“I had forgotten,” she admitted, “that New York itself need not necessarily be his destination.”
“For my own part,” Peter continued, “it is quite amazing, the interest which the evening papers always take in the movements of one connected ever so slightly with their world. I think that a dozen newspapers have told their readers the exact amount of money I am going to lend or borrow in New York, the stocks I am going to bull or bear, the mines I am going to purchase. My presence on an American steamer is accounted for by the journalists a dozen times over. Yours, Duchesse, if one might say so without appearing over curious, seems the most inexplicable. What attraction can America possibly have for you?”
She glanced at him covertly from under her sleepy eyelids. Peter’s face was like the face of a child.
“You do not, perhaps, know,” she said, “that I was born in Cuba. I lived there, in fact, for many years. I still have estates in the country.”
“Indeed?” he answered. “Are you interested, then, in this reported salvage of the Maine?”
There was a short silence. Peter, who had not been looking at her when he had asked his question, turned his head, surprised at her lack of response. His heart gave a little jump. The Duchesse had all the appearance of a woman on the point of fainting. One hand was holding a scent bottle to her nose; the other, thin and white, ablaze with emeralds and diamonds, was gripping the side of her chair. Her expression was one of blank terror. Peter felt a shiver chill his own blood at the things he saw in her face. He himself was confused, apologetic, yet absolutely without understanding. His thoughts reverted at first to his own commonplace malady.
“You are ill, Duchesse!” he exclaimed. “You will allow me to call the deck steward? Or perhaps you would prefer your own maid? I have some brandy in this flask.”
He had thrown off his rug, but her imperious gesture kept him seated. She was looking at him with an intentness which was almost tragical.
“What made you ask me that question?” she demanded.
His innocence was entirely apparent. Not even Peter could have dissembled so naturally.