Jason | Page 9

used to be Ste. Marie de Mont-les-Roses,
but afterward, after the Revolution, they called it Ste. Marie de Mont
Perdu. My great-grandfather was killed there, but some old servants
smuggled his little son away and saved him."
He seemed to Miss Benham to say that in exactly the right manner, not
in the cheap and scoffing fashion which some young men affect in
speaking of ancestral fortunes or misfortunes, nor with too much
solemnity. And when she allowed a little silence to occur at the end, he
did not go on with his family history, but turned at once to another
subject. It pleased her curiously.
The fair youth at her other side continued to crouch over his food,
making fierce and animal-like noises. He never spoke or seemed to
wish to be spoken to, and Miss Benham found it easy to ignore him
altogether. It occurred to her once or twice that Ste. Marie's other
neighbor might desire an occasional word from him, but, after all, she
said to herself that was his affair and beyond her control. So these two
talked together through the entire dinner period, and the girl was aware
that she was being much more deeply affected by the simple, magnetic
charm of a man than ever before in her life. It made her a little angry,
because she was unfamiliar with this sort of thing and distrusted it. She
was rather a perfect type of that phenomenon before which the British
and Continental world stands in mingled delight and exasperation--the
American unmarried young woman, the creature of extraordinary

beauty and still more extraordinary poise, the virgin with the bearing
and savoir-faire of a woman of the world, the fresh-cheeked girl with
the calm mind of a savante and the cool judgment, in regard to men and
things, of an ambassador. The European world says she is cold, and
that may be true; but it is well enough known that she can love very
deeply. It says that, like most queens, and for precisely the same set of
reasons, she later on makes a bad mother; but it is easy to point to
queens who are the best of mothers. In short, she remains an enigma,
and, like all other enigmas, forever fascinating.
Miss Benham reflected that she knew almost nothing about Ste. Marie
save for his reputation as a carpet knight, and Baron de Vries' good
opinion, which could not be despised. And that made her the more
displeased when she realized how promptly she was surrendering to his
charm. In a moment of silence she gave a sudden little laugh which
seemed to express a half-angry astonishment.
"What was that for?" Ste. Marie demanded.
The girl looked at him for an instant and shook her head.
"I can't tell you," said she. "That's rude, isn't it? I'm sorry. Perhaps I
will tell you one day, when we know each other better."
But inwardly she was saying: "Why, I suppose this is how they all
begin--all these regiments of women who make fools of themselves
about him! I suppose this is exactly what he does to them all!"
It made her angry, and she tried quite unfairly to shift the anger, as it
were, to Ste. Marie--to put him somehow in the wrong. But she was by
nature very just, and she could not quite do that, particularly as it was
evident that the man was using no cheap tricks. He did not try to flirt
with her, and he did not attempt to pay her veiled compliments, though
she was often aware that when her attention was diverted for a few
moments his eyes were always upon her, and that is a compliment that
few women can find it in their hearts to resent.
"You say," said Ste. Marie, "'when we know each other better.' May

one twist that into a permission to come and see you--I mean, really see
you--not just leave a card at your door to-morrow by way of observing
the formalities?"
"Yes," she said. "Oh yes, one may twist it into something like that
without straining it unduly, I think. My mother and I shall be very glad
to see you. I'm sorry she is not here to-night to say it herself."
Then the hostess began to gather together her flock, and so the two had
no more speech. But when the women had gone and the men were left
about the dismantled table, Hartley moved up beside Ste. Marie and
shook a sad head at him. He said:
"You're a very lucky being. I was quietly hoping, on the way here, that
I should be the fortunate man, but you always have all the luck. I hope
you're decently grateful."
"Mon vieux," said Ste. Marie, "my feet are upon the