The Hillman by E. Phillips Oppenheim
XXXV
The little place was unexpectedly crowded when John entered, afterhaving handed his hat and coat to a _vestiaire_. A large supper-partywas going on at the further end, and the dancing space was smaller thanusual. The _maitre d'hotel_ was escorting John to a small table in adistant corner, which had just been vacated, when the latter heard hisname suddenly called by a familiar voice. Sophy, who had been dancing,abandoned her partner precipitately and came hurrying up to John withoutstretched hands.
"John!" she exclaimed. "You, of all people in the world! What do youmean by coming here alone at this time of night? Fancy not telling me!Is anything the matter?"
"Nothing," he replied. "I really don't exactly know why I am here. Isimply didn't want to go to bed."
She looked at him closely. It was clear that she was a little puzzled athis appearance.
"If it were not you, John," she declared, "I should say that you hadbeen having more to drink than was good for you!"
"Then you would be very wrong," John assured her, "because I haven't hadanything at all. I have come here to get something. Can't you come andsit with me?"
"Of course!" she assented eagerly. "The prince is giving a supper-partyat the other end of the room there. We all came on together from thereception. Let us get away to your corner quickly, or they will see youand make you go and join them. I would much rather have you to myself.The people here seem so stupid to-night!"
John stood still, and made no movement toward the table which the_maitre d'hotel_ was smilingly preparing for them.
"Where is the prince?" he asked.
Sophy, struck by something in his voice, swung around and looked at him.Then she thrust both her arms through his, clasped her two handstogether, and led him firmly away. A glimmering of the truth wasbeginning to dawn upon her.
"Tell me where you have been since you left the reception," sheinsisted, when at last they were seated together.
"Wait till I have ordered some wine," he said.
A waiter served them with champagne. When John's glass was filled, hedrained its contents. Sophy watched him with surprise. She came a littlecloser to him.
"John," she whispered, "you must tell me--do you hear? You must tell meeverything! Did you take Louise home?"
"Yes."
"What happened, then? You didn't quarrel with her?"
"Nothing at all happened," he assured her. "We parted the best offriends. It wasn't that."
"Then what? Remember that I am your friend, John dear. Tell meeverything."
He poured himself more wine and drank it.
"I will tell you," he assented. "I went to a little club I belong to onthe Adelphi Terrace. I sat down in the smoking room. There was no onethere I knew. Some men were talking. They had been to the receptionto-night. They were comparing French actresses and English. They spokefirst of the French woman, Latrobe, and her lovers; then of Louise. Theyspoke quite calmly, like men discussing history. They compared the twoactresses, they compared their lives. Latrobe, they said, had lovers bythe score--Louise only one."
Sophy's hand stole into his. She was watching the twisting of hisfeatures. She understood so well the excitement underneath.
"I think I can guess," she whispered. "Don't hurt yourself telling me.Something was said about the prince!"
His eyes blazed down upon her.
"You, too?" he muttered. "Does the whole world know of it and speak asif it did not matter? Sophy, is it true? Speak out! Don't be afraid ofhurting me. You call yourself my friend. I've been down, looking at theoutside of her house. I dared not go in. There's a fire burning in mysoul! Tell me if it is true!"
"You must not ask me that question, John," she begged. "How should Iknow? Besides, these things are so different in our world, the world youhaven't found out much about yet. Supposing it were true, John," shewent on, "remember that it was before you knew her. Supposing it shouldbe true, remember this--your idea of life is too absurd. Is one creedmade to fit human beings who may differ in a million different ways? Awoman may be as good as any ever born into the world, and yet take justa little love into her life, if she be true and faithful in doing it. Idon't believe there is a dearer or sweeter woman breathing than Louise,but one must have love. Don't I know it? A man may be strong enough tolive without it, but a woman--never!"
The skirts of the women brushed their table as they danced, the rhythmof the music rose and fell above the murmur of laughter andconversation. John looked around the room, and a sort of despair creptin upon him. It was no good! He had come to London to understand; heunderstood nothing. He was made of the wrong fiber. If only he couldchange himself! If it were not too late! If he could make himself likeother men!
He turned and glanced at his companion. Sophy was looking very sweet andvery wistful. The warm touch of her fingers was grateful. Her sympathywas like some welcome flower in a wilderness. His heart ached with a newdesire. If only he could make himself different! If only he couldstretch out his hand for the flowers which made the lives of other menso sweet!
