Man and Maid

E >> Elinor Glyn >> Man and Maid

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I wished then that I had made the cheque larger--because there was
something in her merry black eyes which told me she meant what she
said--at the moment. I must be grateful to my money though after all--I
could not be "_rudement chic_" or a "_Grand seigneur_" without it--Thus
we get back to material things again!

----I wonder if material things could affect Miss Sharp?--One side of
her certainly--or she could not have played that dance music----What
can she think about all day?--certainly not my affairs, attending to
them must be purely mechanical--. I know she is not stupid. She plays
beautifully--she thinks--she has an air, and knowledge of the world. If
I were not so afraid of losing her I would act toward her quite
differently--I would chance annoying her by making her talk--but that
fear holds me back.

George Harcourt says that between men and women, no matter what the
relation may be, one or the other holds the reins and is the real
arbiter of things, and that if you find yourself not in the happy
position of master, there are many occasions when a man must look
ridiculous.--I feel ridiculous when I think about Miss Sharp. I am
"demand" and she is "supply"--I am wanting every moment of her time, and
to know all her thoughts--and she is entirely uninterested in me, and
grants nothing.

* * * * *

Suzette left last evening in the best of moods--I made the cheque
larger--and now I am awaiting Miss Sharp in my sitting-room--I love this
hotel--it has an air of indifference about it which is soothing, and the
food is excellent.

* * * * *

Miss Sharp arrived about eleven to-day. Her cheeks were quite pink when
she came in, and I could see she was warm with walking.--I wish I had
remembered to send to the station to meet her.

"Do you think we shall be able to work here?" I asked her--"we have only
the _resume_ chapter to do, and then the book will be finished."

"Why not here as well as any other place?"

"Does not environment matter to you?"

"I suppose it would if I were creating it, it does not matter now."

"Do you ever write--I mean write on your own?"

"Sometimes."

"What sort of things?"

She hesitated for a moment and then said as though she regretted having
to speak the truth.--

"I write a journal."

I could not prevent myself from replying too eagerly--.

"Oh! I should like to see it!--er--I write one too!"--

She was silent. I felt nervous again--.

"Do you put down your impressions of people--and things?"

"I suppose so--."

"Why does one write a journal?--" I wanted to hear what she would
answer.

"One writes journals if one is lonely."

"Yes, that is true. Then you are lonely?"

Again she conveyed to me the impression that I had shown bad taste in
asking a personal question--and I felt this to be unjust, because in
justice, she would have been forced to admit that her words were a
challenge.

"You explain to me why one writes journals, and then when I presume upon
the inference you snub me--You are not fair, Miss Sharp--"

"It would be better to stick to business," was all she answered--"will
you dictate, please?"

I was utterly exasperated--.

"No, I won't!--If you only admit by inference that you are lonely, I say
it right out--I am abominably lonely this morning and I want to talk to
you.--Did I see you at the Duchesse de Courville-Hautevine's on
Wednesday last?"

"Possibly."

I literally had not the pluck to ask her what she was doing there.
However, she went on--.

"There are still many wounded who require bandages--."

That was it! of course--she was bringing bandages!

"She is a splendid woman, the Duchesse, she was a friend of my
mother's--" I said.

Miss Sharp looked down suddenly--she had her head turned towards the
window.

"There are many splendid women in France--but you don't see them--the
poor are too wonderful, they lose their nearest and dearest and never
complain, they only say it is '_la Guerre_!'."

"Have you any near relations fighting?"--

"Yes"--

It was too stupid having to drag information out of her like this--I
gave it up--and then I was haunted by the desire to know what relations
they were?--If she has a father he must be at least fifty--and he must
be in the English Army--why then does she seem so poor?--It can't be a
brother--her's is only thirteen--would a cousin count as a near
relation?--or--can she have a _fiance_--?!

The sudden idea of this caused me a nasty twinge--But no, her third
finger has no ring on it.--I grew calmer again--.

"I feel you have a hundred thousand interesting things to say if you
would only talk!" I blurted out at last.

"I am not here to talk, Sir Nicholas--I am here to do your typing."

"Does that make a complete barrier?--Won't you be friends with me?"

Burton came into the room at that moment--and while he was there she
slipped off to her typing without answering me. Burton has arranged a
place for her in his room, which is next to mine, so that I shall not be
disturbed by the noise of her machine clicking.

