Jeanne of the Marshes

  Produced by Charles Franks and the Online DistributedProofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines.

  JEANNE OF THE MARSHES

  BY

  E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM

  AUTHOR OF

  "A MAKER OF HISTORY," "THE MISSIONER," "THE GOVERNORS," ETC.

  ILLUSTRATED BY

  J. V. McFALL AND C. E. BROCK

  BOOK I

  CHAPTER I

  The Princess opened her eyes at the sound of her maid's approach. Sheturned her head impatiently toward the door.

  "Annette," she said coldly, "did you misunderstand me? Did I not saythat I was on no account to be disturbed this afternoon?"

  Annette was the picture of despair. Eyebrows and hands betrayed alikeboth her agitation of mind and her nationality.

  "Madame," she said, "did I not say so to monsieur? I begged him to callagain. I told him that madame was lying down with a bad headache, andthat it was as much as my place was worth to disturb her. What did heanswer? Only this. That it would be as much as my place was worth if Idid not come up and tell you that he was here to see you on a veryurgent matter. Indeed, madame, he was very, very impatient with me."

  "Of whom are you talking?" the Princess asked.

  "But of Major Forrest, madame," Annette declared. "It is he who waitsbelow."

  The Princess closed her eyes for a moment and then slowly opened them.She stretched out her hand, and from a table by her side took up asmall gilt mirror.

  "Turn on the lights, Annette," she commanded.

  The maid illuminated the darkened room. The Princess gazed at herselfin the mirror, and reaching out again took a small powder-puff from itscase and gently dabbed her face. Then she laid both mirror andpowder-puff back in their places.

  "You will tell monsieur," she said, "that I am very unwell indeed, butthat since he is here and his business is urgent I will see him. Turnout the lights, Annette. I am not fit to be seen. And move my couch alittle, so."

  "Madame is only a little pale," the maid said reassuringly. "That makesnothing. These Englishwomen have all too much colour. I go to tellmonsieur."

  She disappeared, and the Princess lay still upon her couch, thinking.Soon she heard steps outside, and with a little sigh she turned herhead toward the door. The man who entered was tall, and of the ordinarytype of well-born Englishmen. He was carefully dressed, and hissomewhat scanty hair was arranged to the best advantage. His featureswere hard and lifeless. His eyes were just a shade too close together.The maid ushered him in and withdrew at once.

  "Come and sit by my side, Nigel, if you want to talk to me," thePrincess said. "Walk softly, please. I really have a headache."

  "No wonder, in this close room," the man muttered, a littleungraciously. "It smells as though you had been burning incense here."

  "It suits me," the Princess answered calmly, "and it happens to be myroom. Bring that chair up here and say what you have to say."

  The man obeyed in silence. When he had made himself quite comfortable,he raised her hand, the one which was nearest to him, to his lips, andafterwards retained it in his own.

  "Forgive me if I seem unsympathetic, Ena," he said. "The fact is,everything has been getting on my nerves for the last few days, and myluck seems dead out."

  She looked at him curiously. She was past middle age, and her faceshowed signs of the wear and tear of life. But she still had fine eyes,and the rejuvenating arts of Bond Street had done their best for her.

  "What is the matter, Nigel?" she asked. "Have the cards been goingagainst you?"

  He frowned and hesitated for a moment before replying.

  "Ena," he said, "between us two there is an ancient bargain, and thatis that we should tell the truth to one another. I will tell you whatit is that is worrying me most. I have suspected it for some time, butthis afternoon it was absolutely obvious. There is a sort of feeling atthe club. I can't exactly describe it, but I am conscious of itdirectly I come into the room. For several days I have scarcely beenable to get a rubber. This afternoon, when I cut in with Harewood andMildmay and another fellow, two of them made some sort of an excuse andwent off. I pretended not to notice it, of course, but there it was.The thing was apparent, and it is the very devil!"

  Again she looked at him closely.

  "There is nothing tangible?" she asked. "No complaint, or scandal, oranything of that sort?"

  He rejected the suggestion with scorn.

  "No!" he said. "I am not such an idiot as that. All the same there isthe feeling. They don't care to play bridge with me. There is onlyyoung Engleton who takes my part, and so far as playing bridge formoney is concerned, he would be worth the whole lot put together ifonly I could get him away from them--make up a little party somewhere,and have him to myself for a week or two."

  The Princess was thoughtful.

  "To go abroad at this time of the year," she remarked, "is almostimpossible. Besides, you have only just come back."

