That luncheon at the Bristol was her regular public appearance. She
occasionally nodded to a slender, distinguished-looking, dark woman,
without her beauty but very chic. She was the friend of a Persian
prince who, in pre-war days had ruined himself for her, but was now
fast remaking a fortune in rugs. Extraordinary how many people there
were in Vienna who wanted to buy expensive rugs! People who had mostly
never seen a rug before,--suddenly Vienna was full of them. They came
easily to the surface of the dark, troubled waters of the Kaiserstadt,
like rats swimming strongly, surely against the current of disaster;
and they wanted quickly all the things that "the others" had always
had. These two women sometimes joined each other in the ante-chamber
and went out together. The dark woman had once been somebody's wife;
but Fanny had stood at no altar save the one she served. She would
take a couple of hours for her toilette for those luncheons, for
her seemingly simple toilette that no woman of the world with less
exclusive and wider demands upon her time could hope to rival. She
dressed sometimes for the weather, sometimes according to her mood,
sometimes in consonance with the national misfortunes. After the Treaty
of St. Germain she dressed for two months in black, fine, shining,
smooth, silky black, and then because of the Count she dressed again
in black after the signing of the Treaty of Trianon. Her face, in
those dark days and dark deeds, shone out of her sombre raiment like a
rift from black storm heavens. But after all in her blue gowns, blue
of every shade, from nearly green to nearly purple, lay her greatest
successes. That is why Kaethe and her children were almost entirely
robed in blue--and Maria's relatives too.
Fanny's own expenses, as will be guessed, were large. She had to spend
money,--a lot of it,--to make money, to keep steady her situation,
somewhat inverted, in the social body. Seven years of it and though she
was handsomer she was older. She had an extraordinary canniness for all
the sweet innocence of her blue eyes and pouting red lips.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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