"Miss Sharp must lunch with me"--I said.

Burton coughed as he answered.

"Very good, Sir Nicholas."

That meant that he did not approve of this arrangement--why?--Really
these old servants are unsupportable.

The antediluvian waiters come in to lay the table presently, and I
ordered peaches and grapes and some very special chablis--I felt
exultant at my having manoeuvred that Miss Sharp should eat with me!

She came in when all was ready with her usual serene calm--and took her
place at right angles to me.

Her hands are not nearly so red to-day, and their movements when she
began to eat pleased me--her wrists are tiny, and everything she does is
dainty.

She did not peck her food like a bird, as very slight people sometimes
do--and she was entirely at ease--it was I who was nervous--.

"Won't you take off your glasses," I suggested--but she declined--.

"Of what use--I can see with them on."

This disconcerted me.

The waiter poured out the chablis carefully. She took it casually
without a remark, but for an instant a cynical expression grew round her
mouth--What was she thinking of?--it is impossible to tell, not seeing
her eyes--but some cynical thought was certainly connected with the
wine--By the direction of her head she may have been reading the label
on the bottle--Does she know how much it cost and disapprove of that in
war time--or what?

We talked of French politics next,--that is, she answered everything I
said with intelligence, and then let the subject drop
immediately--Nothing could be more exasperating because I knew it was
deliberate and not that she is stupid, or could not keep up the most
profound conversation. She seemed to know the war situation very
well--Then I began about French literature--and at the end of the meal
had dragged out enough replies to my questions to know that she is an
exquisitely cultivated person--Oh! what a companion she would make if
only I could break down this wretched barrier of her reserve!

She ate a peach--and I do hope she liked it--but she refused a cigarette
when I offered her one--.

"I don't smoke."

"Oh, I am so sorry I did not know--" and I put out mine.

"You need not do that--I don't mind other people smoking, so long as I
need not do it myself."

I re-lit another one--.

"Do you know--I believe I shall have my new eye put in before
Christmas!" I told her just before she rose from the table--and for the
first time I have known her, the faintest smile came round her mouth--a
kindly smile--.

--"I am so very glad," she said.

And all over me there crept a thrill of pleasure.

After lunch I suggested the _parc_, and that I should dictate in some
lovely cool spot. She made no objection, and immediately put on her
hat--a plain dark blue straw. She walked a little behind my bath chair
as we turned out of the Reservoires courtyard and began ascending the
avenue in the _parc_, so that I could not converse with her. By the time
we had reached the _parterre_ I called to her--

"Miss Sharp"--

She advanced and kept beside me--.

"Does not this place interest you awfully?" I hazarded.

"Yes."

"Do you know it well?"

"Yes."

"What does it say to you?"

"It is ever a reminder of what to avoid."

"What to avoid! but it is perfectly beautiful. Why should you want to
avoid beauty?!"

"I do not--it is what this was meant to stand for and what human beings
failed in allowing it to do--that is the lesson."

I was frightfully interested.

"Tell me what you mean?"

"The architects were great, the king's thought was great--but only in
one way--and everyone--the whole class--forgot the real meaning of
_noblesse oblige_, and abused their power--and so the revolution swept
them away--They put false value upon everything--false values upon birth
and breeding--and no value upon their consequent obligations, or upon
character--."

"You believe in acknowledging your obligations I know"--

"Yes--I hope so--Think in that palace the immense importance which was
given to etiquette and forms and ceremonies--and to a quite ridiculous
false sense of honour--they could ruin their poor tradesmen and--yet--."

"Yes"--I interrupted--"it was odd, wasn't it?--a gentleman was still a
gentleman, never paying his tailor's bills--but ceased to be one if he
cheated at cards--."

Miss Sharp suddenly dropped her dark blue parasol and bent to pick it up
again--and as she did she changed the conversation by remarking that
there were an unusual quantity of aeroplanes buzzing from Buc.

This was unlike her--I cannot think why she did so. I wanted to steer
her back to the subject of Versailles and its meaning--.

Burton puffed a little as we went up the rather steep slope by the _Aile
du Nord_, and Miss Sharp put her hand on the bar and helped him to push
the chair.

"Is it not hateful for me being such a burden"--I could not help
saying--.

"It leaves you more time to think--."

"Well! that is no blessing--that is the agony--thinking."

"It should not be--to have time to think must be wonderful"--and she
sighed unconsciously.

