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  CHAPTER XIV

  THE OTHER WOMAN

  The world is the book of women.--_Rousseau_.

  I needed not to be advised that presently there would be a meeting ofsome of the leading men of the Hudson Bay Company at the little graystone, dormer-windowed building on Notre Dame Street. In this oldbuilding--in whose vaults at one time of emergency was stored the entirecurrency of the Canadian treasury--there still remained some governmentrecords, and now under the steep-pitched roof affairs were to betransacted somewhat larger than the dimensions of the building mighthave suggested. The keeper of my inn freely made me a list of those whowould be present--a list embracing so many scores of prominent men whomhe then swore to be in the city of Montreal that, had the old ChateauRamezay afforded twice its room, they could not all have beenaccommodated. For myself, it was out of the question to gain admittance.

  In those days all Montreal was iron-shuttered after nightfall,resembling a series of jails; and to-night it seemed doubly screened andguarded. None the less, late in the evening, I allowed seeming accidentto lead me in a certain direction. Passing as often as I might up anddown Notre Dame Street without attracting attention, I saw more than onefigure in the semi-darkness enter the low chateau door. Occasionally atiny gleam showed at the edge of a shutter or at the top of some littlewindow not fully screened. As to what went on within I could only guess.

  I passed the chateau, up and down, at different times from nine o'clockuntil midnight. The streets of Montreal at that time made brave pretenseof lighting by virtue of the new gas works; at certain intervalsflickering and wholly incompetent lights serving to make the gloom morevisible. None the less, as I passed for the last time, I plainly saw ashaft of light fall upon the half darkness from a little side door.There emerged upon the street the figure of a woman. I do not know whatled me to cast a second glance, for certainly my business was not withladies, any more than I would have supposed ladies had business there;but, victim of some impulse of curiosity, I walked a step or two in thesame direction as that taken by the cloaked figure.

  Careless as I endeavored to make my movements, the veiled lady seemed totake suspicion or fright. She quickened her steps. Accident favored me.Even as she fled, she caught her skirt on some object which lay hiddenin the shadows and fell almost at full length. This I conceived to beopportunity warranting my approach. I raised my hat and assured her thather flight was needless.

  She made no direct reply to me, but as she rose gave utterance to anexpression of annoyance. "_Mon Dieu!_" I heard her say.

  I stood for a moment trying to recall where I had heard this same voice!She turned her face in such a way that the light illuminated it. Thenindeed surprise smote me.

  "Madam Baroness," said I, laughing, "it is wholly impossible for you tobe here, yet you are here! Never again will I say there is no such thingas chance, no such thing as fate, no such thing as a miracle!"

  She looked at me one brief moment; then her courage returned.

  "Ah, then, my idiot," she said, "since it is to be our fortune always tomeet of dark nights and in impossible ways, give me your arm."

  I laughed. "We may as well make treaty. If you run again, I shall onlyfollow you."

  "Then I am again your prisoner?"

  "Madam, I again am yours!"

  "At least, you improve!" said she. "Then come."

  "Shall I not call a _caleche?_--the night is dark."

  "No, no!" hurriedly.

  We began a midnight course that took us quite across the old Frenchquarter of Montreal. At last she turned into a small, dark street ofmodest one-story residences, iron-shuttered, dark and cheerless. Hereshe paused in front of a narrow iron gate.

  "Madam," I said, "you represent to me one of the problems of my life.Why does your taste run to such quarters as these? This might be thatsame back street in Washington!"

  She chuckled to herself, at length laughed aloud. "But wait! If youentered my abode once," she said, "why not again? Come."

  Her hand was at the heavy knocker as she spoke. In a moment the doorslowly opened, just as it had done that night before in Washington. Mycompanion passed before me swiftly. As she entered I saw standing at theopening the same brown and wrinkled old dame who had served that nightbefore in Washington!

  For an instant the light dazzled my eyes, but, determined now to seethis adventure through, I stepped within. Then, indeed, I found itdifficult to stifle the exclamation of surprise which came to my lips.Believe it or not, as you like, we _were_ again in Washington!

