Books: Madame Midas
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Fergus Hume >> Madame Midas
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Madame laughed pleasantly.
'You are incorrigible, M. Vandeloup,' she said, as she turned to go.
'However, don't forget what I said, for I trust you.'
When Mrs Villiers had gone, closing the office door after her,
Gaston was silent for a few minutes, and then burst out laughing.
'She trusts me,' he said, in a mocking tone. 'In heaven's name, why?
I never did pretend to be a saint, and I'm certainly not going to be
one because I'm put on my word of honour. Madame,' with an ironical
bow in the direction of the closed door, 'since you trust me I will
not speak of love to this bread-and-butter miss, unless she proves
more than ordinarily pretty, in which case,' shrugging his
shoulders, 'I'm afraid I must betray your trust, and follow my own
judgment.'
He laughed again, and then, going back to his desk, began to add up
his figures. At the second column, however, he paused, and commenced
to sketch faces on the blotting paper.
'She's the daughter of a minister,' he said, musingly. 'I can guess,
then, what like she is--prim and demure, like a caricature by Cham.
In that case she will be safe from me, for I could never bear an
ugly woman. By the way, I wonder if ugly women think themselves
pretty; their mirrors must lie most obligingly if they do. There was
Adele, she was decidedly plain, not to say ugly, and yet so
brilliant in her talk. I was sorry she died; yes, even though she
was the cause of my exile to New Caledonia. Bah! it is always a
woman one has to thank for one's misfortunes--curse them; though why
I should I don't know, for they have always been good friends to me.
Ah, well, to return to business, Mademoiselle Kitty is coming, and I
must behave like a bear in case she should think my intentions are
wrong.'
He went to work on the figures again, when suddenly he heard a high
clear voice singing outside. At first he thought it was a bird, but
no bird could execute such trills and shakes, so by the time the
voice arrived at the office door M. Vandeloup came to the conclusion
that the owner of the voice was a woman, and that the woman was Miss
Kitty Marchurst.
He leaned back in his chair and wondered idly if she would knock at
the door or enter without ceremony. The latter course was the one
adopted by Miss Marchurst, for she threw open the door and stood
there blushing and pouting at the embarrassing situation in which
she now found herself.
'I thought I would find Mrs Villiers here,' she said, in a low,
sweet voice, the peculiar timbre of which sent a thrill through
Gaston's young blood, as he arose to his feet. Then she looked up,
and catching his dark eyes fixed on her with a good deal of
admiration in them, she looked down and commenced drawing figures on
the dusty floor with the tip of a very dainty shoe.
'Madame has gone down the mine,' said M. Vandeloup, politely, 'but
she desired me to say that she would be back soon, and that you were
to wait here, and I was to entertain you;' then, with a grave bow,
he placed the only chair in the office at the disposal of his
visitor, and leaned up against the mantelpiece in an attitude of
unstudied grace. Miss Marchurst accepted his offer, and depositing
her small person in the big cane chair, she took furtive glances at
him, while Gaston, whose experience of women was by no means
limited, looked at her coolly, in a manner which would have been
rude but for the charming smile which quivered upon his lips.
Kitty Marchurst was a veritable fairy in size, and her hands and
feet were exquisitely formed, while her figure had all the plumpness
and roundness of a girl of seventeen--which age she was, though she
really did not look more than fourteen. An innocent child-like face,
two limpid blue eyes, a straight little nose, and a charming rose-
lipped mouth were Kitty's principal attractions, and her hair was
really wonderful, growing all over her head in crisp golden curls.