Over me came a kind of rush of tenderness--I wanted to be strong again,
and protect her and make her life easy, and give her time and love and
everything in the world she could wish for--But I dared not say
anything, and she hung back again a little, and once more it made the
conversation difficult--and when we reached a sheltered spot by the
"_point du jour_" I felt there was a sort of armour around her, and that
it would be wiser to go straight to work and not talk further to-day.

She went directly from the _parc_ to catch her train at five
o'clock--and I was wheeled back to the hotel.

And now I have the evening alone before me--but the day is distinctly a
step onward in the friendship line.

VIII

I spent a memorable day with Miss Sharp in the _parc_ yesterday. I do
not even remember what I did in the intermediate time--it seems of so
little importance--but this Thursday will always stand out as a landmark
of our acquaintance.

We drove in a fiacre to the Little Trianon after she arrived, with
Burton on the box to help me out, and then I walked with my crutch to a
delicious spot I know, rather near the grotto, and yet with a view of
the house--I was determined I would entice her to talk as much as I
could, and began very cautiously so as not to provoke her to suggest
work.

"Have you ever read that wonderful story called 'An Adventure'--The two
old ladies seeing Marie Antoinette and some other ghosts here?"

"No."

So I told her about it, and how they had accounted for it.

"I expect it was true," she said.

"You believe in ghosts then?"

"Some ghosts."

"I wish I did--then I should know that there is a beyond--."

I felt she was looking surprised.

"But of course there is a beyond--we have all been there many times
during our evolution, after each life."

"That is what I want to know about--that theory of reincarnation," I
responded eagerly--"can you tell me?"

"I could get you a book about it--."

"I would much rather hear it personally explained--the merest
outline,--please tell me, it might help me not to be such a rotter--."

She looked away toward the giant trees, her mouth had a slightly sad
expression, I could have torn those glasses off her blue eyes!

"We came up through the animal group soul--and finally were re-born
individualized, into man--and from then onward the life on this earth is
but a school for us to learn experience in, to prepare us eventually for
higher spheres. When we advance far enough we need not be re-born
again--."

"Yes--as a theory--I follow that--."

She went on--

"Everything is _cause_ and _effect_--We draw the result of every action
we commit, good or bad--and sometimes it is not until the next re-birth
we pay for the bad ones, or receive the result of the good ones--."

"Is that why then that I am a cripple and life seems a beastly
affair--?"

"Of course--You drew that upon yourself by some actions in your last
life--. Also it may be to teach you some lesson in the improvement of
the soul--."

"I don't seem to have learned anything--I believe I am rebellious all
the time--."

"Probably."

"Miss Sharp--you could really help me if you would. Please explain to
me--I will be a diligent pupil."

"Perhaps you were in a position of great power the last time, and were
lavish and kind to people in a way--or you would not be so rich now--but
you caused suffering and relied upon yourself, not on anything
divine--you must have caused much suffering, perhaps mentally even, and
so you had to be re-born and be wounded--to teach you the lesson of it
all;--that is called your Karma. Our Karma is what we bring on with us
from life to life in the way of obligations which we must discharge--so
you see it rests with each one of us not to lay up more debts to pay in
the future."

Her refined voice was level, as though she were controlling herself, not
to allow any personal feeling to enter her discourse--her gloved hands
were perfectly still in her lap--She was in profile to me so that I
could see that her very long eyelashes seemed to be rather pressed
against the glasses--I have not before been so close to her in a bright
light.--Why does she wear those damned spectacles? I was thinking, when
she said--

"You find it hard to be confined to your chair and not to be able to
fight, don't you?--Well when you could fight it was not always the
pleasure of going over the top? You had to have times in the trenches
too, hadn't you--when you just had to bear it?"

"Of course--?"

"Well--you are in the trenches now, don't you see--and it is according
to how your soul learns the lesson of them, as to whether in this life
you will ever be allowed to go over the top again--or even to have
peace."

"What is the lesson?"

"I am not God--I cannot tell you--but we would all know what our lesson
to learn is, if we were not too vain to face the truth into ourselves."

"The aim being?"--

"Why of course to improve character and learn strength."

"What qualities do you most admire in a person, Miss Sharp?"

"Self control and strength."

"You have no sympathy with weaklings?"

"None whatever--bad strong people are better than weak good ones."

