Harietta reddened--her vanity disliked criticism.

"I take very good care of my language when it is necessary in the world--I am considered to have a lovely voice--but when I'm with you I guess I can enjoy a holiday--it's kind of a rest to let yourself go," her p.r.o.nunciation lapsed into the broadest American, just to irritate him, and she stood and laughed in his face.

He caught her in his arms. She never failed to appeal to his senses; she had won him by that force and so held his brute nature even after five years. This was always the reason of whatever success she secured. A man had no smallest doubt as to why he was drawn; it was a direct appeal to the most primitive animal nature in him. The birth of Love is ever thus if we would a.n.a.lyse it truly, but the spirit fortunately so wraps things in illusion that generally both partic.i.p.ants really believe that the mutual attraction is because of higher emotions of the mind, and so they are doomed to disappointment when pa.s.sion is sated, unless the mind fulfills the ideal. But if the reality fails to make good, the refined spirit turns in disgust from the material, unconsciously resentful in that it has suffered deception. With Harietta this disappointment could never occur, since she created no illusion that she was appealing to the mind at all, and so a man if he were attracted faced no unknown quality, but was aware that it was only the animal in him which was drawn, and if his senses were his masters, not his servants, her victory was complete.

After some more fierce caresses had come to an end--there was no delicacy about Harietta--Hans continued his discourse.

"There has come here to Paris a young man of the name of Ardayre--Ferdinand Ardayre--he is slippery, but he can be of the greatest value to us. See that you become friends--you can reach him through Abba Bey. He hates his brother who is the head of the family and he hates his brother's wife--for family reasons which it is not necessary to waste time in telling you. I knew him in Constantinople. Underneath I believe he hates the English--there is a slur on him."

"I have already met him," and Harietta's eyes sparkled. "I hate the wife also for my own reasons--yes--how can I help you with this?"

"It is Ferdinand you must concentrate on; I am not concerned with the brother or his wife, except in so far as his hate for them can be used to our advantage. Do not embark upon this to play games of your own for your hate--you may be foolish then and upset matters."

"Very well." The two objects could go together, Harietta felt; she never wasted words. It would be a pleasure one day, perhaps, to be able to injure that girl whom Verisschenzko certainly respected, if he was not actually growing to love her. Harietta did not desire the respect of men in the abstract; it could be a great bore--what they thought of her never entered her consideration, since she was only occupied with her own pleasure in them and how they affected herself. Respect was one of the adjuncts of a good social position; and of value merely in that aspect.

But as Verisschenzko respected no one else, as far as she knew, that must mean something annoyingly important.

Seven o'clock struck; she had thoroughly enjoyed being with Hans, he satisfied her in many ways, and it was also a relaxation, as she need not act. But the joys of the interview were over now, and she had others prepared for later on, and must go back to the Rhin to dress. So she kissed Hans and left, having arranged to meet him on the Tuesday night here in his rooms, and having received precise instructions as to the nature of the information to be obtained from Ferdinand Ardayre.

Life would be a paradise if only it were not for these ridiculous and tiresome political intrigues. Harietta had no taste for actual intrigue, its intricacies were a weariness to her. If she could have married a rich man in the beginning, she always told herself, she would never have mixed herself up in anything of the kind, and now that she _had_ married a rich man, she would try to get out of the nuisance as soon as possible.

Meanwhile, there was Ferdinand--and Ferdinand was becoming in love with her--they had met three times since the Montivacchini ball.

"He'll be no difficulty," she decided, with a sigh of relief. It would not be as it had been with Verisschenzko, whom she had been directed to capture. For in Verisschenzko she had found a master--not a dupe.

When she reached the beautiful Champs-Elysees, she looked at her diamond wrist watch. It was only ten minutes past seven, the dinner at the Austrian Emba.s.sy was not until half-past eight. Dressing was a serious business to Harietta, but she meant to cut it down to half an hour to-night, because there was a certain apartment in the Rue Cambon which she intended to visit for a few minutes.

"What an original street to have an apartment in!" people always said to Verisschenzko. "Nothing but business houses and model hotels for travellers!" And the shabby looking _porte-cochere_ gave no evidence of the old Louis XV. mansion within, converted now into a series of offices, all but the top flooring looking on to the gardens of the _Ministere_.

