Chapter 18 - Page 2

on re-entering it,
found her standing by the mantelpiece, examining herself
in the mirror. It was not usual, in New York
society, for a lady to address her parlour-maid as "my
dear one," and send her out on an errand wrapped in
her own opera-cloak; and Archer, through all his deeper
feelings, tasted the pleasurable excitement of being in a
world where action followed on emotion with such
Olympian speed.

Madame Olenska did not move when he came up
behind her, and for a second their eyes met in the
mirror; then she turned, threw herself into her sofa-
corner, and sighed out: "There's time for a cigarette."

He handed her the box and lit a spill for her; and as
the flame flashed up into her face she glanced at him
with laughing eyes and said: "What do you think of me
in a temper?"

Archer paused a moment; then he answered with
sudden resolution: "It makes me understand what your
aunt has been saying about you."

"I knew she'd been talking about me. Well?"

"She said you were used to all kinds of things--
splendours and amusements and excitements--that we
could never hope to give you here."

Madame Olenska smiled faintly into the circle of
smoke about her lips.

"Medora is incorrigibly romantic. It has made up to
her for so many things!"

Archer hesitated again, and again took his risk. "Is your
aunt's romanticism always consistent with accuracy?"

"You mean: does she speak the truth?" Her niece
considered. "Well, I'll tell you: in almost everything she
says, there's something true and something untrue. But
why do you ask? What has she been telling you?"

He looked away into the fire, and then back at her
shining presence. His heart tightened with the thought
that this was their last evening by that fireside, and that
in a moment the carriage would come to carry her away.

"She says--she pretends that Count Olenski has asked
her to persuade you to go back to him."

Madame Olenska made no answer. She sat motionless,
holding her cigarette in her half-lifted hand. The
expression of her face had not changed; and Archer
remembered that he had before noticed her apparent
incapacity for surprise.

"You knew, then?" he broke out.

She was silent for so long that the ash dropped from
her cigarette. She brushed it to the floor. "She has
hinted about a letter: poor darling! Medora's hints--"

"Is it at your husband's request that she has arrived
here suddenly?"

Madame Olenska seemed to consider this question
also. "There again: one can't tell. She told me she had
had a 'spiritual summons,' whatever that is, from Dr.
Carver. I'm afraid she's going to marry Dr. Carver . . .