I knew this was true. This fragile creature suggests infinite repose and
strength--what could she have done in a former life to bring her back in
such unkind surroundings, that she must spend her days in drudgery, so
that she has never even leisure to think?--I longed to ask her, but did
not dare.

"Shall we not begin work now," she suggested--and I demonstrated my
first lesson in self control by agreeing, and we did not talk again
until luncheon time.

"If you don't mind we shall go to the little cafe by the _lac_," I
said--"and then afterwards we can find another place and work
again--Burton will have had my wheeled chair brought down there, so we
can choose a decent spot in one of the _bosquets_."

She nodded slightly--Now that it was not to help my moral regeneration
she did not intend to talk any more, it seemed!

As we got into the fiacre I slipped in the slightest degree, and caught
on to her arm--It was bare to the elbow in the little cheap cotton
frock, and as I touched the fine, fine skin, that maddening feeling came
over me again to clasp her in my arms.--I pulled myself together, and
she got in beside me. She has a darling tiny curl which comes behind her
ear, slipped down probably because her hair is so unfashionably
dressed--None of Suzette's "_geste_," nor even the subtle perfect taste
of the fluffies.--It is just torn back and rolled into a tight twist.
But now that I see her out of doors and in perspective I realize that
she has a lovely small figure, and that everything is in the right
place. I had told Burton to order the nicest lunch he could think of in
that simple place, and our table under one of the umbrellas was waiting
for us when we arrived.

There were only four other people there besides ourselves, and a few
came in afterwards.

I had forgotten my bread tickets, so Miss Sharp gave me one of hers. She
had relapsed into absolute silence. The only words she had uttered as
we came down that avenue from The Trianon to the _lac_ were when I
exclaimed at the beauty of it--I judged by her mouth that she was
admiring it too--and she said softly--

"For me, Versailles is the loveliest spot on earth!"

My mind flew then to the thought of what it would be to buy a really
nice house here and spend the summers--with her--for my own--. I found
myself clutching at my crutch--.

I tried to make conversation at lunch. There is nothing in the world so
difficult as to keep this up when you are nervous with interest, and the
other person is determined not to say a sentence which is unnecessary. A
chill crept over me.

Burton turned up in time to pay the bill and put me into my chair.

"I don't think you look well enough to stay out the afternoon, Sir
Nicholas"--he said--"Better go straight back to the hotel and rest--."

Miss Sharp joined in.

"I was going to say that"--she said.

I felt like a cross, disappointed child--I knew they were both right
though; I was feeling pretty tired and had not an idea in my head. But
if I did that, there would be a chance to see her lost--and all the long
hours to face alone--.

"I am quite all right and I want to work," I said fretfully--and we
started off.

We went up through the lovely _allees_ past _Enceledus_--and on to the
_Quinconce du Nord_, Miss Sharp walking a little behind my chair.

Here Burton bent over me--.

"It would be good for you to be taking a nap, Sir Nicholas--Indeed it
would."

It seemed as if Miss Sharp was abetting him, for she came to my side--.

"If you can get quite comfortable--I would read to you, and you might
sleep," she said--.

"We've no book"--I retorted--peeved, and yet pleased at the idea.

"I have one here which, will do"--and she took a little volume from her
bag.--"I have wanted it for a long time, and I bought it at the _Foire_
as I came from the station to-day--it cost a franc!"

It was a worn eighteenth century copy of Francois Villon--.

"Yes, that will be nice," I agreed--and leaned back while Burton settled
my cushion, and then retired to a distance. Twelve years on and off of
Paris has not taught him French--at least not the French of Francois
Villon!

Miss Sharp took a little _parc_ chair and I was able to watch her as she
read--I did not even hear the words--because, as she was looking down I
had not to guard myself, but could let my eye devour her small oval
face. All my nerves were thrilling again and there was no peace--how I
longed--ached--to take her into my arms!

She looked up once after an hour, to see if I were asleep, I
suppose.--She must have observed passionate emotion in my eye--she
looked down at the book instantly, but a soft pink flush came into her
cheeks--which have a mother of pearl transparency usually. This caused
me deep pleasure--I had been able to make her feel something at any
rate! but then I was frightened--perhaps she would suggest going if she
found the situation uncomfortable. Her voice had a fresh tone in it as
she went on, and finally it faltered, and she stopped.

"If it is not putting you to sleep" she remarked--"perhaps you would not
object if I walked on and typed what I took down this morning--It seems
a pity to waste this time."

