The Price She Paid [38]
in the Rue de Rivoli startled her. She started up, glanced at the clock on the chimneypiece. It was ten minutes past nine! When, by all the rules governing the action of the nerves, she ought to have passed a wakeful night she had overslept more than an hour. Indeed, she had had the first sound and prolonged sleep that had come to her since the honeymoon began; for until then she had slept alone all her life and the new order had almost given her chronic insomnia. She rang for her maid and began to dress. The maid did not come. She rang again and again; apparently the bell was broken. She finished dressing and went out into the huge, grandly and gaudily furnished salon. Harding was at a carved old-gold and lacquer desk, writing. As she entered he rose and bowed.
``Won't you please call one of the servants?'' said she. ``I want my coffee. I guess the bell in my room is broken. My maid doesn't answer.''
``No, the bell is not broken,'' said Harding.
She looked at him questioningly.
``The general has issued an order that nothing is to be done in this apartment, and nothing served, unless he personally authorizes it.''
Mildred paled, drew herself up in what seemed a gesture of haughtiness but was an effort to muster her strength. To save herself from the humiliation of a breakdown before him, she hastily retreated by the way she had come. After perhaps a quarter of an hour she reappeared in the salon; she was now dressed for the street. Harding looked up from his writing, rose and bowed gravely. Said she:
``I am going out for a walk. I'll be back in an hour or so.''
``One moment,'' said Harding, halting her as she was opening the door into the public hall. ``The general has issued an order that if you go out, you are not to be allowed to return.''
Her hand fell from the knob. With flashing eyes she cried, ``But that is impossible!''
``It is his orders,'' said Harding, in his usual quiet manner. ``And as he pays the bills he will be obeyed.''
She debated. Against her will, her trembling hand sought the knob again. Against her will, her weak arm began to draw the door open. Harding came toward her, stood before her and looked directly into her eyes. His eyes had dread and entreaty in them, but his voice was as always when he said:
``You know him, Mrs. Siddall.''
``Yes,'' she said.
``The reason he has got ALL he wanted--whatever he wanted--is that he will go to any length. Every other human being, almost, has a limit, beyond which they will not go--a physical fear or a moral fear or a fear of public opinion. But the general--he has no limit.''
``Yes,'' she said. And deathly pale and almost stag- gering she drew open the door and went out into the public hall.
``For God's sake, Mrs. Siddall!'' cried Harding, in great agitation. ``Come in quickly. They are watching-- they will tell him! Are you mad?''
``I think I must be,'' said she. ``I am sick with fear. I can hardly keep from dropping down here in a faint. Yet--'' a strange look, a mingling of abject terror and passionate defiance, gave her an aspect quite insane --``I am going. Perhaps I, too, have no limit.''
And she went along the corridor, past a group of gaping and frightened servants, down the stairway and out by the private entrance for the grand apartments of the hotel in the Rue Raymond de l'Isle. She crossed the Rue de Rivoli and entered the Tuileries Gardens. It was only bracingly cool in the sunshine of that winter day. She seated herself on a chair on the terrace to regain her ebbed strength. Hardly had she sat down when the woman collector came and stood waiting for the two sous for the chair. Mildred opened her bag, found two coins. She gave the coppers to the woman. The other--all the money she had--was the fifty-centime piece.
``But the bag--I can get a good deal for that,'' she said aloud.
``I beg your pardon--I didn't catch that.''
She came back to a sense of her surroundings. Stanley Baird was standing a few feet away, smiling down at her. He was, if possible, even
``Won't you please call one of the servants?'' said she. ``I want my coffee. I guess the bell in my room is broken. My maid doesn't answer.''
``No, the bell is not broken,'' said Harding.
She looked at him questioningly.
``The general has issued an order that nothing is to be done in this apartment, and nothing served, unless he personally authorizes it.''
Mildred paled, drew herself up in what seemed a gesture of haughtiness but was an effort to muster her strength. To save herself from the humiliation of a breakdown before him, she hastily retreated by the way she had come. After perhaps a quarter of an hour she reappeared in the salon; she was now dressed for the street. Harding looked up from his writing, rose and bowed gravely. Said she:
``I am going out for a walk. I'll be back in an hour or so.''
``One moment,'' said Harding, halting her as she was opening the door into the public hall. ``The general has issued an order that if you go out, you are not to be allowed to return.''
Her hand fell from the knob. With flashing eyes she cried, ``But that is impossible!''
``It is his orders,'' said Harding, in his usual quiet manner. ``And as he pays the bills he will be obeyed.''
She debated. Against her will, her trembling hand sought the knob again. Against her will, her weak arm began to draw the door open. Harding came toward her, stood before her and looked directly into her eyes. His eyes had dread and entreaty in them, but his voice was as always when he said:
``You know him, Mrs. Siddall.''
``Yes,'' she said.
``The reason he has got ALL he wanted--whatever he wanted--is that he will go to any length. Every other human being, almost, has a limit, beyond which they will not go--a physical fear or a moral fear or a fear of public opinion. But the general--he has no limit.''
``Yes,'' she said. And deathly pale and almost stag- gering she drew open the door and went out into the public hall.
``For God's sake, Mrs. Siddall!'' cried Harding, in great agitation. ``Come in quickly. They are watching-- they will tell him! Are you mad?''
``I think I must be,'' said she. ``I am sick with fear. I can hardly keep from dropping down here in a faint. Yet--'' a strange look, a mingling of abject terror and passionate defiance, gave her an aspect quite insane --``I am going. Perhaps I, too, have no limit.''
And she went along the corridor, past a group of gaping and frightened servants, down the stairway and out by the private entrance for the grand apartments of the hotel in the Rue Raymond de l'Isle. She crossed the Rue de Rivoli and entered the Tuileries Gardens. It was only bracingly cool in the sunshine of that winter day. She seated herself on a chair on the terrace to regain her ebbed strength. Hardly had she sat down when the woman collector came and stood waiting for the two sous for the chair. Mildred opened her bag, found two coins. She gave the coppers to the woman. The other--all the money she had--was the fifty-centime piece.
``But the bag--I can get a good deal for that,'' she said aloud.
``I beg your pardon--I didn't catch that.''
She came back to a sense of her surroundings. Stanley Baird was standing a few feet away, smiling down at her. He was, if possible, even