The Mischief-Maker Part 47

"You dear, sensible people!" she cried. "Anne, how dared you give us such a shock!"

Anne leaned over and kissed her mother.

"Mother," she announced, "I am not going to marry Julien."

The d.u.c.h.ess started. The expression which flashed from her eyes was unmistakably genuine.

"Don't talk nonsense, Anne!" she exclaimed sharply.

"No nonsense about it," Anne retorted. "I can't bear to talk when any one is standing up. Sit down, and in a few sentences I'll let you know how hopeless it all is."

There was real fear in the d.u.c.h.ess's eyes.

"Anne," she gasped, "is there a man, then?"

"You idiotic person, of course there isn't!" Anne replied. "Why on earth you should all talk about a man directly a girl breaks away for a time, I can't imagine. Now sit down there and listen. I brought Julien along because if you bully me too much I shall make him take me away.

We are excellent friends, Julien and I, and he has been very kind to me since I came here; but I met him entirely by accident, and if I hadn't I am quite sure that we might have lived here for years and never come across one another."

"But I have told every one in London!" the d.u.c.h.ess protested. "I have explained everything! I have told them how you always loved Julien, what a terrible blow his troubles were, and how you suddenly found that it was impossible for you to marry any other man, and like a dear, romantic child that you are you ran away to him."

"Yes," Lady Anne said dryly, "that's a very pretty story! That's just what I imagined you would tell everybody when you knew that I'd come here. That is just," she continued slowly, "what you have been rubbing into poor Julien this morning before he came to see me. Very well, mother, up to a certain point it came off, you see. Julien called most dutifully, found me sitting in an attic--'attic' is the correct word, isn't it?--and made his declaration. No, I don't think he declared anything, on second thoughts! He effectually concealed any feelings he might have had. It was a suggestion which he made."

"My manner of expressing myself," Julien began a little stiffly--

"Your manner of expressing yourself was perfect," Anne interrupted. "It was a great deal too perfect, my _preux chevalier_. Only you see, Julien, only you see, mother, Julien offered me exactly what I left home to escape from. I have come to the conclusion," she went on, smoothing her skirt about her knees, "that it is most indecent and wholly improper even to think of marrying a man who does not love you and whom you do not love."

The d.u.c.h.ess closed her eyes.

"Anne, what have you been reading?" she murmured.

"Not a thing," Anne went on. "I never did read half enough. I'm simply acting by instinct. Julien and I were engaged for three months and at the end of that time we were complete strangers. The idea of marrying a stranger was not attractive to me. Let that go. Julien went. Along came Samuel--"

"We will not talk about Mr. Harbord," the d.u.c.h.ess interposed hastily.

"Oh, yes, we will! Now so far as Julien was concerned," Anne continued, "I dare say I should have smothered my feelings because there is nothing revolting about him. He is quite an attractive person, and physically everything to be desired. But when it came to a man who was not a gentleman, whose manners were odious, who offended my taste every time he opened his mouth--why, you see, the thing couldn't be thought of! Day by day it got worse. Towards the end he began to try and put his hands on me. That made me think. That's why I came to Paris."

"Anne," the d.u.c.h.ess declared severely, "you are indecent!"

"On the contrary," Anne insisted, "I think it was the most decent thing I ever did. Now please listen. I will not come back to England, I will not marry Julien, I will not think of or discuss the subject of marriage with any one. I am a free person and I haven't the least intention of spending my life moping. I am going to have a pleasant time and I am going to have it in my own way. You have two other daughters, mother--Violet and Lucy. Unless they change, they are exactly what you would have them. Be satisfied. Devote your energies to them and count me a black sheep. You can make me a little allowance, if you like--a hundred a year or so--but whether I have it or not, I am either going to make bows in Mademoiselle Rignaut's workshop, or I am going to be secretary to a very delightful lady--a Mrs. Christophor, or something of the sort."

The d.u.c.h.ess rose--she had an idea that she was more dignified standing.

"Anne," she said, "I am your mother. Not only that, but I ask you to remember who you are. The women of England look for an example to us.

