A Woman's Will Part 16

"His mother! No, dear, I can't stand any of the family now."

"Whose mother is she?"

"She isn't anybody's mother. That's how she can be sixty-five and look forty-two by gaslight."

"Does she look forty-two by gaslight? Oh, imagine looking forty-two by gaslight!"

"By men's gaslight she looks forty-two. Any woman could just instinctively see through everything from her wig to her waist, and that's why she has grown to hate me so."

"Does she hate you?"

"Hate me! Well, wait until you see her look at me. It's a sort of cross between a mud-turtle and a basilisk, and she's forever telling my age and telling it wrong. And she lays for every man that comes near me."

"Why, Molly, how awful!"

"I'm going slowly mad. You've no idea! she's so jealous that life is not only a burden, it's a weight that's smas.h.i.+ng me flatter every day. I'm getting a gray hair and a wrinkle, and all because of her. And she wrote Ivan--"

"Who's Ivan?"

"He's one of the men that I've accepted lately; he's her cousin. He's a prince and she's a princess; but oh, my soul and body, my head is uneasy enough with lying and I've ceased to care a bit about the crown."

"Why, Molly, wouldn't you like to be a princess?"

"Not after this trip. Do you know what straits she's driven me to?

actually I came near taking a Turk at Trieste."

"Did you?"

"No, I didn't. I thought it over and I decided I wasn't built for the monopoly of a harem."

Rosina burst out laughing.

"Molly," she gasped, "imagine _you_ confined to only one man, and he your lord and master!"

"I couldn't possibly imagine it, and I make it a point to never go in for anything that I can't imagine. But, my dear, I must tell you the great news. Being engaged is an old habit with me; but" (she put her hand to her throat and felt within her high stock) "you must know that I am now actually in love, for the first time in my life, too."

"Oh, Molly, since when?"

"Three weeks. Wait till I fish up my locket and you shall see him.

Handsome is nowhere! And our meeting was _so_ romantic. I was lying on the bottom of a boat waiting to be paddled into the Blue Grotto, and at the last minute a stranger came, and they laid him down at my feet. When we got into the grotto, of course we stood up; and it was lucky we did, for we fell in love directly, and of course we couldn't have fallen unless we were standing."

"Oh, Molly, who is he? do show me the picture."

"That's what I'm trying to do, but I think the clasp has hooked on to Captain Douglas' locket,--you remember Captain Douglas!--I can't pull it anyway. Never mind, I'll show you to-night."

"Is he English?"

"English, no; he's Italian. Such eyes you never saw. They're warmer than white porcelain tile stoves in early autumn. And he belongs to the Queen-mother's regiment, and wears the most resplendent uniform and a gray cape that he just carelessly sweeps across his chest and up over the other shoulder--ah!"

Molly stopped to draw a deep breath and sigh.

"Where is he stationed?" her friend inquired.

"Rome; and he hasn't a cent beyond his pay, so we can't think of any future which makes him _so_ blue."

"Poor fellow! do you consider yourself engaged to him?"

"Of course I'm engaged to him. He came a whole day's journey to propose.

You don't suppose I'd say 'no' to a chap who was awfully hard up, and then took a long, expensive trip just on my account! Besides, I'm most desperately in love with him, and he is the kind of man who couldn't come to time any other way. He is a most awfully good sort--the sort that believe in everything. Why, he has such a high opinion of me that it's almost depressing at times. I can't live up to a high opinion; it's all I can do to keep above a low one."

"But how will it come out, Molly?"

"It won't come out at all unless you tell it. No one else knows. He _can't_ say anything without compromising himself, and I'm not likely to let it out unless I some day pull up the wrong locket by accident."

"But don't it trouble you?"

"Trouble me! Why should it trouble me? It's that old Russian woman who troubles me. I'd be idiotic to add to my miseries by thinking up any other torments while I'm around with her. Here we are at the Quai,--that's the hotel yonder. And I've talked one continuous stream ever since we left the Gare and you've never said a word. Begin right off and tell me something about yourself. Who have you met since you came over in May? Of course you've met _some one_. Who?"

"An old French marquis," Rosina told her thoughtfully.

"And no one else?"

"Oh, yes, of course there were loads of others. But this was such a dear old gentleman, when he kissed my hand--well, really, I almost felt like a princess."

"But not like a marchioness?"

"Oh, dear no! I wouldn't think of undertaking the gout before I'm thirty."

"The Lord preserve me from dear old men!" Molly e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed with fervor.

"Why, I had a baron propose to me last winter; he was actually so shaky that his valet was always in attendance to stand him up and sit him down. While he was pouring out his remnant of a heart I kept expecting to see the valet come running in to throw him at my knees. He was over eighty and awfully rich, but that servant of his was too careful and conscientious for me to dare risk it,--a man like that with devoted attention and plenty of rare beef might live ten years, you know,--so I told him 'no,' and the valet came in and stood him up and led him away."

The cab coming to a standstill before the hotel just at this moment, the two young women were forced to interrupt their conversation, and undertake the arduous labor of preparing for _dejeuner_. Ottillie was just laying out the contents of the travelling toilet-case when her mistress came in to be dressed, and it was quite two hours later before any opportunity presented itself for renewing their talk. Then Molly came into the salon of the blue-and-white suite which the friends shared, and they curled up together on the divan, prepared to spend one of those infinitely delightful hours which are only known to two thoroughly congenial women who have had the rare luck of chancing to know one another well.

Molly began by winding her arm about her friend's shoulders and kissing her warmly.

"'Tis like Paradise to be with you instead of that fussy old woman," she said warmly; "now go on with what you were telling me in the carriage,--the marquis, you know."

"There isn't any more to tell you about him, he's all over, but I'll tell you about some one else, if you'll be good."

"I'll be good. Who, and where, and which, and what is the other?"

"I haven't any faith in you, I'm afraid you will tease me."

"Did I ever tease you before?"

"I was married then and I didn't mind. I feel differently now."

"I promise not to tease you one bit. Where did you meet him?"