Puzzled, confused, bewildered almost to the point of frenzy, he got back into the cab, and ordered the driver to drive in the Bois until he should tell him to turn.
Sonia, during that same time, was shut within her room, thinking as intensely as he. She had been able, by dint of enormous will-power, to control herself in all other points while indulging herself in one. She had said to herself during those crucial minutes in the cab, while she consciously threw open the windows of her soul to this man in that clear and unrestricted gaze, that she would neither speak nor stir, though the effort should kill her. She found that she could best carry out this resolve by relaxing her body utterly, while her will got every moment tenser in its strain. She had said to herself over and over to what seemed a thousand times: “Don’t move—don’t speak. Don’t move—don’t speak”; and the very consciousness that she was equal to this effort made her the more free in the abandonment with which she had let him read her heart in her eyes.
Now, as she threw her wraps aside, and paced up and down her room, a feeling of delicious exultation possessed her, and the physical weakness which she had lately felt was gone and forgotten. It had been a draught of intoxicating joy simply to look at him with free and unbridled eyes. Was he not her husband, who could not be, by any act of man, really parted from her? What had she shown him but a woman’s feeling for her wedded lover? Was she crazy, she wondered, that she could have done it then, and could feel now no regret—only a wild delight—in having done it? O God, O God, how long it was that she had shut herself off from feeling, and how good it was to feel once more! She was alive in every nerve and pulse, as she had not been for so long; and the throbbing of life was sweet, sweet, sweet! Never mind about the future; she would meet it boldly, and make up some excuse—that she had been ill or unconscious in the cab—pretend that she had forgotten the whole thing—do anything that was needed, as to that!—but the throbbing bliss of that one half-hour, she exulted that she had been bold enough to make her own.
XIX
The cours was closed at Etienne’s, but Sonia, who could not bear to face the hours of idleness which each day must contain during the few weeks which her aunt was still to spend in Paris, got permission to come and work in the atelier during the afternoons. She was privileged to get her own models as she required them, and Martha was to come also when she had time and inclination.
The day after her encounter with Harold at the Salon, Sonia, strong in purpose and confident in will, went to the atelier with only Inkling to protect her and keep her company, and set resolutely to work to do some severe drawing.
She had abundance of both time and space now, and she settled herself with great care and deliberation, with the anatomical figures and numerous copies of Ingres’ drawings full in view. She had not worked very long, however, before her enthusiasm began to ebb, and she put down her charcoal and went across to the model-throne, where she sat down with her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands, and fell to thinking deeply. Inkling came and jumped up in her lap, but she pushed him away with a roughness unusual to her, and he had to content himself with curling up on her skirt. As she sat there, conscious of being quite alone, she was as absolutely still as any of the customary holders of this position; but the varied expressions which crossed and changed her face would have made any class of students in the world despair of such a model. Sometimes she would look quite happy for an instant, as if a thought of joy had forced its way uppermost. Then again deep pain would come into her face, and shadows of doubt, perplexity, and hopelessness.
She sat so for a long time. Inkling had had a deep and peaceful sleep on the soft folds of her gown, from which he was startled by a knock at the door. His mistress sprang up suddenly, rolling him over, and he began to bark furiously, while Sonia, with an attitude of studious absorption, took her place at the easel, and seized her bit of charcoal. She thought it was probably only some boy on an errand, but she was also acutely conscious of whom it might possibly be. So she was not entirely unprepared for the sight of Harold appearing quickly around the edge of the old sail-cloth screen.
He bowed with a brevity and formality which seemed to imply that she need fear no agitating disturbance from him; but instead of standing in his place and stating the reason of his presence, he came forward.
Inkling, wild with excitement, began a repetition of his frantic performances of the former occasion; but his mistress, determined to have nothing of that sort, promptly suppressed him, and he slunk away and lay down with great meekness.