already she seemed to be
standing aside as an onlooker where she
had expected herself to be
taking a leading part.
"Does this sort of thing
appeal to you?" she asked the young
Russian, nodding towards the gay scrimmage of
masqueraders and
rather prepared to hear an amused negative."
"But yes, of course," he answered; "
costume balls, fancy fairs,
cafe chantant, casino, anything that is not real life
appeals to us
Russians. Real life with us is the sort of thing that Maxim Gorki
deals in. It interests us
immensely, but we like to get away from
it sometimes."
Madame Kelnicort came up with another
prospectivepartner, and
Elaine delivered her ukase: one more dance and then back to the
hotel. Without any special regret she made her
retreat from the
revel which Courtenay was enjoying under the
impression that it was
life and the young Russian under the firm
conviction that it was
not.
Elaine breakfasted at her aunts' table the next morning at much her
usual hour. Courtenay was
sleeping the sleep of a happy tired
animal. He had given instructions to be called at eleven o'clock,
from which time
onward the NEUE FREIE PRESSE, the ZEIT, and his
toilet would occupy his attention till he appeared at the luncheon
table. There were not many people breakfasting when Elaine arrived
on the scene, but the room seemed to be fuller than it really was
by reason of a penetrating voice that was engaged in recounting how
far the standard of Viennese breakfast fare fell below the
expectations and desires of little Jerome and the girls.
"If ever little Jerome becomes President of the United States,"
said Elaine, "I shall be able to
contribute quite an informing
article on his gastronomic likes and dislikes to the papers."
The aunts were
discreetly
inquisitive as to the
previous evening's
entertainment.
"If Elaine would flirt
mildly with somebody it would be such a good
thing," said Mrs. Goldbrook; "it would
remind Courtenay that he's
not the only
attractive young man in the world."
Elaine, however, did not
gratify their hopes; she referred to the
ball with the
detachment she would have shown in describing a
drawing-room show of
cottage industries. It was not difficult to
discern in her
description of the affair the
confession that she
had been
slightly bored. From Courtenay, later in the day, the
aunts received a much livelier
impression of the festivities, from
which it was abundantly clear that he at any rate had managed to
amuse himself. Neither did it appear that his good opinion of his
own attractions had suffered any serious shock. He was distinctly
in a very good temper.
"The secret of enjoying a
honeymoon," said Mrs. Goldbrook
afterwards to her sister, "is not to attempt too much."
"You mean - ?"
"Courtenay is content to try and keep one person amused and happy,
and he
thoroughly succeeds."
"I certainly don't think Elaine is going to be very happy," said
her sister, "but at least Courtenay saved her from making the
greatest mistake she could have made - marrying that young
Bassington."
"He has also," said Mrs. Goldbrook, "helped her to make the next
biggest mistake of her life - marrying Courtenay Youghal.
CHAPTER XVI
IT was late afternoon by the banks of a
swiftly rushing river, a
river that gave back a haze of heat from its waters as though it
were some
stagnant steaming
lagoon, and yet seemed to be whirling
onward with the
determination of a living thing, perpetually eager
and remorseless, leaping
savagely at any
obstacle that attempted to
stay its course; an unfriendly river, to whose waters you committed
yourself at your peril. Under the hot
breathless shade of the
trees on its shore arose that acrid all-pervading smell that seems
to hang everywhere about the tropics, a smell as of some monstrous
musty still-room where herbs and spices have been crushed and