Verisschenzko had taken it for its situation and its isolation, and had converted it into a thing of great beauty of panelling and rare pictures and the most comfortable chairs. There was absolute silence, too, there among the tree tops.

Madame Boleski ascended leisurely the shallow stairs--there was no lift--and rang her three short rings, which Peter, the Russian servant, was accustomed to expect. The door was opened at once, and she was taken through the quaint square hall into the master's own sitting-room, a richly sombre place of oak boiserie and old crimson silk.

Verisschenzko was writing and just glanced up while he murmured Napoleon's famous order to Mademoiselle George--but Harietta Boleski pushed out her full underlip and sat down in a deep armchair.

"No--not this evening, I have only a moment. I have merely come, Stepan, you darling, to tell you that I have something interesting to say."

"Not possible!" and he carefully sealed down a letter he had been writing and put it ready to be posted. Then he came over and took some cigarettes from a Faberger enamel box and offered her one.

Harietta smoked most of the day but she refused now.

"You have come, not for pleasure, but to talk! Sapristi! I am duly amazed!"

Another woman would have been insulted at the tone and the insinuation in the words, but not so Harietta. She did not pretend to have a brain, that was one of her strong points, and she understood and appreciated the crudest methods, so long as their end was for the pleasure of herself.

She nodded, and that was all.

Verisschenzko threw himself into the opposite chair, his yellow-green eyes full of a mocking light.

"I have seen a brooch even finer than the ruby ring at Cartier's just now--I thought perhaps if I were very pleased with you, it might be yours."

Harietta bounded from her chair and sat upon his knee.

"You perfect angel, Stepan, I adore you!" she said. He did not return the caresses at all, but just ordered:

"Now talk."

She spoke rapidly, and he listened intently. He was weighing her words and searching into their truth. He decided that for some reason of her own she was not lying--and in any case it did not matter if she were not, because he had resources at his command which would enable him to test the information, and if it were true it would be worth the brooch.

"She has been wounded in some way, probably physically, since nothing less material would affect her. Physically and in her vanity--but who can have done it?" the Russian asked himself. "Who is her German correspondent? This I must discover--but since it is the first time she has knowingly given me information, it proves some revenge in her goat's brain. Now is the time to obtain the most."

He encircled her with his arm and kissed her with less contemptuous brutality than usual, and he told her that she was a lovely creature, and the desire of all men--while he appeared to attach little importance to the information she vouchsafed, asking no questions and re-lighting a cigarette. This forced her to be more explicit, and at last all that she meant to communicate was exposed.

"You imagine things, my child," he scoffed. "I would have to have proof--and then if it all should be as you say. Why, that brooch must be yours--for I know that it is out of real love for me that you talk, and I always pay lavishly for--love."

"Indeed, you know that I adore you, Stepan--and that brooch is just what I want. Stanisla.s.s has been n.i.g.g.ardly beyond words to me lately, and I am tired of all my other things."

"Bring me some proof to the reception to-night. I am not dining, but I shall be there by eleven for a few moments."

She agreed, and then rose to go--but she pouted again and the convex _obstine_ curve below her under lip seemed to obtrude itself.

"She has gone back to England--your precious bride--I suppose?"

"She has."

"We shall all meet there in a week or so--Stanisla.s.s is going to see some of his boring countrymen in London--the conference you know about--and we have taken a house in Grosvenor Square for some months. I do not know many people yet--will you see to it that I do?"

"I will see that you have as many of these handsome Englishmen as will completely keep your hands full."

She laughed delightedly.

"But it is women I want; the men I can always get for myself."

"Fear nothing, your reception will be great."

Then she flung herself into his arms and embraced him, and then moved towards the door.

"I will telephone to Cartier in the morning," and Verisschenzko opened the door for her, "if you bring me some interesting proof of your love for me--to-night."

And when she had gone he took up his letter again and looked at the address,

_To_ Lady Ardayre, _Ardayre Chase, North Somerset, Angleterre_.

"I must keep to the things of the spirit with you, precious lady. And when I cannot subdue it, there is Harietta for the flesh--wough! but she sickens me--even for that!"

CHAPTER VI