The Secret Power - Marie Corelli (books to get back into reading TXT) đ
- Author: Marie Corelli
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The light of the moon fell full on her upturned face. It was a wonderful face,ânot beautiful according to the monotonous press- camera type, but radiant with such a light of daring intelligence as to make beauty itself seem cheap and meretricious in comparison with its glowing animation. He moved away from her another step, and shook his arm free from her touch.
âWhy wouldnât you?â she reiterated softly; then with a sudden ripple of laughter, she clasped her hands and uplifted them in an attitude of prayerââWhy wouldnât he? Oh, big moon of California, why? Oh, pagan gods and goddesses and fauns and fairies, tell me why? Why wouldnât he?â
He gave her a glance of cool contempt.
âYou should have been on the stage!â he said.
ââAll the worldâs a stage,ââ she quoted, letting her upraised arms fall languidly at her sidesââAnd ours is a real comedy! Not âAs You Like Itâ but âAs You Donât Like It!â Poor Shakespeare!âhe never imagined such characters as we are! Now, suppose you had satisfied the expectations of all Washington City and married me, of course we should have bored each other dreadfullyâbut with plenty of money we could have run away from each other whenever we likedâthey all do it nowadays!â
âYesâthey all do it!â he repeated, mechanically.
âThey donât âloveâ you know!â she went onââLove is too much of a bore. YOU would find it so!â
âI should, indeed!â he said, with sudden energyââIt would be worse than any imaginable torture!âto be âlovedâ and looked after, and watched and coddled and kissedââ
âOh, surely no woman would want to kiss you!â she exclaimedââNever! THAT would be too much of a good thing!â
And she gave a little peal of laughter, merry as the lilt of a sky- lark in the dawn. He stared at her angrily, moved by an insensate desire to seize her and throw her down the hill like a bundle of rubbish.
âTo kiss YOU,â she said, âone would have to wear a lip-shield of leather! As well kiss a bunch of nettles! No, no! I have quite a nice little mouthâsoft and rosy! I shouldnât like to spoil it by scratching it against yours! Itâs curious how all men imagine women LIKE to kiss them! They never grasp an idea of the frequent unpleasantness of the operation! Now Iâm going!â
âThank God!â he ejaculated fervently.
âAnd donât worry yourselfââshe continued, airilyââI shall not stay long at the Plaza.â
âThank God again!â he interpolated.
âIt would be too dull,âespecially as Iâm not shamming to be ill, like you. Besides, I have work to do!âwonderful work! and I donât believe in doing it shut up like a hermit. Humanity is my crucible! Good-night,âgood-bye!â
He checked her movement by a quick, imperious gesture.
âWait!â he saidââBefore you go I want you to know a bit of my mind-
-â
âIs it necessary?â she queried.
âI think so,â he answeredââIt will save you the trouble of ever trying to see me again, which will be a relief to me, if not to you. Listen!âand look at yourself with MY eyesââ
âToo difficult!â she declaredââI can look at nothing with your eyes any more than you can with mine!â
âMadamââ
She uttered a little laughing âOh!â and put her hand to her ears.
âNot âMadamâ for heavenâs sake!â she exclaimed; âIt sounds as if I were either a queen or a dressmaker!â
His sombre eyes had no smile in them.
âHow should you be addressed?â he demanded, âA woman of such wealth and independence as you possess can hardly be called âMissâ as if she were in parental leading-strings!â
She looked up at the clear dark sky where the moon hung like a huge silver air-ball.
âNo, I suppose not!â she repliedââThe old English word was âMistress.â So quaint and pretty, donât you think?â
âOh mistress mine, where are you roaming? Oh stay and hear! your true loveâs coming!âShe sang the two lines in a deliciously entrancing voice, full of youth and tenderness. With one quick stride he advanced upon her and caught her by the shoulders.
âMy God, I could shake the life out of you!â he said, fiercelyââI wonder you are not afraid of me!â
She laughed, careless of his grasp.
âWhy should I be? You couldnât kill me if you triedâand if you couldââ
âIf I couldâah, if I could!â he muttered, fiercely.
âWhy then there would be another murderer added to the general world of murderers!â she saidââThatâs all! Itâs not worth it!â
Still he held her in his grip.
âSee here!â he saidââBefore you go I want yon to know a thing or two,âyou may as well learn once for all my views on women. Theyâre brief, but theyâre fixed. And theyâre straight! Women are nothingâ just necessary for the continuation of the raceâno more. They may be beautiful or homelyâitâs all oneâthey serve the same purpose. Iâm under no delusions about them. Without men they are utterly useless,âmere waste on the wind! To idealise them is a stupid mistake. To think that they can do anything original, intellectual or imaginative is to set oneâs self down an idiot. YOU,âyou the spoilt only child of one of the biggest rascal financiers in New York,âYOU, left alone in the world with a fortune so vast as to be almost criminalâyou think you are something superlative in the way of women,âyou play the Cleopatra,âyou are convinced you can draw men after youâbut itâs your money that draws them,ânot YOU! Canât you see that?âor are you too vain to see it? And youâve no mercy on them,âyou make them believe you care for them and then you throw them over like empty nutshells! Thatâs your way! But you never fooled ME,âand you never will!â
He released her as suddenly as he had grasped her,âshe drew her white draperies round her shoulders with a statuesque grace, and lifted her head, smiling.
