Suspense a Napoleonic Novel

SUSPENSE: A NAPOLEONIC NOVEL

“How do you know how old I am?”

Cosmo asked himself if she would ever wink those black eyes of hers.

“I know that you are not a hundred years old.”

This struck her as humorous, because there was a sound as of a faint giggle, which generally speaking is a silly kind of sound, but in her case had a disturbing quality. It was followed by the hoarse declaration:

“Aunt didn’t. I told uncle. I looked a lot at you in the morning. Why didn’t you look at me?”

“I was afraid of being indiscreet,” said Cosmo readily, concealing his astonishment.

“What silliness,” she commented scornfully. “And this evening too! I was looking at you all the time, and you did nothing but look at all those witches here, one after another.”

“I find all the ladies in the room perfectly charming,” said Cosmo.

“You lie. I suppose you do nothing else from morning till night.”

“I am sorry you have such a bad opinion of me, but it being what it is, hadn’t I better go away?”

“Directly I set eyes on you I knew you were one of that sort.”

“And did you impart your opinion of me to your uncle?” asked Cosmo. He could be no more offended with that girl than if she had been an unmannerly animal. Her peculiar stare remained unchanged, but her general expression softened for a moment.

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“No. But I took care to tell him that you were a very handsome gentleman.... You are a very handsome gentleman.”

What surprised Cosmo was not the downright statement, but the thought that flashed through his mind that it was as dreadful as being told that one was good to eat. For a time he stared without any thought of unwinking competition. He was not amused. Distinctly not. He asked:

“Where were you born?”

“How can I tell? In the mountains, I suppose. Somewhere where you will never go. How can it possibly concern you?”

Cosmo offered an apology for his indiscretion, and she received it with a sort of uncomprehending scorn. She said after a pause: “None of those witches, young or old, ever speaks to me. And even you didn’t want to speak to me. You only spoke to me... Oh, no! I know why you spoke to me.”

“Why did I speak to you?” asked Cosmo thoughtfully. “Won’t you tell me?”

Upon the firm roundness of that high-coloured face came a subtle change, which suggested something in the nature of cunning, and the rough somewhat veiled voice came from between the red lips which had no more charm or life than the painted lips carved on a piece of wood.

“If I were to tell you, you would be as wise as myself.” “Where would be the harm of me being as wise as your-

self?” said Cosmo, trying to be playful, but somehow missing the tone of playfulness so completely that he was struck by his failure himself.

“If you were as wise as myself, you would never come to this house again, and I don’t want you to stay away,” was the answer delivered in a hostile tone.

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Cosmo said: “You don’t! Well, at any rate it can’t be because of kindness, so I won’t thank you for it.” He said this with extreme amiability. Becoming aware that people were beginning to leave, he observed, out of the corner of his eye, that nobody went away without glancing in their direction. Then the departure of Lady William caused a general stir, and gave Cosmo the occasion to get up and move away. Lady William gave him a gracious nod, and the marquis, coming up to him, introduced him at the last moment to General Count Bubna, just as that distinguished person was making ready to take his wife away. Everybody was standing up, and for the first time Cosmo felt himself completely unobserved. Obeying a discreet sign of the Countess de Montevesso he moved unaffectedly in the direction of a closed door, the white and gold door he remembered well from his morning visit. When he had got near to it and within reach of the handle, he turned about. He had the view of the guests’ backs as they moved slowly out. Adèle looked over her shoulder for a moment with an affirmative nod. He understood it, hesitated no longer, opened the door and slipped through without, as far as he could judge, being seen by anybody.

It was as he had thought. He found himself in Madame de Montevesso’s boudoir, in which he had been received that morning.

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CHAPTER IV

He shut the door behind him gently and remained between it and the screen. He had expected to be followed at once by Adèle. What could be detaining her? But he remembered the remarkable proportions of that suite of reception rooms. He had seen some apartments in Paris, but nothing quite so long as that. The old marquis would, no doubt, conduct the little Madame Bubna to the very door of the ante-room. The ambassador of the most Christian king owed that attention to the representative of his apostolic majesty and commander-in- chief of the Austrian troops. This was the exact form which his thought took. The Christian king, the apostolic majesty – all those submerged heads were bobbing up out of the subsiding flood.