  "Absolutely impossible," he answered. "Besides, I shouldn't care to doit just now. It looks like running away. A week or so ago you weretalking of taking a villa down the river. I wondered whether you hadthought any more of it."

  The Princess shook her head.

  "I dare not," she answered. "I have gone already further than I meantto. This house and the servants and carriages are costing me a smallfortune. I dare not even look at my bills. Another house is not to bethought of."

  Major Forrest looked gloomily at the shining tip of his patent boot.

  "It's jolly hard luck," he muttered. "A quiet place somewhere in thecountry, with Engleton and you and myself, and another one or two, andI should be able to pull through. As it is, I feel inclined to chuck itall."

  The Princess looked at him curiously. He was certainly more thanordinarily pale, and the hand which rested upon the side of his chairwas twitching a little nervously.

  "My dear Nigel," she said, "do go to the chiffonier there and helpyourself to a drink. I hate to see you white to the lips, and tremblingas though death itself were at your elbow. Borrow a little falsecourage, if you lack the real thing."

  The man obeyed her suggestion with scarcely a protest.

  "I had hoped, Ena," he remarked a little peevishly, "to have found youmore sympathetic."

  "You are so sorry for yourself," she answered, "that you seem scarcelyto need my sympathy. However, sit down and talk to me reasonably."

  "I talk reasonably enough," he answered, "but I really am hard upagainst it. Don't think I have come begging. I know you've done all youcan, and it's a matter with me now of more than a few hundreds. My onlyhope is Engleton. Can't you suggest anything?"

  The Princess rested her head slightly upon the long slender fingers ofher right hand. Bond Street had taken care of her complexion, but theveins in her hand were blue, and art had no means of concealing acertain sharpness of features and the thin lines about the eyes,nameless suggestions of middle age. Yet she was still a handsome woman.She knew how to dress, and how to make the best of herself. She had theforeigner's instinct for clothes, and her figure was stillirreproachable. She sat and looked with a sort of calculating interestat the man who for years had come as near touching her heart as any ofhis sex. Curiously enough she knew that this new aspect in which he nowpresented himself, this incipient cowardice--the first-fruits ofweakening nerves--did not and could not affect her feelings for him.She saw him now almost for the first time with the mask dropped, nolonger cold, cynical and calculating, but a man moved to his shallowdepths by what might well seem to him, a dweller in the narrow ways oflife, as a tragedy. It looked at her out of his grey eyes. It showeditself in the twitching of his lips. For many years he had lived upon alittle less than nothing a year. Now for the first time his means ofl
ivelihood were threatened. His long-suffering acquaintances had lefthim alone at the card-table.

  "You disappoint me, Nigel," she said. "I hate to see a man weaken.There is nothing against you. Don't act as though there could be. As tothis little house-party you were speaking of, I only wish I could thinkof something to help you. By the by, what are you doing to-night?"

  "Nothing," he answered, "except that Engleton is expecting me to dinewith him."

  "I have an idea," the Princess said slowly. "It may not come toanything, but it is worth trying. Have you met my new admirer, Mr.Cecil de la Borne?"

  Forrest shook his head.

  "Do you mean a dandified-looking boy whom you were driving with in thePark yesterday?"

  The Princess nodded.

  "We met him a week or so ago," she answered, "and he has been veryattentive. He has a country place down in Norfolk, which from hisdescription is, I should think, like a castle in Hermitland. Jeanne andI are dining with him to-night at the Savoy. You and Engleton mustcome, too. I can arrange it. It is just possible that we may be able tomanage something. He told me yesterday that he was going back toNorfolk very soon. I fancy that he has a brother who keeps rather astrict watch over him, and he is not allowed to stay up in town verylong at a time."

  "I know the name," Forrest remarked. "They are a very old RomanCatholic family. We'll come and dine, if you say that you can arrangeit. But I don't see how we can all hope to get an invitation out of himon such a short acquaintance."

  The Princess was looking thoughtful.

  "Leave it to me," she said. "I have an idea. Be at the Savoy at aquarter past eight, and bring Lord Ronald."

  Forrest took up his hat. He looked at the Princess with something verymuch like admiration in his face. For years he had dominated thiswoman. To-day, for the first time, she had had the upper hand.

  "We will be there all right," he said. "Engleton will only be too gladto be where Jeanne is. I suppose young De la Borne is the same way."

  The Princess sighed.

  "Every one," she remarked, "is so shockingly mercenary!"