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Chapter 20 · Idols

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  Chapter twenty of Idols by William John Locke. This LibriVox recording is in the
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  public domain. Recording by Simonovs, Chapter twenty. Minner had rushed to London,
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  which she loathed, from Nice, which she adored, and was occupying
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  a suite of apartments in the Hotel Metropol, And the cause of her journey
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  was Hugh, wherefore she regarded him with feelings of more than usual vindictiveness.
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  His letter announcing his marriage with Irene had thrown her into a violent rage.
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  She had stormed that her French maid, cast herself on her bed and wept,
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  and then gone off to Monte Carlo, where she did her best to
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  compromise herself with an Austrian banker who had been for the past fortnight most assiduous
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  in his attentions. The necessitous gentlewoman, whom for strewed social reasons Minner employed
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  as her chaperone and companion, had chosen to be shocked. There had been
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  a scene. My conscience might allow me to pass such things by without remonstrance.
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  The lady had said, I don't pay you to have a conscience.
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  Minner had replied, rudely, I possess one too many of my own.
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  It is an outrage on common decency, said the lady, who had a
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  spirit as yet unbroken by servitude. Whereupon Minna had dismissed her on the spot,
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  and that evening found herself unchaperoned. Now she had taken a little villa
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  on the Simea's Road with the cool, white lodgier and tessellated flaws. To
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  live there in maiden seclusion was out of the question. To provide herself with
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  excitement that she craved without some nominal protectress of her youth and beauty would be
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  to rank herself as unclassed. But he had not the faintest desire to set
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  society's skirts tightly drawn when she passed by, as did many fair and solitary
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  owners of pretty villas between Cannes and Sir Ramo. Her dearly one fortune could
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  buy her much more satisfactory delights. In a word, her chaperone was essential.
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  For a whole month she saw brought far and wide. She offered lavish
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  terms hundreds applied, but the ladies without conscience lacked influence. The influential chaperone
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  seemed to be steeped in the crassest respectability. At last, a paragon came
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  within her horizon, a Missus Delamare, the widow of a colonel of artillery,
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  a woman of the world. In the course of an incidented life,
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  she wrote, I found that discretion is the better part of virtue. The
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  distorted epigram had brought Minnat posthaste to London. She came, saw conquered.
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  Missus Delamare agreed to deposit her conscience with her bankers and to accompany Minner southward
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  with the briefest possible delay. It was five o'clock in the afternoon. Minner
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  threw herself down on a couch and turned over the pages of a novel she
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  just returned from a solitary drive in the park, where she had not seen
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  one familiar face. She hated London. It recalled a past life of miseries.
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  The novel fell to the ground, and as she went over the tail
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  of them counted for the fiftieth time since her arrival. Two days before,
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  she'd seen no one but Missus Delamere. In a moment of utter boredom,
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  a vestige of gratitude, had suggested a visit to the Beibras, but she
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  could not face the ghosts of the horrors of that house. The sight of
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  the dull, coarse, kindly faces, would put back the hand of time
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  and set her again among the devils. A faint backwash of the old hysteria
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  met her of the thought. So she remained in solitary state in the gorgeous
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  hotel, chafing at its dullness. Presently she rose and walked with aimless unrest
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  about the room. She rang for her maid, go downstairs and get me
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  a couple of stalls for the hair mark of this evening. The neat French
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  girl retired with the order. Minna went to the window and drummed against the
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  pane, gazing abstractedly at the busy embankment crossing just below the train creeping over
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  Humford Bridge, the flaring posters against the avenue theater. How hateful everything is,
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  she said to herself. But she remained by the window for occupation's sake.
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  Then Justine, the maid, entered. There were no stalls. They
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  had telephoned if Mademoiselle would like a box o. Yes, said her mistress
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  irritably, that'll do. She invited missus delamare to dinner and the theater,
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  and a rational impulse of politeness had caused her to leave to her guest the
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  choice of entertainment. Missus Delamare had expressed a desire to see a much talked
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  of piece at the Haymarket before her expatriation. Minner had a foreboding of depression.
