Читать книгу The Iron Mistress - Paul Iselin Wellman - Страница 39

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The artist was ablaze. “I’ve just spoken with Monsieur de Bornay! It is as thee say, James—he renews the commission!”

Bowie raised his head. “Good.”

“I begin this very afternoon. Today I am a happy man!”

“Perhaps one of us should go along to keep watch on you, to see that you really appear,” Narcisse said slyly.

Audubon’s grin was sheepish. “I have learned my lesson, depend on it.”

“Bien.”

“With this commission, I can redeem my bird paintings—and also relieve thee, James, of entertaining me—for I return to my own room, which is also my studio——”

“So you walk out on me?” Bowie grinned.

“It is pleasant here—but not conducive. I must work! I go now to make ready.” Audubon departed.

Narcisse offered Bowie a cheroot and lit one himself. “You were a sensation last night. Especially with the ladies.” He smiled devilishly. “New Orleans doesn’t often see a figure like yours. I believe that Judalon was a bit jealous over you, because so many other damsels were chattering——”

“I heard none of this chattering.”

“It was out of your hearing, my friend, but well within hers.” He reached out his walking stick and gave Bowie a nudge. “Ever see a dog with a bone? The dog is not hungry. He cares nothing for the bone. It may be an old bone, gnawed until all flavor is gone, not even worth the burying. But let another dog come along and cast an eye on that bone. Voilà! It becomes a bone of sudden value to our dog, a treasure to be fought for, if necessary to die over!” He laughed. “May I be forgiven the comparison, but that is the way of the ladies also. The tiniest show of interest by other members of their delightful sex enhances a man with them transcendently. Fortunate Jim!”

Bowie managed a lame smile and a lame jest. “Thanks for likening me to a gnawed-over bone.”

“I was leading up to this: I think you’ve played your cards incredibly well. I confess now that when we started our little plot I had only the faintest hope it would succeed. How you managed it, I don’t know. But our little Judalon asked me to bring you to the house this afternoon when she begins her sittings for Audubon.” Narcisse’s cynical smile again. “I suspect that’s for the benefit of the other damsels. It may bore you, but it may be good policy. Once the portrait’s finished, we can forget the whole tiresome masquerade.”

Bowie glanced sidewise at him and thought that brothers as a race were remarkably obtuse. He said, “What if I don’t want to forget it?”

Narcisse gave him a stare, then laughed. “You have the driest way about you, Jim.” He paused. “In the evening, after the sitting, we’ll go to St. Sylvain’s, if you like.”

Bowie had heard frequent mention of the place called St. Sylvain’s. It was, he gathered, New Orleans’ premier gambling casino, catering exclusively to the élite.

“Almost everyone of importance goes to St. Sylvain’s sooner or later,” Narcisse said. “It would be a good place for you to meet some of New Orleans’ well-known men. And perhaps have a little sport doing it.”

Bowie nodded. “Good. That’s our evening, then.”