Man and Maid

E >> Elinor Glyn >> Man and Maid

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Suddenly I saw myself, and the utterly rotten life I had led, that this,
my old friend, even, could not be sure of my chivalry. I loathed the
lax, cheap honor of the world and its hypocrisy. I could not even be
indignant with the Duchesse, judging me from that standpoint. She was
right, but I did tell her that men had a slightly different angle in
looking upon such things in England, where women worked, and were
respected in all classes, and that the idea of making love to any
secretary would never have entered my head. It was the intelligence and
the dignity of Alathea herself which had made me desire her for a
companion.

"It is well that you are English, Nicholas. No Frenchman of family could
have married the daughter of a man who had cheated at cards."

"Even if the girl was good and splendid like Alathea, Duchesse?"

"For that, no, my son, we have little left but our traditions, and our
names, and those things matter to us. No, frankly, I could not have
permitted the union had you been my son."

So I had been right in my analysis of what would be the bent of my old
friend's mind.

"You are pleased now, though, dear Duchesse?" I pleaded.

"It seems impossible, from my point, and I would not have encouraged it,
but since it is done, I can but wish my dear Alathee and you, my dear
boy true happiness."

Again I took and kissed her kind hand.

"In England, especially in this war time, questions are not asked,
_n'est ce pas_? She can be 'Sharp' simply and not Bulteel, then it may
pass. For the girl, herself, you have a rare jewel, Nicholas--unselfish,
devoted, true, but the will of the devil! You shall not be able to turn
her as you wish, if her ideas go the other way!"

"Duchesse, the situation is peculiar, there is no question of love in
it. Alathea is marrying me merely that she may give money to her family.
I am marrying that I may have a secretary without scandal. We are not
going to be really husband and wife."

The Duchesse dropped her fire-screen, her clever-eyes were whimsical and
sparkling.

"_Tiens_!" she said, and never has the delicious word conveyed so much
meaning! "You believe that truly Nicholas? Alathee is a very pretty girl
when properly dressed--"

"And without glasses!"

"As you say, without glasses, which I hear cover her fine eyes when in
your society!"

"I asked her to marry me under those terms, and it was only upon those
terms she accepted me."

The Duchesse laughed.

"A nice romance! Well, my son, I wish you joy!"

"Duchesse," and I leaned forward, "do you really think I can make her
love me? Am I too awful? Is there a chance?"

The Duchesse patted my arm and her face shone with kindliness.

"Of course, foolish boy!" And she broke into French, using the "thee"
and "thou" again affectionately. 'I was very handsome!--that which
remained,--and all would look the same as ever when the repairing should
be complete!'

"So very tall and fine, Nicholas, and hair of a thickness, and what is
best of all, that air of a great gentleman. Yes, yes, women will always
love thee, _sans_ eye, _sans_ leg, do not disturb thyself!"

"Don't tell her I love her, Duchesse," I pleaded. "We have much to learn
of each other. If she did not believe it was a bargain equal on both
sides, she would not marry me at all!"

The Duchesse agreed about this.

"Whatever she has promised she will perform, but why she does not love
thee already I cannot tell."

"She dislikes me, she thinks I am a rotter, and I expect she was right,
but I shall not be in the future, and then perhaps she will change."

When I left the Hotel de Courville it had been arranged that the
Duchesse would receive my wife with honour, her world only knowing that
I had married an English "Miss Sharp."

I heard no more of my _fiancee_ until next morning, when she telephoned.
Did I wish her to come that day?

Burton answered that I hoped she would, about eleven o'clock.

I intended to tell her that I thought that it might be wiser now if she
did not come again until the wedding, as once we were engaged I would
not allow her to run the risk of meeting anyone and giving a false
impression. I think the strain would be too great in any case.

I did not come in to the salon until she was there, and she rose as I
entered. She was whiter than ever, and very stern.

"I have been thinking," she said, before I could speak, "that if I
promise to fulfill the bargain, and live here in the flat with you,
going through the ceremony at the Consulate is quite unnecessary. Your
caprice of having me for your wife merely in name in England, may pass,
and it seems ridiculous to be tied. I am quite indifferent to what
anyone thinks of me. I would prefer it like that."

"Why?" I asked, and wondered for a moment what had occurred.

