“More so than you, it appears, since he can appreciate Mr Jack.”
“Phipson then struck in on the merits of the music; and he, Mary, and Adrian, being old friends, fell into conversation together, to the exclusion of the husband and wife so recently added to their circle. Hoskyn, under these circumstances, felt bound to entertain Aurélie.
“I consider that we have had a most enjoyable evening,” he said. “I think there can be no doubt that Jack’s music is first rate of its kind.”
“Ah? Monsieur Jacque’s music. You find it goodh.”
“Very good indeed,”said Hoskyn, speaking loudly, as if to a deaf person. “Jilitrouvsplongdeed,” he added rashly.
“You are right, monsieur,” said Aurélie, speaking rapidly in French. “But it seems to me that there is unworthy — something infamous, in the icy stupidity of these people here: Of what use is it to compose great works when one is held in contempt because of them? It is necessary to be a trader here in order to have success. Commerce is the ruin of England. It renders the people quite inartistic.
“Jinipweevoocomprongder,” murmured Hoskyn. “The fact is,” he added, more boldly, “I only dropped a French word to help you out a little; but you mustn’t take advantage of that to talk to me out of my native language. I can speak French pretty well; but I never could understand other people speaking it.”
“Ah,” said Aurélie, who listened to his English with strained attention. “You understand me not very goodh. It is like me with English. But in this moment I make much progress. I have lesson every day from Monsieur Herbert.”
“You speak very well. Vooparlaytraybyang—” tootafaycumoononglays. Jinisoray — I mean I should not know from your speaking that you were a foreigner — oonaytronzhare.”
“Vraiment?” cried Aurélie, greatly pleased.
“Vraymong, “ said Hoskyn, nodding emphatically.
“It is sthrench. There is only a few months since I know not a word of the English.”
“You see you knew the universal language before.”
“Comment? La langue universelle?”
“I mean music. Music!” he repeated, seeing her still bewildered.
“Ah, yes,” said Aurélie, her puzzled expression vanishing. “You call music the universal language. It is true. You say very goodh.”
“It must be easy to learn anything after learning music. Music is so desperately hard. I am sure learning it must make people — spiritual, you know.”
“Yes, yes. You observe very justly, monsieur. I am quite of your advice. Understand you?”
“Parfatemong byang, “ said Hoskyn, confidently.
Here Mary interrupted the conversation by warning her husband that it was time to return to their places. As they did so, she said:
‘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