“Yes, he ought to be saved from himself. Something in my nature makes me follow a certain kind of man as hounds track game. What is now to be done is to meet force with force.”
“An armed diplomacy is good,” said d'Alchingen.
“And also a scheme of alternatives,” replied Mudara.
“I confess I very much prefer working through Castrillon, if possible, than de Hausée. Disraeli has implicit faith in this de Hausée. It seems taken for granted that he is ascetic and intellectual. He is altogether in the clouds, whereas Castrillon is wholly in touch with—with humanity.”
“But de Hausée, like the Cardinal de Retz, fought duels when he was a student. If I cannot work upon Parflete's jealousy, we must see what can be done in that direction with de Hausée. We hear much of the soul's awakening! Wait for the body's awakening now—it must come. Mrs. Parflete is a Samaritaine; we have to prove it somehow. Even though one invented stories about her, one would probably find that they were, approximately, true.”
“Keep me informed,” said the Prince, making a little bow, which signified that the audience was at an end.
Mudara, according to his own Confession, left the Embassy and proceeded at once to the small private hotel near Covent Garden where Parflete had taken up his abode.
Parflete's rooms, (we read) were en suite. He had bought a few rather beautiful prints and a number of exquisitely bound books. These last, with bowls and vases of flowers, were scattered over the various tables. The scent of the flowers mingled with the strange fumes of some Oriental incense. He had draped pieces of flame-coloured silk over the windows. Everything looked bizarre, and the atmosphere was sultry. When I entered he was not pleased to see me—in fact, he showed a disposition to sulk. I laboured to convince him that he would forfeit the respect of all honourable men unless he showed some just resentment at his wife's conduct.
“No one respects me as it is,” he answered; “nobody cares what I do one way or the other so long as I avoid the police. And as the police and I have nothing at all in common, I am not likely to give offence to my good friends in the Alberian Government.”
I warned him that such sneers were unjustifiable, and I reminded him, with severity, of the Government's extraordinary forbearance.
He fixed his eyes unpleasantly upon me, and his fingers trembled as he played with the frogs of his lilac-velvet smoking-jacket.
“I wish,” said he, “that you would mind your own business. I have done everything to protect the appearance of your good faith all through this affair. Now leave me alone. Besides, I can't be sure that the lady we saw to-day was Her Imperial Highness.”
My exasperation at his tone of defiance was all but uncontrollable.
“You know,” said I, “that we had no doubt of her identity.”
“We didn't see her face nor the colour of her hair. In any case, I refuse to humiliate her. Kindly remember that she is my wife, and drop a conversation which I find insulting.”
Hot words then passed between us. In my anger I may have uttered several truths which hit him too hard. Suddenly he sprang at me as though he were a wild cat. His eyes rolled, his face was convulsed beyond recognition. Men I have never feared; he seemed, however, not a man but some demoniac risen from hell. In self-defence I struck him with the small poniard which I have carried all my life. He staggered back, and the blood-letting seemed to relieve his temper.
“Go!” said he; “go while you can. I don't think the wound is mortal, but I don't wish any man hanged for murdering me.”
It was in my will to strike him again. I was beside myself with contempt at what I took to be a fresh revelation of his cowardice.
I replied coolly enough,—“I would not murder you. Have no alarm on that score. But I can defend myself, I hope.”
By this time he had reached the door and thrown it open. A waiter was passing at the time.
“Sir,” said Parflete, “I have the honour to wish you good-day.”
The waiter heard this remark distinctly, and saw me bow as I parted from the wretched creature.
Parflete's appearance was ghastly, but I attributed this pallor to fright and not to pain, for I believed from my heart that the wound was no more than a slight prick. I left the hotel, took a cab to my lodgings, and after reading a light Spanish novel in order to change the current of my thoughts, I passed an excellent night, sleeping at least seven hours.