The Princess PassesWilliamson, C. N. (Charles Norris)
General
The Princess Passes
Williamson, C. N. (Charles Norris)
Automobiles -- Fiction
The Boy had three or four inches more of height than the Contessa, and
looked almost tall beside her, though I had thought of him as small.
Her round, dimpled face seemed no older than his oval brown one, in
this moment of his gravity, and the haughty air of a young prince
which he wore now, consciously or unconsciously, had a certain
provoking charm for a spoiled beauty used to conquest. The big blue
stars which lit his face expressed a resolve not to yield to any
blandishment, and this no doubt piqued Gaetà, before whom all the boys
and youths at Davos had gone down like grass before the scythe. Helen
Blantock came after she had left the place, otherwise she might have
had to fight for her rights as queen; but as it was, she had been
without rivals and probably had known few dangerous ones elsewhere.
Never had I seen her take as much real pains to be charming to a grown
man, as she took with this silent boy, during the few moments that her
friends spent in wrestling with the landlord. What lamps she lit in
the windows of her eyes, suddenly raising their curtains on dazzling
glances! What rosy flags she hung out in his honour, on dimpled
cheeks; what rich display of pearls and coral her cupid-mouth gave
him! but all in vain, so far as any change in his cold young face
showed. I had seen it warm for a gleam of light on the wing of a
swooping bird, or an effect of cloud-shadow on a mountain, as it would
not warm for this galaxy of bewitchments, and his quiet civility was
but a sharper pin-prick, I should fancy, to a woman's vanity.
The little scene was not long in playing, however. Soon the Baronessa
swept to her friend's side, and bore her away, like a large steam-tug
making off against wind and tide with a dainty sailing yacht.
Ignoring the subject of the lady; Boy began questioning me about the
business of the bag, thanking me again more cordially for what I had
done, when I had answered.
"I must have a bath and change now," said I at last. "At what time
shall we dine?"
"We? You will be dining with your new friend."
"She's an old friend, if one counts by time of acquaintance, and
charming, as you've seen; still, we're rather tired perhaps, and not
up to dinner pitch. I'm not sure but we'd get on better alone
together, you and I."
"I've taken a private sitting-room, and I'm going to dine there."
"Will you have me with you?"
"If you like."
"It will be a good opportunity to get your advice."
The Boy did not answer; but when we sat at table, and had talked for a
while of indifferent things, he said abruptly: "What were you going to
ask me?"
"Your advice as to whether it would be well to fall in love with the
little Contessa."
"Has she money?"
"Hang it all, do you think I'm the kind of man to want a woman for her
money?"
"I've known you about six days."
"Don't hedge. Can't six days tell you as much as six years--such six
days as we've had?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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