Landi laughed. 'Bete comme ses pieds, ma chere!'

Returning to decent language and conventional tone, he went on with a story he was telling about an incident that had happened when he was staying with some royalties. His stories were short, new, amusing, and invariably suited to his audience. Anything about the Court he saw, at a glance, would genuinely interest Madame Frabelle. Edith was amused as she saw that lady becoming more and more convinced of Landi's importance, and of his respectful admiration.

Long before dinner was over there was no doubt that everyone was delighted with Madame Frabelle. She talked so well, suited herself to everyone, and simply charmed them all. Yet why? Edith was still wondering, but by the time she rose to go upstairs she thought she began to understand her friend's secret. People were not charmed with Eglantine because she herself was charming, but because she was charmed.

Madame Frabelle was really as much interested in everyone to whom she spoke as she appeared to be; the interest was not a.s.sumed. A few little pretences and affectations she might have, such as that of knowing a great deal about every subject under the sun--of having read everything, and been everywhere, but her interest in other people was real. That was what made people like her.

Young Coniston, shy, sensitive and reserved as he was, had nevertheless told her all about his training at Braintree, the boredom of getting up early, the dampness of the tents, and how much he wanted to be sent to the front. She admired his valour, was interested in his music, and at her persuasion he promised to sing her songs of Araby after dinner.

When the ladies were alone Eglantine's universal fascination was even more remarkable. Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l, at her desire, gave her the address of the little dressmaker who ran up Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l's blouses and skirts.

This was an honour for Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l; nothing pleased her so much as to be asked for the address of her dressmaker by a woman with a foreign name.

As to Miss Coniston, she was enraptured with Eglantine. Madame Frabelle arranged to go and see her little exhibition of tooled leather, and coaxed out of the shy girl various details about the celebrity, who at present had an ambulance in France. She adored reciting, and Miss Coniston, to gratify her, offered to recite a poem by Emile Cammaerts on the spot.

As to Mr. Mitch.e.l.l, Madame Frabelle drew him out with more care and caution. With the obstinacy of the mistaken she still saw in Mr.

Mitch.e.l.l's friendly looks at his hostess a pa.s.sion for Edith, and shook her grey head over the blindness of the poor dear wife.

Bruce hung on her words and was open-mouthed while she spoke, so impressed was he at her wonderful cleverness, and at her evident success with his friends.

Later on Landi, sitting in the ingle-nook with Edith, said, as he puffed a cigar:

'Tiens, ma chere Edith, tu ne vois pas quelque chose?'

'What?'

He always talked French, as a middle course between Italian and English, and Edith spoke her own language to him.

'Elle. La Mere Frabelle,' he laughed to himself. 'Elle est folle de ton mari!'

'Oh, really, Landi! That's your fancy!'

He mimicked her. 'Farncy! Farncy! Je me suis monte l'imagination, peut-etre! J'ai un rien de fievre, sans doute! C'est une idee que j'ai, comme ca. Eh bien! Non! Nous verrons. Je te dis qu'elle est amoureuse de Bruce.'

'He is very devoted to her, I know,' said Edith, 'and I daresay he's a little in love with her--in a way. But she--'

'C'est tout le contraire, chere. Lui, c'est moins; il est flatte. Il la trouve une femme intelligente,' he laughed. 'Mais elle! Tu est folle de ne pas voir ca, Edith. Enfin! Si ca l'amuse?'

With a laugh he got up, to loud applause, and went to the little white enamelled piano. There, with a long cigar in his mouth, he struck a few notes, and at once magnetised his audience. The mere touch of his fingers on the piano thrilled everyone present.

He sang a composition of his own, which even the piano-organ had never succeeded in making hackneyed, 'Adieu, Hiver,' and melodious as only Italian music can be. Blue beams flashed from his eyes; he seemed in a dream. Suddenly in the most impa.s.sioned part, which he was singing in a composer's voice, that is, hardly any voice, but with perfect art, he caught Madame Frabelle's eye, and gave her a solemn wink. She burst out laughing. He then went on singing with sentiment and grace.

All the women present imagined that he was making love to them, while each man felt that he, personally, was making love to his ideal woman.

Such was the effect of Landi's music. It made the most material, even the most unmusical, remember some little romance, some _tendresse_, some sentiment of the past; Landi seemed to get at the soft spot in everybody's heart. All the audience looked dreamy. Edith was thinking of Aylmer Ross. Where was he now? Would she ever see him again? Had she been wise to throw away her happiness like that? She tried to put the thought aside, but she observed, with a smile, that Madame Frabelle looked--and not when he was looking at her--a shade tenderly at Bruce.

Edith remembered what Landi had said: 'Si ca l'amuse?' She found an opportunity to tell him that Madame Frabelle believed in her own intuitions, and had got it into her head that she and Mr. Mitch.e.l.l were attached to one another.

'Naturellement. Elle veut s'excuser; la pauvre.'

'But she really believes it.'

'Elle voit double, alors!' exclaimed Landi.

CHAPTER VI

Edith and Madame Frabelle had long talks next day over the little dinner-party, and the people of their intimate circle whom she had met.

She was delighted with Landi, though a little frightened of him, as most people were when they first knew him, unless he really liked them immensely.

She impressed on Edith to beware of Mr. Mitch.e.l.l.

Bruce, for once, had really been satisfied with his own entertainment, and declared to Edith that Madame Frabelle had made it go off splendidly.

Edith was growing to like her more and more. In a house where Bruce lived it was certainly a wonderful help to have a third person often present--if it was the right person. The absurd irritations and scenes of fault-finding that she had become inured to, but which were always trying, were now shorter, milder, or given up altogether. Bruce's temper was perennially good, and got better. Then the constant illnesses that he used to suffer from--he was unable to pa.s.s the military examination and go to the front on account of a neurotic heart--these illnesses were either omitted entirely or talked over with Madame Frabelle, whose advice turned out more successful than that of a dozen specialists.

'An extraordinary woman she is, you know, Edith,' he said. 'You know that really peculiar feeling I sometimes have?'

'Which, dear?'

'You know that sort of emptiness in the feet, and heaviness in the head, and that curious kind of twitching of the eyelids that I get?'

'Yes, I know. Well, dear?'

'Well, Madame Frabelle has given me a complete cure for it. It seems her husband (by the way, what a brute he must have been, and what a life that poor woman led! However, never mind that now) had something very much of the same kind, only not quite so bad.'

'Which, dear?'

'How do you mean "Which"? Which what?'

'Which peculiar feeling?'

'What peculiar feeling are we talking about?'

'I said, which peculiar feeling did Mr. Frabelle have?'

'What are you trying to get at, Edith?' He looked at her suspiciously.

Edith sighed.

'Was it the heaviness in the feet, or the lightness in the head, or was it the twitching of the eyelid which Mr. Frabelle used to suffer from?'

'Oh, ah! Yes, I see what you mean. It seemed he had a little of them all. But what do you think she used to do?'

'I haven't the slightest idea.'

'There's some stuff called Tisane--have you ever heard of it?' Bruce asked. 'It's a simple remedy, but a very good thing. Well, he used to use that.'

'Did he bathe his eye with it?'