Robert Hichens

“ Mr. Ingerstall handed his cup to Mrs. Verulam in order that it might be refilled. Then, staring hard at the tweed suit, towards whom, as a stranger, he thought it fit to address his educational remarks, he cried:
"Really! There is no art except in Paris, no possibility of dining out of Paris, no good dressmaker beyond the limits of Paris, no perfect language except the perfect language of Paris, no gaiety, no nerve, no acting, no dancing, no love-making worthy of the name, but in Paris!"
"Then, Mr. Ingerstall, why on earth do you always live in London?" the Duchess said heavily. ”

“ Verulam.
"Oh, pardon me—pardon me!" he babbled.
"Yes, it does. True virtue is simple, frank, unashamed."
"Ah, ah! unashamed in the—the very shocking way of Eve before her very desirable—if I may say so—fall," cried Mr. Rodney.
"Mr. Bush stands to me for virtue," added Mrs. Verulam irrepressibly.
This was too much for Mr. Rodney. He stood stock still like one struck with paralysis.
"Mr. Bush!" he stuttered. "Then what does Mr. Van Adam stand for?"
"Chloe—er—Mr. Van Adam! What has he to say to the matter?"
"Oh, Mrs. Verulam, everything, everything! ”

“ But he was a tenacious man, and still held to his point.
"If I had not secured Lady Sophia's bun-praise when I had the opportunity, my dear," he said, "it would have haunted me to the last day of my life. It would have been going against the principles of a lifetime; them as have—those which have made us what we are, Henrietta. Go for the names—that has been my motto in the trade. Go for the names."
"Yes; go for the names, and go out of the home!" cried the Empress. "Oh, Perry, Perry!"
The orchestrion drowned her wail, but the Emperor felt it, divined it, nevertheless. He was sincerely moved. ”

“ I didn't go for Mulligatawney."
"Well, then, I'm—I don't see how you had a good day," said Miss Bindler, giving him up and turning again to the Duke.
"Do you like Ascot, Mr. Van Adam?" said the Lady Pearl, with unusual vivacity.
"It's heavenly," cried Chloe; "it's like a dream."
"Have you nothing of the kind in America?"
"How can we, when we have no aristocracy? Oh, I should like to make it my life's mission to create a grand American aristocracy, with grades, a Debrett, and everything complete. ”

“ Verulam could either acquiesce or protest Mrs. Van Adam had fallen upon the other invitations, as the drowning man falls upon the straw. She rifled the big envelopes of their contents. She tore Lady Emily Crane from her modest concealment, brought Sir Algernon Smith into the sunlight in the twinkling of an eye, laid Lady Clondart upon the table like a Patience, and put Mrs. Vigors on end against a flower-vase. The acrobats, the conjuror, the Holy Land, Madame Melba, the panthers of Sartorius—she faced them all, and drew a deep breath that was like a sob. ”

“ Mrs. Verulam turned away and took Mr. Rodney's arm.
"You will not leave society?" he whispered. "You will not take to these horrible pursuits?"
"Perhaps—perhaps not. I must think. I must ponder."
"Come and ponder at Mitching Dean."
She smiled at him. They joined Chloe and the faithful Marriner. Chloe had just run to the corner of the lane.
"He's coming, Daisy!" she whispered excitedly. "I've seen him in the distance. He's coming. Boswell is sitting on his shoulder. Oh, oh!"
"Dear Chloe!" said Mrs. Verulam. "And society?"
"I've had enough of it. I only want Florida and—and him. And you, Daisy?" ”

“ She turned to the house-party. "Should we not all learn to find pleasure in—in what Nature provides for us," she exclaimed, "instead of creating artificial amusements to—to titillate our baser appetites?"
"Does Nature provide apple-green animals with sulphur-coloured spots?" asked Chloe innocently, stroking the place where she was supposed to shave meditatively with her forefinger.
"Nature," said Mr. Rodney, in a voice that quivered and was hoarse with horror—"Nature is—is really scarcely decent."
Mrs. Verulam's approval of Mr. Bush's abominable and Neronic orgy shook him to the soul. ”

