The Price of Things by Elinor Glyn
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Elinor Glyn >> The Price of Things
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* * * * *
And across the lake Amaryllis was saying to Verisschenzko in her soft
voice, deep as all the Ardayre voices were deep:
"I have brought you here so that you may get the best view of the
house. I think, indeed, that it is very beautiful from over the water,
do not you?"
Verisschenzko remained silent for a moment. His face was altered in this
last week; it looked haggard and thinner, and his peculiar eyes were
concentrated and intense.
He took in the perfect picture of this English stately home, with its
Henry VII centre and watch towers, and gabled main buildings, and the
Queen Anne added Square--all mellowed and amalgamated into a whole of
exquisite beauty and dignity in the glow of the setting sun.
"How proud you should be of such possessions, you English. The
accumulation of centuries, conserved by freedom from strife. It is no
wonder you are so arrogant! You could not be if you had only memories, as
we have, of wooden barracks up to a hundred and fifty years ago, and
drunkenness and orgies, and beating of serfs. This is the picture our
country houses call up--any of the older ones which have escaped being
burnt. But here you have traditions of harmony and justice and
obligations to the people nobody fulfilled." And then he took his hat off
and looked up into the golden sky:
"May nothing happen to hurt England, and may we one day be as free."
A shiver ran through Amaryllis--but something kept her silent; she
divined that her friend's mood did not desire speech from her yet. He
spoke again and earnestly a moment or two afterwards.
"Lady of my soul--I am going away to-morrow into a frenzied turmoil. I
have news from my country, and I must be in the centre of events; we do
not know what will come of it all. I come down to-day at great sacrifice
of time to bid you farewell. It may be that I shall never see you again,
though I think that I shall; but should I not, promise me that you will
remain my star unsmirched by the paltriness of the world, promise me that
you will live up to the ideal of this noble home--that you will develop
your brain and your intuition, that you will be forceful and filled with
common sense. I would like to have moulded your spiritual being, and
brought you to the highest, but it is not for me, perhaps, in this
life--another will come. See that you live worthily."
Amaryllis was deeply moved.
"Indeed, I will try. I have seen so little of you, but I feel that I have
known you always, and--yes--even I feel that it is true what you said,"
and she grew rosy with a sweet confusion--"that we were--lovers--I am so
ignorant and undeveloped, not advanced like you, but when you speak you
seem to awaken memories; it is as though a transitory light gleamed in
dark places, and I receive flashes of understanding, and then it grows
obscured again, but I will try to seize and hold it--indeed, I will try
to do as you would wish."
They both looked ahead, straight at the splendid house, and then
Amaryllis looked at Verisschenzko and it seemed as though his face were
transfigured with some inward light.
"Strange things are coming, child, the cauldron has boiled over, and we
do not know what the stream may engulf. Think of this evening in the days
which will be, and remember my words."
His voice vibrated, but he did not look at her, but always across the
lake at the house.
"Whenever you are in doubt as to the wisdom of a decision between two
courses--put them to the test of which, if you follow it, will enable you
to respect your own soul. Never do that which the inward You despises."
"And if both courses look equally good and it is merely a question of
earthly benefit?"
Verisschenzko smiled.
"Never be vague. There is an Arab proverb which says: Trust in God but
tie up your camel."
The setting sun was throwing its last gleams upon the windows of the high
tower. Nothing more beautiful or impressive could have been imagined than
the scene. The velvet lawn sloping down to the lake, with a group of
trees to the right among which nestled the tiny cruciform ancient church,
while in the distance, on all sides, stretched the vast, gloriously
timbered park.
Verisschenzko gazed at the wonder of it, and his yellow-green eyes were
wide with the vision it created in his brain.
No--this should never go to the bastard Ferdinand, whose life in
Constantinople was a disgrace. This record of fine living and achievement
of worthy Ardayres should remain the glory of the true blood.
He turned and looked at Amaryllis at his side, so slender, and strong,
and young--and he said:
"It is necessary above all things that you cultivate a steadiness and
clearness of judgment, which will enable you to see the great aim in a
thing, and not be hampered by sentimental jingo and convention, which is
a danger when a nature is as good and true, but as undeveloped, as yours.