  I say that I was confronted by the identical arrangement, the identicalobjects of furnishing, which had marked the luxurious boudoir of Helenavon Ritz in Washington! The tables were the same, the chairs, themirrors, the consoles. On the mantel stood the same girandoles withglittering crystals. The pictures upon the walls, so far as I couldremember their themes, did not deviate in any particular of detail orarrangement. The oval-backed chairs were duplicates of those I had seenthat other night at midnight. Beyond these same amber satin curtainsstood the tall bed with its canopy, as I could see; and here at theright was the same low Napoleon bed with its rolled ends. The figures ofthe carpets were the same, their deep-piled richness, soft under foot,the same. The flowered cups of the sconces were identical with those Ihad seen before. To my eye, even as it grew more studious, thereappeared no divergence, no difference, between these apartments andthose I had so singularly visited--and yet under circumstances sostrangely akin to these--in the capital of my own country!

  "You are good enough to admire my modest place," said a laughing voiceat my shoulder. Then indeed I waked and looked about me, and saw thatthis, stranger than any mirage of the brain, was but a fact and mustlater be explained by the laborious processes of the feeble reason.

  I turned to her then, pulling myself together as best I could. Yes, shetoo was the same, although in this case costumed somewhat differently.The wide ball gown of satin was gone, and in its place was a lesspretentious robing of some darker silk. I remembered distinctly that theflowers upon the white satin gown I first had seen were pink roses. Herewere flowers of the crocus, cunningly woven into the web of the gownitself. The slippers which I now saw peeping out as she passed were notof white satin, but better foot covering for the street. She cast overthe back of a chair, as she had done that other evening, her lightshoulder covering, a dark mantle, not of lace now, but of some thincloth. Her jewels were gone, and the splendor of her dark hair was freeof decoration. No pale blue fires shone at her white throat, and herhands were ringless. But the light, firm poise of her figure could notbe changed; the mockery of her glance remained the same, half laughingand half wistful. The strong curve of her lips remained, and I recalledthis arch of brow, the curve of neck and chin, the droop of the darklocks above her even forehead. Yes, it was she. It could be no one else.

  She clapped her hands and laughed like a child as she turned to me."Bravo!" she said. "My judgment, then, was quite correct."

  "In regard to what?"

  "Yourself!"

  "Pardon me?"

  "You do not show curiosity! You do not ask me questions! Good! I thinkI shall ask you to wait. I say to you frankly that I am alone here. Itpleases me to live--as pleases me! You are alone in Montreal. Why shouldwe not please ourselves?"

  In some way which I did not pause to analyze, I felt perfectly sure thatthis strange woman could, if she cared to do so, tell me some of thethings I ought to know. She might be here on some errand identical withmy own. Calhoun had sent for her once before. Whose agent was she now? Ifound chairs for us both.

  An instant later, summoned in what way I do not know, the oldserving-woman again reappeared. "Wine, Threlka," said the baroness;"service for two--you may use this little table. Monsieur," she added,turning to me, "I am most happy to make even some slight return for thevery gracious entertainment offered me that morning by Mr. Calhoun athis residence. Such a droll man! Oh, la! la!"

  "Are you his friend, Madam?" I asked bluntly.
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br />   "Why should I not be?"

  I could frame neither offensive nor defensive art with her. She mockedme.

  In a few moments the weazened old woman was back with cold fowl, wine,napery, silver.

  "Will Monsieur carve?" At her nod the old woman filled my glass, aftermy hostess had tasted of her own. We had seated ourselves at the tableas she spoke.

  "Not so bad for a black midnight, eh?" she went on, "--in a strangetown--and on a strange errand? And again let me express my approbationof your conduct."

  "If it pleases you, 'tis more than I can say of it for myself," I began."But why?"

  "Because you ask no questions. You take things as they come. I did notexpect you would come to Montreal."

  "Then you know--but of course, I told you."

  "Have you then no question?" she went on at last. Her glass stood halffull; her wrists rested gently on the table edge, as she leaned back,looking at me with that on her face which he had needed to be wiser thanmyself, who could have read.

  "May I, then?"

  "Yes, now you may go on."

  "I thank you. First, of course, for what reason do you carry the secretsof my government into the stronghold of another government? Are you thefriend of America, or are you a spy upon America? Are you my friend, orare we to be enemies to-night?"

  She flung back her head and laughed delightedly. "That is a goodbeginning," she commented.

  "You must, at a guess, have come up by way of the lakes, and by batteaufrom La Prairie?" I ventured.

  She nodded again. "Of course. I have been here six days."