"There are so many stupid law things, if there is a marriage, and if you
have the same from me without, surely you see that it is better."

I first thought that it was this fear of my knowing her family history
which was at the root of this suggestion, but then I remembered that she
would know that I would hear it in any case from the Duchesse. What then
could it be?

I felt cruel, I was not going to make things too easy for her. If she
has the will of the devil, she has also the pride!

"If you are indifferent to such an invidious position as your new idea
would place us in, I am not, I do not wish my friends to think that I am
such a cad as presumably to have taken advantage of your being my
secretary."

"You wish to go on with the marriage then?"

"Of course."

She clasped her hands together suddenly, as if she could control herself
no longer, and I thought of what she had said to Burton about feeling
that she could not fight any more. I would not allow myself to
sympathize with her. I was longing in every nerve of my being to take
her into my arms, and tell her that I loved her, and knew everything,
but I would not do this. I cannot let her master me, or we shall never
have any peace. I will not tell her that I love her until her pride is
broken, and I have made her love me and come to me voluntarily.

She was silent.

"I have informed the Duchesse de Courville that we are engaged. I saw
her yesterday."

She started perceptibly.

"She has told you my real name?"

"I have known that for some time. I thought I had made it plain to you
that I am not interested about the subject, we need not mention it
again, you have only to talk to old Robert Nelson, my lawyer, when he
comes on Monday. He will tell you the settlements I propose to make, and
you can discuss with him as to whether or not you think them
satisfactory. Perhaps you on your side will tell me what reason you have
strong enough to make a girl of your natural self-respect, willing to
take the position of my apparent mistress?"

She burst out for a second, throwing out her hands, then controlling
herself.

"No, I won't tell you.--I will tell you nothing, I will just stick to
the bargain if I must. You have no right to my thoughts, only my
actions!"

I bowed; disagreeable as she was, there was a distinctly pleasant zest
in fighting!

"Perhaps of your courtesy, you will take off those glasses now, since I
am aware that you only wear them to conceal your eyes, and not that they
are necessary for your sight."

She flushed with annoyance.

"And if I refuse?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

"I shall think it very childish of you."

With a petulance which I had never seen in her she tossed her head.

"I don't care, at present I will not."

I frowned but did not speak. This will be discussed between us later.
My fighting spirit is up, she _shall_ obey me!

"Did you order the clothes yesterday?"

"Yes."

"Enough, I hope."

"Yes."

"Well, now, I have a suggestion to make which I am sure will please you,
and that is that you will appoint some meeting place with Mr. Nelson for
Tuesday morning, since you do not trust my good taste far enough even to
let me know your home address. Perhaps at the Hotel de Courville, if the
Duchesse will permit, and that then we do not meet until the seventh of
November at the ceremony. Mr. Nelson will arrange with you all the law
of the thing and what witnesses you must have, and everything, and this
will save these useless discussions, and give you a little breathing
space."

This seemed to subdue her, and she agreed less defiantly.

"And now I will not detain you longer," I said stiffly. "_Au revoir_
until the seventh of November at whatever hour is arranged, or if we
must meet before at the signing of the contract," and I bowed.

She bowed also, and walked haughtily to the door, and left.

And greatly exhilarated, I decided to go and lunch with Maurice at the
Ritz.

As I came from the lift, Madame Bizot's daughter came out of the
concierge's lodge with her baby, and it was making its same little
cooing, gurgling noises that caused me so to feel that time when Alathea
first began to interest me. I stopped and spoke to the mother, a comely
young woman, and the little creature put out its tiny hand and clasped
one of my fingers, and over me there came a weird thrill. Shall I ever
hear noises like that, and have a son of Alathea's and mine to take my
hand. Well the game of her subjection is interesting enough anyway, and
rather ashamed of my emotion, I went on into the Victoria and was
crawled to the Ritz.

Here I ran into a fellow in the Flying Corps, who told me that Nina's
boy, Johnnie, had been killed the night before, in his first fight with
a Boche plane. I do not know that any of the tragedies of the war have
affected me more. My poor Nina! She really loved her son. I telegraphed
to her at once my fondest sympathies, and the thought of her grief would
not leave me all the way, war-hardened as I am.

I did not tell Maurice of my approaching wedding. I have a plan that he
shall only know when I ask him to come to the Hotel de Courville to be
presented to my wife.

