…”
She entered the drawing-room; Urania was there,blushing, embarrassed.
“You understand,” smiled Cornélie, “I wouldn’t have dared disturb you, had it not been a matter of great importance. A matter between women … but important nonetheless!” she joked and the prince said something cloyingly gallant in reply. “May I speak to Miss Hope alone for a moment?”
The prince looked at her. He suspected antipathy, even enmity in her. But he bowed, with his cloying smile, and said that he would leave the ladies alone for a moment. He withdrew into another room.
“Cornélie, what’s wrong?” asked Urania hectically.
She grasped both of Cornélie’s hands and looked at her anxiously.
“Nothing’s wrong,” said Cornélie severely. “I’ve nothing to talk to you about. I just had a suspicion and was sure you wouldn’t keep your promise. I wanted to be certain whether you were here or not … Why did you come?”
Urania began crying.
“Stop crying!” whispered Cornélie unrelentingly. “For God’s sake stop crying. What you’ve done is as reckless as can be …”
“I know …” admitted Urania nervously, drying her tears.
“Why did you do it then?”
“I couldn’t help it.”
“Alone with him, here, in the evening …! A well-known good-for-nothing …”
“I know!”
“What do you see in him?”
“I love him …”
“You only want to marry him for his title. You’re compromising yourself for the sake of his title. What if he does not respect you as his wife-to-be this evening? What if he forces you to be his mistress?”
“Cornélie …. quiet …!”
“You’re a child, a reckless child. And your father lets you travel alone. To see ‘dear old Italy’ … You’re American, liberal, fine; you go boldly travelling round the world on your own: fine, but you’re not a woman yet, you’re a child!”
“Cornélie …”
“Come with me; say you’re going with me. For some urgent reason. Or no … best say nothing. Stay. But I’ll stay too …”
“Yes, you stay too …”
“We’ll call him.”
“Yes.”
Cornélie rang and a lackey appeared.
“Tell his Excellency that we are awaiting him.”
The man left. After a while the prince entered. He had never been treated like this in his own house. He was seething with rage, but remained extremely courteous and outwardly calm.
“Has the important matter been dealt with?” he asked with a hypocritical smile in his small eyes.
“Yes, thank you for your discretion in leaving us alone for a moment,” said Cornélie. “Now I have spoken to Miss Hope, I am reassured about her opinion … Oh, I expect you would like to know what we were talking about?!”
The prince raised his eyebrows. Cornélie had spoken coquettishly, wagging her finger, smiling, and the princelooked at her and suddenly saw that she was beautiful.
Not with the striking beauty and freshness of Urania Hope, with a more complex attractiveness: that of a married woman, divorced, but very young, that of a woman of the
fin de siècle
, with a touch of perversity in her deep grey eyes, operating beneath very long eyelashes, that of a woman with an exceptional grace in the fractured lines of her tired, languid, morbid charm: a woman who knew life, a woman who—he was sure of it—saw through him; who spoke to him—for whom she felt antipathy—coquettishly in order to please him, win him over, unconsciously, out of pure femininity. He saw her as beautiful and perverse, and he admired her, sensitive as he was to different types of women. He suddenly found her more beautiful and less banal than Urania, and much more distinguished, and not so naively susceptible to his title, something he found so absurd in Urania. He was suddenly at ease with her, his rage subsided: he enjoyed having two beautiful women with him instead of one, and he joked in return, said he was burning with curiosity, had listened at the door, but had unfortunately not caught anything
She entered the drawing-room; Urania was there,blushing, embarrassed.
“You understand,” smiled Cornélie, “I wouldn’t have dared disturb you, had it not been a matter of great importance. A matter between women … but important nonetheless!” she joked and the prince said something cloyingly gallant in reply. “May I speak to Miss Hope alone for a moment?”
The prince looked at her. He suspected antipathy, even enmity in her. But he bowed, with his cloying smile, and said that he would leave the ladies alone for a moment. He withdrew into another room.
“Cornélie, what’s wrong?” asked Urania hectically.
She grasped both of Cornélie’s hands and looked at her anxiously.
“Nothing’s wrong,” said Cornélie severely. “I’ve nothing to talk to you about. I just had a suspicion and was sure you wouldn’t keep your promise. I wanted to be certain whether you were here or not … Why did you come?”
Urania began crying.
“Stop crying!” whispered Cornélie unrelentingly. “For God’s sake stop crying. What you’ve done is as reckless as can be …”
“I know …” admitted Urania nervously, drying her tears.
“Why did you do it then?”
“I couldn’t help it.”
“Alone with him, here, in the evening …! A well-known good-for-nothing …”
“I know!”
“What do you see in him?”
“I love him …”
“You only want to marry him for his title. You’re compromising yourself for the sake of his title. What if he does not respect you as his wife-to-be this evening? What if he forces you to be his mistress?”
“Cornélie …. quiet …!”
“You’re a child, a reckless child. And your father lets you travel alone. To see ‘dear old Italy’ … You’re American, liberal, fine; you go boldly travelling round the world on your own: fine, but you’re not a woman yet, you’re a child!”
“Cornélie …”
“Come with me; say you’re going with me. For some urgent reason. Or no … best say nothing. Stay. But I’ll stay too …”
“Yes, you stay too …”
“We’ll call him.”
“Yes.”
Cornélie rang and a lackey appeared.
“Tell his Excellency that we are awaiting him.”
The man left. After a while the prince entered. He had never been treated like this in his own house. He was seething with rage, but remained extremely courteous and outwardly calm.
“Has the important matter been dealt with?” he asked with a hypocritical smile in his small eyes.
“Yes, thank you for your discretion in leaving us alone for a moment,” said Cornélie. “Now I have spoken to Miss Hope, I am reassured about her opinion … Oh, I expect you would like to know what we were talking about?!”
The prince raised his eyebrows. Cornélie had spoken coquettishly, wagging her finger, smiling, and the princelooked at her and suddenly saw that she was beautiful.
Not with the striking beauty and freshness of Urania Hope, with a more complex attractiveness: that of a married woman, divorced, but very young, that of a woman of the
fin de siècle
, with a touch of perversity in her deep grey eyes, operating beneath very long eyelashes, that of a woman with an exceptional grace in the fractured lines of her tired, languid, morbid charm: a woman who knew life, a woman who—he was sure of it—saw through him; who spoke to him—for whom she felt antipathy—coquettishly in order to please him, win him over, unconsciously, out of pure femininity. He saw her as beautiful and perverse, and he admired her, sensitive as he was to different types of women. He suddenly found her more beautiful and less banal than Urania, and much more distinguished, and not so naively susceptible to his title, something he found so absurd in Urania. He was suddenly at ease with her, his rage subsided: he enjoyed having two beautiful women with him instead of one, and he joked in return, said he was burning with curiosity, had listened at the door, but had unfortunately not caught anything
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