Whatever circumstance should arise in your life, in relation to the trust
you hold for this family and this home, bring the keenest common sense to
bear upon the matter, and keep the end, that you must uphold it and pass
it on resplendent, in view."
Amaryllis felt that he was transmitting some message to her. His eyes
were full of inspiration and seemed to see beyond.
What message? She refrained from asking. If he had meant her to
understand more fully he would have told her plainly. Light would come in
its own time.
"I promise," was all she said.
They looked at the great tower; the sun had left some of the windows and
in one they could see the figure of a woman standing there in some light
dressing-gown.
"That is Harietta Boleski," Verisschenzko remarked, his mood changing,
and that penetrating and yet inscrutable expression growing in his
regard. "It is almost too far away to be certain, but I am sure that it
is she. Am I right? Is that window in her room?"
"Yes--how wonderful of you to be able to recognise her at that distance!"
"Of what is she thinking?--if one can call her planning thoughts! She
does not gaze at views to appreciate the loveliness of the landscape;
figures in the scene are all which could hold her attention--and those
figures are you and me."
"Why should we interest her?"
"There are one or two reasons why we should. I think after all you must
be very careful of her. I believe if she stays on in England you had
better not let the acquaintance increase."
"Very well." Amaryllis again did not question him; she felt he knew best.
"She has been most successful here, and at the Bridgeborough ball she
amused herself with a German officer, and left the other women's men
alone. He was brought by the party from Broomgrove and was most
_empresse;_ he got introduced to her at once--just after we came in. I
expect they will bring him to-night. He and she looked such a magnificent
pair, dancing a quadrille. It was quite a serious ball to begin with!
None of those dances of which you disapprove, and all the Yeomanry wore
their uniforms and the German officer wore his too."
"He was a fine animal, then?"
"Yes--but?"
"You said _a pair_--only an animal could make a pair with Harietta!
Describe him to me. What was he like? And what uniform did he wear?"
Amaryllis gave a description, of height, and fairness, and of the blue
and gold coat.
"He would have been really good-looking, only that to our eyes his hips
are too wide."
"It sounds typically German--there are hundreds such there--some ordinary
Prussian Infantry regiment, I expect. You say he was introduced to
Harietta? They were not old friends--no?"
"I heard him ask Mrs. Nordenheimer, his hostess, who she was, in his
guttural voice, and Mrs. Nordenheimer came up to me and presented him and
asked me to introduce him to my guest. So I did. The Nordenheimers are
those very rich German Jews who bought Broomgrove Park some years ago.
Every one receives them now."
"And how did Harietta welcome this partner?"
"She looked a little bored, but afterwards they danced several times
together."
"Ah!"--and that was all Verisschenzko said, but his thoughts ran: "An
infantry officer--not a large enough capture for Harietta to waste time
on in a public place--when she is here to advance herself. She danced
with him because _she was obliged to_. I must ascertain who this man is."
Amaryllis saw that he was preoccupied. They walked on now and round
through the shrubbery on the left, and so at last to the house again.
Amaryllis could not chance being late.
Verisschenzko recovered from his abstraction presently and talked of
many things--of the friendship of the soul, and how it can only thrive
after there has been in some life a physical passionate love and fusion
of the bodies.
"I want to think that we have reached this stage, Lady mine. My mission
on this plane now is so fierce a one, and the work which I must do is so
absorbing, that I must renounce all but transient physical pleasures. But
I must keep some radiant star as my lodestone for spiritual delights, and
ever since we met and spoke at the Russian Embassy it seems as though
step by step links of memory are awakening and comforting me with
knowledge of satisfied desire in a former birth, so that now our souls
can rise to rarer things. I can even see another in the earthly relation
which once was mine, without jealousy. Child, do you feel this too?"
"I do not know quite what I feel," and Amaryllis looked down, "but I will
try to show you that I am learning to master my emotions, by thinking
only of sympathy between our spirits."
"It is well--"
Then they reached the house and entered the green drawing-room in the
Queen Anne Square, by one of the wide open windows, and there Amaryllis
held out her two slim hands to Verisschenzko.
"Think of me sometimes, even amidst your turmoil," she whispered, "and I
shall feel your ambience uplifting my spirit and my will."
"Lady of my Soul!" he cried, exalted once more, and he bent as though to
kiss her hands, but straightened himself and threw them gently from him.
