Recovering my self-possession a little, I hastened to take the chance he thus generously gave me to ingratiate myself in the young lady’s favour, and my heart gave a foolish bound of joy because she smiled encouragingly as I approached her.
“You are a great friend of Prince Rimânez?” she asked softly, as I sat down.
“Yes, we are very intimate,” I replied—“He is a delightful companion.”
“So I should imagine!” and she looked over at him where he sat next to her father talking earnestly in low tones—“He is singularly handsome.”
I made no reply. Of course Lucio’s extraordinary personal attractiveness was undeniable,—but I rather grudged her praise bestowed on him just then. Her remarks seemed to me as tactless as when a man with one pretty woman beside him loudly admires another in her hearing. I did not myself assume to be actually handsome, but I knew I was better looking than the ordinary run of men. So out of sudden pique I remained silent, and presently the curtain rose and the play was resumed. A very questionable scene was enacted, the ‘woman with the past’ being well to the front of it. I felt disgusted at the performance and looked at my companions to see if they too were similarly moved. There was no sign of disapproval on Lady Sibyl’s fair countenance,—her father was bending forward eagerly, apparently gloating over every detail,—Rimânez wore that inscrutable expression of his in which no feeling whatever could be discerned. The ‘woman with the past’ went on with her hysterical sham-heroics, and the mealy-mouthed fool of a hero declared her to be a ‘pure angel wronged,’ and the curtain fell amid loud applause. One energetic hiss came from the gallery, affecting the occupants of the stalls to scandalized amazement.
[p 88]
“England has progressed!” said Rimânez in soft half-bantering tones—“Once upon a time this play would have been hooted off the stage as likely to corrupt the social community. But now the only voice of protest comes from the ‘lower’ classes.”
“Are you a democrat, prince?” inquired Lady Sibyl, waving her fan indolently to and fro.
“Not I! I always insist on the pride and supremacy of worth,—I do not mean money value, but intellect. And in this way I foresee a new aristocracy. When the High grows corrupt, it falls and becomes the Low;—when the Low educates itself and aspires, it becomes the High. This is simply the course of nature.”
“But, God bless my soul!” exclaimed Lord Elton—“you don’t call this play low or immoral do you? It’s a realistic study of modern social life—that’s what it is. These women you know,—these poor souls with a past—are very interesting!”
“Very!” murmured his daughter.—“In fact it would seem that for women with no such ‘past’ there can be no future! Virtue and modesty are quite out of date, and have no chance whatever.”