  "Indeed?--you have badly beaten me in our little race."

  She flashed on me a sudden glance. "Why do you not ask me outright _why_I am here?"

  "Well, then, I do! I do ask you that. I ask you how you got access tothat meeting to-night--for I doubt not you were there?"

  She gazed at me deliberately again, parting her red lips, again smilingat me. "What would you have given to have been there yourself?"

  "All the treasures those vaults ever held."

  "So much? What will you give me, then, to tell you what I know?"

  "More than all that treasure, Madam. A place--"

  "Ah! a 'place in the heart of a people!' I prefer a locality morerestricted."

  "In my own heart, then; yes, of course!"

  She helped herself daintily to a portion of the white meat of the fowl."Yes," she went on, as though speaking to herself, "on the whole, Irather like him. Yet what a fool! Ah, such a droll idiot!"

  "How so, Madam?" I expostulated. "I thought I was doing very well."

  "Yet you can not guess how to persuade me?"

  "No; how could that be?"

  "Always one gains by offering some equivalent, value forvalue--especially with women, Monsieur."

  She went on as though to herself. "Come, now, I fancy him! He ishandsome, he is discreet, he has courage, he is not usual, he is notcurious; but ah, _mon Dieu_, what a fool!"

  "Admit me to be a fool, Madam, since it is true; but tell me in my follywhat equivalent I can offer one who has everything in the world--wealth,taste, culture, education, wit, learning, beauty?"

  "Go on! Excellent!"

  "Who has everything as against my nothing! _What_ value, Madam?"

  "Why, gentle idiot, to get an answer ask a question, always."

  "I have asked it."

  "But you can not guess that _I_ might ask one? So, then, one answer foranother, we might do--what you Americans call some business--eh? Willyou answer _my_ question?"

  "Ask it, then."

  "_Were you married_--that other night?"

  So, then, she was woman after all, and curious! Her sudden speech camelike a stab; but fortunately my dull nerves had not had time to changemy face before a thought flashed into my mind. Could I not makemerchandise of my sorrow? I pulled myself into control and looked herfair in the face.

  "Madam," I said, "look at my face and read your own answer."

  She looked, searching me, while every nerve of me tingled; but at lastshe shook her head. "No," she sighed. "I can not yet say." She did notsee the sweat starting on my forehead.

  I raised my kerchief over my head. "A truce, then, Madam! Let us leavethe one question against the other for a time."

  "Excellent! I shall get my answer first, in that case, and for nothing."

  "How so?"

  "I shall only watch you. As we are here now, I were a fool, worse thanyou, if I could not tell whether or not you are married. None the less,I commend you, I admire you, because you do not tell me. If you are_not_, you are disappointed. If you _are_, you are eager!"

  "I am in any case delighted that I can interest Madam."

  "Ah, but you do! I have not been interested, for so long! Ah, the greatheavens, how fat was Mr. Pakenham, how thin was Mr. Calhoun! Butyou--come, Monsieur, the night is long. Tell me of yourself. I havenever before known a savage."

  "Value for value only, Madam! Will you tell me in turn of yourself?"

  "All?" She looked at me curiously.

  "Only so much as Madam wishes."

  I saw her dark eyes study me once more. At last she spoke again. "Atleast," she said, "it would be rather vulgar if I did not explain someof the things which become your right to know when I ask you to comeinto this home, as into my other home in Washington."

  "In Heaven's name, how many of these homes have you, then? Are they allalike?"

  "Five only, now," she replied, in the most matter-of-fact manner in theworld, "and, of course, all quite alike."

  "Where else?"

  "In Paris, in Vienna, in London," she answered. "You see this one, yousee them all. 'Tis far cooler in Montreal than in Washington in thesummer time. Do you not approve?"

  "The arrangement could not be surpassed."

  "Thank you. So I have thought. The mere charm of difference does notappeal to me. Certain things my judgment approves. They serve, theysuffice. This little scheme it has pleased me to reproduce in some ofthe capitals of the world. It is at least as well chosen as the taste ofthe Prince of Orleans, son of Louis Philippe, could advise."

  This with no change of expression. I drew a long breath.

  She went on as though I had spoken. "My friend," she said, "do notdespise me too early. There is abundant time. Before you judge, let thetestimony be heard. I love men who can keep their own tongues and theirown hands to themselves."

