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Chapter 22 · Idols

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  Chapter twenty two of Idols by William John Locke. This LibriVox recording is in
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  the public domain recording by Simon Evers, Chapter twenty two. An idle,
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  average sensual man and an idle woman from whom wantonness emanates like a perfume,
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  cannot meet each other every day for a couple of weeks without finding themselves progressing
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  by leaps and bounds in mutual intimacy. The flesh speaks, the world is
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  complaisant, and the devil leers purtifically. The attraction which Geroff first felt towards
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  the transfigured moneylender's daughter developed quickly into a more vivid sentiment, except that of
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  an old club acquaintance whom he had run across in the gaming rooms. He
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  had no other society than minners in Monte Carlo. She became his occupation.
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  The circle of friends to whom she introduced him aroused his British contempt. He
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  was as much out of touch with the overdressed cosmopolitan ladies as with the excessively
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  polite cosmopolitan men. He treated them all civilly enough, with a sudden,
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  uncomfortable indifference when he met them in her company, but avoided them studiously.
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  When he was alone, Minner held a reception every Tuesday night at the Casa
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  Benedetta. At first, Missus Delmer had tried to put her in the way
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  of knowing good people. She had worked and intrigued most sedulously, and had
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  been successful in inducing a certain set to take up her charge. But seeing
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  Minner play recklessly with all kinds of fire, they dropped her out of regard
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  for their own fingers. Minner called them tartufs and pecksniffs, uttering scornful doubts
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  as to the honor of the men and the chastity of the women. Whereupon
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  Missus delamere shrugged her shoulders and began to experiment upon the next strata of society,
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  these by turns, refusing to support Minna. She had come upon the
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  riff raff, and the riff raff of Monte Cardo is a very curious and
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  heterogeneous formation. No one knows its past or its future. The men have
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  perfect manners, the women perfect complexions. The ones are worth the others Menner's
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  receptions were brilliant enough. They were distinguished by animated conversation, excellent music,
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  and irreproachable Champagne. But to the stolid philistine perception of Gerard Merriam, there
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  was an indefinable air of something wrong, such as strikes a guest at a
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  perfectly well conducted gathering at an expensive, private lunatic asylum. When the ladies
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  of the house were engaged with their guests, he lounged hands in pockets by
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  the door leading on to the lodgier, and surveyed the scene sternily. They
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  were a damned lot, he murmured to himself, and added a couple of
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  uncompromising saxon vocables, indicating the respective categories under which the men and women fell.
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  Disrepute as practiced by foreigners is a tawdry and contemptible thing, irrespectable though
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  immoral British eyes. Thus he stood one Tuesday evening, some three weeks after
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  his meeting with Minna. The room was brilliantly lighted. In a corner sat
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  an eager crowd around a little roulette table on divan's in easy chairs. The
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  remainder of the company laughed and chatted. Minna was the center of a little
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  group of men, too bald, scrupulously attired, wearing ribbons in their button
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  holes. One was telling a story. By the guffors that followed, and
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  by the way in which Minna held her fan before her face, Gerard guessed
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  its nature. He glowered at her as French was spoken, which he understood
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  very badly. He felt an added sense of outrage. A stout lady in
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  mauve and rubies left the roulette and came over to Minna. Present to me
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  your tame bear, My dear, she said, in a shrill falsetto He
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  is sulking because no one is making him dance. Minna laughed, glanced at
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  Gerard and met his lowering look. Then she bit her lip. It was
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  ridiculous for a man to behave so foolishly. She rose, resigned her seat
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  to the lady, and walked with her slow, languid step to Gerard.
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  Madame Roborski is dying to make your acquaintance, and be a good thing to
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  let her die, said Gerard. Well, she will soon grant her this
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  last favor. Annoyance screwed his features. I can't talk indanities to rouge women,
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  he said, you can talk them to me. You are not rouged.
