The Prisoner in the Mask Read online

  Such afternoon ‘at homes’ were a regular feature of social life and mainly attended by women, who often called at several of them on the same afternoon; but quite a number of men of leisure made a practice of going to those of hostesses whom they found attractive or amusing. Usually they were confined to conversaziones at which the latest scandals were discussed, but sometimes there was also music or diversions such as the presence of a professional fortune teller whom the visitors could consult gratis. Having a large garden Angela held hers out in it, whenever the weather was suitable, and, as she detested scandal, sought to amuse her guests with croquet, badminton and lawn tennis.

  Somewhat to de Quesnoy’s surprise, therefore, he was taken straight through the house and a conservatory at its back, but on emerging again into the sunlight he saw the reason. With laughter and excited little cries several young people were playing pat-ball on the two courts, and some older ones were standing about among the croquet hoops, while in front of an ornate two-storeyed garden pavilion at the far end of the lawn a number of small tables were set for tea.

  Near the tables about a dozen people were chatting and among them Angela; so de Quesnoy made his way towards her. As she was talking to a couple she did not notice his approach until he was quite near her, and it was only when they politely broke off the conversation so that she could greet the new arrival that she turned and recognised him.

  The blood mounted to her face and the automatic hostess’s smile she had given froze upon it. With an effort she held out her hand and, having kissed it, he murmured: ‘Please forgive me for taking you by surprise. Perhaps I should have sent a note asking permission to call; but as an old friend I thought——’

  ‘No … Yes … But of course,’ she stammered. ‘You left cards before, I think. You are at the Military College at St. Cyr, are you not?’

  As he made an appropriate reply he suddenly realised that although her lips were parted in a smile her brown eyes were regarding him with barely-concealed hostility. Having no idea of the effect that his attempt at seduction had had upon her, or of her belief that on leaving her room he had deliberately insulted her, he was so taken aback that, for once, he found himself at at loss for words. Recovering after a moment he made the banal remark:

  ‘It is unusual at an “at home” to find people engaged in sport.’

  ‘I am aware that it is considered eccentric,’ she replied defensively, ‘but I am excused that because I am English, and many people seem to enjoy such games. Do you play any of them?’

  ‘Well, no,’ he admitted. ‘I fear I was brought up only to indulge in pursuits of a more manly nature.’

  De Quesnoy spoke with no double entendre in mind but she took it that he had and, with an angry flash of her brown eyes, rapped out: ‘Then you will find little to interest you here!’

  ‘What are you saying, my dear? Surely I cannot have heard you rightly!’ It was Syveton who had just come up behind them and caught their last exchange of sentences. Shaking de Quesnoy eagerly by the hand he said how pleased he was to see him; then turned to his wife and went on:

  ‘You must not be surprised Angèle, if everyone does not care for these English pastimes. In fact I was amazed that so many of our friends should have taken to them so readily. But to imply that we are incapable of entertaining Monsieur le Count in any other way is really silly.’

  Angela blushed again and said quickly: ‘I did not mean anything of that kind. You misunderstood me.’

  ‘I felt sure that I must have,’ Syveton smiled, ‘although your French is now so greatly improved that you rarely any longer convey a meaning you do not intend.’ Turning again to de Quesnoy, he asked after his father and how he was finding life at St. Cyr, then requested him to name a day when it would suit him to come to lunch or dinner.

  The Count hesitated only a second. Angela, unseen by her husband, was still frowning at him, but he thought her more alluring than ever. The sunshine brought out the lights in her dark gold curls and upon them at a rakish angle was perched an absurd little straw boater. She was wearing a striped blouse with full sleeves and a high neck, the whalebone supports of which caused her to tilt her chin up provocatively. In the past nine months she had fined down, losing the last of her girlish puppy-fat, and was now an exceptionally beautiful young woman. Both attracted afresh and determined to find out the reason for her unexpected coldness towards him, he explained to Syveton that it was only possible for him to lunch or dine in Paris during week-ends, then he accepted an invitation to luncheon the coming Sunday.