  "I am not your judge, Madam, but it will be long before I shall think aharsh thought of you. Tell me what a woman may. Do not tell me what asecret agent may _not_. I ask no promises and make none. You are verybeautiful. You have wealth. I call you `Madam.' You are married?"

  "I was married at fifteen."

  "At fifteen! And your husband died?"

  "He disappeared."

  "Your own country was Austria?"

  "Call me anything but Austrian! I left my country because I saw thereonly oppression and lack of hope. No, I am Hungarian."

  "That I could have guessed. They say the most beautiful women of theworld come from that country."

  "Thank you. Is that all?"

  "I should guess then perhaps you went to Paris?"

  "Of course," she said, "of course! of course! In time reasons existedwhy I should not return to my home. I had some little fortune, somesingular experiences, some ambitions of my own. What I did, I did. Atleast, I saw the best and worst of Europe."

  She raised a hand as though to brush something from before her face."Allow me to give you wine. Well, then, Monsieur knows that when I leftParis I felt that part of my studies were complete. I had seen a littlemore of government, a little more of humanity, a little more of life, alittle more of men. It was not men but mankind that I studied most. Ihad seen much of injustice and hopelessness and despair. These made thefate of mankind--in that world."

  "I have heard vaguely of some such things, Madam," I said. "I know thatin Europe they have still the fight which we sought to settle when weleft that country for this on
e."

  She nodded. "So then, at last," she went on, "still young, havinglearned something and having now those means of carrying on my studieswhich I required, I came to this last of the countries, America, where,if anywhere, hope for mankind remains. Washington has impressed me morethan any capital of the world."

  "How long have you been in Washington?" I asked.

  "Now you begin to question--now you show at last curiosity! Well, then,I shall answer. For more than one year, perhaps more than two, perhapsmore than three!"

  "Impossible!" I shook my head. "A woman like you could not beconcealed--not if she owned a hundred hidden places such as this."

  "Oh, I was known," she said. "You have heard of me, you knew of me?"

  I still shook my head. "No," said I, "I have been far in the West forseveral years, and have come to Washington but rarely. Bear me out, Ihad not been there my third day before I found you!"

  We sat silent for some moments, fixedly regarding each other. I havesaid that a more beautiful face than hers I had never seen. There satupon it now many things--youth, eagerness, ambition, a certain defiance;but, above all, a pleading pathos! I could not find it in my heart,eager as I was, to question her further. Apparently she valued thisreticence.

  "You condemn me?" she asked at length. "Because I live alone, becausequiet rumor wags a tongue, you will judge me by your own creed and notby mine?"

  I hesitated before I answered, and deliberated. "Madam, I have alreadytold you that I would not. I say once more that I accredit you withliving up to your own creed, whatever that may have been."

  She drew a long breath in turn. "Monsieur, you have done yourself no illturn in that."

  "It was rumored in diplomatic circles, of course, that you were in touchwith the ministry of England," I ventured. "I myself saw that much."

  "Naturally. Of Mexico also! At least, as you saw in our little carriagerace, Mexico was desirous enough to establish some sort of communicationwith my humble self!"

  "Calhoun was right!" I exclaimed. "He was entirely right, Madam, ininsisting that I should bring you to him that morning, whether or notyou wished to go."

  "Whim fits with whim sometimes. `Twas his whim to see me, mine to go."

  "I wonder what the Queen of Sheba would have said had Solomon met herthus!"

  She chuckled at the memory. "You see, when you left me at Mr. Calhoun'sdoor in care of the Grand Vizier James, I wondered somewhat at thisstrange country of America. The _entresol_ was dim and the Grand Vizierwas slow with candles. I half fell into the room on the right. There wasMr. Calhoun bolt upright in his chair, both hands spread out on thearms. As you promised, he wore a red nightcap and long gown of wool. Hewas asleep, and ah! how weary he seemed. Never have I seen a face so sadas his, asleep. He was gray and thin, his hair was gray and thin, hiseyes were sunken, the veins were corded at his temples, his hands weretransparent. He was, as you promised me, old. Yet when I saw him I didnot smile. He heard me stir as I would have withdrawn, and when he aroseto his feet he was wide-awake. Monsieur, he is a great man; because,even so clad he made no more apology than you do, showed no morecuriosity; and he welcomed me quite as a gentleman unashamed--as a king,if you please."

