If he had expected to find her
languishing,
reproachful, or indulging
in
sentimental tears, he must have been greatly surprised.
He was no doubt prepared for any
emergency, ready for any one
of the
foregoing attitudes, just as he bent himself easily and
naturally to the situation which confronted him.
"Please come down," he insisted,
holding the
ladder and
looking up at her.
"No," she answered; "Ellen is afraid to mount the
ladder. Joe
is
working over at the `
pigeon house'--that's the name Ellen gives
it, because it's so small and looks like a
pigeon house--and some
one has to do this."
Arobin pulled off his coat, and expressed himself ready and
willing to tempt fate in her place. Ellen brought him one of her
dust-caps, and went into contortions of mirth, which she found
it impossible to control, when she saw him put it on before
the mirror as grotesquely as he could. Edna herself could not
refrain from smiling when she fastened it at his request. So it
was he who in turn mounted the
ladder, unhooking pictures and
curtains, and dislodging ornaments as Edna directed. When he had
finished he took off his dust-cap and went out to wash his hands.
Edna was sitting on the tabouret, idly brushing the tips of a
feather duster along the
carpet when he came in again.
"Is there anything more you will let me do?" he asked.
"That is all," she answered. "Ellen can manage the rest." She
kept the young woman occupied in the
drawing-room,
unwilling to be
left alone with Arobin.
"What about the dinner?" he asked; "the grand event, the coup d'etat?"
"It will be day after to-morrow. Why do you call it the `coup d'etat?'
Oh! it will be very fine; all my best of everything--crystal, silver and gold,
Sevres, flowers, music, and
champagne to swim in. I'll let Leonce pay
the bills. I wonder what he'll say when he sees the bills.
"And you ask me why I call it a coup d'etat?" Arobin had
put on his coat, and he stood before her and asked if his cravat
was plumb. She told him it was, looking no higher than the tip of
his collar.
"When do you go to the `
pigeon house?'--with all due
acknowledgment to Ellen."
"Day after to-morrow, after the dinner. I shall sleep there."
"Ellen, will you very kindly get me a glass of water?" asked
Arobin. "The dust in the curtains, if you will
pardon me for
hinting such a thing, has parched my
throat to a crisp."
"While Ellen gets the water," said Edna, rising, "I will say
good-by and let you go. I must get rid of this grime, and I have
a million things to do and think of."
"When shall I see you?" asked Arobin, seeking to
detain her,
the maid having left the room.
"At the dinner, of course. You are invited."
"Not before?--not to-night or to-morrow morning or tomorrow
noon or night? or the day after morning or noon? Can't you see
yourself, without my telling you, what an
eternity it is?"
He had followed her into the hall and to the foot of the
stairway, looking up at her as she mounted with her face half
turned to him.
"Not an
instant sooner," she said. But she laughed and looked
at him with eyes that at once gave him courage to wait and made it
torture to wait.
XXX
Though Edna had
spoken of the dinner as a very grand affair,
it was in truth a very small affair and very select, in so much as
the guests invited were few and were selected with discrimination.
She had counted upon an even dozen seating themselves at her round
mahogany board, forgetting for the moment that Madame Ratignolle
was to the last degree souffrante and unpresentable, and not
foreseeing that Madame Lebrun would send a thousand regrets at the
last moment. So there were only ten, after all, which made a cozy,
comfortable number.
There were Mr. and Mrs. Merriman, a pretty, vivacious little
woman in the thirties; her husband, a jovial fellow, something of
a shallow-pate, who laughed a good deal at other people's
witticisms, and had
thereby made himself
extremely popular. Mrs.
Highcamp had accompanied them. Of course, there was Alcee Arobin;
and Mademoiselle Reisz had consented to come. Edna had sent her a
fresh bunch of violets with black lace trimmings for her hair.
Monsieur Ratignolle brought himself and his wife's excuses.
Victor Lebrun, who happened to be in the city, bent upon relaxation,
had accepted with alacrity. There was a Miss Mayblunt, no longer