As I write, Mademoiselle is away on a short automobile tour, and Monsieur is completely unprotected, except by me, and what can I do but write to Madame la Marquise? Staying in the house is a dangerous woman, not possessed of siren fascinations; indeed, on the contrary, she is of a plainness to chill the blood of a debonnaire man like Monsieur Moore. It is her money that is the magnet, and ah, the power makes itself felt! She, the woman who has the bourgeois name of Shuster, has remained at home, giving various excuses, but the true reason is to get herself safely engaged to Monsieur before the return of his daughter. Monsieur also, it must be confessed, is a little to blame in this matter, but it is his good nature once more! And, then, he was not perhaps averse to an innocent flirtation with a woman, even an unattractive one, who flattered him. Now, he is being drawn farther than he may have meant when he made the pretext that he was needed at home. I would telegraph to Madame, but I do not see what good that would accomplish. It is not likely that even to save an old friend from disaster, Madame would launch herself at a moment's notice upon a dangerous voyage. Besides, there is this consolation: even if Monsieur is led by the nose—his so handsome nose!—a betrothal is not a marriage, and there is many a cup does not reach the lip which awaits it.
Madame la Marquise may rest assured that I will not leave a stone unturned to prevent the worst from coming about. When Mademoiselle returns I will make her comprehend that her dearly loved father's happiness is in her hands. She has but to make a small sacrifice which she will never regret. Even for herself it would be well, were there no other to consider, for there is on the scene a person extremely undesirable of whom Mademoiselle is thinking too much. I have been asked to warn her against him, and I do my best, but it is a delicate situation. Mademoiselle can be obstinate as the camel. She would have little regard for my advice had I not come to her from Madame.
With unfailing devotion and respect, I am the humble servant of Madame la Marquise,
Angéle Dubois.
X
EDWARD CASPIAN TO MRS. SHUSTER
My dear Friend:
If I dated this letter "The Stanislaws House," it would suggest nothing to you except a hotel. It's not a hotel; but it has no name, and it is generally spoken of in this way. As a matter of fact, it ought to be mine, and I've suffered from a strong sense of irritation in being brought here against my will. I couldn't prevent the party coming, however, and as I didn't care to turn my back while P. S. had everything his own way, I let myself be dragged, as you might say, at his victorious chariot wheels.