  "How did he receive you, Madam?" I asked. "I never knew."

  "Why, took my hand in both his, and bowed as though I indeed were queen,he a king."

  "Then you got on well?"

  "Truly; for he was wiser than his agent, Monsieur. He found answers byasking questions."

  "Ah, you were kinder to him than to me?"

  "Naturally."

  "For instance, he asked--"

  "What had been my ball gown that night--who was there--how I enjoyedmyself! In a moment we were talking as though we had been friends foryears. The Grand Vizier brought in two mugs of cider, in each a toastedapple. Monsieur, I have not seen diplomacy such as this. Naturally, Iwas helpless."

  "Did he perhaps ask how you were induced to come at so impossible atime? My own vanity, naturally, leads me to ask so much as that."

  "No, Mr. Calhoun confined himself to the essentials! Even had he askedme I could not have replied, because I do not know, save that it was tome a whim. But at least we talked, over our cider and toasted apples."

  "You told him somewhat of yourself?"

  "He did not allow me to do that, Monsieur."

  "But he told you somewhat of this country?"

  "Ah, yes, yes! So then I saw what held him up in his work, what kept himalive. I saw something I have not often seen--a purpose, a principle, ina public man. His love for his own land touched even me, how or why Iscarcely know. Yes, we spoke of the poor, the oppressed, of the wearyand the heavy laden."

  "Did he ask you what you knew of Mexico and England?"

  "Rather what I knew of the poor in Europe. I told him some things I knewof that hopeless land, that priest-ridden, king-ridden country--my ownland. Then he went on to tell me of America and its hope of a freedemocracy of the people. Believe me, I listened to Mr. Calhoun. Nevermind what we said of Mr. Van Zandt and Sir Richard Pakenham. At least,as you know, I paid off a little score with Sir Richard that nextmorning. What was strangest to me was the fact that I forgot Mr.Calhoun's attire, forgot the strangeness of my errand thither. It was asthough only our minds talked, one with the other. I was sorry when atlast came the Grand Vizier James to take Mr. Calhoun's order for his owncarriage, that brought me home--my second and more peaceful arrivalthere that night. The last I saw of Mr. Calhoun was with the GrandVizier James putting a cloak about him and leading him by force from hisstudy to his bed, as I presume. As for me, I slept no more that night.Monsieur, I admit that I saw the purpose of a great man. Yes; and of agreat country."

  "Then I did not fail as messenger, after all! You told Mr. Calhoun whathe desired to know?"

  "In part at least. But come now, was I not bound in some sort of honorto my great and good friend, Sir Richard? Was it not treachery enough torebuke him for his attentions to the Dona Lucrezia?"

  "But you promised to tell Mr. Calhoun more at a later time?"

  "On certain conditions I did," she assented.

  "I do not know that I may ask those?"

  "You would be surprised if I told you the truth? What I required of Mr.Calhoun was permission and aid still further to study his extraordinarycountry, its extraordinary ways, its extraordinary ignorance of itself.I have told you that I needed to travel, to study, to observemankind--and those governments invented or tolerated by mankind."

  "Since then, Madam," I concluded, stepping to assist her with her chair,as she signified her completion of our repast, "since you do not feelnow inclined to be specific, I feel that I ought to make my adieux, forthe time at least. It grows late. I shall remember this little eveningall my life. I own my defeat. I do not know why you are here, or forwhom."

  "At what hotel do you stop?"

  "The little place of Jacques Bertillon, a square or so beyond the Placed'Armes."

  "In that case," said she, "believe me, it would be more discreet for youto remain unseen in Montreal. No matter which flag is mine, I may saythat much for a friend and comrade in the service."

  "But what else?"

  She looked about her. "Be my guest to-night!" she said suddenly. "Thereis danger--"

  "For me?" I laughed. "At my hotel? On the streets?"

  "No, for me."

  "Where?"

  "Here."

  "And of what, Madam?"

  "Of a man; for the first time I am afraid, in spite of all."

  I looked at her straight. "Are you not afraid of _me?_" I asked.

  She looked at me fairly, her color coming. "With the fear which draws awoman to a man," she said.

  "Whereas, mine is the fear which causes a man to flee from himself!"

  "But you will remain for my protection? I should feel safer. Besides, inthat case I should know the answer."

  "How do you mean?"

  "I should know whether or not you were married!"