The Fluffies have returned from Deauville, and Coralie and Alice joined
us at luncheon. They have the most exquisite new garments, and were full
of sparkle and gaiety. Alice's wedding, to the rich neutral, seems
really to be coming off. Her air was one of subdued modesty and
gentleness, and when I congratulated her she made the tenderest
acceptance of it, which would have done justice to a young virgin of
the _ancien regime_! Coralie met my eye with her shrewd small ones, and
we looked away! After lunch we sat in the hall for a little, Maurice
taking Alice to try on her clothes, so Coralie and I were left alone.

"You are looking quite well now Nicholas," she whispered, "Why don't you
ask me to come and dine with you, at your adorable flat,--alone?"

"You would be bored with me before the evening was over."

"Arrange it, and try! Always there are the others, except that night at
Versailles. There is an air with you Nicholas,--one has forgotten all
about your eye. I have thought and thought of you.--You have interfered
with all my pleasures in life!"

"I am going back to England quite soon, Coralie, won't you come now to
the _rue de la Paix_ and let me buy you a little souvenir of all the
lovely times we have had together in the last year?"

So she came, and selected a gem of an opera glass. An opera glass is
discreet, it can be accepted by anyone; even a woman determined to
impress my mind with her dignity and charm, as Coralie was attempting to
do, upon our expedition. She had made up her mind that I should no
longer be just a benefit to the three of them, but her own especial
property, and she is clever enough to see that I am in a mood to admire
dignity and discretion! I spent a most amusing hour with her, enjoying
myself in the spirit of watching a good play at the _Comedie Francais_.
At about four o'clock, when we returned to the Ritz, Coralie was
baffled. I could see that she was keener than ever, and beginning to be
a little worried and unsure of herself!

As I drove back to my flat, taking a roundabout way through the Bois, I
mused and analysed things. And what is the psychological reason for some
presents being quite correct to give and some not? It all goes back to
the re-creative instinct and through what this manifests itself. Gifts
which have any relation to the body, to give it pleasure, or to decorate
it, are the expressions of the sex relationship, and so presumably the
subconscious mind, which only sees the truth in everything, only feels
harmonious when these gifts are given by either parents or relations, as
a dower, so to speak, or the husband or prospective husband. Hence
through the ages, the unconscious relegation of certain presents as
acceptable only from certain people. Any present which gives pleasure to
the mind alone is the tribute of friendship, but those to touch the body
are presumably not. I could give Coralie an opera glass as a mark of my
esteem, but a bracelet which she would wear on her arm would have
another meaning!

Alathea resents every present, those for the body because they suggest
my possession of her, those for the mind because she feels no friendship
for me at all!

Well, well!

What will she do I wonder during the fortnight of our engagement? I feel
that I can afford to wait with patience and certainty. But the thought
that I do not even know my _fiancee's_ address, and that she is
resentful and defiant, and rebellious at everything, and yet intends to
marry me, on the seventh of November, is really almost humorous!

And now it behooves me to put my house in order, and map out exactly
what I mean to do!

XXI

The days go slowly on, my preparations are complete. My good friend
Nelson arrived on Monday and took charge of the affair. He was entirely
aware of the Bulteel story, it was the great scandal of twenty-five
years ago. He expressed no opinion as to my marrying into such a family,
but went about the business end with diligence. I made a very nice
settlement upon Alathea, more than he thought was necessary. Then he
spoke of arrangements for possible children, and fixed that, too. I
wonder what she will say when she reads that part! I have settled with
the Duchesse, who is entering into the spirit of the thing with her
usual delicious whimsical understanding, that some time soon after the
wedding she shall ask about ten of our principal mutual friends to come
in the afternoon, and she will present Alathea to them, and if anyone
makes comments upon the matter, she will say that she is the daughter of
an old English friend, and even if Coralie recognizes her as the girl
who was with me at Versailles, she will not dare to say a word about any
protegee of the Duchesse's. She is much too afraid of offending her,
being received at the Hotel de Courville herself on sufferance only
because of her birth and family. As for Maurice, I can manage him! Now I
am beginning to wonder what Alathea would prefer to do? I don't want to
see her until the ceremony, but I suppose I must.

