Meanwhile Stanislas de Güldenfeldt was there, haunting her presence like a shadow, and Pearl did not disguise from herself that she found a great security and peace, a certain happiness, in the proximity of one who made it his pleasure and his duty to anticipate her slightest wish, to sympathise with her every thought and feeling. Stanislas from the first moment of Pearl's convalescence had shown himself as gentle and as tender as a woman. With peculiar tact, without the slightest shade of fussiness, he was always on the spot, shielding her from every physical pain, from every mental worry. For the first time in her life Pearl appreciated the delight of being thoroughly spoiled and petted. What wonder if she learned to consider Stanislas as her own special property, and most certainly necessary to her comfort and well-being?
Amy would stand aloof, looking on with surprise and indignation at the sight of this big man with the strong face and commanding eyes being ordered about, the object of every capricious whim, every sudden fancy, and frequently scolded like a child for his pains. It seemed to her that there was something rather ridiculous and certainly slightly pathetic in the spectacle.
"Ralph," she said one day, when for the third time Stanislas had hurried off in the burning sun to the hotel, to fetch an extra rug or cushion for his lady-love, and Pearl, as a matter of course, had allowed him to go, "Ralph, will you promise me one thing? If you ever perceive incipient signs of an inclination on my part to treat you like a slave, will you please jilt me without hesitation? I might lose you, but at any rate I should retain my respect for you."
"Well, then, let us hurry up and break it off at once," laughed Nicholson. "Could anyone see a more patient beast of burden than I am at the present moment? A sketch book, a paint box, a camp stool, a cushion, a parasol, and soon, when the sun gets cooler, I foresee--a coat. Perhaps you would kindly inform me of the difference of my fate to that of the man you pity."
"Don't talk nonsense, Ralph. You know perfectly well what I mean. Pray, do I keep you constantly on the trot? Why, the poor man is never allowed a second's leisure or repose. He's a slave, a perfectly abject slave. Pearl looks upon his devotion, upon the sacrifice of his time, not only as a matter of course, but as her right. And they're not even engaged yet."
"Well, one thing is they are bound to be before long," replied Ralph. "Bless you, my dear girl, he likes it, he glories in it. That rather stern 'phiz' of his has borne of late quite a seraphic expression. Leave the poor fellow alone, Amy, and let him be happy in his own way."
"All I can say is," replied Amy severely, "it is quite the last way I should have expected Stanislas de Güldenfeldt, of all people, to choose to be happy. It makes me quite ill to see a splendid big fellow like that reduced to the rank of the tamest of tame cats, and what is more, appearing to delight in that extremely humiliating position."
"Don't distress yourself, my child," laughed Ralph, as they wandered off to their favourite seat beside the river. "It is a ridiculous phase through which we men pass, one and all, each as our turn comes. And though you pretend not to see it, Amy, I at this present time am in a precisely similar idiotic stage. Bless you, I know it, and do I complain? On the contrary, I survive the ordeal extremely well, while to the general outsider I appear, I am sure, as beaming and as blissfully foolish as de Güldenfeldt. We both have every intention of getting our quid pro quo later on, you know."
The person discussed was, as Nicholson announced, entirely satisfied with the existing state of affairs. Monsieur de Güldenfeldt would indeed have been willing to allow matters to proceed in the same easy fashion for ever, had he not one day received a warning that it was time for him to speak again.
Mrs. Rawlinson had been watching the progress of events with characteristic shrewdness. Her observations caused her after a time to conclude that de Güldenfeldt and Pearl had both reached a stage which, however delightful in its dreamy uncertainty, certainly as far as the future of her cousin was concerned, was a long way from being either practical or desirable.