It Began in Vauxhall Gardens - Plaidy Jean (бесплатная регистрация книга txt) 📗

They went in to dinner together. It was delightful, thought Melisande, to walk in a sort of crocodile, your hand resting lightly on the arm of a gentleman. It reminded her of another crocodile— by its very difference.

The table was a magnificent sight to Melisande, with its flower centre-piece and cutlery. Everything was wonderful to-night, she decided. She refused to think of Fermor; she refused to think beyond to-night. She found herself between Leon and Sir Charles, and felt immediately at home.

Sir Charles was talking to a lady on his right, but she could not but be aware that he was listening to what she and Leon were saying, although she doubted whether he could follow their rapid French.

"How is Raoul?" she asked.

"Quite well. This place suits him. He likes it, so we shall stay here."

She smiled. "It seems strange ... a small boy to make the decisions."

"It is an unusual position. Sometimes I think he would be better surrounded by children of his own age."

"Those who did not let him have so much of his own way perhaps. Has he been long in your charge?"

"Since he was five years old. That was when his mother died. Poor Raoul! He belongs to a tragic family. His grandmother was a young woman at the time of the revolution. She was at the court— a close friend of Marie Antoinette. She was imprisoned and suffered

much hardship. It undermined her health. But by some extraordinary good fortune she was released. She was one of those who escaped the guillotine. But there were many who lived and suffered through the revolution."

His expression was mournful, and she thought: What a sad face he has! She longed to make him smile. The smile of a sad person, she decided, was a charming thing, because it came so rarely. She was again thinking of Fermor with his brash gaiety How different was this man! His gentle melancholy appealed to her the more because she had known Fermor.

"Raoul is yet another victim,'' he said.

"Raoul! After all these years!"

"His grandmother escaped, but months in the Conciergerie had ruined her health. She was only seventeen when she was freed, and then she married. She died just after her daughter was born. That daughter was Raoul's mother. She too was fragile. You see, the same disease, the disease of the Conciergerie, was passed on to her. She married. Raoul was born; she died as her mother had, and her sickness began to show itself in Raoul."

"That is terrible!" said Melisande. "To pass on a weakness so. It seems as if a bad thing will live for ever."

"There is hope for Raoul. More is known of these things now. When his father—my cousin—died, he left Raoul in my charge. He asked me to look after him, to educate him, to watch over his health. I have done so for four years."

"That is good of you."

"I don't want to masquerade under false colours. I was poor . . . very poor. My family, you see, lost everything during the Terror. Estates . . . fortune . . . everything gone. I had nothing. My wealthy cousin, in leaving me in charge of his son, was also providing for me."

"Well, perhaps you are fortunate. You have the little boy and your good health."

"You are a comforter," he said, smiling his gentle melancholy smile.

"You have a longing for a different life?"

"We lost much. As you so properly remind me, I have good health, and that is the most important of all possessions. The canaille left my family that—which is more than they did poor Raoul's. You are not eating. I distract you from your food."

She smiled. "And it is all so good! This delicious fish! This sparkling wine! How I love it! But your story is more exciting than fish or wine. To-morrow and the next day . . . food and drink are forgotten. But I shall remember your story as long as I live."

"Do you remember other people's stories so vividly then?"

150 IT BEGAN IN VAUXHALL GARDENS

"Yes."

"I wonder why?"

"Is it because so little has happened to me? Perhaps. I still remember old Therese, at the Convent, who used to peer at everyone, and how it was said in the town that she was really looking for her Jean-Pierre whom she had loved so long ago. ... I remember Anne-Marie who went away with a rich woman in a carriage. Yes, I think I remember every little detail of what happened to other people. Perhaps it is because, when I hear these stories, I feel that I am the person to whom they are happening. / was old Therese, peering about for her Jean-Pierre; and I was Anne-Marie going away in a carriage. I was poor RaouPs grandmother growing ill in the Conciergerie. When things like that happen you cannot forget . . . even if they only happen in your mind."

"You are interested in other people's lives because you have a sympathetic nature."

"That is flattery perhaps. Sister Therese said I was inquisitive . . . the most inquisitive child she ever knew, and inquisitiveness is a sin

"I think that in you it is a charming sin."

"How can a sin be charming?"

"Most sins charm, don't they? Is that not why people find them difficult to resist?"

Fleetingly she thought of that charming sinner whom she was trying in vain to banish from her mind. But there he was—recalled by a few words.

"I think," she said, "that this is becoming an irreligious conversation." She laughed. The wine had made her eyes sparkle and Sir Charles, turning to her, looked into her animated face and said: "May I know the joke?"

"I was saying to Monsieur de la Roche that I am very inquisitive, and that is a sin or a near-sin; and he says that sins usually charm and that is why they are difficult to resist."

"And are you so very inquisitive?"

"I fear so."

There was a lull in the conversation during which Mr. Danes-borough was heard to refer to Joseph Smith, the founder of that strange sect called the Mormons, who had been murdered that year.

They all found the Mormons a fascinating topic, and the subject was taken up with animation round the table.

"Of what do they speak?" asked Leon de la Roche.

"Oh, the Mormons—a religious sect of America. I know little of them except that their religion allows them to have many wives."

"I have no doubt," Mr. Danesborough was saying, "that Mr. Brigham Young will follow in Smith's footsteps."

"They say he already has ten wives," said the lady on Mr. Danesborough's right.

"Disgusting!" said Miss Danesborough.

Mr. Danesborough said that he was not sure that a thing could be condemned until all the facts were known, whereupon everyone looked at the parson with mild exasperation and affection. He was the most extraordinary of clergymen; and it was doubtful whether his queer views would not have landed him in trouble, but for his wealth and family connections.

"But surely," protested the lady on his right, "it says in the Bible somewhere that a man should only have one wife."

Sir Charles said unexpectedly: "Solomon had a good many; and hadn't David?"

The young man next to Caroline said: "Men have murdered their wives because they wanted another. Now if, like the followers of Brigham Young, they could have as many as they could afford, such murders might be avoided."

Melisande caught Caroline's eye then and she knew that the conversation had set them both thinking of Fermor. Were they both thinking that if they were Mormons they might both be preparing for marriage?