“ THE BUN EMPEROR AND EMPRESS AT HOME.
As the rabbit, in moments of danger, has a passion for the little hole into which it darts with the speed of lightning, so, in moments both of safety and danger, has the properly-constituted Englishman a passion for "the home." Even the most middle-class owner of a tiny semi-detached "villa residence," looking out over a network of railway, is prepared to defend it and its clothes-line, and that mysterious barrel which always stands on end at its back-door, with his heart's best blood. ”

“ Thus adjured, Marriner continued in a fragmentary voice, as one relating something almost too improper to be given tongue to:
"She says that—oh, that Lady Sage is going to have nothing at all to do with you in the Enclosure to-morrow, ma'am—oh dear, dear me!"
Mrs. Verulam sat still in silence for a moment. It must be confessed that during the moment she felt as if she was being whipped.
"Oh, ma'am, don't go—don't go there!" continued Marriner. "We should not place ourselves between the feet of our enemies, ma'am; no, no, we should not!" ”

“ Verulam on her sofa, the tweed suit on its chair, were in violent hysterics.
Had Mr. Rodney left his hat behind by mistake and returned to fetch it, he must have stood on the threshold petrified. As there is often a method in madness, so there is sometimes a hilarity in hysteria. There is the frantic laughter of the human soul making a sudden and distracted exit from the prison in which it has been gradually accumulating a frightful excess of emotion. ”

“ Verulam lowered her voice—"of James Bush."
Chloe plunged on her pillows so as to get a clearer view of her friend's face, on which she fixed her sparkling, boyish eyes with a merciless scrutiny.
"Ah!" she said. "Now tell me all about him. Who is he? What is he? Where is he?"
Mrs. Verulam clasped Chloe's hand on the quilt softly.
"Chloe," she said, "he is a man!"
"I gathered that. Very few women are called James."
"That's not enough. It is not a christening that makes a man, it is life." ”

“ Verulam to Mr. Rodney, with her eyes fixed steadily on Chloe.
"I fear I cannot hope to escape rheumatic fever," he answered. "To do so would indeed be foolish optimism."
"Quite so," she answered; "you are perfectly right."
"It is not every man who can say, with truth, that he has been followed by detectives almost continuously for five-and-forty years," said the Duke with unusual dignity to Lady Drake.
Unable to meet his eyes, she piped in return: "It is not every man who can say anything at all with truth." ”

“ Verulam for the moment.
"You believe in the rights of man, Mr. Bush?" he said. "Eh? eh? You stick to the old dispensation, the walnut-tree cure? What? what?"
"I should be very sorry for the man who laid a finger upon me, very!" said Miss Bindler calmly, but with emphasis.
"Oh, Mr. Bush is only joking," said Mrs. Verulam hastily; while Mr. Rodney lay back, closed his eyes, and permitted his entire face to become a mass of wrinkles.
"A great many young men would be the better for a good whipping nowadays," bellowed the Duchess from her sofa. ”

“ Verulam, a spirit that rejoiced in this threatening of disaster. She was with her own hands cutting through the cables that moored her to all that makes life worth living. And for an American! A man mixed up with oranges, the commonest of all fruits, the yellow thing that may be seen on the breakfast-tables of the lower middle classes, the abomination that is sucked in pits, whose pips are flung in showers from a thousand galleries a night! Mr. Rodney turned almost faint at the thought. If this Van Adam had even cultivated nectarines, or made his money in medlars. ”

“ Verulam to give up her visit.
"She has been going too far, Mr. Rodney," said the Duchess in a whispering bass. "She has disgusted London."
"Disgusted London!" cried the appalled confidant. "Oh, no; impossible!"
"You think nothing could; but you are wrong. There is a limit even in our world, and she has overstepped it. You will see that to-morrow in the enclosure. Old Martha Sage intends to cut her."
"Impossible!" reiterated Mr. Rodney, the perspiration starting in beads upon his narrow forehead.
"Nothing is impossible to Martha Sage. I assure you it is the fact." ”