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  The umpire or the gaiety would have better suited her mode. Also a
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  bottle of champagne afterwards, in the company of some amusing men. As the
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  prospect interested her but slightly, she had characteristically delayed to get tickets to the
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  last moment. She looked at her watch of past five. She waited by
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  the window until Justine returned with the box tickets. I'll come and dress,
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  said Minna. It will be something to do. It is true that one
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  does not amuse myself in London, said Justine, answering the implication. It
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  is the most odious place on the earth. I sigh for niece, I
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  also, Mademoiselle. But Niece will be done. When we return. We'll
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  shut up the vera and go to eich Gremard for the Russian season. I
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  adore the Russians, cried Justine with conviction. Have you known, many asked
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  Minna sarcastically. When one knows one thoroughly, one knows them all, said
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  Justine. The soothing charm of a long unprotracted toilet enlivened by Justine's somewhat intimate
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  account of the one Russian whom she knew thoroughly beguiled the time, and restored
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  Minna to good humor. When she left Justine's hands adorned in the most fascinating
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  of parish dresses with her diamond star and her dark hair, and looked at
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  herself in the piardlass, she was almost happy. She was young, and
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  to most eyes, especially her own, captivatingly beautiful. The ravages that the
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  past ordealer made in her beauty had been repaired by time. Her lips were
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  as rightly pouting, her dark eyes as slumbrous, her lazy lids as sensuous
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  as when she had first deliberately woven that lamour around Hugh long long ago.
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  Furthermore, she had ripened into maturer womanhood. Mademoiselle is the ravishing, said
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  Justine. Minner sighed, and to think that it is all going to be
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  wasted to night, positively wasted. Mademoiselle would command the admiration of the whole
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  house, Minette laughed contemptuously. What would be the gratification of that? It
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  would please me enormously if I were in place of Mademoiselle, said Justine.
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  A little later, Minetree descended with her guest to the great dining room.
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  Missus Delamay was a faded, aristocratic looking woman, with an aquiline nose and
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  a perfect taste in dress. She looked at her charge, critically noticed her
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  unabashed and somewhat inviting acceptance of hermorring glances, and imperceptibly shrugged her shoulders.
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  Rather than linger in the Bloomsbury boarding house, where for the past year she
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  had been hiding her fallen fortunes, she would have undertaken to chaperone the unmentionable
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  person of Babylon herself. Meanwhile, she intended to enjoy her dinner. The
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  crowded room, the buzz of conversation, and the expensive wines completed Minna's sense
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  of content. I am glad that you prefer Champagne extra sick, said miss
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  Delimire after the first appreciative sip. So many women gave fervervedly go when they
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  can yes and make men afraid to die of them, said Minner. I
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  felt sure that your taste and mine would coincide, Yet I had to educate
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  myself up to it. The education will not be thrown away, said Missus
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  Delimier. Men are beasts, said Minna. There is scarcely one who could
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  stand against an appeal to his own little pet sensuality. But there is no
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  amusement or excitement in life without men, and so it is worth while studying
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  their sensualities. Missus Delrimire assented with a polite gesture. Do you think I
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  am too cynical for my age, asked Minna in her languorous voice. Age
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  is a matter of experience rather than of years. Well, too cynical for
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  my experience, Missus delrimere pursed, her thin lips in a smile. Some
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  experience brings cynicism, some again brings truth. It all depends how you are
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  affected. But what is truth toquat pilate, asked Minner. I haven't found
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  it, either in myself or in any one else. To weave the most
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  gratifying tissue out of lies, that's the end of life. If I shock
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  you, youd better tell me at once. Missus delamare you look far too
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  charming for any one to be shocked at you, replied the chaperone, indulgently.
