Inevitable by Louis Couperus Read Free Book Online Page B

where guests were already seated here and there, with everyone’s eyes glued to his ducal and princely presence.
    Cornélie was walking with Duco van der Staal, who to the great amazement of his mother and sisters had dugout his coat and tails and appeared in the spacious hall, and both saw the triumphal procession of ‘la Belloni’ and her nephew and laughed at the star-struck looks of the English and American ladies. They—Cornélie and Duco—sat down in the hall on two chairs in front of a group of palms masking one of the doors of the room, while the ball began inside. They were talking about the statues in the Vatican that they had seen together a few days earlier, when close to their ears they heard a voice that they recognised as the
marchesa
’s imperious boom trying vainly to muffle itself in whispers. They looked round in surprise and noticed the hidden door clearly ajar, and through the chink glimpsed part of the slim hand of the prince and a section of the blue bosom of Belloni, both of them seated on a sofa in the room. They were therefore back to back, divided by the fractionally opened door. For amusement they listened to the
marchesa
’s Italian; the prince’s answers were lisped so faintly that they could not follow. And they heard only a few words and phrases. They listened despite themselves when they heard Rudyard’s name mentioned, clearly articulated by the
marchesa
.
    “And who else?” asked the prince softly.
    “An English miss,” said the
marchesa
. “Miss Taylor, she’s sitting over there, in that corner alone … A simple soul … Then the baroness and her daughter … The Dutch woman; a divorcee … And the beautiful American girl.”
    “And what about those two nice Dutch girls?” asked the prince.
    The music blared more loudly and Cornélie could not hear a thing.
    “And the divorced Dutch woman?” the prince continued.
    “No money,” answered the
marchesa
abruptly.
    “And the young baroness?”
    “No money,” repeated Belloni.
    “So no one but that stocking seller?” asked the prince wearily.
    ‘La Belloni’ became angry, but Cornélie and Duco could not follow the short sentences she rattled off; the music was still booming out.
    “She’s beautiful,” they heard the
marchesa
say. “She’s worth a fortune. She could be in a top hotel, but she is here, because she was recommended to me as a young girl travelling alone and because it’s cosier here. She has the large drawing-room all to herself and pays fifty lire a day for her two rooms. It makes no difference to her. She pays three times as much for her wood as the others and I even charge her for the wine.”
    “She sells stockings,” murmured the prince reluctantly.
    “Rubbish,” said the
marchesa
. “Remember that there’s no one else at the moment. Last winter we had rich English people from the nobility, with a daughter, but she was too tall for you. You always find something. You mustn’t be so fussy.”
    “I like the look of those two little Dutch darlings.”
    “They’ve got no money. You’re always attracted to the wrong thing.” “How much has papa promised you, if you …”
    The music swelled.
    “… Wouldn’t matter … If Rudyard talks to her … Taylor is easy… Miss Hope …”
    “I don’t need that many stockings …”
    “… very witty. If you don’t want …”
    “… no …”
    “… then I’ll withdraw … Rudyard will say … How much?”
    “Sixty or seventy thousand: I don’t know exactly.”
    “… Urgent?”
    “Debts are never urgent!”
    “Are you prepared?”
    “All right then. But I’m not selling myself for less than ten million … And… you’ll … get …”
    They both laughed and again the names of Rudyard and Urania rang out.
    “Urania?” he asked.
    “Urania …” replied ‘la Belloni’. “Those Americans are capable. Think of the Countess de Castellane, the Duchess of Marlborough; aren’t they doing honour to their husband’s names? They