“Lover or husband, I fancy it is all the same to her now,” sneered the caller. “She has passed the point where reputation matters.”
“Her reputation is my concern, Monsieur le Marquis!”
“You knew her?” asked the nobleman, as though the conversation wearied him. “And she was faithful to his memory? No scandals––none of those little affairs women of her class are prone to? There”––as Barnes started up indignantly––“spare me your reproaches! I’m too feeble to quarrel. Besides, what is it to me? I was only curious about her––that is all! But she never spoke the name of her husband?”
“Not even to her own child!”
“She does not know her father’s name?” repeated the marquis. “But I thank you; Mademoiselle Constance is so charming I must needs call to ask if she were related to the London actress! Good-day, Monsieur! You are severe on the lover. Was it not the fashion of the day for the actresses to take lovers, or for the fops to have an opera girl or a comedienne? Did your most popular performers disdain such diversions?” he sneered. “Pardie, the world has suddenly 350 become moral! A gentleman can no longer, it would seem, indulge in gentlemanly follies.”
Mumbling about the decadence of fashion, the marquis departed, his manner so strange the manager gazed after him in surprise.
With no thought of direction, his lips moving, talking to himself in adynamic fashion, the nobleman walked mechanically on until he reached the great cathedral. The organ was rolling and voices arose sweet as those of seraphim. He hesitated at the portal and then laughed to himself. “Well has Voltaire said: ‘Pleasure has its time; so, too, has wisdom. Make love in thy youth, and in old age, attend to thy salvation.’” He repeated the latter words, but, although he paused at the threshold and listened, he did not enter.
As he stood there, uncertain and trembling, a figure replete with youth and vigor approached, and, glancing at her, an exclamation escaped him that caused her to pause and turn.
“You are not well,” she said, solicitously. “Can I help you?”
“It is nothing, nothing!” answered the marquis, ashy pale at the sight of her and the proximity of that face which regarded him with womanly sympathy. “Go away.”