Child-like enough her face looked in repose, but with the smile came
the woman--such a smile, a laughing merry expression such as the
Greeks gave to Hebe. Dressed in a rough white dress trimmed with
pale blue ribbons, and her golden head surmounted by a sailor hat,
with a scarf of the same azure hue tied around it, Kitty looked
really charming, and Vandeloup could hardly restrain himself from
taking her up in his arms and kissing her, so delightfully fresh and
piquant she appeared. Kitty, on her side, had examined Gaston with a
woman's quickness of taking in details, and she mentally decided he
was the best-looking man she had ever seen, only she wished he would
talk. Shyness was not a part of her nature, so after waiting a
reasonable time for Vandeloup to commence, she determined to start
herself.
'I'm waiting to be entertained,' she said, in a hurried voice,
raising her eyes; then afraid of her own temerity, she looked down
again.
Gaston smiled a little at Kitty's outspoken remark, but remembering
Madame's injunction he rather mischievously determined to carry out
her desires to the letter.
'It is a very nice day,' he said, gravely. Kitty looked up and
laughed merrily.
'I don't think that's a very original remark,' she said coolly,
producing an apple from her pocket. 'If that's all you've got to
say, I hope Madame won't be long.'
Vandeloup laughed again at her petulance, and eyed her critically as
she took a bit out of the red side of the apple with her white
teeth.
'You like apples?' he asked, very much amused by her candour.
'Pretty well,' returned Miss Marchurst, eyeing the fruit in a
disparaging manner; 'peaches are nicer; are Madame's peaches ripe?'
looking anxiously at him.
'I think they are,' rejoined Gaston, gravely.
'Then we'll have some for tea,' decided Kitty, taking another bite
out of her apple.
'I'm going to stay to tea, you know,' she went on in a
conversational tone. 'I always stay to tea when I'm on a visit here,
and then Brown--that's our man,' in an explanatory manner, 'comes
and fetches me home.'
'Happy Brown!' murmured Vandeloup, who really meant what he said.
Kitty laughed, and blushed.
'I've heard all about you,' she said, coolly, nodding to him.
'Nothing to my disadvantage, I hope,' anxiously.
'Oh dear, no: rather the other way,' returned Miss Marchurst, gaily.
'They said you were good-looking--and so you are, very good-
looking.'
Gaston bowed and laughed, rather amused at the way she spoke, for he
was used to being flattered by women, though hardly in the outspoken
way of this country maiden.
'She's been strictly brought up,' he muttered sarcastically, 'I can
see that. Eve before the fall in all her innocence.'
'I don't like your eyes,' said Miss Kitty, suddenly.
'What's the matter with them?' with a quizzical glance.
'They look wicked.'
'Ah, then they belie the soul within,' returned Vandeloup,
seriously. 'I assure you, I'm a very good young man.'
Then I'm sure not to like you,' said Kitty, gravely shaking her
golden head. 'Pa's a minister, you know, and nothing but good young
men come to our house; they're all so horrid,' viciously, 'I hate
'em.'
Vandeloup laughed so much at this that Kitty rose to her feet and
looked offended.
'I don't know what you are laughing at,' she said, throwing her
half-eaten apple out of the door; 'but I don't believe you're a good
young man. You look awfully bad,' seriously. 'Really, I don't think
I ever saw anyone look so bad.'
'Suppose you undertake my reformation?' suggested Vandeloup,
eagerly.
'Oh! I couldn't; it wouldn't be right; but,' brightly, 'pa will.'
'I don't think I'll trouble him,' said Gaston, hastily, who by no
means relished the idea. 'I'm too far gone to be any good.'
She was about to reply when Madame Midas entered, and Kitty flew to
her with a cry of delight.
'Why, Kitty,' said Madame, highly pleased, 'I am so glad to see you,
my dear; but keep off, or I'll be spoiling your dress.'
'Yes, so you will,' said Kitty, retreating to a safe distance; 'what
a long time you have been.'
'Have I, dear?' said Madame, taking off her underground dress; 'I
hope M. Vandeloup has proved a good substitute.'
'Madame,' answered Vandeloup, gaily, as he assisted Mrs Villiers to
doff her muddy garments, 'we have been talking about the crops and
the weather.'