  Soon afterwards the arrival of more callers put an end to the conversation. De Quesnoy spent an hour chatting to several guests with whom he had a slight acquaintance, and amusing himself by challenging Angela’s step-son, Henri Syveton to a competition in drinking Café Viennoise. Fond as the Count was of that form of refreshment, the fair-haired, fresh-faced youngster of twelve won easily. But de Quesnoy had established good relations with him, which he felt might prove useful in the future. He then took leave of his hostess, whose expression he now found inscrutable.

  Being much too shrewd to take any unnecessary risk of getting into trouble for having gone into Paris under false pretences, he presented himself at five o’clock at the apartment of a specialist with whom he had made an appointment. An entirely pointless interview ensued and the Count clocked into mess at St. Cyr that evening still greatly puzzled by Angela’s attitude towards him.

  The following Sunday brought him no enlightenment. There were a dozen people at the luncheon party and he managed to get Angela alone only for a few minutes when they were all strolling in the garden afterwards. On his taxing her with her changed manner she said that he must have imagined it; and when he asked her permission to attend her afternoon ‘at homes’ regularly, she granted it readily.

  For him to do so required further special measures, as he found it a bore to feign illness, and he would have had to continue to do so in order to keep up for any length of time the fiction that he required treatment for migraine. Fortunately, the greater part of Thursday afternoons was devoted to equine matters and as there was very little about horse management that de Quesnoy did not already know, he was able to put it to his instructors that he was really wasting his time, and could employ it to much better advantage if he were allowed to go into Paris every Thursday and spend his afternoons in the great military library at the Bibliothèque de l’Arsenal ferreting out the obscurer details of certain classical campaigns. A similar latitude was at times allowed to second-year students, and having already become a star pupil now stood him in good stead. Wishing to encourage his keenness his chief instructor backed his request and it was granted by the Commandant.

  From then on he read with considerable profit once a week at the Bibliothèque and on every other Thursday put in an hour or so at Angela’s ‘at home’. He soon found that Syveton usually looked in on these parties only between four and five o’clock, so by making a practice of arriving on the dot of three he generally succeeded in getting a short tête-à-tête with Angela before any other guests appeared. Her attitude was now quite friendly and he soon became fascinated again by her; so, although she gave him no encouragement, he persevered, and at their fourth meeting began once more to lay siege to her in earnest.

  She admitted that it was her husband’s treatment of her which made her regard physical love as revolting, that her women friends had assured her that a man one liked could make it delightful, and that she now realised that nearly every wife in her position took a lover, but added that she was still loath to risk disappointment and further unhappiness by so doing.

  Having got so far de Quesnoy felt convinced that to win her now called only for patience and persuasion; so he began to reinforce his pleadings at their brief talks with a series of letters in which amusing episodes of his life at St. Cyr were skilfully blended with passionate devotion. Her replies were at first stilted but gradually became warmer and in the first week of December she at last agreed to
give him the rendez-vous for which he had pleaded so long.

  7

  THE RENDEZ-VOUS

  Syveton was going to attend a rally of the Ligue de la Patrie Française that was to be held at Orleans on the coming Sunday, and was to stay for it over the week-end with friends in a nearby Château; so Angela was free to do what she liked on the Saturday evening.

  Diner à deux in a private room was the accepted formula for such stolen meetings, and de Quesnoy decided on the Ambassadeurs as the temple which should be the scene of his eagerly anticipated bliss. He chose it because it could be approached more discreetly than most other places of its kind and was at this time of year little frequented; for it was situated among the trees on the north side of the Champs Elysées, and although during the summer its kitchen served a large open-air restaurant, in winter only a small staff was retained to look after the couples who hired the eight or ten private rooms on its upper floor.