The Duchesse has arranged that I should meet my _fiancee_ in her
sitting-room and sign the contract there on the day before the wedding,
five days from now. Alathea, she tells me is like a frozen image, but
faithful to her promise to me, my dear old friend has not made any
comment or tried to aid matters. I think she rejoices that I shall have
such an interesting time in the breaking down of the barrier.

Nina writes heartbrokenly; Johnnie was very dear to her; sorrow seems to
have brought out all that is best in her. She says she feels that she
just drifted along, taking all good and happiness for granted, and not
doing enough for other people, and that now she is going to devote her
life to making Jim happy and contented, and hopes some day, not too far
off, to have another child to care for. Darling old Nina! She always was
the best sort in the world.

Of Suzette I have heard nothing, although Burton says he caught sight of
her on the stairs just whisking into the flat above mine, which has been
taken by a lovely actress, a cousin of hers, who has married a rich
retired Jew _antiquaire_!

There are still possibilities of complications here!

But I feel quite serene, Alathea will be mine. She cannot get away from
me. I can insidiously, from day to day, carry out my plan of winning
her, and the tougher the fight is, the more it will be worth while
afterwards!

_November 6th._

To-day was really wonderful! Mr. Nelson has presumably seen Alathea and
her family several times. I have refused to hear anything about it, and
he arrived with her alone at the Hotel de Courville. I had understood
that her mother was coming with her, but she was ill and did not turn
up.

The Duchesse and I were talking when the two were announced. Alathea was
in a nice little grey frock and had her glasses on. I think she knew the
Duchesse would not approve of that camouflage, because there was an air
of defiance about her, her rebellious Cupid's bow of a mouth was shut
sternly, she was even quite repellant,--she has never attracted me more!

The Duchesse was sweet to her and made no remark about the glasses, but
was called back to the ward almost immediately for a little, and while
she was gone Mr. Nelson read over the settlement.

"I think you are giving me a great deal too much," Alathea said
annoyedly. "I shall feel uncomfortable,--and chained."

"I intend my wife to have this." I answered quietly. "So I am afraid you
will have to agree."

She pulled in her lips but said no more until the part about the
children came, when she started to her feet, her cheeks crimson.

"What is this ridiculous clause?" she asked angrily.

Old Mr. Nelson looked unspeakably shocked. "It is customary in all
marriage settlements, my dear young lady," he said reprovingly, and
Alathea looked at me with suspicion, but she said nothing, and the
Duchesse, returning then to the room, all was soon signed, sealed and
delivered! Mr. Nelson withdrew, saying he would call for Miss Bulteel
next day for the wedding.

When we were alone the Duchesse kissed us both.

"I hope for your happiness, my children," she said. "I know you both,
and your droll characters, the time will come when you may know each
other, and in any case, I feel that you will both remember that _tenue_,
a recognition of correct behaviour, helps all situations in life, and
the rest is in the hands of the _Bon Dieu_."

Then she left us again, and Alathea sat stiffly down upon an
uncompromising little Louis XV _canape_ out of my reach. I did not move
or speak, indeed I lit a cigarette casually.

Alathea's face was a study! I watched her lazily. How had I ever thought
her plain? Even in those first days, disguised with the horn spectacles,
and the tornback hair, the contour of her little face is so perfectly
oval, and her neck so round and long, but not too long. There is not the
least look of scragginess about her, just extreme slenderness, a
small-boned creature of perhaps five foot four or five, with childish
outline. To-day in the becoming little grey frock, and even with the
glasses on she is lovely, perhaps she seems so to me because I now know
that the glasses are not necessary. The expression of her mouth said,
"Am I being tricked? Does the man mean to seize me when he gets me
alone? Shall I run away and have done with it?"

She was restless, her old serenity seems to have deserted her.

"I wanted to ask you," I began calmly, "What you would like to do
immediately after the wedding. I mean would you prefer that we went to
Versailles? The passport business makes everything so difficult, or
would you rather go down to the Riviera? Or just stay at the flat?"

"I don't care in the least," she replied ungraciously.

"Then if you don't care, we will stay at the flat, because if I do not
interrupt my treatment I shall be the sooner well to go to England. Have
you engaged a maid?"

"Yes."

"You will give orders that your trunks are sent in in the morning, then,
and that she has everything ready for you."

"Very well."