'Oh, indeed,' replied Mrs Villiers, who saw the flush on Kitty's
cheek, and by no means approved of it; 'it must have been very
entertaining.'
'Very!' assented Gaston, going back to his desk.
'Come along, Kitty,' said Madame, with a keen glance at her clerk,
and taking Kitty's arm within her own, 'let us go to the house, and
see if we can find any peaches.'
'I hope we'll find some big ones,' said Kitty, gluttonously, as she
danced along by the side of Mrs Villiers.
'Temptation has been placed in my path in a very attractive form,'
said Vandeloup to himself, as he went back to those dreary columns
of figures, 'and I'm afraid that I will not be able to resist.'
When he came home to tea he found Kitty was as joyous and full of
life as ever, in spite of the long hot afternoon and the restless
energy with which she had been running about. Even Madame Midas felt
weary and worn out by the heat of the day, and was sitting
tranquilly by the window; but Kitty, with bright eyes and restless
feet, followed Selina all over the house, under the pretence of
helping her, an infliction which that sage spinster bore with
patient resignation.
After tea it was too hot to light the lamp, and even Selina let the
fire go out, while all the windows and doors were open to let the
cool night wind blow in. Vandeloup sat on the verandah with McIntosh
smoking cigarettes and listening to Madame, who was playing
Mendelssohn's 'In a Gondola', that dreamy melody full of the swing
and rhythmic movement of the waves. Then to please old Archie she
played 'Auld Lang Syne'--that tender caressing air which is one of
the most pathetic and heart-stirring melodies in the world. Archie
leaned forward with bowed head as the sad melody floated on the air,
and his thoughts went back to the heather-clad Scottish hills. And
what was this Madame was now playing, with its piercing sorrow and
sad refrain? Surely 'Farewell to Lochaber', that bitter lament of
the exile leaving bonny Scotland far behind. Vandeloup, who was not
attending to the music, but thinking of Kitty, saw two big tears
steal down McIntosh's severe face, and marvelled at such a sign of
weakness.
'Sentiment from him?' he muttered, in a cynical tone; 'why, I should
have as soon expected blood from a stone.'
Suddenly the sad air ceased, and after a few chords, Kitty commenced
to sing to Madame's accompaniment. Gaston arose to his feet, and
leaned up against the door, for she was singing Gounod's charming
valse from 'Mirella', the bird-like melody of which suited her high
clear voice to perfection. Vandeloup was rather astonished at
hearing this innocent little maiden execute the difficult valse with
such ease, and her shake was as rapid and true as if she had been
trained in the best schools of Europe. He did not know that Kitty
had naturally a very flexible voice, and that Madame had trained her
for nearly a year. When the song was ended Gaston entered the room
to express his thanks and astonishment, both of which Kitty received
with bursts of laughter.
'You have a fortune in your throat, mademoiselle,' he said, with a
bow, 'and I assure you I have heard all the great singers of to-day
from Patti downwards.'
'I have only been able to teach her very little,' said Madame,
looking affectionately at Miss Marchurst, who now stood by the
table, blushing at Vandeloup's praises, 'but when we find the
Devil's Lead I am going to send her home to Italy to study singing.'
'For the stage?' asked Vandeloup.
'That is as it may be,' replied Madame, enigmatically, 'but now, M.
Vandeloup, you must sing us something.'
'Oh, does he sing?' said Kitty, joyously.
'Yes, and play too,' answered Madame, as she vacated her seat at the
piano and put her arm round Kitty, 'sing us something from the
"Grand Duchess", Monsieur.'
He shook his head.
'Too gay for such an hour,' he said, running his fingers lightly
over the keys; 'I will give you something from "Faust".'
He had a pleasant tenor voice, not very strong, but singularly pure
and penetrating, and he sang 'Salve Dinora', the exquisite melody of
which touched the heart of Madame Midas with a vague longing for
love and affection, while in Kitty's breast there was a feeling she
had never felt before. Her joyousness departed, her eyes glanced at
the singer in a half-frightened manner, and she clung closer to
Madame Midas as if she were afraid, as indeed she was.