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  If he were, I shouldn't. I don't think you ought to speak
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  in this way of my friends, She remarked. I suppose I am rude,
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  and I beg your pardon, But they're not your friends. They are
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  a troop of muntebanks whom you engage to entertain. You come out on to
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  the lodgier and catch my death of cold. No, thank you. You've
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  scarcely spoken a word to me all the evening. I speak to those who
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  amuse me with blackguardly French stories. That's my affair. I don't like to
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  see those fellows leering at you, he said, sulkily. To such a
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  point of intimacy, had three weeks intercourse brought them, Minner broke into the
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  low notes of her laughter. Oh why shouldn't they It pleases them and doesn't
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  hurt me, and vice versa. Also, you know I'm not a monopolausible
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  woman. If you'll go and talk nicely to Madame Raborsky, I'll let you
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  give me some supper, all right, he said, Where is the siren?
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  She conducted him to the group, performed the introduction. He bowed with
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  the englishman's stiffness. The other men politely made place for him. He sat
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  down and endured a quarter of an hour's anguish. Minna joined the roulette players,
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  where Missus Delamare was taking on even chances according to an infamible system in
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  which one only plays every tenth or fifteenth game. It suited her purse and
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  protracted the excitement. After winning a few hundred francs, Minner really east Gerard
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  from Madame Raborski, who'd been trying to create an impression, but the supper
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  room was full. The hostess became the center of flowery compliment, delivered with
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  much uplifting of shoulders and spreading of thin, bideled hands. Gerard chafed felt
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  his own great fingers tingle. He was not a man accustomed to the immunities
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  of society. During his domesticated days, he went out with Irene only under
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  compulsion. Women bought him, save those whom he appropriated to himself. Then
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  he preferred seclusion with the chosen individual. Among these easy manner to venturers and
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  satirical, sharp witted women, he seemed as uncouth as a bear in a
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  wilderness of monkeys. The comparison was minners. In an after talk with Missus
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  Delamere, consciousness of his lack of adaptability, did not soothe his temper.
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  He felt annoyed with himself for coming. Don't look so dumb, whispered,
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  minner, give me some of that patty and look after the tuffs. He
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  helped her solemnly and brought the plate to the corner of the table where she
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  was sitting, then stood by her at attention while she jested with her neighbors.
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  When she had finished, he escorted her to the sannor, where she
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  left him to join a handsome woman in a very low dress who was playing
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  the piano. Missus Delamire, who had abandoned the roulette table, took pity
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  on him and sat down with him on a divan against the wall. Being
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  an english woman of his own class, she could make herself companionable and drew
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  him on to his own subjects the fortune he made, the big game he
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  had shot. She had known Frewintle, the mighty hunter with whom he had
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  been associated, and gave satirical sketches of his family history. She was an
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  authority on genealogies, a subject which, by one of the intellectual freaks not
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  uncommon in men of Gerard's type, interested him greatly. It's a curious fact
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  but a true one, that all genealogies are related to one another. Missus
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  Delamere conclusively proved her connection with the Norfolk Merriam's through the Fremantles. They were
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  all East Anglians. You've done me good, mister Meriam, she remarked.
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  I'd almost forgotten that there was such a thing as a county family in existence.
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  Look at these people here. I suppose they belong to somebody, but
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  to whom if they had mothers, it's about all, replied Gerard, laughing.
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  Missus Delamere had put him in a good humor. Soon afterwards, he
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  took his leave. Shall I see you to morrow? He asked Minna while
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  bidding her good bye. Perhaps I don't know. If I go over to
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  Monte Carno, you may meet me there. There are too many burdens knife
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  to add to them voluntarily by making arrangements for the morrow. You're looking tired,
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  he said. A course of late hours and stuffy rooms becomes unhealthy.
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  If it's overdone, let me take you for a drive to morrow with Missus
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  Delmere. No, you alone, I can get a decent turnout in Nice.