All this time her face was turned away from me as much as possible. For
one second a fear came to me that after all perhaps it is real hate she
has for me, which will be unsurmountable, and I was impelled to ask her:

"Alathea, do you detest the idea of marrying me so much that you would
rather break the whole thing?"

She turned and faced me now, and I feel sure blue fire was coming from
those beautiful eyes, could I have seen them!

"It is not a question of what I would wish or not, nor of my feelings in
any way. I am going through with the ceremony, and shall be your
permanent secretary, because I am under great monetary obligations to
you, and wish for security for my family in the future. You put it to me
that you wanted to buy me, and I could name the price--you have overpaid
it. I shall not go back upon my promise, only I want to feel perfectly
sure that you will expect nothing more of me than what we have
arranged."

"I shall expect nothing more; your sense of the fitness of things will
suggest to you not to make either of us look ridiculous in public by
your being over disagreeable to me, we shall carry on with a semblance
of mutual respect, I hope."

She bowed.

The temptation to burst out and tell her of my feelings was
extraordinary. I absolutely trembled with the control it required not to
rise from my chair and go and take her hands; but I restrained every
sign and appeared as indifferent as she is. The Duchesse came back in a
few moments and I said I would go.

I did not even then shake hands with Alathea, and the Duchesse came out
into the passage with me, to see me safe into the lift, she is always so
kind to anything crippled.

"Nicholas," she whispered, "Her manner to you is very cruel, but do not
be discouraged!--I feel that it is more promising than if she were kind.
She has also had a dreadful time with the father, who has now been
transferred to the _poste_ in the desert in Africa. One must hope for
good, and her poor mother is going off to Hyeres with little Hilda and
their faithful old maid, the only servant they had, so after the wedding
you will have your bride all to yourself!"

"Perhaps the thought of that is what is making her so reluctant and icy
to-day!"

The Duchesse laughed as she handed me my crutch and closed the lift
door. "Time will tell, my son!" and she waved her hand as I disappeared
below.

And now I am alone before the crackling fire in my sitting-room,--and I
wonder how many men have spent the eve of their marriages in so quiet a
manner? I feel no excitement even. I have re-read this journal, it is a
pretty poor literary effort, but it does chronicle my emotions, and the
gradual growing influence Alathea has been exercising upon me. By
putting down what happens between us each day like this, I can then
review progress once a week, and can take stock of little shades which
would not be remembered otherwise.

* * * * *

At that moment the telephone rang, and George Harcourt asked if he might
come round and smoke a cigar.

"Your pre-war ones are so good, Nicholas," he said. He was in at the
Ritz, from Versailles, for the night.

I answered "Yes." I like to talk to old George, I don't know why I call
him old always, he is forty-eight perhaps, and absolutely well
preserved, and women love him passionately, more perhaps than when he
was young.

When we were settled in two comfortable arm chairs before the fire, he
held forth as usual. He had arranged the affairs of Bobby Bulteel only
in the nick of time. "I have all the receipts, Nicholas, to hand to
you," he said.

"The wretched creature was overcome with gratitude. We had a long chat,
and he plans to clear out and start life afresh in the Argentine as soon
as War is over and he can be released from his commission. He is bound
to end in hell with his temperament, but it won't matter so long as poor
Lady Hilda is not dragged down too. He agreed to leave the family here
unmolested now, and not return for years to them, when he does retire
from the army."

Then I told my old friend that I intended to marry the daughter on the
morrow. He was very surprised.

"I could not imagine what your interest could be, Nicholas, unless it
had something to do with a woman, but where did you ever meet the girl,
my dear boy?"

I explained.

"You might come to the wedding, George," I said.

[Illustration: Alathea (Harriet Hammond) realizes that Suzette (Renee
Adoree) is the only woman that stands between her and the love of Sir
Nicholas (Lew Cody). (A scene from Elinor Glyn's production "Man and
Maid" for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer)]

He promised he would, then he smoked for a minute or two in silence.
"Pretty terrible thing, marriage," and he puffed blue rings with perfect
precision. "I have never been able to face it. What has made you slip
into the mesh?"

"Because I think I have found someone who will be a good companion and
not bore me."

"You are not in love then? It is a sensible arrangement, and in that way
you have a chance of happiness; also the girl has had a hard life, and
may be grateful for comfort and kindness."

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