Читать книгу The Court of St. Simon - E. Phillips Oppenhein - Страница 5

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THE conversation was almost entirely confined to the two men. Mademoiselle murmured only a few words, and even then D'Argminac was puzzled. She spoke slowly and with much care. The words were correct so far as they went, yet something in their intonation made it very obvious that these two did not belong to the same social station, notwithstanding Albert's statement as to their relationship. For the rest, Mademoiselle took very little notice of this new acquaintance. She was entirely occupied in enjoying an excellent supper. Her two companions ate nothing.

"Our much respected friend Albert," remarked Monsieur Simon, "spoke of you as being the only one of its habitués who found this place wearisome. I must confess that I was interested. You are—pardon me—young, Monsieur d'Argminac, to have exhausted the gaieties of this wonderful city."

The boy felt for his as yet invisible moustache. The faint irony of the other's tone was entirely lost upon him.

"I am perhaps older than I look, Monsieur, Still, a year or two at these places is enough. They are all the same—the dance, the women, the music. There is nothing left."

"You have many friends in Paris?" Monsieur Simon asked.

"I am fairly well known here," the young man answered. "You wonder, perhaps, that I should care to come to such a place alone. It is simply a whim of mine. I have many acquaintances, at any rate."

"Your name is French," Monsieur Simon remarked, "but you are surely English, are you not?"

D'Argminac admitted the fact a little reluctantly. "I was educated in England at Eton, but I prefer the French people and their manner of living. After all, though," he added wearily, "I am not sure that it is any better here than anywhere else. I found London insupportable, but I am not sure that Paris is much better."

Monsieur Simon laughed softly. There was a cynical droop to his lips as he leaned forward and lit a cigarette.

"When one is weary of Paris at your age," he declared, "one must be possessed, indeed, of an original temperament."

"It is a curse," Eugène d'Argminac admitted gloomily. "If one seeks contentment, one should resign oneself to be commonplace."

"You still feel the desire for excitement, I suppose?"

"I would buy it, if I could, at any price."

"You have tried sport?" Monsieur Simon asked. "Polo, for instance, or hunting? Your English blood should serve you there."

D'Argminac shook his head. "Sport does not attract me in the least. I cannot play games, because they do not amuse me. I have driven an automobile for a month. It was a joy to me, but it passes."

"You are destined, perhaps, for one of the professions, or the diplomatic service? Sometimes the necessary work gives a stimulus to life."

"Very likely," D'Argminac assented. "I can only say that for my part I have never felt the slightest desire to take life seriously."

The eyes of Monsieur Simon twinkled. Again he smiled. Mademoiselle glanced at him a little curiously. It was strange to her that he should find so much to interest him in this sulky-looking boy.

"Yours is indeed a hard position," he declared, "but then you are doubtless a singular person. It is unusual, is it not, to find a solitary man at such a Temple of Venus?"

Eugène d'Argminac glanced towards Mademoiselle. It was an impulse which he could not repress. He remembered afterwards Albert's warning and trusted that his glance had been unobserved.

"With a companion," he said, "I bore myself most completely. Adventures —perhaps! One must have adventures in Paris to be in the fashion at all," he continued, feeling again for his moustache, "but there is a sameness about them all. One has a few moments of excitement and then a great revulsion, a complete disillusionment. I brought Mademoiselle Vincelly here, the other evening, from the Folies Bergères. She ate lobster with her fingers and demanded beer."

Mademoiselle for the first time smiled at him ever so faintly—not a particularly gracious smile, but at least it was something that she should take notice of his existence. "Mademoiselle Vincelly is, after all, a German," she declared. "There are very many beautiful young ladies in Paris."

"It is true, Mademoiselle," D'Argminac admitted. "I begin to fear that the fault is with myself. I have not the gift of susceptibility. I call it a gift because I think that it is the most delightful thing in the world," he added, with a little sigh, "to fall in love. When I was younger it was my favorite pastime."

Mademoiselle looked at him, and throwing her head back laughed frankly, showing all her wonderful white teeth, which gleamed like pearls. Her companion smiled, too, in quieter and subtler fashion. He had been right. It was amusing to listen to this strange youth.

"None of us should relinquish hope, my friend," he said, with gentle irony. "You are not too old, even now, to feel once more the gentle passion."

D'Argminac remained entirely unconscious of the fact that he was being skilfully exploited for the amusement of these two people. "Perhaps you are right," he agreed. "Very likely, even now, that will happen. All I can say is that I am here, I am willing, if it comes I should be glad. In the meantime, life remains insupportable. It is only the very old or the very young who are attracted by this sort of place. I hope that I am not conceited, but I need more to excite me. I do not think," he added, "that you, Monsieur, can find any real pleasure in sitting here among such a crowd, in floating toy balloons and listening to this babel. You find no excitement here. Tell me, am I not right?"

"To some extent you are," the older man confessed. "Still, so far as I am concerned, Mademoiselle my sister and I, we come here as a rest. If we seek excitement, we seek it elsewhere and in a different fashion."

D'Argminac tapped a cigarette upon the table preparatory to lighting it. "You have asked me a good many questions," he said slowly. "I have no secrets from you or any one who interests me. It is amusing, I think, to exchange confidences as regards life with people of one's own order whom one meets even so casually as we have met. You say that when you seek excitement you seek it elsewhere and in a different fashion. You look to me as though you would be critical. Tell me how and where you seek it!"

The man who was known as Monsieur Simon leaned back in his chair and looked at his questioner thoughtfully. D'Argminac returned his gaze almost eagerly. Already the boy had begun to feel the fascination of his manner. Whoever he might be, he was distinctly a remarkable man. There was strength in his face, domination in his tone, he had not a single bad feature. D'Argminac felt the mesmerism of a stronger and commanding nature.

"Is that a serious question?" Monsieur Simon asked.

"Absolutely," D'Argminac replied eagerly.

Monsieur Simon turned to his companion. "It is a challenge," he remarked. "Shall we show him? What do you say?"

The girl shrugged her shoulders. It was obvious that she disapproved. "You will do as you wish, I suppose. You do always the rash things."

"Very well, then," said Monsieur Simon, "you shall learn our secret, if you will. Presently we will show you how we two, Mademoiselle and I, escape for a little while from the sameness of a dull existence. You need not be afraid," he continued, smiling, "that you will be asked to gamble; you will not even need your pocket-book at all."

The boy flushed. It was absurd to be read like this! Notwithstanding his immense admiration for this distinguished couple, an admiration which would have rendered him, if necessary, a willing victim had they really had designs upon him, it was a fact that some such thought as Monsieur Simon's words indicated had been crossing his brain at that precise moment. His protest, however, was voluble and emphatic enough.

"No one could have associated such a thought with your charming offer, Monsieur," he declared, "certainly not I."

"You think that you dare trust yourself with us, then?"

"I shall be overjoyed to follow wherever you and Mademoiselle will lead," said the boy. "If you can show me anything new in this city," he added, smiling a little doubtfully, "I shall be glad as well as surprised."

"There is nothing new," Monsieur Simon admitted. "Some things, however, don't occur to one unless they are pointed out. At three o'clock, then, if it pleases you, we will leave this place together."