âEmpty nutshells are a very good description of men who come after a woman for her moneyââshe observed, placidlyââand itâs quite natural that the woman should throw them over her shoulder. Thereâs nothing in themânot even a flavour! Noânever fooled you,âyou fooled yourselfâyou are fooling yourself now, only you donât know it. But there!âletâs finish talking! I like the romance of the situationâyou in your shirt-sleeves on a hill in California, and I in silken stuff and diamonds paying you a moonlight visitâitâs really quite novel and charming!âbut it canât go on for ever! Just now you said you wanted me to know a thing or two, and I presume you have explained yourself. What you think or what you donât think about women doesnât interest me. Iâm one of the âwastes on the wind!â I shall not aid in the continuation of the race,âheaven forbid! The race is too stupid and too miserable to merit continuance. Everything has been done for it that can be done, over and over again, from the beginningâtill now,âand nowâNOW!â She paused, and despite himself the tone of her voice sent a thrill through his blood of something like fear.
âNOW?âwell! What NOW?â he demanded.
She lifted one hand and pointed upwards. Her face in the moonbeams looked austere and almost spectral in outline.
âNowâthe Change!â she answeredââThe Change when all things shall be made new!â
A silence followed her words,âa strange and heavy silence.
It was broken by her voice hushed to an extreme softness, yet clearly audible.
âGood-night!âgood-bye!â
He turned impatiently away to avoid further leave-takingâthen, on a sudden impulse, his mood changed.
âMorgana!â
The call echoed through emptiness. She was gone. He called again,â the long vowel in the strange name sounding like âMor-ga-ar-naâ as a shivering note on the G string of a violin may sound at the conclusion of a musical phrase. There was no reply. He wasâas he had desired to be,âalone.
CHAPTER III
âShe left New York several weeks ago,âdidnât you know it? Dear me!- -I thought everybody was convulsed at the news!â
The speaker, a young woman fashionably attired and seated in a rocking chair in the verandah of a favourite summer hotel on Long Island, raised her eyes and shrugged her shoulders expressively as she uttered these words to a man standing near her with a newspaper in his hand. He was a very stiff-jointed upright personage with iron grey hair and features hard enough to suggest their having been carved out of wood.
âNoâI didnât know itââhe said, enunciating his words in the deliberate dictatorial manner common to a certain type of Americanâ âIf I had I should have taken steps to prevent it.â
âYou canât take steps to prevent anything Morgana Royal decides to do!â declared his companion. âSheâs a law to herself and to nobody else. I guess YOU couldnât stop her, Mr. Sam Gwent!â
Mr. Sam Gwent permitted himself to smile. It was a smile that merely stretched the corners of his mouth a little,âit had no geniality.
âPossibly not!â he answeredââBut I should have had a try! I should certainly have pointed out to her the folly of her present adventure.â
âDo you know what it is?â
He paused before replying.
âWell,âhardly! But I have a guess!â
âIs that so? Then Iâll admit youâre cleverer than I am!â
âThats a great compliment! But even Miss Lydia Herbert, brilliant woman of the world as she is, doesnât know EVERYTHING!â
âNot quite!â she replied, stifling a tiny yawnââNor do you! But most things that are worth knowing I know. Thereâs a lot one need never learn. The chief business of life nowadays is to have heaps of money and know how to spend it. Thatâs Morganaâs way.â
Mr. Sam Gwent folded up his newspaper, flattened it into a neat parcel, and put it in his pocket.
âShe has a great deal too much moneyââhe said, âand-to my thinking- she does NOT know how to spend it,-not in the right womanly way. She has gone off in the midst of many duties to society at a time when she should have stayedââ
Miss Herbert opened her brown, rather insolent eyes wide at this and laughed.
âDoes it matter?â she asked. âThe old man left his pile to her âabsolutely and unconditionallyââwithout any orders as to society duties. And I donât believe YOUâVE any authority over her, have you? Or are you suddenly turning up as a trustee?â
He surveyed her with a kind of admiring sarcasm.
âNo. Iâm only an uncle,ââhe saidââUncle of the boy that shot himself this morning for her sake!â
Miss Herbert uttered a sharp cry. She was startled and horrified.
âWhat!. . . Jack?. . . Shot himself?. . . Oh, how dreadful!âIâmâ Iâm sorryâ!â
âYouâre not!ââretorted GwentââSo donât pretend. No one is sorry for anybody else nowadays. Thereâs no time. And no inclination. Jack was always a foolâperhaps heâs best out of it. Iâve just seen himâ dead. Heâs better-looking so than when alive.â
She sprang up from her rocking chair in a blaze of indignation.
âYou are brutal!â she exclaimed, with a half sobââPositively brutal!â
âNot at all!â he answered, composedlyââOnly commonplace. It is you advanced women that are brutal,ânot we left-behind men. Jack was a fool, I sayâhe staked the whole of his game on Morgana Royal, and he lost. That was the last straw. If he could have married her he would have cleared all his debts over
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