"My husband is my lover---my lover is my husband."
He laughed, as he said:
"It sounds very pretty, but you must admit that it is rather ba.n.a.l."
"In what way?"
He flecked the ash from his cigar.
"You are too pretty, too charming a woman to be commonplace. Really it spoils you----"
Ignoring his compliments, she persisted.
"Do you mean I am commonplace because I call Kenneth my lover. What other lover should I or any other woman happily married have? I am faithful to him--he is loyal to me."
He gave a little mocking laugh, and was silent. How she hated him for that laugh! After a pause he said quietly and suggestively:
"I am sure you are faithful to him----"
For a moment she looked at him without speaking, eager to resent the implied imputation on her husband, yet unwilling to give the slanderer the satisfaction of seeing that his thrust had carried home.
Concealing as best she could her growing irritation, she said calmly:
"Don"t you suppose _he_ also is faithful to me?"
Again that horrible, cynical smile. Fixing her with his piercing dark eyes, and, in a manner, the significance of which could not escape her, he said:
"Don"t seek to know too much, Madam. To paraphrase a famous saying: "It"s a wise woman who knows her own husband.""
Coloring with anger, she said:
"You mean----"
"Just what I say--that a woman, a wife cannot possibly be sure of her husband"s fidelity. Think how different are the conditions. The wife, no matter if her temperament be warm or cold, is always at home, surrounded by prying eyes, rarely beset by temptation. The husband is often away, he goes on business journeys that free him temporarily from the chains which keep him in good behavior. If he is good looking, the women look at him, flirt with him. It is inevitable. The chances are that he succ.u.mbs to the first adventure--no matter how exemplary a husband he may be at home. If he is a man--of unusual character, he pa.s.ses through the fire unscathed; if he is--just a man, he is attracted to the candle like the proverbial moth and sometimes singes his wings----"
She looked at him keenly for a moment as if trying to read on his sphinx-like face if he knew more about Kenneth than he admitted, and then with forced calmness she said:
"In your opinion, Signor Keralio--is my husband a man--of unusual character, or is he--just a man?"
The Italian shrugged his shoulders as he replied deprecatingly:
"My dear madam, just stop and think a moment. Isn"t that a rather indiscreet question to put to a man--a man who is a friend of your husband----"
Hotly she turned on him.
"If you are his friend, why do you vilify and slander him behind his back?"
Keralio lifted up his long slender hands in pious protest.
"I vilify--my best friend---- Oh, my dear Mrs. Traynor--you have quite misunderstood me. I am a foreigner. Perhaps it is that I express myself ill."
She shook her head skeptically. Firmly she said:
"No, Signor Keralio--you express yourself quite plainly. Now, I"ll be equally frank with you. I confess there is one thing I do not understand. I have never understood it. I do not understand why my husband, a man so honorable, so straightforward in his dealings, a man so free from intrigue or reckless adventures, so regular, methodical and temperate in his habits, a man so entirely apart from the reckless, immoral kind of life you hint at, should have made a friend of _you_----"
The Italian raised his eyebrows, but there was only an amused smile on his bloodless lips as he said with a mock bow:
"Thank you, madam. You are very flattering."
"No--I mean it. I don"t want to seem unkind, but your temperament and my husband"s are as wide apart as the poles."
He opened wide his eyes as he asked,
"In what particular, _s"il vous plait_?"
"Kenneth is frank, outspoken. He is not the type of man who takes rash risks. He is very conservative, scrupulously honest. He has fine ideals. While you----"
He laughed loudly.
"I? I am secretive, cunning, reckless, materialistic--is that it, madam?"
"I did not say so, but since you draw your portrait so well----"
He bit his lip. This girl with the flaxen hair and large l.u.s.trous eyes was more than a match for him in a battle of wits. He was making no headway at all. It was time to play his trump card. Softly he said:
"You said your husband was judicious, conservative----"
"So he is."
"That is a matter of opinion. Some might think otherwise. Of course, it is difficult for a woman when she is blinded by love----"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that your husband is far from being the conservative, afraid-to-take-risks type of man you picture him. You women think you know your husbands. You know only such part of them as they themselves care to reveal. Perhaps if you knew to what extent your husband was involved in Wall Street, it would surprise you! Oh, everything is perfectly regular, of course. As treasurer of the Americo-African Mining Company, he has at his disposal large sums of money. He is also trustee of several large and valuable estates. All of this money he is supposed to invest--conservatively. He certainly invests it. Whether conservatively or not, I leave others to judge."
"Do you mean that he is using other people"s money in Wall Street?"
"I mean, my dear lady, that he has the get-rich-quick fever. He has a rage for stock gambling--he is already heavily involved. I have often warned him to go slower, to be more prudent, but he won"t heed my counsel. You know, he is very headstrong--your husband. As long as everything goes well he is all right. If anything goes wrong, he might find himself in an unpleasant predicament. Hasn"t he spoken to you of these matters? Why should he worry you? It is as I told you.
Husbands don"t tell their wives everything--G.o.d forbid!"
Helen raised her hand. There was the ring of scorn in her voice as she exclaimed:
"Don"t blaspheme, Signor Keralio. It sounds incongruous to hear the name of the Almighty on the lips of a man of your opinions and tastes.
You think you live, but you don"t. You go through life, seeking only to gratify your appet.i.tes, attracted only by material sensual pleasures. You ignore the best part of life--the pursuit of an ideal, a n.o.ble ambition, unselfishness, self-sacrifice. Really, Signor, I pity you--with all my heart."
He made no answer, but sat in silence watching her. Presently he said:
"Mrs. Traynor--do you know that you are an extraordinary woman?"
"In what way?" she demanded, elevating her eyebrows in surprise.