To Celia the sound of the jargon learnt from her own lips, used by
herself so thoughtlessly in past times, was odious. "For the last
time," she pleaded to herself. All her life was going to change;
though no word had yet been spoken by Harry Wethermill, she was
sure of it. Just for this one last time, then, so that she might
leave Mme. Dauvray the colours of her belief, she would hold a
seance at the Villa Rose.
Mme. Dauvray told the news to Helene Vauquier when they reached
the villa.
"You will be present, Helene," she cried excitedly. "It will be
Tuesday. There will be the three of us."
"Certainly, if madame wishes," said Helene submissively. She
looked round the room. "Mlle. Celie can be placed on a chair in
that recess and the curtains drawn, whilst we--madame and madame's
friend and I--can sit round this table under the side windows."
"Yes," said Celia, "that will do very well."
It was Madame Dauvray's habit when she was particularly pleased
with Celia to dismiss her maid quickly, and to send her to brush
the girl's hair at night; and in a little while on this night
Helene went to Celia's room. While she brushed Celia's hair she
told her that Servettaz's parents lived at Chambery, and that he
would like to see them.
"But the poor man is afraid to ask for a day," she said. "He has
been so short a time with madame."
"Of course madame will give him a holiday if he asks," replied
Celia with a smile. "I will speak to her myself to-morrow."
"It would be kind of mademoiselle," said Helene Vauquier. "But
perhaps--" She stopped.
"Well," said Celia.
"Perhaps mademoiselle would do better still to speak to Servattaz
himself and encourage him to ask with his own lips. Madame has her
moods, is it not so? She does not always like it to be forgotten
that she is the mistress."
On the next day accordingly Celia did speak to Servettaz, and
Servettaz asked for his holiday.
"But of course," Mme. Dauvray at once replied. "We must decide
upon a day."
It was then that Helene Vauquier ventured humbly upon a
suggestion.
"Since madame has a friend coming here on Tuesday, perhaps that
would be the best day for him to go. Madame would not be likely to
take a long drive that afternoon."
"No, indeed," replied Mme. Dauvray. "We shall all three dine
together early in Aix and return here."
"Then I will tell him he may go to-morrow," said Celia.
For this conversation took place on the Monday, and in the evening
Mme. Dauvray and Celia went as usual to the Villa des Fleurs and
dined there.
"I was in a bad mind," said Celia, when asked by the Juge
d'Instruction to explain that attack of nerves in the garden which
Ricardo had witnessed. "I hated more and more the thought of the
seance which was to take place on the morrow. I felt that I was
disloyal to Harry. My nerves were all tingling. I was not nice
that night at all," she added quaintly. "But at dinner I
determined that if I met Harry after dinner, as I was sure to do,
I would tell him the whole truth about myself. However, when I did
meet him I was frightened. I knew how stern he could suddenly
look. I dreaded what he would think. I was too afraid that I
should lose him. No, I could not speak; I had not the courage.
That made me still more angry with myself, and so I--I quarrelled
at once with Harry. He was surprised; but it was natural, wasn't
it? What else should one do under such circumstances. except
quarrel with the man one loved? Yes, I really quarrelled with him,
and said things which I thought and hoped would hurt. Then I ran
away from him lest I should break down and cry. I went to the
tables and lost at once all the money I had except one note of
five louis. But that did not console me. And I ran out into the
garden, very unhappy. There I behaved like a child, and Mr.
Ricardo saw me. But it was not the little money I had lost which
troubled me; no, it was the thought of what a coward I was.
Afterwards Harry and I made it up, and I thought, like the little
fool I was, that he wanted to ask me to marry him. But I would not
let him that night. Oh! I wanted him to ask me--I was longing for
him to ask me--but not that night. Somehow I felt that the seance
and the tricks must be all over and done with before I could
listen or answer."