They look to us to live regular and law-abiding lives, to be dutiful wives and mothers. You are behaving like a creature from an altogether different world. You speak openly of things I have never permitted mentioned. I ask you to reflect. Do you owe nothing to me? Do you owe nothing to your father, to our position?"

"A great deal, mother," Anne replied, "but I owe more to myself than to any one else in the world."

The d.u.c.h.ess felt hopeless. She looked toward Julien.

"There is so much of this foolish sort of talk about," she complained.

"It all comes of making friends with socialists and labor people, and having such terrible nonsense printed in the reviews. What are we to do, Julien? Can't you persuade Anne? I am sure that she is really fond of you."

"I wouldn't attempt to influence her for a single moment," Julien declared. "I won't say whether I think she is right or wrong. On the whole, I am inclined to think that she is right."

"You, too, desert me!" the d.u.c.h.ess exclaimed.

"Well, it all depends upon one's conception of happiness, of course,"

Julien replied, "but so far as I am concerned, let me tell you that the idea of a girl like Anne married to an insufferable bounder like Harbord, just because he's got millions of money, simply made me boil."

Anne, for some reason or other, was looking quite pleased.

"I am so glad to know you felt like that, Julien. It's really the nicest thing you've said to me all the morning. Well, that's over now.

Mother, why don't you give us some lunch and take the four o'clock train back? It's the Calais train, which I know you always prefer."

The d.u.c.h.ess reflected for a moment. There were advantages in lunching at the Ritz with Julien on one side of her and Anne on the other. She gave a little sigh and consented.

CHAPTER IX

FOOLHARDY JULIEN

The luncheon in the beautiful restaurant of the Ritz was a meal after the d.u.c.h.ess's own heart. She was at home here and received the proper amount of attention. Not only that, but many acquaintances--mostly foreign, but a few English--paused at her table to pay their respects.

To every one of these she carefully introduced her daughter and Sir Julien. The situation was not without its embarra.s.sments. Lady Anne, however, dissipated them by an unaffected fit of laughter.

"Mother thinks she is putting everything quite right by lending us the sanct.i.ty of her presence," she declared. "We have been seen lunching at the Ritz. After this, who shall say that I ran away from home to meet a riding master in Paris, or some other disreputable person? I may perhaps be pitied as the victim of a hopeless infatuation for you, Julien, but for the rest, if we only sit here long enough I shall be whitewashed."

The d.u.c.h.ess was a little uneasy.

"I must say, Anne," she protested, "that you seem to have developed a great deal of levity during the last few days. It's not a subject to be alluded to so lightly. Ah! now let me tell you who this is. A wonderfully interesting person, I can a.s.sure you. She was born in Paris of American parents, very wealthy indeed, married when quite young to Prince Falkenberg, and separated from him within two years. They say that she lives a queer, half Bohemian sort of life now, but she is still a great person when she chooses. My dear Princess!"

Madame Christophor, who had entered the room on her way to a luncheon party, paused for a moment and shook hands. Then she recognized Julien.

"Really," she murmured, "this is most unexpected. My dear d.u.c.h.ess, you have quite deserted Paris. Is this your daughter--Lady Anne? I scarcely remember her. And yet--"

"We met yesterday," Lady Anne interrupted promptly. "You know, I want to be your secretary, Madame Christophor, if you will let me. My mother has entirely cast me off, so it doesn't matter."

The d.u.c.h.ess made a most piquant gesture. It was really an insufferable position, but she was determined to remain graceful.

"My dear Madame Christophor," she said, "you have no grown-up children, of course, so I cannot ask for your sympathy. But I have a daughter here who is giving me a great deal of trouble. I flatter myself that I have modern views of life, but Anne--well, I won't discuss her."

Madame Christophor smiled.

"Young people are different nowadays, d.u.c.h.ess," she remarked. "If Lady Anne really wants to come into life on her own, why not? She can be my secretary if she chooses. I shall pay her just as much as I should any one else, and I shall send her away if she is not satisfactory. There are a great many young people nowadays, d.u.c.h.ess," she continued, "in very much your daughter's position, who do these odd things. I always think that it is better not to stand in their way. Sir Julien, I want to speak to you before you leave this restaurant. I have something important to say."