He pictured them to himself in their mental simplicity, and with their grand air; the marquis magnificent and ageing, and the dutiful daughter by his side with her radiant head and her divine form. It was impossible to believe that these two had been also submerged at one time.

All those people were mere playthings, reflected Cosmo without a pang. But who or what was playing with them? he thought further, boldly, and remained for a moment as if amused by the marvellousness of it, in the manner of people

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watching the changes on the stage. But what could have become of them?

She might next moment be opening the door. Could she have made him stay behind because she wanted to speak with him alone? Why, yes, obviously. Cosmo did not ask himself what she wanted to talk to him about. It was not wonder that he felt, it was a subtle emotion resembling impatience, for the arrival of a promised felicity of an indefinite kind. All this was by no means poignant. It was merely delightfully disturbing.

“I shall have a tête-à-tête, that’s clear,” he thought, as he advanced into the room. The air all round him was delightfully warm. Whatever she would have to say would be wonderful, because of her voice. He would look into her face. She did not intimidate him, and it was impossible to have too much of that. After all, he thought, immensely amused, it was only Adèle, Ad...

His mental monologue was cut short by the shock of perceiving seated on the painted sofa a man, who was looking at him in perfect silence and immobility. The fact was that Count Helion, having come into the boudoir sooner than his wife had expected him to do, had directed his eyes to the screen ever since he had heard the opening and the shutting of the door. One of his hands was resting on his thigh, the other hung down, holding negligently a number of some gazette which was partly resting on the floor. Though not very big, that piece of paper attracted Cosmo’s eyes; and it was in this way that he became aware of the brown fingers covered with rings, of the gaunt legs encased in silk stockings, and of the crossed feet in dress-shoes with gold buckles, almost before he took

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in the impression of the broad but lean face which seemed to have been stained with walnut juice long enough for the stain to have worn down thin, letting the native pallor come through. The same tint extended to the bald top of the head. But what was really extraordinary was the hair: two patches of black behind each temple, obviously dyed. The man, as to whose identity Cosmo could have no doubt, got up, displaying the full length of his bony frame, in a tense and soldierly stiffness associated with cross-belts and a cowhide knapsack on the back. “A grenadier,” thought Cosmo, startled by this unexpected meeting, which also caused him profound annoyance as though he had been induced to walk into a trap. What he could not understand was why the man should make that grimace at him. It convulsed his whole physiognomy, involving his lips, his cheeks and his very eyes in a sort of spasm. The most awful thing was that it stayed there... “Why, it’s a smile,” thought Cosmo with sudden relief. It was so sudden that he broke into a smile without any particular volition of his own. Thereupon the face of Count Helion recovered its normal aspect, and Cosmo heard his voice for the first time. It proceeded from the depths of his chest. It was resonant and blurred and portentous, with an effect of stiffness somehow in accord with the man’s bearing. It informed Cosmo that Count Helion had been waiting in the countess’s boudoir on purpose to make his acquaintance, while in the man’s eyes there was a watchfulness as though he had been uttering a momentous disclosure and was anxious as to its effect. A perfectly horizontal, jet-black moustache underlining the nose of Count Helion, which was broad at the base and thin at the end, suggested comic pos-

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sibilities in that head which had too much individuality to be looked upon by Cosmo simply as the head of Adèle’s husband; and Cosmo hardly looked at it in that light. His hold on that fact was slippery. He preserved his equanimity perfectly, and said that he himself had wondered whether he would have the pleasure of making the count’s acquaintance that evening. Both men sat down.

“My occupations kept me late to-night,” said the count. “The courier came in.”

He pointed with his finger to the Gazette lying on the floor, and Cosmo asked if there were any news.

“In the Gazette, no. At least nothing interesting. The world is full of vanities and scandals, rumours of conspiracies. Very poor stuff. I don’t know any of those people the papers mention every day. That’s more my wife’s affair. For years now she has spent about ten months of every year in Paris or near Paris. I am a provincial. My interests are in the orphanage I have founded in my native country. I am also building an asylum for...”

