the fortunes of oliver horn-第72章

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ch　songs　at　the　pleasure　of　the　room。　During　these　rests　Oliver　turned　the　picture　to　the　wall。　He　did　not　wish　her　to　see　it　until　it　was　finished。　He　was　trying　some　brush　tricks　that　Madge　loved；　some　that　she　had　learned　in　Couture's　atelier；　and　whose　full　effect　could　only　be　recognized　in　the　finished　work。

When　the　last　touches　of　Oliver's　brush　had　been　laid　on　the　canvas；　and　the　modest　signature；　O。　H。；　as　was　the　custom；　had　been　affixed　to　its　lower　left…　hand　corner；　he　made　a　low　salaam　to　the　model　and　whirled　the　easel　in　front　of　her。

The　cry　of　delight　that　escaped　her　lips　was　not　only　an　expression　of　her　pleasure；　but　it　convinced　every　man　in　the　club　that　the　Countess's　technical　knowledge　of　what　constituted　a　work　of　art　equalled　her　many　other　accomplishments。　She　sat　looking　at　it　with　thoughtful；　grave　face；　and　her　whole　manner　changed。　She　was　no　longer　the　woman　who　had　so　charmed　the　room。　She　was　the　connoisseur；　the　expert；　　the　jury　of　last　resort。　Oliver　watched　her　with　absorbing　interest　as　he　sat　wiping　his　forehead　with　his　handkerchief。

〃Monsieur　Horn；〃　she　said；　slowly；　as　if　weighing　each　word；　〃if　you　come　to　my　country　they　will　cover　you　all　over　with　medals。　I　had　no　idea　anyone　　in　this　new　land　could　paint　as　you　do。　You　are　a　master。　Permit　me；　Monsieur；　to　make　you　my　obeisance〃　and　she　dipped　back　on　one　foot　and　swept　the　floor　with　her　skirts。

Oliver　laughed；　returned　the　bow　with　a　mock　flourish；　and　began　rolling　down　his　shirt…cuffs；　a　thrill　quivering　through　himthat　thrill　only　felt　by　a　painter　when　he　is　conscious　that　some　work　of　his　brush　has　reached　the　high…water　mark　of　his　abilities。　　For　only　the　artist　in　him　had　been　at　work。　What　stirred　him　was　not　the　personality　of　the　Countessnot　her　charm　nor　beauty　but　the　harmony　　of　the　colors　playing　about　her　figure：　the　reflected　lights　in　the　blue…black　of　her　hair；　the　soft　tones　of　the　velvet　lost　in　the　shadows　of　the　floor；　and　melting　into　the　walls　behind　her；　the　high　lights　on　the　bare　shoulder　and　arms　divided　by　the　severe　band　of　black；　the　subdued　grays　in　the　fall　of　lace　uniting　the　flesh　tones　and　the　bodice；　and；　more　than　all；　the　ringing　note　of　red　sung　by　the　japonica　tucked　in　her　hair　and　which　found　its　only　echo　in　the　red　of　her　lipsred　as　a　slashed　pomegranate　with　the　white　seed…teeth　showing　through。　The　other　side　of　her　beautiful　selfthe　side　that　lay　hidden　under　her　soft　lashes　and　velvet　touch；　the　side　that　could　blaze　and　scorch　and　burn　to　cindersthat　side　Oliver　had　never　once　seen　nor　thought　of。

This　may　have　been　because；　while　his　fingers　worked　on；　his　thoughts　were　somewhere　else；　and　that　he　saw　another　face　as　he　mixed　his　colors；　and　not　that　of　the　siren　before　him。　Or　it　may　have　been　that；　as　he　looked　into　the　eyes　of　the　Countess；　he　saw　too　deeply　into　the　whirlpool　of　passion　and　pain　which　made　up　the　undercurrent　in　this　beautiful　woman's　strange　life。

Not　so　the　others。　Many　of　whom　were　the　most　serious…minded　of　men　where　women　were　concerned。　Crugwho；　to　quote　Waller；　had　drifted　into　a　state　of　mind　bordering　on　lunacywas　so　completely　taken　off　his　feet　that　he　again　led　her　ladyship　by　her　finger…tips　to　the　piano；　and；　with　his　hand　on　his　heart；　and　his　eyes　upraised；　begged　her　to　sing　for　him　some　of　the　songs　of　her　native　land　and　in　the　tongue　of　her　own　people；　the　Countess　complying　　so　graciously　and　singing　with　such　consummate　　taste　and　skill；　throwing　her　soul　into　every　line；　that　the　men　soon　broke　out　in　rounds　of　applause；　crowding　about　her　with　the　eagerness　of　bees　around　a　hiveall　except　Waller　and　Oliver；　who　sat　apart；　quietly　watching　her　out　of　the　corners　　of　their　eyes。

The　portrait　was　forgotten　now；　so　were　the　sketches　and　tiles；　and　the　work　of　the　evening。　So　was　everything　else　but　the　woman　who　dominated　the　room。　She　kept　her　seat　on　the　piano…stool；　the　centre　of　the　group；　as　a　queen　of　the　ballet　sits　on　a　painted　throne；　flashing　her　eyes　from　one　to　the　other；　wheeling　about　to　dash　off　an　air　from　some　unknown　operaunknown　to　those　who　listened　laying　her　lighted　cigarette　on　the　music…rack　as　she　played；　and　whirling　back　again　to　tell　some　anecdote　of　the　composer　who　wrote　it；　or　some　incident　connected　　with　its　production　in　Vienna　or　Warsaw　or　St。　Petersburgthe　club　echoing　her　every　whim。