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  Thank you, said Minna in high goodies humor. Missus Delimire turned the
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  conversation to the cosmopolitan society of foreign mortering places. She had a wide experience
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  of men and things, and talked amusingly. Minner compared her approvingly with her
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  prudish predecessor, and congratulated herself on her choice. The talk was so edifying
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  that they lingered over their coffee, and when they reached their box of the
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  theater, the first act had begun. Except on the stage, all was
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  dimness. The stalls, the dress circle glimmered vaguely with the pale spots of
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  faces and the broader splashes of light dresses. Minna sat on the stage side
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  of the box, and Missus Delamire opposite. The act failed to interest the
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  girl, whose champagne filled head craved amusement. Her nature, too instinctively rebelled
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  that earnestness of purpose and the suggestion of ideals. The foreshadowing of tragedy in
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  the play depressed her. Her own soul was too dark to bear additional gloom
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  with ease. She yawned, rested her elbow on the edge of the box,
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  and looked fixedly at the stage while she saw her own life and pitied
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  herself greatly. She was alone. Anna Cassaba had died suddenly three months ago.
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  Now she was friendless save for this paid woman next her, whom in
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  her heart she despised. She brooded over her wrongs, over the last great
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  insult her husband had heaped upon her, How she hated him. How dared
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  he marry considering her passionate repudiation of all claims upon him? This was unreasonable,
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  But if men and women were always guided by reason, life would be
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  as emotional as the bunomial theorem. At last, the curtain descended, the
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  theater sprang into light. Missus Denimier wrote, into well modulated enthusiasm. She
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  praised the acting. It all seems wooden compared with the French stage, replied
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  Minner, pausing in the act of raising an opera class. She turned scanned
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  the movements in the stalls. Suddenly she dropped the glass on her lap and
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  remained staring and grew very white. Take my sworts, said Missus Delrimire,
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  quickly, rising, look there cried Minner, unheeding. There is standing up
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  who Hugh Coleman, the man who said Missus Delrimier with tactful opposier pieces.
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  Minner recovered, flushed bid her lip angrily. She had almost betrayed herself.
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  He gave a shock to see him, she explained, forcing a smile.
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  The last time was in such painful circumstances the trial my poor father. Missus
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  Delamier nodded sympathy and looked with curious interest at Hugh's handsome face and haughty bearing.
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  And there is the heroine of his romance with him, Missus Miriam.
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  I know her by sight. They were married a month ago, said Minna,
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  studying her voice. They were both friends of yours. I been he
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  was, said Minna. At that moment she saw his eyes, which had
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  been idly wandering round the house, fixed themselves with awful suddenness. Upon hers
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  instinct warned her of the danger of putting Missus delamare on the scent of a
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  mystery. She made Hugh an unmistakably cordial bow, to which he responded with
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  grave courtesy. Then he sat down besides Irene. The conjuncture of the parties,
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  and so celebrated. A trial did not pass unnoticed. A whispering here
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  for a by a glance an opera glass level there indicated to Minner the fact
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  of their recognition. Exaggerating the danger, she summoned the box attendant, and,
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  borrowing a pencil scribbled in German, upon a bit of her program,
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  come and speak me to save appearances. The note dispatched, she awaited events.
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  Hugh sat down by Irene and hated to meet the love and trust in
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  her clear eyes. It was the first time they had appeared together in public
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  since their marriage, the first time either had been to a theater since his
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  arrest for Israel Heart's murder. It had been a small event in their lives,
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  enjoyed in anticipation and up to now enjoyed in realization. They had held
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  hands loverwise during the act, under cover of the darkness, signaling emotions by
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  little finger pressures. He rode on the full tide of the paths month's wondrous
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  happiness. Now and then his mind wandered to the shot at Haven on the
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  sweet Cornish coast, where the all fulfilling days of their honeymoon had been passed,
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  where the woman shyly revealing her inner tendernesses, seemed thereby to regain day
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  by day the color of her cheeks and the serenity of her brow, and
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  his thoughts flew forward to the journey home, to the strange new fact of
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  not parting at the door, and walking back to his lonely rooms with his
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  heart aching for wild impossibilities. He had risen with a laughing speech, I
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  am going to delight myself by seeing how inferior all other women are to you.
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  And then his eyes had met those of minner fixed upon him like a
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  fate. Strange. We should see her on our first appearance, said Irene.