"No! I will resist all temptations! Now you must dress and dine, and
dance, and do your duty--and later we will say farewell."
Harietta Boleski stamped across her charming chintz chamber in the great
tower. She was like an angry wolf in the Zoo, she burst with rage.
Verisschenzko had never walked by lakes with her, nor bent over with that
air of devotion.
"He loves that hateful bit of bread and butter! But I shall crush her
yet--and Ferdinand Ardayre will help me!"
Then she rang her bell violently for Marie, while she kicked aside
Fou-Chow, who had travelled to England as an adjunct to her beauty,
concealed in a cloak. His minute body quivered with pain and fear, and he
looked up at her reproachfully with his round Chinese idol's eyes, then
he hid under a chair, where Marie found him trembling presently and
carried him surreptitiously to her room.
"My angel," she told him as they went along the passage, "that she-devil
will kill thee one day, unless happily I can place thee in safety first.
But if she does, then I will murder for myself! What has caused her fury
tonight, some one has spoilt her game."
In the oak-panelled smoking room, deserted by all but these two,
Verisschenzko spoke to Stanislass, hastily, and in his own tongue.
"The news is of vital importance, Stanislass. You must return with me to
London; of all things you must show energy now and hold your men
together. I leave in the morning. You hesitate!--impossible!--Harietta
keeps you! Bah!--then I wash my hands of you and Poland. Weakling! to
let a woman rule you. Well; if you choose thus, you can go by yourself
to hell. I have done with you." And he strode from the room, looking
more Calmuck and savage than ever in his just wrath. And when he had
gone the second husband of Harietta leant forward and buried his head in
his hands.
* * * * *
The picture Gallery made a brilliant setting for that gallant company! A
collection of England's best, dancing their hardest to a stirring band,
which sang when the tune of some popular Revue chorus came in.
"The Song of the Swan," Verisschenzko thought as he observed it all in
the last few minutes before midnight. He must go away soon. A messenger
had arrived in hot haste from London, motoring beyond the speed limit,
and as soon as his servant had packed his things he must return and not
wait for the morning. All relations between Austria and Servia had been
broken off, the conflagration had begun, and no time must be wasted
further. He must be in Russia as soon as it was possible to get there. He
blamed himself for coming down.
"And yet it was as well," he reflected, because he had become awakened in
regard to possible double dealing in Harietta. But where were his host
and hostess--he must bid them farewell.
John Ardayre was valsing with Lady Avonwier and Harietta Boleski
undulated in the arms of the tall German who had come with the party from
Broomgrove--but Amaryllis for the moment was absent from the room.
"If I could only know who the beast is before I go, and where she has met
him previously!" Verisschenzko's thoughts ran. "It is more than ever
necessary that I master her--and there is so little time."
He waited for a few seconds, the dance was almost done, and when the
last notes of music ceased and the throng of people swept towards him, he
fixed Harietta with his eye.
Her evening so far had not been agreeable. She had not been able to have
a word with Stepan, who had been far from her at the banquet before the
ball. She was torn with jealousy of Amaryllis; and the advent of Hans,
when she would have wished to have been free to re-grab Verisschenzko,
was most unfortunate. It had not been altogether pleasant, his turning up
at Bridgeborough, but at any rate that one evening was quite enough! She
really could not be wearied with him more!
His new instructions to her from the higher command were most annoyingly
difficult too--coming at a time when her whole mind was given to
consolidating her position in England,--it was really too bad!
If only the tiresome bothers of these stupid old quarrelsome countries
did not upset matters, she just meant to make Stanislass shut up his ugly
old Polish home, and settle in some splendid country house like this,
only nearer London. Now that she had seen what life was in England, she
knew that this was her goal. No bothersome old other language to be
learned! Besides, no men were so good-looking as the English, or made
such safe and prudent lovers, because they did not boast. If any
information she had been able to collect for Hans in the last year had
helped his Ober-Lords to stir up trouble, she was almost sorry she had
given it--unless indeed, ructions between those ridiculous southern
countries made it so that she could remain in England, then it was a good
thing. And Hans had assured her that England could not be dragged in.
Then she laughed to herself as she always did if Hans coerced her--when
she recollected how she had given his secrets away to Verisschenzko and
that no matter how he seemed to compel her obedience, she was even with
him underneath!