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  I suppose I'll call for you at two o'clock. Where are you staying
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  at the Grand Blutagna. I'll send you word in the morning. Depends how
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  I feel. I shall be wretchedly disappointed if you don't come. We knew,
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  she said, with her lazy intonation nouvenent. Later, when the guests
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  had gone, Missus Delamere began to sound to Gerard's praises. He was a
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  thorough Englishman, intelligent, masculine, not like the effeminate creatures who had never
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  seen a gun go off in their lives or ridden anything more spirited than a
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  turpe donkey. He was like a colossus amid these little men, she said,
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  with a vague reminiscence of Shakespeare. It was then that Minna snapped out
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  her bear a monkey comparison. She was thoroughly weary, lay back, exhausted
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  and spiritless in a chair, and regarded Gerard's apologist with an air of tarred
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  resignation. The room was hot and stale, with the breaths of many people
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  and the refuse of many perfumes. Bear or not, replied Missus Delamere,
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  drawing some crumpled and greasy bank notes from the pocket of her black silk dress
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  and delicately folding them. I like to meet an honest, healthy English gentleman
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  again, and I pity the man. I always pity men whose wives go
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  wrong. Pearls before swine, said Milla listlessly. Oh I'm not souch hard
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  as that upon the women. You mistake my meaning, said Minna. He
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  is the hog. Missus Dinimer looked up, surprised. I thought you disliked
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  her so, and you certainly have been encouraging him. Minna drew her body
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  together in a kind of shudder and threw out her hand in a gesture of
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  repulsion. He gives me the creeps, she said. Missus Delamere did not
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  reply. She rose and gathered her gloves and fan from a table where they
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  were lying, and then came calmly upster Minner's chair. You are over done.
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  It is time for bed. She was not without kindly instincts. In
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  her placid, well bred way. She stooped and put her arm beneath Minner's
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  and helped her to rise. She stood for a moment without withdrawing her arm.
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  You're needing a weary life, my poor child, she said. Minna
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  looked at her for a minute. Her lips quivered oh, hell of a
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  life, she whispered, and to missus Delrimire's consternation, the girl gave one
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  or two little convulsive sobs, and turning swiftly, burst into miserable crying upon
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  her shoulder. I wish I were dead. I can't find peace or happiness
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  anywhere. It's the hell of a life. The older woman soothed her as
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  best she could. Eventually, Minna dried her eyes, kissed for the first
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  time her friend's faded cheek, and went out of the room. Why is
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  it, said Missus Delrimare to herself, For when a woman wants to go
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  to the devil, she almost does so by water. Gerard was up early
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  the next morning, and, after inquiries, went in search of a respectable
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  turn out for the proposed drive. He found a high American phighton and a
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  pair of Irish ponies, which the liveries table keeper had recently purchased from a
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  dissipated young Englishman, who, having ruined himself at the tables, had hurriedly
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  hastened to England to enlist in a foot regiment. On returning towards the public
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  gardens, he encountered his club acquaintance sitting outside the Cafe de la Victoires.
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  He joined him in a palatief described his recent her. The friend smiled indulgedly,
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  I suppose it's for the Queen of Sheba. Gerard frowned. Surprise.
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  Who's that the girl I've seen you with several times? They call it that?
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  I suppose because she's wealthy, dusky and indiscreet. I used to know
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  her in London long ago, said Gerard stiffly. Suddenly the man remembered,
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  flushed and apologized, I'm awfully sorry a thousand pards when one gets into a
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  bad way of talking of public characters, and unfortunately every one talks of the
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  lady by that name. Gerard sipped his vermouth coolly. What do you know
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  about her? Oh? Nothing much, really, I it would rather interest
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  me to learn, insisted Gerard. Well, she's squandered a lot of money
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  at the tables. Then she's always attached to some new man or on the
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  other somewhat speckled. You see in reputation introduction not necessary, that sort of
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  thing. I don't know if it's true. I hope not. I suppose
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  it's true, said Gerard. Women generally live a bit below their reputation.
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  Lad, my discretion was not serious, said his friend. Oh dear no,
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  laughed Gerard, and turning the subject aside. If you're doing nothing,
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  you might as well come and have some lunch with me at the Grand Bretagnia.
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  The friend assented. They strolled off together. At the hotel, the
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  hall porter gave Gerard a note which had just arrived. It was a line
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  for Minner, promising to be ready for the drive. He felt, by
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  no means displeased by his friend's gossip. If anything, rather more settled in
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  his mind. A beautiful and courted woman with several thousands a year commanded deference.
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  The Queen of Sheba of Monte Carlo's scandal, on the other hand,
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  was fair game, and the ease of the chase appealed to a man who
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  was too masculine in his tastes to have cultivated the delicate gallantries of philandering.
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  He crushed the note roughly into his pocket. Put off, queried his friend.
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  I guess not, replied Gerard fatuously. End of Chapter twenty two.