"I must not ask you any more questions, Sophy," he said. "You are herfriend, and you have spoken very sweetly. To-morrow I will go and seeher."
"And to-night, forget it all," she pleaded. "Wipe it out of your memory.Louise and your future belong to to-morrow. To-night she is not here,and I am. Even if you are furiously in love with her, there isn't anyharm in your being just a little nice to me. Give me some champagne; andI want some caviar sandwiches!"
"I wonder why you are so good to me, Sophy!" he exclaimed, as he gavethe order to a waiter. "You ought either to marry your young man down atBath, or to have a sweetheart of your own, a companion, some one quitedifferent."
"How different?"
"Some one who cared for you as you deserve to be cared for, and whom youcared for, too."
"I cannot take these things as lightly as I used to," she answered alittle sadly. "Something has come over me lately--I don't know what itis--but I seem to have lost my taste for flirtations. John, don't lookup, don't turn round! I have been afraid of the prince all the evening.When you came in, I fancied that you had been drinking. When the princeasked me something about you, an hour or so ago, I knew that he had. Isaw him like it once before, about a year ago. Don't take any notice ofhim! Don't talk to him, if you can help it!"
John was scarcely conscious of her words. A new glow of excitementseemed to be taking entire possession of him, to be thrilling his blood,to be shining out of his eyes. He rose slowly to his feet. It was as ifhe were being drawn forward out of himself to meet some comingchallenge.
Toward their table the prince was slowly making his way, skilfullyavoiding the dancers, yet looking neither to the right nor to the left.His eyes were fastened upon John. If he had been drinking, as Sophysuggested, there were few signs of it. His walk was steady; his bearing,as usual, deliberate and distinguished.
He came to a standstill beside them. Sophy's fingers clutched at thetablecloth. The prince looked from one to the other.
"You have robbed me of a guest, Mr. Strangewey," he remarked; "but Ibear you no ill-will. It is very seldom that one sees you in thesehaunts of dissipation."
"It is a gala night with me," John replied, his tone raised no more thanusual, but shaking with some new quality. "Drink a glass of wine withme, prince," he invited, taking the bottle from the ice-pail and fillinga tumbler upon the table. "Wish me luck, won't you? I am engaged to bemarried!"
"I wish you happiness with all my heart," the prince answered, holdinghis glass up. "May I not know the name of the lady?"
"No doubt you are prepared for the news," John told him. "Miss Maurelhas promised to become my wife."
The prince's hand was as steady as a rock. He raised his glass to hislips.
"I drink to you both with the greatest pleasure," he said, looking Johnfull in the face. "It is a most remarkable coincidence. To-night is theanniversary of the night when Louise Maurel pledged herself to me insomewhat di
John's frame seemed for a moment to dilate, and fire flashed from hiseyes.
"Will you be good enough to explain those words?" he demanded.
The prince bowed. He glanced toward Sophy.
"Since you insist," he replied. "To-night, then, let me tell you, is theanniversary of the night when Louise Maurel consented to become mymistress!"
What followed came like a thunder-clap. The prince reeled back, his handto his mouth, blood dropping upon the tablecloth from his lips, whereJohn had struck him. He made a sudden spring at his assailant. Sophy,shrieking, leaped to her feet. Every one else in the place seemedparalyzed with wonder.
John seized the prince by the throat, and held him for a moment atarm's length. Then he lifted him off his feet as one might lift a childfrom the floor. Holding his helpless victim in a merciless grip, hecarried him across the room and deliberately flung him over the tabletoward his empty chair.
There was a crash of glass and crockery which rang through themomentarily hushed room. The dancers had stopped in their places, thebow of the violinist lay idle upon the strings of his instrument. Thewaiters were all standing about like graven images. Then, as the princefell, there was a shout, and all was pandemonium. They rushed to wherehe was lying motionless, a ghastly sight, across the wreck of hisflower-strewn supper-table.
Sophy held John by the arm, clutching it hysterically, striving to draghim away. But to John the room was empty. He stood there, a giant,motionless figure, his muscles still taut, his face tense, his eyesaflame, glaring down at the prostrate figure of the man on whom he hadwreaked the accumulated fury of those last days and weeks of madness.