She looked now at the Russian standing there, so tall and ugly, and
weirdly distinguished, and a wild passionate desire for him overcame her,
as primitive as one a savage might have felt. At that moment she almost
hated her late husband, for she dared not speak to Verisschenzko with
Hans there. She must wait until Verisschenzko spoke to her. Hans could
not prevent that, nor accuse her of disobeying his command. So that it
was with joy that she saw the Russian approach her. She did not know that
he was leaving suddenly, and she was wondering if some meeting could not
be arranged for later on, when Hans would be gone.
"Good evening, Madame!" Verisschenzko said suavely. "May I not have the
pleasure of a turn with you; it is delightful to meet you again."
Harietta slipped her hand out of Hans' arm and stood still, determined to
secure Stepan at once since the chance had come.
Verisschenzko divined her intention and continued, his voice serious with
its mock respect:
"I wonder if I could persuade you to come with me and find your husband.
You know the house and I do not. I have something I want to talk to him
about if you won't think me a great bore taking you from your partner,"
and he bowed politely to Hans.
Harietta introduced them casually, and then said archly:
"I am sure you will excuse me, Captain von Pickelheim. And don't forget
you have the first one-step after supper!" So Hans was dismissed with a
ravishing smile.
Verisschenzko had watched the German covertly and saw that with all his
forced stolidity an angry gleam had come into his eyes.
"They have certainly met before--and he knows me--I must somehow make
time," then, aloud:
"You are looking a dream of beauty to-night, Harietta," he told her as
they walked across the hall. "Is there not some quiet corner in the
garden where we can be alone for a few minutes. You drive me mad."
Harietta loved to hear this, and in triumph she raised her head and drew
him into one of the sitting-rooms, and so out of the open windows on into
the darkness beyond the limitations of the lawn.
Twenty minutes afterwards Verisschenzko entered the house alone, a grim
smile of satisfaction upon his rugged countenance. Jealousy, acting on
animal passion, had been for once as productive of information as a ruby
ring or brooch--and what a remarkable type Harietta! Could there be
anything more elemental on the earth! Meanwhile this lady had gained the
ball-room by another door, delighted with her adventure, and the thought
that she had tricked Hans!
"Have you seen our hostess, Madame?" the Russian asked, meeting Lady de
la Paule. "I have been looking for her everywhere. Is not this a
charming sight?"
They stayed and talked for a few minutes, watching the joyous company of
dancers, among whom Amaryllis could now be seen. Verisschenzko wished to
say farewell to her when the one-step should be done. They would all be
going into supper, and then would be his chance. He could not delay
longer--he must be gone.
He was paying little attention to what Lady de la Paule was saying--her
fat voice prattled on:
"I hope these tiresome little quarrels of the Balkan peoples will settle
themselves. If Austria should go to war with Servia, it may upset my
Carlsbad cure."
Then he laughed out suddenly, but instantly checked himself.
"That would be too unfortunate, Madame, we must not anticipate such
preposterous happenings!"
And as he walked forward to meet Amaryllis his face was set:
"Half the civilised world thinks thus of things. The sinister events in
the Balkans convey no suggestions of danger, and only matter in that
they could upset a Carlsbad cure! Alas! how sound asleep these splendid
people are!"
He met Amaryllis and briefly told her that he must go. She left her
partner and came with him to the foot of the staircase, which led
to his room.
"Good-bye, and God keep you," she said feelingly, but she noticed that he
did not even offer to take her hand.
"All blessings, my Star," and his voice was hoarse, then he turned
abruptly and went on up the stairs. But when he reached the landing above
he paused, and looked down at her, moving away among the throng.
"Sweet Lady of my Soul," he whispered softly. "After Harietta I could not
soil--even thy glove!"
CHAPTER VIII
Events moved rapidly. Of what use to write of those restless, feverish
days before the 4th of August, 1914? They are too well known to all the
world. John, as ever, did his duty, and at once put his name down for
active service, cajoled a medical board which would otherwise probably
have condemned him and trained with the North Somerset Yeomanry in
anticipation of being soon sent to France. But before all this happened,
the night War was declared; he remained in his own sitting-room at
Ardayre, and Amaryllis wondered, and towards dawn crept out of bed and
listened in the passage, but no sound came from within the room.
How very unsatisfactory this strange reserve between them was becoming!