He got up suddenly, approached the mantel-piece in three strides, and turned round exactly like a soldier in the ranks of a company changing front. He was wearing a blue coat cut away in front and having a long skirt, something recalling the cut of a uniform, though the material was fine and there was a good deal of gold lace about it, as also on his white satin waistcoat. Cosmo recalled the vague story he had heard about Count de Montevesso having served in more than one army before being given the rank of general by the King of Piedmont. The man had been drilled. Cosmo wondered whether

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he had ever been caned. He was a military adventurer of the commonest type. Some of them have been known to return with a fortune got by pillage and intrigue, and possibly even by real talents of a sort in the service of oriental courts, full of splendours and crimes, tyrannies and treacheries and dark dramas of ambition or love.

“He is the very thing,” Cosmo exclaimed mentally, gazing at the stiff figure leaning against the mantel-piece. Of course he got his fortune in India. What was remarkable about him was that he had managed to get away with his plunder, or at any rate a part of it considerable enough to enable him to make a figure in the world and marry Adèle d’Armand in England. That was only because of the Revolution. In royal France he would not have had the ghost of a chance; and even as it was, only the odious laxity of London society in accepting rich strangers had given him his opportunity. Cosmo, forcing himself to envisage this dubious person as the husband of Adèle, felt very angry with the light-minded tolerance extended to foreigners, characteristic of a certain part of London society. It was perfectly outrageous.

“Where the devil can my wife be?”

Those words made Cosmo start, though they had not been uttered very loudly. Almost mechanically he answered: “I don’t know,” and noticed that Count Helion was staring at him in a curiously unintelligent manner.

“I was really asking myself,” muttered the latter, and stirred uneasily, without however taking his elbow off the mantelpiece. “It’s a natural thought since we are, God knows why, kept waiting for her here. I wasn’t aware I had spoken. Liv-

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ing for many years amongst people who didn’t understand any European language – I had hundreds of them in my palace in Sindh – I got into the habit of talking aloud, strange as it may appear to you.”

“Yes,” said Cosmo, with an air of innocence, “I suppose one acquires all sorts of strange habits in those distant countries. We in England have a class of men who return from India enriched. They are called Nabobs. Some of them have most objectionable habits. Unluckily their mere wealth...”

“There is nothing to compare with wealth,” interrupted the other in a soldierly voice and paused, then continued in the same tone of making a verbal report: “When I was in England I had the privilege to know many people of position. They were very kind to me. They didn’t seem to think lightly of wealth.”

Each phrase came curt, detached, but it was evident that the man did not mean to be offensive. Those statements originated obviously in sincere conviction; and after the count had uttered them there appeared on his forehead the horizontal wrinkles of unintelligent worry. Cosmo asked himself whether the man before him was not really very stupid. Under the elevated eyebrows his eyes looked worn and empty of all thought.

“Lots of money, I mean,” M. de Montevesso began again. “Not your savings and scrapings. Money that one acquires boldly and enough of it to be profuse with.”

Is he going to treat me to vulgar boasting? thought Cosmo. He wished that Adèle would come in and interrupt this tête- à-tête, which was so very different from the one he had been expecting.

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“I daresay money is very useful,” he assented, with airy scorn, which he thought might put an end to the subject. But his interlocutor persisted.

“You can’t know anything about it,” he affirmed, then added, unexpectedly, “Money will give you even ideas. Lots of ideas. The worst of it is that any one of them may turn out damnable. Well, yes. There is, of course, danger in money, but what of that?”

“It can scarcely be if it is used for good works, as you seem to use it,” said Cosmo, with polite indifference. He meant it to be final, but Count de Montevesso was not to be suppressed.

“It leads one into worries,” he said. “For instance, that orphanage of mine, it is really a very large place. I am trying to be a benefactor to my native province, but I want it to be in my own way. Well, since the Restoration, the priests are trying to get hold of it. They want to turn it to the glory of God and to the service of religion. I have seen enough of all sorts of religions not to know what that means. No sooner had the king entered Paris than the bishop wrote to me pointing out that there was no chapel, and suggesting that I should build one and appoint a chaplain. That bishop is...”

He threw up his head suddenly, and Cosmo became aware of the presence of Adèle without having heard even the rustle of her dress. He stood up hastily. There was a short silence.

“I see the acquaintance is made,” said Adèle, looking from one to the other. Her eyes lingered on Cosmo and then turned to her husband. “I didn’t know you would be already here. I had to help my father to his room. I would have come at once

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