When Vandeloup finished the song he dashed into a riotous student
song which he had heard many a time in midnight Paris, and finally
ended with singing Alfred de Musset's merry little chanson, which he
thought especially appropriate to Kitty:--
Bonjour, Suzon, ma fleur des bois, Es-tu toujours la plus jolie, Je
reviens, tel que tu me vois,
D'un grand votage en Italie.
Altogether Kitty had enjoyed her evening immensely, and was quite
sorry when Brown came to take her home. Madame wrapped her up well
and put her in the buggy, but was rather startled to see her flushed
cheeks, bright eyes, and the sudden glances she stole at Vandeloup,
who stood handsome and debonair in the moonlight.
'I'm afraid I've made a mistake,' she said to herself as the buggy
drove off.
She had, for Kitty had fallen in love with the Frenchman.
And Gaston?
He walked back to the house beside Madame, thinking of Kitty, and
humming the gay refrain of the song he had been singing--
'Je passe devant ta maison Ouvre ta porte, Bonjour, Suzon.'
Decidedly it was a case of love at first sight on both sides.
CHAPTER VII
MR VILLIERS PAYS A VISIT
Slivers and his friend Villiers were by no means pleased with the
existing state of things. In sending Vandeloup to the Pactolus
claim, they had thought to compromise Madame Midas by placing her in
the society of a young and handsome man, and counting on one of two
things happening--either that Madame would fall in love with the
attractive Frenchman, and seek for a divorce in order to marry him--
which divorce Villiers would of course resist, unless she bribed him
by giving him an interest in the Pactolus--or that Villiers could
assume an injured tone and accuse Vandeloup of being his wife's
lover, and threaten to divorce her unless she made him her partner
in the claim. But they had both reckoned wrongly, for neither of
these things happened, as Madame was not in love with Vandeloup, and
acted with too much circumspection to give any opportunity for
scandal. Consequently, Slivers and Co., not finding matters going to
their satisfaction, met one day at the office of the senior partner
for the purpose of discussing the affair, and seeing what could be
done towards bringing Madame Midas to their way of thinking.
Villiers was lounging in one of the chairs, dressed in a white linen
suit, and looked rather respectable, though his inflamed face and
watery eyes showed what a drunkard he was. He was sipping a glass of
whisky and water and smoking his pipe, while he watched Slivers
stumping up and down the office, swinging his cork arm vehemently to
and fro as was his custom when excited. Billy sat on the table and
eyed his master with a steady stare, or else hopped about among the
papers talking to himself.
'You thought you were going to do big things when you sent that
jackadandy out to the Pactolus,' said Villiers, after a pause.
'At any rate, I did something,' snarled Slivers, in a rage, 'which
is more than you did, you whisky barrel.'
'Look here, don't you call names,' growled Mr Villiers, in a sulky
tone. 'I'm a gentleman, remember that.'
'You were a gentleman, you mean,' corrected the senior partner, with
a malignant glance of his one eye. 'What are you now?'
'A stockbroker,' retorted the other, taking a sip of whisky.
'And a damned poor one at that,' replied the other, sitting on the
edge of the table, which position caused his wooden leg to stick
straight out, a result which he immediately utilized by pointing it
threateningly in the direction of Villiers.
'Look here,' said that gentleman, suddenly sitting up in his chair
in a defiant manner, 'drop these personalities and come to business;
what's to be done? Vandeloup is firmly established there, but
there's not the slightest chance of my wife falling in love with
him.'
'Wait,' said Slivers, stolidly wagging his wooden leg up and down;
'wait, you blind fool, wait.'
'Wait for the waggon!' shrieked Billy, behind, and then supplemented
his remarks by adding, 'Oh, my precious mother!' as he climbed up on
Slivers' shoulder.