It　is　not　to　be　wondered　at；　therefore；　that　the　staid　and　sober…minded　Stone　Mugs；　under　these　conditions；　　completely　lost　their　heads；　and　that　when　Oliver　　picked　up　an　empty　beer…mug；　the　symbol　of　the　club　used　in　all　ceremonies；　and　began　filling　it　with　the　names　of　the　members　which　he　had　written　on　slips　of　paper；　preparatory　to　the　drawing　of　the　lottery　　for　the　picture　which　he　had　just　finishedevery　meeting…night　a　lottery　was　drawn；　the　lucky　winner　possessing　the　picture　of　the　eveningCrug　and　Munson　should　have　simultaneously　sprung　to　their　feet；　and；　waving　their　hands　over　their　heads；　have　proposed；　in　one　and　the　same　breath；　that　〃Our　　distinguished　visitor〃　should　have　the　privilege　of　　adding　her　own　name　to　those　in　Oliver's　mugthe　　picture　to　be　her　own　individual　property　should　her　patronymic　be　the　first　to　be　drawn　from　its　open　mouth。

Waller　started　to　his　feet　to　object；　and　the　words　of　protest　were　half　out　of　his　mouth　when　Oliver　stopped　him。　A　woman　was　always　a　woman　to　Oliver；　　no　matter　what　her　past　or　present　station　in　life　might　be。　It　was　her　sex　that　kept　him　loyal　when　any　discourtesy　was　involved。

〃Keep　still；　old　man；〃　he　whispered。　〃They've　gone　crazy；　but　we　can't　help　it。　Get　on　your　feet　and　vote。〃

When　the　sound　of　the　〃ayes〃　adopting　Crug　and　Munson's　motion　had　died　away；　Oliver　inscribed　her　initials　upon　a　small　piece　of　paper；　dropped　it　in　the　mug；　held　it　high　above　the　lady's　head；　and　asked　her　to　reach　up　her　dainty　fingers　and　pick　out　the　name　of　the　lucky　possessor　of　〃The　Woman　in　Black；〃　as　the　picture　had　now　been　christened。　The　white　arm　went　up；　the　jewelled　fingers　felt　about　nervously　among　the　little　ballots；　and　then　the　Countess　held　up　a　twisted　bit　of　paper。

A　burst　of　applause　filled　the　room。　The　scrap　of　paper　bore　the　initials　of　the　Countess！　〃The　Woman　in　Black〃　was　her　property。

But　the　most　extraordinary　part　by　far　of　the　evening's　performance　was　still　to　come。

When　the　hour　of　midnight　had　arrivedthe　hour　of　dispersal；　a　rule　rarely　brokenthe　Countess　called　to　Bianchi　and　directed　him　to　go　out　into　the　hall　and　bring　in　her　long　black　stockings　and　stout　shoes；　which　she　had　taken　off　outside　Fred's　door；　and　which　she　had　left　hanging　on　a　nail。

I　can　see　her　nowfor　I；　too；　was　leaning　over　the　same　table；　Oliver　beside　me；　watching　this　most　extraordinary　woman　of　another　world；　a　woman　who　had　been　the　idol　of　almost　every　capital　in　Europe；　and　whom　I　knew　（although　Oliver　did　not）　had　been　quietly　conducted　out　of　some　of　them　between　dark　and　daylightI　can　see　her　now；　I　say；　sitting　on　the　piano…stool；　facing　the　group；　the　long；　black　silk　stockings　that　Bianchi　had　brought　her　in　her　hands。　I　remember　just　the　way　in　which；　after　loosening　her　dainty；　red…heeled　slippers；　she　swept　aside　her　skirts；　unfastened　her　garters；　and；　with　the　same　　unconsciousness　and　ease　with　which　she　would　have　slipped　a　pair　of　rubbers　over　a　pair　of　shoes；　drew　the　long　black　stockings　over　her　flesh…colored　ones；　refastening　the　garters　again；　talking　all　the　time；　first　to　one　and　then　the　other；　pausing　only　to　　accentuate　some　sentence　with　a　wave　of　her　shoe　or　　stocking　or　cigarette；　as　the　action　suited　the　words。

That　the　group　about　her　was　composed　solely　of　men　made　not　the　slightest　difference。　She　was　only　trying　to　save　those　precious；　flesh…colored　silk　stockings　that　concealed　her　white　skin　from　the　slush　and　snow　of　the　streets。　As　to　turning　her　back　to　her　hosts　during　this　little　change　of　toiletthat　was　the　last　thing　that　entered　her　head。　She　would　as　soon　have　stepped　into　a　closet　to　put　on　her　gloves。

And　then　again；　why　should　she　be　ashamed　of　her　ankles　and　her　well…turned　instep　and　dainty　toes；　as　compact　in　their　silk　covering　as　peas　in　a　pod！　She　might　ha