Would she never be able to surmount it? Must they go on to the end of
their lives, living like two polite friendly acquaintances, neither
sharing the other's thoughts? She hardly realised that the War could
personally concern John. The Yeomanry, she imagined, were only for home
defence, so at this stage no anxiety troubled her about her husband.
The next day he seemed frightfully preoccupied, and then he talked to her
seriously of their home and its traditions, and how she must love it and
understand its meaning. He spoke too of his great wish for a child--and
Amaryllis wondered at the tone almost of anguish in his voice.
"If only we had a son, Amaryllis, I would not care what came to me. A
true Ardayre to carry on! The thought of Ferdinand here after me drives
me perfectly mad!"
Amaryllis knew not what to answer. She looked down and clasped her hands.
John came quite close and gazed into her face, as if therein some comfort
could be found; then he folded her in his arms.
"Oh! Amaryllis!" he said, and that was all.
"What is it? Oh! what does everything mean?" the poor child cried. "Why,
why can't we have a son like other people of our age?"
John kissed her again.
"It shall be--it must be so," he answered--and framed her face in
his hands.
"Amaryllis--I know you have often wondered whether I really loved you.
You have found me a stupid, unsatisfactory sort of husband--indeed, I am
but a dull companion at the best of times. Well, I want you to know that
I do--and I am going to try to change, dear little girl. If I knew that I
held some corner of your heart it would comfort me."
"Of course, you do, John. Alas! if you would only unbend and be loving to
me, how happy we could be."
He kissed her once more. "I will try."
That afternoon he went up to London to his medical board, and Amaryllis
was to join him in Brook Street on the following day.
She was stunned like every one else. War seemed a nightmare--an
unreality--she had not grasped its meaning as yet. She thought of
Verisschenzko and his words. What was her duty? Surely at a great crisis
like this she must have some duty to do?
The library in Brook Street was a comfortable room and was always their
general sitting-room; its windows looked out on the street.
That evening when John Ardayre arrived he paced up and down it for
half an hour. He was very pale and lines of thought were stamped
upon his brow.
He had come to a decision; there only remained the details of a course of
action to be arranged.
He went to the telephone and called up the Cavalry Club. Yes, Captain
Ardayre was in, and presently Denzil's voice said surprisedly:
"Hullo!"
"I heard by chance that you were in town. I suppose your regiment will be
going out at once. It is your cousin, John Ardayre, speaking, we have not
met since you were a boy. I have something rather vital I want to say to
you. Could you possibly come round?"
The two voices were so alike in tone it was quite remarkable, each was
aware of it as he listened to the other.
"Where are you, and what is the time?".
"I am in our house in Brook Street, number 102, and it is nearly seven.
Could you manage to come now?"
There was a second or two's pause, then Denzil said:
"All right. I will get into a taxi and be with you in about five
minutes," and he put the receiver down.
John Ardayre grew paler still, and sank into a chair. His hands were
trembling, this sign of weakness angered him and he got up and rang
the bell and ordered his valet who had come up with him, to bring him
some brandy.
Murcheson was an old and valued servant, and he looked at his master with
concern, but he knew him too to make any remark. If there was any one in
the world beyond the great surgeon, Lemon Bridges, who could understand
the preoccupations of John Ardayre, Murcheson was the man.
He brought the old Cognac immediately and retired from the room a
moment or two before Denzil arrived. Very little trace of emotion
remained upon the face of the head of the family when his cousin was
shown in, and he came forward cordially to meet him. Standing opposite
one another, they might have been brothers, not cousins, the
resemblance was so strong! Denzil was perhaps fairer, but their heads
were both small and their limbs had the same long lines. But where as
John Ardayre suggested undemonstrative stolidity, every atom of the
younger man was vitally alive.
His eyes were bluer, his hair more bronze, and exuberant perfect health
glowed in his tanned fresh skin.
Both their voices were peculiarly deep, with the pronunciation of the
words especially refined. John Ardayre said some civil things with
composure, and Denzil replied in kind, explaining how he had been
most anxious to meet John and Amaryllis and heal the breach the
fathers had made.
John offered him a cigar, and finally the atmosphere seemed to be
unfrozen as they smoked. But in Denzil's mind there was speculation. It
was not for just this that he had been asked to come round.
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