'You always say wait,' growled Villiers, not paying any attention to
Billy's interruption; 'I tell you we can't wait much longer; they'll
drop on the Devil's Lead shortly, and then we'll be up a tree.'
'Then, suppose you go out to the Pactolus and see your wife,'
suggested Slivers.
'No go,' returned Villiers, gloomily, 'she'd break my head.'
'Bah! you ain't afraid of a woman, are you?' snarled Slivers,
viciously.
'No, but I am of McIntosh and the rest of them,' retorted Villiers.
'What can one man do against twenty of these devils. Why, they'd
kill me if I went out there; and that infernal wife of mine wouldn't
raise her little finger to save me.'
'You're a devil!' observed Billy, eyeing Villiers from his perch on
Slivers' shoulder. 'Oh, Lord! ha! ha! ha!' going into fits of
laughter; then drawing himself suddenly up, he ejaculated 'Pickles!'
and shut up.
'It's no good beating about the bush,' said the wooden-legged man,
getting down from the table. 'You go out near the claim, and see if
you can catch her; then give it to her hot.'
'What am I to say?' asked Villiers, helplessly.
Slivers looked at him with fiery scorn in his one eye.
'Say!' he shrieked, waving his cork arm, 'talk about your darned
honour! Say she's dragging your noble name through the mud, and say
you'll divorce her if she don't give you half a share in the
Pactolus; that will frighten her.'
'Pickles!' again ejaculated the parrot.
'Oh, no, it won't,' said Villiers; 'Brag's a good dog, but he don't
bite. I've tried that game on before, and it was no go.'
'Then try it your own way,' grumbled Slivers, sulkily, going to his
seat and pouring himself out some whisky. 'I don't care what you do,
as long as I get into the Pactolus, and once I'm in the devil
himself won't get me out.'
Villiers thought a moment, then turned to go.
'I'll try,' he said, as he went out of the door, 'but it's no go, I
tell you, she's stone,' and with a dismal nod he slouched away.
'Stone, is she?' cried the old man, pounding furiously on the floor
with his wooden leg, 'then I'd smash her; I'd crush her; I'd grind
her into little bits, damn her,' and overcome by his rage, Slivers
shook Billy off his shoulder and took a long drink.
Meanwhile Mr Villiers, dreading lest his courage should give way,
went to the nearest hotel and drank pretty freely so that he might
bring himself into an abnormal condition of bravery. Thus primed, he
went to the railway station, took the train to the Pactolus claim,
and on arriving at the end of his journey had one final glass of
whisky to steady his nerves.
The last straw, however, breaks the camel's back, and this last
drink reduced Mr Villiers to that mixed state which is known in
colonial phrase as half-cocked. He lurched out of the hotel, and
went in the direction of the Pactolus claim. His only difficulty was
that, as a matter of fact, the solitary mound of white earth which
marked the entrance to the mine, suddenly appeared before his eyes
in a double condition, and he beheld two Pactolus claims, which
curious optical delusion rather confused him, inasmuch as he was
undecided to which he should go.
'Itsh the drinksh,' he said at length, stopping in the middle of the
white dusty road, and looking preternaturally solemn; 'it maksh me
see double: if I see my wife, I'll see two of her, then'--with a
drunken giggle--'I'll be a bigamist.'
