“Very well,” he shrugged. “Shall I send Elvira to help you? That is Jules’ wife, and the only female in the house. She is probably dying of curiosity to see you.”
“Well, I hate to commit murder, but as I haven’t Regina with me, I’d rather get along by myself. I shall manage somehow.”
He strolled regretfully towards the door.
“Well, if you need help, just stamp on the floor. My rooms are directly beneath these, in the bachelor suite. It would be so heavenly to have to hook you up, or something. As if we were really married?” His eyes were wistful.
“Dear boy!” She smiled at him between raised arms. She was removing her hat. Her long slim body, thrown slightly backwards, reminded him of the bronze in the fountain below. “I am wearing a tea-gown and there will be no hooks.”
“‘There ain’t goin’ to be no core.’” His little, rueful laugh rang down the hall behind him.
A little later, in the bath-room, she gazed about her in amusement and despair. Oh, for the cool, white tiles of her own chaste, little sanctuary! This one was Moorish in style, with a shallow bench running all around the sunken bath of turquoise tiles. A huge dolphin’s head served as a faucet. As she turned the tap it spouted a crystal stream. She slid down into the water with a laugh. The glistening of goldfish outlined in mosaic upon the bottom of the tub had caught her eye. But her body, luminous in the bluish tint cast by the tiles, elongated beneath the rippled surface of the water, gave her a sensuous pleasure. Pink-tipped, the ivory hillocks of her breast thrust upwards. Slim flanks melted into shadow. She sighed luxuriantly.
Dinner was served in the large, lunetted dining room. The refectory table was drawn up against the frescoed wall, and Anne and Alexis sat side by side upon a long bench. In a clinging, sleeveless gown of white velvet, a small knot of gardenias pinned against the red-gold of her hair, Anne’s beauty made Alexis’ brain reel. He longed for the meal to be over, so that he might have her all to himself. The gallant subservience of old Jules irritated him almost to a frenzy. This woman was his. The firm column of her throat, the gleaming pilasters of her arms. She was a temple, he the high priest. His alone the inner shrine.
After an interminable agony, Jules brought coffee and left them.
Anne was laughing softly.