A few days went by, which were fraught with agitation to the pupils at Etienne’s, as they were the last days of April, and two or three of the atelier students were to exhibit in the Salon. Sonia’s picture had been entered under a fictitious name, rather against her master’s wishes; but he had found it impossible to move her on this point. She had made both Etienne and Martha promise her most solemnly to tell no one which was her picture; and so she looked forward to the great exhibition with a pleasure which had no disturbing element in it.
This pleasure had, however, grown paler recently, as her hold on all outward things, slight as she had thought it before, had grown weaker. She had felt a real emotion when told that her picture had been admitted by the jury, and an intense anxiety as to how it would be hung. In contrast to this was the languid interest which she experienced when she found that it was on the line.
Martha and she had gone to the Vernissage on the thirtieth of April, and had stood before the picture together; but it was Martha who had flushed and fluttered with delight at the remarks upon it which they had overheard. Sonia herself seemed to have lost interest in it.
On the morning of the Vernissage Harold had gone to London, to be absent until the next day, when he was to take Martha to the formal opening of the Salon.
There was, therefore, no reason why Sonia should not accept her friend’s invitation to dine and spend the evening. When she saw what pleasure her acceptance gave the girl, her heart suddenly smote her with the reflection that she did very little to reward such ardent love, and she impetuously offered to spend the night also, saying that she had not done such a thing since her school-days.
Martha was overjoyed; and when Sonia duly arrived, prepared to spend the night, the two women made a great effort to get the amount of enjoyment which they felt ought to be for each in their tête-à-tête dinner and evening together. Their talk, however, seemed rather desultory and unproductive, and both of them felt that their endeavors to return to their former attitude of free and natural mutual confidence were strangely unavailing.
After a rather dull discussion of Paris apartment-houses, and their advantages and disadvantages, Martha proposed to show her guest over this one; and Sonia went with her into all the rooms, with a civil effort to seem interested, until she came to one on the threshold of which Martha said:
“This is the girls’ room, which Harold has now. It is just next to mama’s, which is the one you have. The governess has a room on the other side of the salon, in order to protect me. They tell such frightful stories about the crimes and murders in these Paris apartments that I used to be quite timid, though I’ve got over it now.”
Sonia, while she appeared to be listening to her companion, was in reality so inwardly shaken by certain influences received in this room that she felt as if her mind were staggering. On the dressing-table just in front of her were several toilet articles in old German silver which it seemed to her that she had seen and touched but yesterday. A clothes-brush with fantastic decorations of women’s figures, entwined with fish and garlands of roses, had a large dent in it, of which she knew the whole history. She could even have told why one of the three bottles in the leather-case was without a stopper, and what had become of the smallest pair of scissors, the place of which in the dressing-case was empty. On a table near by was a leather portfolio with the letters “H. R. K.” on one corner in a silver monogram.
While Martha moved about the room and talked, Sonia’s eyes searched eagerly among the familiar objects for certain others which she would have given the world to see. Her search was in vain, however. There was not one thing of his own in sight which had not been a possession of his bachelor days. This was quite evident, and of course was entirely as it should be.