This idea so tickled him, that he commenced to laugh, and, finding
it inconvenient to do so on his legs, he sat down to indulge his
humour freely. A laughing jackass perched on the fence at the side
of the road heard Mr Villiers' hilarity, and, being of a convivial
turn of mind itself, went off into fits of laughter also. On hearing
this echo Mr Villiers tried to get up, in order to punish the man
who mocked him, but, though his intentions were good, his legs were
unsteady, and after one or two ineffectual attempts to rise he gave
it up as a bad job. Then rolling himself a little to one side of the
dusty white road, he went sound asleep, with his head resting on a
tuft of green grass. In his white linen suit he was hardly
distinguishable in the fine white dust of the road, and though the
sun blazed hotly down on him and the mosquitos stung him, yet he
slept calmly on, and it was not till nearly four o'clock in the
afternoon that he woke up. He was more sober, but still not quite
steady, being in that disagreeable temper to which some men are
subject when suffering a recovery. Rising to his feet, with a hearty
curse, he picked up his hat and put it on; then, thrusting his hands
into his pockets, he slouched slowly along, bent upon meeting his
wife and picking a quarrel with her.
Unluckily for Madame Midas, she had that day been to Ballarat, and
was just returning. She had gone by train, and was now leaving the
station and walking home to the Pactolus along the road. Being
absorbed in thought, she did not notice the dusty figure in front of
her, otherwise she would have been sure to have recognised her
husband, and would have given him a wide berth by crossing the
fields instead of going by the road. Mr Villiers, therefore, tramped
steadily on towards the Pactolus, and his wife tramped steadily
after him, until at last, at the turn of the road where it entered
her property, she overtook him.
A shudder of disgust passed through her frame as she raised her eyes
and saw him, and she made a sudden gesture as though to fall behind
and thus avoid him. It was, however, too late, for Mr Villiers,
hearing footsteps, turned suddenly and saw the woman he had come to
see standing in the middle of the road.
Husband and wife stood gazing at one another for a few moments in
silence, she looking at him with an expression of intense loathing
on her fine face, and he vainly trying to assume a dignified
carriage--a task which his late fit of drunkenness rendered
difficult.
At last, his wife, drawing her dress together as though his touch
would have contaminated her, tried to pass, but on seeing this he
sprang forward, before she could change her position, and caught her
wrist.
'Not yet!' he hissed through his clenched teeth; 'first you must
have a word with me.'
Madame Midas looked around for aid, but no one was in sight. They
were some distance from the Pactolus, and the heat of the afternoon
being intense, every one was inside. At last Madame saw some man
moving towards them, down the long road which led to the station,
and knowing that Vandeloup had been into town, she prayed in her
heart that it might be he, and so prepared to parley with her
husband till he should come up. Having taken this resolution, she
suddenly threw off Villiers' grasp, and turned towards him with a
superb gesture of scorn.
'What do you want?' she asked in a low, clear voice, but in a tone
of concentrated passion.
'Money!' growled Villiers, insolently planting himself directly in
front of her, 'and I'm going to have it.'
'Money!' she echoed, in a tone of bitter irony; 'have you not had
enough yet? Have you not squandered every penny I had from my father
in your profligacy and evil companions? What more do you want?'
'A share in the Pactolus,' he said, sullenly.
His wife laughed scornfully. 'A share in the Pactolus!' she echoed,
with bitter sarcasm, 'A modest request truly. After squandering my
fortune, dragging me through the mire, and treating me like a slave,
this man expects to be rewarded. Listen to me, Randolph Villiers,'
she said, fiercely, stepping up to him and seizing his hand, 'this
land we now stand on is mine--the gold underneath is mine; and if
you were to go on your knees to me and beg for a morsel of bread to
save you from starving, I would not lift one finger to succour you.'
Villiers writhed like a snake under her bitter scorn.
'I understand,' he said, in a taunting tone; 'you want it for your
lover.'
'My lover? What do you mean?'
'What I say,' he retorted boldly, 'all Ballarat knows the position
that young Frenchman holds in the Pactolus claim.'
Mrs Villiers felt herself grow faint--the accusation was so
horrible. This man, who had embittered her life from the time she
married him, was still her evil genius, and was trying to ruin her
in the eyes of the world. The man she had seen on the road was now
nearly up to them, and with a revulsion of feeling she saw that it
was Vandeloup. Recovering herself with an effort, she turned and
faced him steadily.
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