from which Ralph was pointedly excluded; and he wondered how large a programme of pleasure they had already had time to sketch out. He disliked the idea of Undine’s being too frequently seen with Van Degen, whose Parisian reputation was not fortified by the connections that propped it up in New York; but he did not want to interfere with her pleasure, and he was still wondering what to say when, as the door closed, she turned to him gaily.
“I’m so glad you’ve come! I’ve got some news for you.” She laid a light touch on his arm.
Touch and tone were enough to disperse his anxieties, and he answered that he was in luck to find her already in when he had supposed her engaged, over a Nouveau Luxe tea-table, in repairing the afternoon’s ravages.
“Oh, I didn’t shop much—I didn’t stay out long.” She raised a kindling face to him. “And what do you think I’ve been doing? While you were sitting in your stuffy old theatre, worrying about the money I was spending (oh, you needn’t fib—I know you were!) I was saving you hundreds and thousands. I’ve saved you the price of our passage!”
Ralph laughed in pure enjoyment of her beauty. When she shone on him like that what did it matter what nonsense she talked?
“You wonderful woman—how did you do it? By countermanding a tiara?”
“You know I’m not such a fool as you pretend!” She held him at arm’s length with a nod of joyous mystery. “You’ll simply never guess! I’ve made Peter Van Degen ask us to go home on the Sorceress. What. do you say to that?”
She flashed it out on a laugh of triumph, without appearing to have a doubt of the effect the announcement would produce.
Ralph stared at her. “The Sorceress? You MADE him?”
“Well, I managed it, I worked him round to it! He’s crazy about the idea now—but I don’t think he’d thought of it before he came.”
“I should say not!” Ralph ejaculated. “He never would have had the cheek to think of it.”
“Well, I’ve made him, anyhow! Did you ever know such luck?”
“Such luck?” He groaned at her obstinate innocence. “Do you suppose I’ll let you cross the ocean on the Sorceress?”
She shrugged impatiently. “You say that because your cousin doesn’t go on her.”
“If she doesn’t, it’s because it’s no place for decent women.”
“It’s Clare’s fault if it isn’t. Everybody knows she’s crazy about you, and she makes him feel it. That’s why he takes up with other women.”
Her anger reddened her cheeks and dropped her brows like a black bar above her glowing eyes. Even in his recoil from what she said Ralph felt the tempestuous heat of her beauty. But for the first time his latent resentments rose in him, and he gave her back wrath for wrath.
“Is that the precious stuff he tells you?”
“Do you suppose I had to wait for him to tell me? Everybody knows it—everybody in New York knew she was wild when you married. That’s why she’s always been so nasty to me. If you won’t go on the Sorceress they’ll all say it’s because she was jealous of me and wouldn’t let you.”
Ralph’s indignation had already flickered down to disgust. Undine was no longer beautiful—she seemed to have the face of her thoughts. He stood up with an impatient laugh.
“Is that another of his arguments? I don’t wonder they’re convincing—” But as quickly as it had come the sneer dropped, yielding to a wave of pity, the vague impulse to silence and protect her. How could he have given way to the provocation of her weakness, when his business was to defend her from it and lift her above it? He recalled his old dreams of saving her from Van Degenism—it was not thus that he had imagined the rescue.
“Don’t let’s pay Peter the compliment of squabbling over him,” he said, turning away to pour himself a cup of tea.
When he had filled his cup he sat down beside Undine, with a smile. “No doubt he was joking—and thought you were; but if you really made him believe we might go with him you’d better drop him a line.”
Undine’s brow still gloomed. “You refuse, then?”
“Refuse? I don’t need to! Do you want to succeed to half the chorus-world of New York?”
“They won’t be on board with us, I suppose!”
“The echoes of their conversation will. It’s the only language Peter knows.”
“He told me he longed for the influence of a good woman—” She checked herself, reddening at Ralph’s laugh.
“Well, tell him to apply again when he’s been under it a month or two. Meanwhile we’ll stick to the liners.”
Ralph was beginning to learn that the only road to her reason lay through her vanity, and he fancied that if she could be made to see Van Degen as an object of ridicule she might give up the idea of the Sorceress of her own accord. But her will hardened slowly under his joking opposition, and she became no less formidable as she grew more calm. He was used to women who, in such cases, yielded as a matter of course to masculine judgments: if one pronounced a man “not decent” the question was closed. But it was Undine’s habit to ascribe all interference with her plans to personal motives, and he could see that she attributed his opposition to the furtive machinations of poor Clare. It was odious to him to prolong the discussion, for the accent of recrimination was the one he most dreaded on her lips. But the moment came when he had to take the brunt of it, averting his thoughts as best he might from the glimpse it gave of a world of mean familiarities, of reprisals drawn from the vulgarest of vocabularies. Certain retorts sped through the air like the flight of household utensils, certain charges rang out like accusations of tampering with the groceries. He stiffened himself against such comparisons, but they stuck in his imagination and left him thankful when Undine’s anger yielded to a burst of tears. He had held his own and gained his point. The trip on the Sorceress was given up, and a note of withdrawal despatched to Van Degen; but at the same time Ralph cabled his sister to ask if she could increase her loan. For he had conquered only at the cost of a concession: Undine was to stay in Paris till October, and they were to sail on a fast steamer, in a deck-suite, like the Harvey Shallums.
Undine’s ill-humour was soon dispelled by any new distraction, and she gave herself to the untroubled enjoyment of Paris. The Shallums were the centre of a like-minded group, and in the hours the ladies could spare from their dressmakers the restaurants shook with their hilarity and the suburbs with the shriek of their motors. Van Degen, who had postponed his sailing, was a frequent sharer in these amusements; but Ralph counted on New York influences to detach him from Undine’s train. He was learning to influence her through her social instincts where he had once tried to appeal to other sensibilities.
His worst moment came when he went to see Clare Van Degen, who, on the eve of departure, had begged him to come to her hotel. He found her less restless and rattling than usual, with a look in her eyes that reminded him of the days when she had haunted his thoughts. The visit passed off without vain returns to the past; but as he was leaving she surprised him by saying: “Don’t let Peter make a goose of your wife.”
Ralph reddened, but laughed.
“Oh, Undine’s wonderfully able