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  She is looking remarkably well, he returned, realizing and hating the bananity
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  of the remark. Then he was silent. Irene noticed a constraint. Never
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  mind if it calls up cruel associations. Dear, the past troubles have brought
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  the present happiness. You must always remember that. Could I ever forget?
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  He said? She has improved in looks, said Irene, with a glance
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  at the box. The last time I saw her, poor thing, she
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  was terribly pulled down. I don't think I ever told you. It was
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  on the awful evening of the first day of the trial. She suddenly appeared
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  at our house, and before she could speak, was stricken dumb with hysteria.
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  We had to send her back to her friends. Strange, wasn't it
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  very strange? Said Hugh in a low voice. What could have been the
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  intention of her visit? To confess, he dared not share the agitation that
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  the story caused him. He rose brusquely, with a desire to escape for
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  a moment from the torture of his present position. Its falseness stung his impatience.
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  A little bald headed man two rows of stalls off, who was looking
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  with curiosity at the hero of the cause, said Abra, suddenly met Hugh's
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  glance and curled up like a shriveled leaf into his stool. But Hugh had
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  been quite unconscious of the bald headed man's interest. Why don't you go and
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  smoke a cigarette, said Irene. As he turned towards her, he saw
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  the tender, truthful love in her face, and he called himself a villain
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  for deceiving her. But it was for her happiness. Indubitively still, the
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  presence there of the other woman shed a ghast delight upon his honor rooted in
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  dishonor, and Irene's simple statement of Minner's mysterious visit, whose baffled intention he
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  could not but surmise, added a grimmer irony to the situation. Before he
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  could reply to Irene, however, the attendant had edged her way to him
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  with Minner's note. His brow darkened as he read the words he could not
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  refuse. Besides, Irene had heard the attendant's inquiry and explanation. I will
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  go and speak to her, if you don't mind, he said. Of
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  course you must, said Irene, she will be glad to see you.
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  Hugh looked at his watch. There were still ten minutes before the curtain rose.
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  There would be time for a brief interview. The briefer the better.
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  He made his way along the line of stalls and ran up the stairs to
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  Minna's box. She met him outside in the carpeted and quiet passage, and
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  walked to step or two past the door of her box, so as to
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  be beyond the earshot of Missus delamere. She held out her hand to him
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  with an air of contemptuous defiance. So you've committed bigger me, she remarked,
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  to put it bluntly, I have replied, Hugh, you scarcely sum
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  me to give yourself the pleasure of telling me that. Who knows? Said
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  Minna, with an insolent upsweep of her lazy lashes. Have you anything to
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  say against it? Oh, dear, No, you got my letter,
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  didn't you? You can have as many wives as the late Brigham Young if
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  you like, Hugh bowed ironically. It was like her to meet tragic issues
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  with vulgarity. Tell me, he said, with a quick change of manner,
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  why do you go to missus Merriam's on that evening before the trial.
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  The question was so abrupt, and the incident for the moment, so far
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  from her thoughts, that she gave a little gasp of surprise, and the
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  blood came into her cheeks. She drooped her eyes still a surreptitious glance at
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  him, and seeing his face very stern, hardened her heart and laughed contemptuously.
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  The thing got on my nerves. I suppose you don't fancy I contemplated
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  murdering you in cold blood. I thought your dear true friend, mister Merriam,
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  might help me. Wasn't I a silly little fool? I am glad
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  you had one moment of compunction, said Hugh. I have sincerely repented of
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  it, since I can assure you. But we need not talk of unpleasant
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  things. All is for the best in this best of all possible worlds.
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  I see you are amply consoled, while I and you I console myself too,
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  she answered insolently. He regarded her pityingly, was silent for a moment.
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  Then he said, in a kinder tone, my speak like this.
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  I should be happy to feel that you had made an effort to save me,
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  For I have judged you harshly if you tried to act loyally towards me
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  as I tried to act towards you. The fact will save us from hating
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  one another, will it? She echoed, My dear man, you can't
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  possibly conceive how I hate you. Very well? Then we remain the best
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  of enemies. Are you staying long in London till the day after to morrow?