“ Rodney!" cried his Grace. "Let me in, Rodney—let me in!"
"If I sell my life, I'll sell it dearly!" replied Mr. Rodney. "I will not be slain without a struggle."
And he elongated himself against the swaying door, while Miss Bindler, with rapid precision, reloaded her revolver in the adjoining bedroom, and the Duchess tore through Winter Garden No. 3.
"Rodney, don't be a fool! Don't be an ass, Rodney!"
"I will! Nothing shall prevent me—nothing on earth! I will! I will!" replied the owner of Mitching Dean, with an attempt at manly decision of manner. ”

“ The note hit Chloe, who was at the writing-table, in the eye. She uttered an ejaculation of surprise, then controlled herself, and tore it open.
"We must meet to-night," it ran. "Wait till all is quiet, then steal down in the dark to the hall, and meet me there. Do not light a candle, as I think the Duchess is probably on the look-out, full of horrible suspicions. I have extraordinary news to communicate.
"Daisy."
"When all is quiet," murmured Chloe to herself. "And I, too, have extraordinary news to communicate." ”

“ Bush was a most consummate and polished scoundrel, up to every move on the board, but hiding his address beneath a magnificent impersonation of glum stupidity and heavy lethargy. For instance, how brilliantly this apparent bumpkin was now endeavouring to concentrate suspicion on Lady Drake, doubtless in order that his proceedings with the Duchess might pass unnoticed and, unrevenged. But the Duke was determined to be equal with him. He could play the game, too, against the devil himself. ”

“ Rodney through his teeth.
"The Crystal Palace!" cried Mr. Ingerstall; "there's a glass house at which everybody should throw stones. Burmese warriors made of chocolate, or something of the kind, plaster statues of Melancholy, sardines in boxes mixed up with jet bracelets and bicycle exhibitions, a concert-room like a fourth-rate swimming-bath, a—but you shall see it," he cried to the tweed suit, who again replied hastily:
"Thank you very much."
"If your party is not made up, Mrs. Verulam," the Duchess resumed, "I am sure the Duke and I and Pearl will be most happy to join it." ”

“ BOSWELL AS CHAPERON.
But Mrs. Van Adam cared nothing for such high matters. Though a charming, she was perhaps not strictly an intellectual woman. And, besides, at the moment she was full of purpose.
"Daisy—Daisy dear!" she cried, gently and persuasively shaking her dreaming friend. "Is Mr. Bush in society?"
Mrs. Verulam turned pale.
"He—never!" she exclaimed.
"Oh," said Mrs. Van Adam, losing all interest in him, "then don't let us talk about him any more. But, Daisy, you will—you will take me out, won't you? You can, I know."
"Yes, I can. People will like you. ”

“ Still reiterating his fearful wail, like some mournful night-bird, he flapped out into the open, and suddenly found himself within the circle of illumination cast by two bedroom candles, which lit up the following spectacle: Mr. James Bush, with his hands on his knees, guffawing with all his might, and Lady Drake seated on the floor in an Eastern position, attired in an Indian shawl, with her lap full of cigars, brandy-balls, coppers, luggage labels, boxes of pills, sticks of chocolate, rolls of curl-papers, pear-drops, and sealing-wax. ”

“ Meanwhile, Chloe was in high feather. She had lost all fear of discovery, and gave herself ardently to the bosom of that wonderful thing society, which received her with that strange and bizarre passion of receptive protection and coaxing ecstasy reserved for the millionaire. Only the millionaire fully knows the greedy love of the monster, its tenacious anxiety to please, its skipping and self-conscious lures, its readiness for self-humiliation, its grand and ample abandonments of dignity. ”

“ Why do they do it, Marriner?"
"Might I speak, ma'am?"
"I ask you to."
"I don't feel convinced that their souls are immortal, ma'am. I have my doubts, ma'am."
"Then you are in the fashion. But that makes it all the more strange. If we have only one life, Marriner, why should we waste it in leaving cards?"
"Very true, ma'am."
A certain excitement had crept into Mrs. Verulam's [Pg 10] grey eyes. She raised herself on her cushions dramatically.
"Marriner, we are fools!" she cried; "that is why we do it. That is why we do a thousand things that bore us—a thousand things that bore other people. ”