“Certainly. He has spoken very well to me. I assure you he has a very fine perception of music. It is difficult to understand him, because he does not speak French as well as I speak English; but it is evident that he has reflected much. As for her, she is fortunate to have so good a husband. What an absurd dress she wears. In any other part of the world she would be mocked at as a madwoman. Your scientific Mademoiselle Sutherland is, in my opinion, no great things.”
Adrian looked at his wife with surprise, and with some displeasure; but the music recommenced just then, and the conversation dropped. Some compositions of Mendelssohn were played; and these he applauded emphatically, whilst she sat silent with averted face. When the concert was over they saw the Hoskyns drive away in a neat carriage; and Herbert, who had never in his bachelor days envied any man the possession of such a luxury, felt sorry that he had to hire a hansom for his wife’s accommodation.
Adrian had not yet found a suitable permanent residence. They lived on the first floor of a house in the Kensington Road. Aurélie, who had always left domestic matters to her mother, knew little about housekeeping, and could not be induced to take an interest in house-hunting. The landlady at Kensington Road supplied them with food; and Adrian paid a heavy bill every week, Aurélie exclaiming that the amount was unheard of, and the woman wicked, but not taking any steps to introduce a more economical system.
They reached their lodging at a quarter before twelve; and Adrian, when Aurélie had gone upstairs, turned out the gas and chained the door, knowing that the rest of the household were in bed. As he followed her up, he heard the pianoforte, and, entering the room, saw her seated at it. She did not look round at him, but continued playing, with her face turned slightly upward and to one side — an attitude habitual to her in her musical moments. He moved uneasily about the room for some time; put aside his overcoat; turned down a jet of gas that flared; and rearranged some trifles on the mantelpiece. Then he said:
“Is it not rather late for the pianoforte, Aurélie? It is twelve o’clock: and the people of the house must be asleep.”
Aurélie started as if awakened; shrugged her shoulders; closed the instrument softly; and went to an easy chair, in which she sat down wearily.
Herbert was dissatisfied with himself for interrupting her, and angry with her for being the cause of his dissatisfaction Nevertheless, looking at her as she reclined in the chair, and seemed again to have forgotten his existence, he became enamored.
“My darling!”
“Eh?” she said.waking again, “Qu’est-ce, que c’est?”
“It has turned rather cold tonight Is it wise to sit in that thin dress when there is no fire?”
“I do not know.”
“Shall I get you a shawl?”
“It does not matter: I am not cold.” She spoke as if his solicitude only disturbed her.
“Aurélie,” he said, after a pause: “I heard tonight that my mother has returned to town.”
No answer.
“Aurélie,” he repeated petulantly. “Are you listening me?”
“Yes. I listen.” But she did not look at him.
“I said that my mother was in town. I think we had better call on her.*
“Doubtless you will call on her, if it pleases you to do so. Is she not your mother?”
“But you will come with me, Aurélie, will you not”
“Never. Never.”
“Not to oblige me. Aurélie?”
“It is not the same thing to oblige you as to oblige your mother. I am not married to your mother.”
Herbert winced. “That is a very harsh speech to English ears,” he said.
“I do not speak in English: I speak the language of my heart. Your mother has insulted me; and you are wrong to ask me to go to her. My mother has never offended you; and yet I sent her away because you did not like her, and because it is not the English custom that she should continue with me. I know you did not marry her; and I do not reproach you with harshness because she is separated from me. I will have the like freedom for myself.”
“Aurélie,” cried Herbert, who had been staring during most of her speech: “you are most unjust. Have I ever failed in courtesy towards your mother? Did I ever utter a word expressive of dislike to her?”
“You were towards her as you were towards all the world. You were very kind: I do not say otherwise.”
“In what way can my mother have insulted you? You have never spoken to her; and since a month before our wedding she has been in Scotland.”
“Where she went lest I should speak to her, no doubt. Why did she not speak to me when I last met her? She knew well that I was betrothed to you. She is proud, perhaps. Well, be it so. I also am proud. I am an artist; and queens have given me their hands frankly. Your mother holds that an English lady is above all queens. I hold that an artist is above all ladies. We can live without one another, as we have done hitherto. I do not seek to hinder you from going to her; but I will not go.”
“You mistake my mother’s motive altogether. She is not proud — in that way. She was angry because I did not allow her to choose a wife for me.”
“Well, she is angry still, no doubt. Of what use is it to anger her further?”
“She has too much sense to persist in protesting against what is irrevocable. You need not fear a cold welcome, Aurélie. I will make sure, before I allow you to go, that you shall be properly received.”
“I pray you, Adrian, annoy me no more about your mother. I do not know her: I will not know her. It is her own choice; and she must abide by it. Can you not go to her without me?”
“Why should I go to her without you”’ said Adrian, distressed. “Your love is far more precious to me than hers. You know how little tenderness there is between her and me. But family feuds are very objectionable. They are always in bad taste, and often lead to serious consequences. I wish you would for this once sacrifice your personal inclination, and help me to avert a permanent estrangement.”
“Ah yes,” exclaimed Aurélie,” rising indignantly. “You will sacrifice my honor to the conventions of your world.”
“It is an exaggeration to speak of such a trifle as affecting your honor. However, I will say no more. I would do much greater things for you than this that you will not do for me, Aurélie. But then I love you.”
“I do not want you to love me,” said Aurélie, turning towards the door with a shrug. “Go and love somebody else. Love Madame Hoskyn; and tell her how badly your wife uses you.”
Herbert