CHAPTER XXV

Prince d'Alchingen had been much put out of conceit with himself by

disappointment. The small dinner which he had carefully arranged for

Orange and Castrillon took place, but Orange was not present. He had

sent word from Almouth House that he could not leave Lord Reckage. His

Excellency, therefore, was thoroughly annoyed, and Castrillon's

persiflage fell heavily upon his ears. He tried to think that this

nobleman's vivacity made him appear flippant, whereas he was, in

reality, a Don Juan of the classic type--unscrupulous, calculating, and

damnable. When he remarked that it was _grande folie de vouloir d'etre

sage avec une sagesse impossible_, the Prince's spirits rose--only to

fall again, however, at a later pronouncement from the same lips to the

effect that virtuous women always brought tears to his eyes.

"They tell me," said the Prince, weighing each syllable with great

deliberation (they carried on their conversation principally in French

and Spanish) "that Mrs. Parflete is an admirable actress."

Castrillon kissed the tips of his fingers to the air, and ejaculated:

"Adorable!"

"Does she resemble, in any way, I wonder, her good mother, Madame

Duboc?"

No, she had her own style--although she was coquettish enough. And

pretty? Delicious.

"This is better," thought his Excellency, "much better. And do you

think," he asked, aloud, "that she cares at all for Orange?"

Castrillon smirked and put his hand, half instinctively, to his

breast-pocket. D'Alchingen inferred, from this quick movement, that he

carried a letter or two, or a keepsake, from the lady near the region of

his heart.

"She may need the tonic of some Platonic love in order to bear the

burden of a solitary life," said the Marquis; "but, all the same, I have

no especial reason to think that M. de Hausee is her ideal."

"He is the ideal of several persons," said Alchingen; "I don't know what

to make of him."

But at this point Castrillon displayed a maddening discretion. The

Prince was glad when he took his departure, and he exhausted his stock

of malice in wishing the young coxcomb to the devil. His Excellency was

becoming more and more morose over his snuff and the last mail--which

was longer and duller than usual--with a peculiarly sharp note from his

Chief into the bargain--when Mudara was announced.

Mudara bowed to perfection, and then, going forward, presumed to put his

hand on the Ambassador's arm.

"Your Excellency," said he, "I have some important news. On the whole it

is gratifying. It may make us cynical, but it is absurd to expect human

nature to be Divine. Mrs. Parflete has been at Orange's lodgings this

afternoon."

"You don't mean it?"

"Indeed, it is too true. When he moved to Vigo Street, I was fortunate

enough to secure a room in the same house immediately under his."

"Good!"

"I was sitting at my table, with the door just ajar, when I heard, at

six o'clock, a rustle of silk skirts on the stairs. I peeped out. I saw

a tall lady, thickly veiled, following our landlord, Dunton, across the

landing. She caught sight of me, and started violently."

"Was it Mrs. Parflete?"

"I could _swear_" he answered slowly, "that it was Mrs. Parflete.... She

reached Orange's door; Dunton tapped; Orange came out; the lady and he

exchanged glances; they entered the room together, and he closed the

door. Three-quarters of an hour later they came down the stairs and left

the house."

"You followed them?"

"Alas! I couldn't. I was not alone. Parflete himself was with me. I

dared not trust him out of my sight. He, following his custom, grew

faint at the sight of Madame----"

"Then he, too, recognised her? This is excellent."

"He recognised her height and her figure. Besides, whom else could it

have been--if not Mrs. Parflete? M. de Hausee has no sister, and we know

his character. The caprice of fortune has honoured him with many faults,

but gallantry is not among them. I have that from those who knew him

when he was too young to disguise his true nature. He would not have

been an _abbe malgre lui_, and he has, on the contrary, the most

ecclesiastical soul I know. Rest assured, your Excellency, that this

_canaille_ of a woman is determined to be his ruin, for she is a

baptized serpent,--one of those creatures more dangerous to men than the

devil himself."

The Ambassador smiled agreeably, put his tongue in his cheek, and nodded

his head with a movement which might have passed equally well for a

sympathetic reproof or sorrowful acquiescence.

"What will Parflete do?" he asked.

Mudara threw up his dark, sinewy, and powerful hands in genuine despair.

"He is the vice of the situation," he exclaimed; "at the very mention of

divorce his teeth chatter, he gets a spasm of the heart, and he begins

to gabble like a sick monk about his soul and his conscience. Believe

me, we are dealing with a madman. How can any end be attained in his

present state of irresolution?"

