"To her it was more. You are surely not still in doubt as to that?"

"She has been pursued before, you mean?"

"In many different ways."

"Consequently she imagined----?"

"Of course. You saw that she did."

He did not reply.

"But now tell me, my dear Frans--was it not more than a game to you, too? Was it not all-decisive?"

He bowed his head, ashamed. Then he walked across the room and came back.

"She is a queen. She will not be captured. I should have stopped----?"

"You should never have gone after her. And she would have been yours now."

Frans seated himself again as if a heavy weight were pressing on his shoulders.

"Did she say anything?" asked Alice with a searching look.

He would have preferred not to tell, but the question was repeated.

"She said that I was no gentleman."

Alice declared this to be too bad. Frans then asked if Mary had said anything to her in the carriage.

"Not a word. But I spoke. I abused you--well."

"She has not referred to the matter since?"

Alice shook her head. "Your name is erased from her dictionary, my friend."

Some days after this Frans received by tube-post a hurried note which informed him that at eleven that morning the two ladies would again be at the exhibition in the Champs Elysees. It was eleven when the note came.

Mary had called to ask Alice to go with her to look at a Dutch coast landscape which her father wished to buy. They considered the price rather high; possibly Alice would be able to make better terms. Mary's carriage was waiting at the door. Alice left her, wrote hastily to Frans Roy, and then went to dress, which to-day, contrary to custom, took her a long time. They drove to the exhibition, found the picture, and went to the office, where they had to wait. After making their offer and giving the address, they returned to the ground-floor of the exhibition in search of the acrobat. He stood there now in all his manly strength.

Alice reached him first, and exclaimed "Why! it is----," then stopped short and walked away from Mary. She examined the statue from every side, over and over again, without saying a word. Precisely that which distinguished Frans Roy--that his strength did not announce itself in distended muscle, but in the elasticity of a beautifully formed, lithe body--was to be observed here. Frans Roy's toss of the head, his broad forehead aslant in the air, his hand, his short, strong foot--everything was here! The statue affected the beholder like a war-song. For the first time Alice found the word for the effect which Frans produced. She was carried away by the statue as by the rhythm of a march. Exactly what she had often felt when she saw Frans walk! Was this likeness a curious accident, or had he really ... she turned quite hot and had to walk away from the statue and look at something else.

Mary had all the time kept behind Alice, who had quite forgotten her.

The question now involuntarily occurred to Alice: Does Mary understand what she sees?

She waited a little before she began to observe. Mary, who was now standing in front of the statue, with her back towards Alice, remained so long motionless that the latter's curiosity increased. She went round and stationed herself among the statues opposite, put on her eye-gla.s.s, and looked across. Mary's eyes were half closed; her bosom was heaving. She walked slowly round the statue, then retired to a distance, came back, and stood still again midway between front and side.

Then she looked round for Alice and caught sight of the eye-gla.s.ses turned in her direction; Alice was actually holding them on, to see clearer. There could be no mistake--her face was one mischievous smile.

There are things which one woman objects to another understanding.

Mary's blood surged; angry and hurt, she took Alice's look as an insult.

She turned her back quickly on the acrobat and walked towards the door.

But she stopped once or twice, pretending to look at other pieces of sculpture, really to obtain mastery over the uproar in her breast. At last she reached the door. She did not look round to see if Alice were following; she pa.s.sed through the entrance hall and left the building.

But just as she did so, Frans Roy hurried up--as quickly as if he had been sent for and were arriving too late. He tore off his hat without getting even a nod in answer. He saw nothing but a pair of vacant eyes.

"Oh, please don't be angry any longer!" he said with his broadest east-country accent, good-humouredly and boyishly. Mary's face cleared; she could not help herself; she smiled, and was actually going to take his outstretched hand--when she saw his eyes travel with the speed of lightning to a point behind her and come back with the least little particle of triumph in them. She turned her head and met Alice's eyes.

In them there was any amount both of mischief and rejoicing. There had been a plot then! Mary was transformed. As if from the highest church steeple she looked down upon them both--and left them. Her carriage was waiting a short way off; she motioned, and it came in a wide sweep to where she stood. There was no footman; she opened the door before Frans Roy could come to her a.s.sistance, and got in as if no one were there.

When seated she looked--past Frans--to see if Alice were coming. Fat Alice was waddling slowly along. It was plain, even from a distance, that a wild struggle with suppressed laughter was going on within her.

And when she arrived and saw Mary sitting in state looking to the one side, and Frans Roy, the giant, standing on the other like a frightened recruit, she could resist no longer; she gave way to a fit of laughter which shook her heavy body from head to foot. She laughed until the tears rolled down her cheeks, laughed so that it was with difficulty and not without a.s.sistance she found the carriage-step and hauled herself up. She sank on the seat beside Mary, convulsed with laughter; the carriage shook, as she sat with her handkerchief to her face, suppressing screams. She caught a glimpse of Mary's scarlet anger and Frans Roy's pale dismay--and laughed the louder. The very coachman was obliged to laugh too, though what the devil it was about he did not know. And thus they drove off.

Another unsuccessful expedition, another defeat of the highest hopes! It was a long time before Alice could say anything. Then she began by pitying Frans Roy.

"You are too severe with him, Mary. Goodness! how miserable he looked!"

And the laughter began again.

But Mary, who had been sitting waiting for an opportunity, now broke out:

"What have I to do with your protege?"

And as if this were not enough, she bent forward to face Alice's laughing eyes:

"You are confusing me with yourself. It is you who are in love with him. Do you imagine that I have not seen that for ever so long? You know best yourselves in what relation you stand to each other. That is no affair of mine. But the 'De'[B] which you both keep up--is it for the purpose of concealment?"

[B] _You_ as distinguished from the familiar _thou_.

Alice's laughter ceased. She turned pale, so pale that Mary was alarmed.

Mary tried to withdraw her eyes, but could not; Alice's held them fast through painful changes until they lost all expression. Then Alice's head sank back, whilst a long, heavy sigh resembling the groan of a wounded animal escaped her.

Mary sat motionless, aghast at her own speech.

But it was irrevocable.

Alice suddenly raised her head again and told the coachman to stop. "I have a call to make at this house." The carriage stopped; she opened the door, stepped out, and shut it after her.

With a long look at Mary, she said:

"Good-bye!"

"Good-bye!" was answered in a low tone.

Both felt that it was for ever.

Mary drove on. As soon as she reached home, she went straight to the private drawing-room; she had something to say to her father. Before she opened the door, she heard piano-playing, and understood that Jorgen Thiis was there. But this did not stop her. With her hat and spring cloak still on, she unexpectedly appeared in the room. Jorgen Thiis jumped up from the piano and came towards her, his eyes filling with admiration; her face was all aglow from the tumult within. But something proud and repellent in its sparkle caused him to give up his intention of closer approach.

Then his eyes a.s.sumed the gloating, greedy expression which Mary so detested. With a slight bow she pa.s.sed him and went up to her father, who was sitting as usual in the big chair with a book upon his knee.

"Father, what do you say to our going home now?"