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  I am afraid I shall not have the pleasure of asking you to call
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  on me. I regret it, extremely, replied Hugh. And now that
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  I believe the curtain is up, I will say good bye. Won't you
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  sit through the act in our box? Asked, Minna, it was difficult
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  to get back to your other wife. He turned on his heel and walked
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  away. She looked back at him until the curve of the passage hid him
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  from her view, and then entered her box with muttered apologies to disturb the
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  store occupants. Hugh regained his place by Irene. She slipped her hand as
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  before into his and whispered a welcome. His grasp grew tight as his heart
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  swelled within him. Oh God, it was good to have her safe and
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  secure. But the spell of the play had lost its power. When the
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  curtain fell again, he was scarcely conscious of what had passed. It had
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  fallen on a highly dramatic situation. Irene gave the little sigh of relieved tension
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  and turned to him, her face lit with the afterglow of kindled emotion.
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  You are enjoying its, dearest, he said, Oh yes, and you
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  I am beside youu Rene. That is all I want in this world.
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  The answer contented her. She whispered a foolish word, her head near his.
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  Instinctively, he raised his eyes to Minna's box and saw her staring down
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  at him with the hard, ugly look upon her face that he known so
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  well in days past. I am afraid that poor girl is not happy,
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  said Irene, following his glance. Isn't it strange, you, dear,
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  that from the very first I always wanted to lighten her lot. What a
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  meddlesome creature she would think me? She knew she drove knives into the man
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  in what estimation would she hold him if he told her his and that girl's
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  story. He was no hero in his own eyes. In hers, he
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  day by day perceived with an indescribable mingling of pain and pride that he was.
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  It was her nature to exalt any one she loved on a pinnacle of
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  greatness he had married, allowing her to remain in ignorance, honestly according to
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  his lights, for the sake of her welfare alone. Now for the first
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  time, he trembled for himself. Don't be sad, dear, she said,
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  after a while, I can look back on it all so calmly as
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  if it had happened in a prior state of existence, and so must you.
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  Love is the God that works all heeding, he replied, and the
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  sincerity of his faith comforted him. The object of Irene's pity, soon withdraw
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  into the shadow of the box and plunged into flippant and bitter dialog with Missus
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  Delamere. The newspaper account of the scandal gave her scope for much more than
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  criticism of Hugh and Irene. It was a savage pleasure to tear their reputation
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  to shreds heep on invective and opprobrium, invent past meanesses and dishonors and treacheries.
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  You seem to dislike him very much, remarked Missus Delamier, smiling.
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  Who wouldn't, considering his record of infant me, replied Minna, her rich,
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  deep voice turning as it always did when she was angered to harshness.
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  The smile flickered inscrutably around Missus Delamare's thin lips. I don't know, she
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  said, I can forgive the woman. I to think most women with whom
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  he is come in contact had been ready to throw themselves away upon him.
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  He is a splendid looking animal. Do you think women are beasts like men?
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  There's not much to choose between them, replied Missus Delamere. The last
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  act began, Missus Delrimire gave herself up to the stage, Minner leant on
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  the edge of the box and brooded over the two figures side by side,
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  just distinguishable in the checkered dimness of the stalls. When the piece was over,
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  she hurried her companion out of the theater and parted from her at the
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  door. A cab quickly took her to the Metropol. She went straight into
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  her bedroom and ordered a small bottle of champagne and some biscuits, which she
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  consumed while Justine aided her to undress. Has Mademoiselle well amused herself, asked
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  Justine, don't chatter in that irritating way, said Minna snappishly. Sir Justine
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  concluded her operations in silence and retired at the earliest opportunity. Minna wrapped her
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  dressing gown around her and lay back in her chair with the last half glass
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  of champagne beside her, And gradually the sensuousness faded from her face, and
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  her eyes grew haunted by trouble, and her lips worked nervously. Thus she
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  remained rigid, save for her lips and sweating bosom, for a long time.
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  At last, in a vehement whisper, yes, I hate him,
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  she said, end of chapter twenty