"Happily it is not my business either to arrange or propose the means."

The sly glance of the Prince encountered the sly glance of the Agent.

"That is well understood, your Excellency," said Mudara, with the

inimitable accent of respect. "Let good be done and let evil be avoided,

is the sum total of the Government's desires. But whenever I can see

clearly, I shall know how to act. When right and truth are plain, time

and experience are the best allies. We have at least sufficient evidence

to institute divorce proceedings. If Parflete will not file a

petition----"

"You can do nothing. Unless you can be perfectly sure that he will

follow some reasonable course, he ought to be saved from himself."

"Yes, he ought to be saved from himself. Something in my nature makes me

follow a certain kind of man as hounds track game. What is now to be

done is to meet force with force."

"An armed diplomacy is good," said d'Alchingen.

"And also a scheme of alternatives," replied Mudara.

"I confess I very much prefer working through Castrillon, if possible,

than de Hausee. Disraeli has implicit faith in this de Hausee. It seems

taken for granted that he is ascetic and intellectual. He is altogether

in the clouds, whereas Castrillon is wholly in touch with--with

humanity."

"But de Hausee, like the Cardinal de Retz, fought duels when he was a

student. If I cannot work upon Parflete's jealousy, we must see what can

be done in that direction with de Hausee. We hear much of the soul's

awakening! Wait for the body's awakening now--it must come. Mrs.

Parflete is a _Samaritaine_; we have to prove it somehow. Even though

one invented stories about her, one would probably find that they were,

approximately, true."

"Keep me informed," said the Prince, making a little bow, which

signified that the audience was at an end.

Mudara, according to his own Confession, left the Embassy and proceeded

at once to the small private hotel near Covent Garden where Parflete had

taken up his abode.

Parflete's rooms, (_we read_) were en suite. He had bought a few

rather beautiful prints and a number of exquisitely bound books.

These last, with bowls and vases of flowers, were scattered over

the various tables. The scent of the flowers mingled with the

strange fumes of some Oriental incense. He had draped pieces of

flame-coloured silk over the windows. Everything looked _bizarre_,

and the atmosphere was sultry. When I entered he was not pleased to

see me--in fact, he showed a disposition to sulk. I laboured to

convince him that he would forfeit the respect of all honourable

men unless he showed some just resentment at his wife's conduct.

"No one respects me as it is," he answered; "nobody cares what I do

one way or the other so long as I avoid the police. And as the

police and I have nothing at all in common, I am not likely to

give offence to my good friends in the Alberian Government."

I warned him that such sneers were unjustifiable, and I reminded

him, with severity, of the Government's extraordinary forbearance.

He fixed his eyes unpleasantly upon me, and his fingers trembled as

he played with the frogs of his lilac-velvet smoking-jacket.

"I wish," said he, "that you would mind your own business. I have

done everything to protect the appearance of your good faith all

through this affair. Now leave me alone. Besides, I can't be sure

that the lady we saw to-day was Her Imperial Highness."

My exasperation at his tone of defiance was all but uncontrollable.

"You know," said I, "that we had no doubt of her identity."

"We didn't see her face nor the colour of her hair. In any case, I

refuse to humiliate her. Kindly remember that she is my wife, and

drop a conversation which I find insulting."

Hot words then passed between us. In my anger I may have uttered

several truths which hit him too hard. Suddenly he sprang at me as

though he were a wild cat. His eyes rolled, his face was convulsed

beyond recognition. Men I have never feared; he seemed, however,

not a man but some demoniac risen from hell. In self-defence I

struck him with the small poniard which I have carried all my life.

He staggered back, and the blood-letting seemed to relieve his

temper.

"Go!" said he; "go while you can. I don't think the wound is

mortal, but I don't wish any man hanged for murdering me."

It was in my will to strike him again. I was beside myself with

contempt at what I took to be a fresh revelation of his cowardice.

I replied coolly enough,--"I would not murder you. Have no alarm on

that score. But I can defend myself, I hope."

By this time he had reached the door and thrown it open. A waiter

was passing at the time.

"Sir," said Parflete, "I have the honour to wish you good-day."

The waiter heard this remark distinctly, and saw me bow as I parted

from the wretched creature.

Parflete's appearance was ghastly, but I attributed this pallor to

fright and not to pain, for I believed from my heart that the wound

was no more than a slight prick. I left the hotel, took a cab to my

lodgings, and after reading a light Spanish novel in order to

change the current of my thoughts, I passed an excellent night,

sleeping at least seven hours.