  To such maisons de rendez-vous it was customary for women of good social standing to come alone in a hired carriage and heavily veiled. They left in the same manner; so no one except the waiter ever saw their faces or saw them in the company of their lovers, and the waiters in such places made a handsome living from lavish tips to ensure their discretion.

  On the Thursday de Quesnoy explained all this to Angela and gave her the most detailed instructions, then he returned to St. Cyr to get through the next forty-eight hours with as much patience as he could muster.

  On the Friday evening, Syveton having already left for Orleans, Angela had the Marquise de Frontignac to dine with her. The Marquise was two years older than Angela and like her had fine brown eyes; but she was a brunette with a high-coloured complexion and alluring red lips. She had been married at seventeen to an elderly nobleman whose principal interest in life was gambling and he had soon made it clear that provided she conducted her affaires with discretion he would raise no objection to her having lovers. Being a passionate young creature by nature she had lost no time in accepting the hint, and, as she was extremely vivacious as well as good-looking, there was great competition for her favours.

  The two girls had met during the previous spring and mutual attraction had soon led to their becoming fast friends; but they had not seen one another for the past two months because the Marquise had been absent with her husband in Algeria, and had returned to Paris only during the preceding week. Naturally they had a hundred things to talk about, and Madeleine de Frontignac being a most amusing chatterbox her accounts of handsome sheiks and visits to harems kept them occupied all through dinner.

  It was not until they had retired afterwards to Angela’s boudoir that her guest asked: ‘And you, my pet? What have you been doing with yourself while I have been away? Tell me, I beg, that you are no longer living the stupid life of a nun, but have by now accepted my advice and taken a lover.’

  ‘Not yet,’ Angela replied with a smile. ‘But I have a rendezvous for tomorrow night.’

  Springing up, Madeleine ran to her and embraced her. ‘Darling! How wonderful! Is he charming? He must be! Oh, how I shall think of you having this first lovely experience.’

  Angela shook her head. ‘Don’t, my dear. You would be wasting your time. I am not going to it.’

  ‘Not going to it!’ repeated the Marquise aghast. ‘But why not? You should have given that horrid husband of yours a pair of horns months ago. And for you to waste these best years of your life is a sin against nature. Is it that you lack courage, chérie? Yes, that must be it. But if this man loves you your fears are groundless. I give you my word that you will find it so.’

  ‘Oh, he is mad enough about me,’ Angela shrugged. ‘But he does not love me in the true sense. All he really wants is to satisfy his male conceit that he can overcome the scruples of any woman if he tries hard enough. You see, nearly a year ago I was in love with him and he knows that. But I wouldn’t give way to him. It is only that which has made him return to the attack with such determination.’

  ‘How can you know that for certain?’ Madeleine argued. ‘You have no experience in such affairs to go on, my pet. For all you know he may have been desperately in love with you all this time.’

  ‘No. He has a horrid cynicism about such matters which I find quite revolting.’

  ‘Why, then, did you not show him plainly that his attentions were unwelcome before matters got so far?’

  ‘That was owing to Gabriel. When this beau of mine first called on me here in September I was deliberately rude to him. Gabriel overheard me and was furious. He promptly asked him to lunch; then later ordered me to make him welcome whenever he called and to do my utmost to cultivate his friendship.’

  ‘Oh delicious, delicious!’ Madeleine sat back, clapped her hands and burbled with laughter. ‘Although it is as old as the hills there is always something inexpressibly comic about the husband smoothing the path for the lover. Gabriel being such a climber, though, what you tell me makes it clear that your beau must be a man of consequence.’

  ‘Yes, he is a member of one of the best families.’

  ‘Providing he is sound in wind and limb so much the better. But why, oh why, my pet, if you have become disillusioned about him should you have allowed him to persuade you into giving him a rendez-vous?’

  Angela thrust out her square jaw a little as she replied: ‘Because instead of making allowances for my youth and innocence a year ago he went out of his way to humiliate me, and I swore to myself then that sooner or later I would get my own back on him.’

