第173章 MADAME LA VICOMTESSE(1)

Hesitating on the step, a lady stood in the vine-covered doorway, a study in black and white in a frame of pink roses.The sash at her waist, the lace mantilla that clung about her throat, the deftly coiled hair with its sheen of the night waters--these in black.The simple gown--a tribute to the art of her countrywomen--in white.

Mrs.Temple had gone forward to meet her, but I stood staring, marvelling, forgetful, in the path.They were talking, they were coming towards me, and I heard Mrs.

Temple pronounce my name and hers--Madame de Montmery.

I bowed, she courtesied.There was a baffling light in the lady's brown eyes when I dared to glance at them, and a smile playing around her mouth.Was there no word in the two languages to find its way to my lips?

Mrs.Temple laid her hand on my arm.

``David is not what one might call a ladies' man, Madame,'' she said.

The lady laughed.

``Isn't he?'' she said.

``I am sure you will frighten him with your wit,''

answered Mrs.Temple, smiling.``He is worth sparing.''

``He is worth frightening, then,'' said the lady, in exquisite English, and she looked at me again.

``You and David should like each other,'' said Mrs.

Temple; ``you are both capable persons, friends of the friendless and towers of strength to the weak.''

The lady's face became serious, but still there was the expression I could not make out.In an instant she seemed to have scrutinized me with a precision from which there could be no appeal.

``I seem to know Mr.Ritchie,'' she said, and added quickly: ``Mrs.Clive has talked a great deal about you.

She has made you out a very wonderful person.''

``My dear,'' said Mrs.Temple, ``the wonderful people of this world are those who find time to comfort and help the unfortunate.That is why you and David are wonderful.

No one knows better than I how easy it is to be selfish.''

``I have brought you an English novel,'' said Madame de Montomery, turning abruptly to Mrs.Temple.``But you must not read it at night.Lindy is not to let you have it until to-morrow.''

``There,'' said Mrs.Temple, gayly, to me, ``Madame is not happy unless she is controlling some one, and I am a rebellious subject.

``You have not been taking care of yourself,'' said Madame.She glanced at me, and bit her lips, as though guessing the emotion which my visit had caused.``Listen,'' she said, ``the vesper bells! You must go into the house, and Mr.Ritchie and I must leave you.''

She took Mrs.Temple by the arm and led her, unresisting, along the path.I followed, a thousand thoughts and conjectures spinning in my brain.They reached the bench under the little tree beside the door, and stood talking for a moment of the routine of Mrs.Temple's life.Madame, it seemed, had prescribed a regimen, and meant to have it followed.Suddenly I saw Mrs.Temple take the lady's arm, and sink down upon the bench.Then we were both beside her, bending over her, she sitting upright and smiling at us.

``It is nothing,'' she said; ``I am so easily tired.''

Her lips were ashen, and her breath came quickly.

Madame acted with that instant promptness which Iexpected of her.

``You must carry her in, Mr.Ritchie,'' she said quietly.

``No, it is only momentary, David,'' said Mrs.Temple.

I remember how pitifully frail and light she was as Ipicked her up and followed Madame through the doorway into the little bedroom.I laid Mrs.Temple on the bed.

``Send Lindy here,'' said Madame.

Lindy was in the front room with the negress whom Madame had brought with her.They were not talking.

I supposed then this was because Lindy did not speak French.I did not know that Madame de Montmery's maid was a mute.Both of them went into the bedroom, and I was left alone.The door and windows were closed, and a green myrtle-berry candle was burning on the table.

I looked about me with astonishment.But for the low ceiling and the wide cypress puncheons of the floor the room might have been a boudoir in a manor-house.On the slender-legged, polished mahogany table lay books in tasteful bindings; a diamond-paned bookcase stood in the corner; a fauteuil and various other chairs which might have come from the hands of an Adam were ranged about.Tall silver candlesticks graced each end of the little mantel-shelf, and between them were two Lowestoft vases having the Temple coat of arms.

It might have been half an hour that I waited, now pacing the floor, now throwing myself into the arm-chair by the fireplace.Anxiety for Mrs.Temple, problems that lost themselves in a dozen conjectures, all idle--these agitated me almost beyond my power of self-control.

Once I felt for the miniature, took it out, and put it back without looking at it.At last I was startled to my feet by the opening of the door, and Madame de Montmery came in.She closed the door softly behind her, with the deft quickness and decision of movement which a sixth sense had told me she possessed, crossed the room swiftly, and stood confronting me.

``She is easy again, now,'' she said simply.``It is one of her attacks.I wish you might have seen me before you told her what you had to say to her.''

``I wish indeed that I had known you were here.''

She ignored this, whether intentionally, I know not.

``It is her heart, poor lady! I am afraid she cannot live long.'' She seated herself in one of the straight chairs.``Sit down, Mr.Ritchie,'' she said; ``I am glad you waited.I wanted to talk with you.''

``I thought that you might, Madame la Vicomtesse,'' Ianswered.

She made no gesture, either of surprise or displeasure.

``So you knew,'' she said quietly.

``I knew you the moment you appeared in the doorway,''

I replied.It was not just what I meant to say.

There flashed over her face that expression of the miniature, the mouth repressing the laughter in the brown eyes.

``Montmery is one of my husband's places,'' she said.

``When Antoinette asked me to come here and watch over Mrs.Temple, I chose the name.''

``And Mrs.Temple has never suspected you?''