I knew that if I did not let her have her way there might be
difficulties, so I agreed--and said that I would go back to the hotel
and rest upon the sofa in the salon--So the procession started, and as
we took the _allee_, to bring us to the Reservoirs on the level--I
suddenly caught sight of Coralie and her last favoured one!--both of
whom are supposed to be at Deauville with the rest!

Coralie was exquisitely dressed, Duquesnois in uniform.

I realized that she had seen us, and that she could not avoid coming up
to talk, although that had not been her intention--When one is supposed
to be at Deauville with one's family, and is in reality at Versailles
with one's lover--one does not seek to recognize one's friends!

She came forward with _empressement_ when she found the meeting was
inevitable--.

"Nicholas!" she cooed "--what happiness!"--

Then she eyed Miss Sharp mischievously, making a movement as though she
expected me to introduce them--.

But Miss Sharp defeated this by immediately walking on--.

"_Tiens!_" said Coralie--.

"That is Miss Sharp--my secretary--What are you doing--here Coralie?"

"Perhaps the same as you, _cher ami_--" and she rippled with
laughter--"Versailles is so tranquil a place!"

I could have slapped her--fortunately Miss Sharp was out of earshot--.

Jean Duquesnois now joined in--he was back from the front for two
days--things were going better--peace would certainly be declared before
Christmas--.

Coralie meanwhile was looking after Miss Sharp with an expression upon
her clever face which only a Frenchwoman is able to put there--It said
as plainly as words, "So this is the reason Nicholas!--Well you have
chosen something very every-day and inexpensive this time!--Men are
certainly crazy in their tastes!"

I pretended not to notice, and so she spoke.

"Why if you can come here cannot you come to Deauville, Nicholas?--there
must be some irresistible attraction stronger than to be with your
friends!"

"Yes--he is an excellent Swedish masseur who is glued to Paris.--Also I
like solitude sometimes--."

"Solitude!" and Coralie glanced at Miss Sharp's rapidly disappearing
figure--. "_Hein?_"

I would not permit myself to grow angry.

"The book is nearly finished--you can tell the rest--."

"That old book! You were much more entertaining before you commenced it,
Nicholas! Perhaps the idea has come to me why!"

I would not be drawn--I threw the war into the enemy's country.

"You are staying at the Reservoirs?"

I saw that she was--and that now the thought of my being there
disconcerted her--.

"But no!" she lied sweetly--"I am merely out here for the day to see
Louise, who has a son in the hospital--."

It was my turn to say--

"_Tiens?_"

And then we both laughed--and I let them go on--.

But when I got into my salon--I heard no typing--only there was a note
from Miss Sharp to say that some slight thing had gone wrong with the
machine, so she had taken the work to finish it at home--.

I cursed Coralie and all the fluffies in the world, and then in pain
laid down upon my bed.

IX

_Saturday Morning:_

Yesterday I was so restless I could not settle to anything. I read pages
and pages of Plato and was conscious that the words were going over in
my head without conveying the slightest meaning, and that the other part
of my mind was absorbed with thoughts of Miss Sharp--. If I only dared
to be natural with her we surely could be friends, but I am always
obsessed with the fear that she will leave me if I transgress in the
slightest beyond the line she has marked between us--. I see that she is
determined to remain only the secretary, and I realize that it is her
breeding which makes her act as she does--. If she were familiar or
friendly with me, she would feel it was not correct to come to my flat
alone--She only comes at all because the money is so necessary to
her--and having to come, she protects her dignity by wearing this ice
mask.--I know that she was affronted by Coralie's look on Thursday, and
that is why she went home pretending the typing machine was out of
order--Now if any more of these _contretemps_ happen she will probably
give me warning. Burton instinctively sensed this, and that is why he
disapproved of my asking her to lunch--If she had been an ordinary
typist Burton would not have objected in the least,--as I said before,
Burton knows the world!

Now what is to be done next?--I would like to go and confide in the
Duchesse, and tell her that I believe I have fallen in love with my
secretary, who won't look at me, and ask her advice--but that I fear
with all her broad-minded charity, her class prejudice is too strong to
make her really sympathetic. Her French mind of the _Ancien Regime_
could not contemplate a Thormonde--son of Anne de Mont-Anbin--falling in
love with an insignificant Miss Sharp who brings bandages to the
Courville hospital!

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