  Madeleine’s eyes widened. ‘I see that there is a story here. You know Angèle that you can trust me. Will you not tell me what took place between you, when you first knew this man?’

  ‘Why not,’ Angela agreed after a moment. ‘My greatest joy in having a friend like yourself is that we can safely confide our most secret thoughts to one another.’ Suppressing names and places she related all that had occurred during her visit to Jvanets the previous winter, ending up with de Quesnoy’s implication that she would have found a suitable amusement in playing with his mother’s doll’s house.

  Before her friend could comment she stood up, went to her bureau and took from it a square mahogany box about eight inches deep. Sliding back the lid, she displayed its contents. Gummed to its bottom, and arranged like a miniature stage setting, were the complete furnishings for a doll’s bedroom, and propped up in the bed sat a naked celluloid female doll with golden hair. A slip of paper was pinned to the counterpane. Upon it Angela had written, ‘Here is an addition to your mother’s doll’s house. I feel sure it will afford you more amusement than I could do.’

  Staring at her in amazement, Madeleine asked: ‘What … what do you intend to do with this?’

  ‘I mean to send it to him tomorrow night by my maid Lucille. Heavily veiled and dressed in my clothes and furs he will not realise that she is not me until she has handed him the package upstairs in the Ambassadeurs, where we are supposed to meet.’

  The Marquise de Frontignac pursed up her red lips and gave a vulgar little whistle; then she began to laugh. When she had recovered somewhat she said: ‘My pet, I would give anything to see his face when he realises how he has been fooled.’

  ‘So would I,’ Angela agreed with a hard little smile. ‘But unfortunately that is a pleasure I must deny myself.’

  ‘How about Lucille? Is this not rather much to require of one’s maid? He may become extremely angry and behave most unpleasantly towards her.’

  ‘I think that unlikely. In any case I shall reward her very generously for impersonating me; and I can hardly wait to hear from her how he takes it. If you are free tomorrow night why not come round here about nine o’clock and listen to the report she gives me on her return?’

  For a moment Madeleine was silent, then she said: ‘I would like to do that; and I can easily get out of the party to which I was going. But I have an even better idea. I am nearer to your height than Lucille and in your furs could impersonate you better. Why should
I not keep this rendez-vous. It would be enormous fun actually to witness the dénouement of your little plot, and afterwards I could give you a more graphic account of it than Lucille could ever manage.’

  ‘But …’ Angela hesitated. ‘But surely you would find it terribly embarrassing. I mean, to be alone with him in a room … and in that sort of place.’

  Madeleine laughed. ‘My sweet innocent, I have often been alone with men before, and there is nothing frightening about such rooms. They are generally furnished with taste—often in the Louis Seize style. The only thing unusual about them as dining-rooms is that they have an alcove at one end half hidden by drapes, and in it provision for one to lie down should, er … sleepiness, or some other feeling incline one to wish to do so after the meal.’

  ‘Really, Madeleine!’ Angela coloured slightly. ‘You are quite shameless! Still, I suppose it is all right if you are there with a man that you love. This would be quite different, though, for you have not even met him.’

  ‘It might prove still more amusing if I had. And I may have if he is persona grata in the Faubourg St. Germain.’

  ‘I doubt if you could have done so, as he is a student in St. Cyr and was unable to get into Paris much until this autumn.’

  ‘Perhaps, after all, that is just as well. I would back my modest talents as an amateur actress to fool most men that I was only a maid for ten minutes or so; but if he did know me and recognise me by my voice he would be in a situation to make things very awkward for me. In any case I would like to know a little more about him; and you must tell me his name, otherwise I won’t be able to ask for him when I arrive at the Ambassadeurs.’

  ‘Well, he is very handsome, but younger even than myself. In some ways, though, he is strangely mature and one would never think that he is still only a student. His name is Armand de Quesnoy.’