The Grain of Dust Part 16

"Oh, I don't mind about myself. It's all I'm fit for. I haven't any talent--except for dreaming."

"And for making--_some_ man's dreams come true."

Her gaze dropped. And as she hid herself she looked once more almost as insignificant and colorless as he had once believed her to be.

"What are you thinking about?"

She shook her head slowly without raising her eyes or emerging from the deep recess of her reserve.

"You are a mystery to me. I can't decide whether you are very innocent or very--concealing."

She glanced inquiringly at him. "I don't understand," she said.

He smiled. "No more do I. I've seen so much of faking--in women as well as in men--that it's hard for me to believe anyone is genuine."

"Do you think I am trying to deceive you? About what?"

He made an impatient gesture--impatience with his credulity where she was concerned. "No matter. I want to make you happy--because I want you to make me happy."

Her eyes became as grave as a wondering child's. "You are laughing at me," she said.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I could not make you happy."

"Why not?"

"What could a serious man like you find in me?"

His intense, burning gaze held hers. "Some time I will tell you."

She shut herself within herself like a flower folding away its beauty and leaving exposed only the underside of its petals. It was impossible to say whether she understood or was merely obeying an instinct.

He watched her a moment in silence. Then he said:

"I am mad about you--mad. You _must_ understand. I can think only of you.

I am insane with jealousy of you. I want you--I must have you."

He would have seized her in his arms, but the look of sheer amazement she gave him protected her where no protest or struggle would. "You?"

she said. "Did you really mean it? I thought you were just talking."

"Can't you see that I mean it?"

"Yes--you look as if you did. But I can't believe it. I could never think of you in that way."

Once more that frank statement of indifference infuriated him. He _must_ compel her to feel--he must give that indifference the lie--and at once!

He caught her in his arms. He rained kisses upon her pale face. She made not the least resistance, but seemed dazed. "I will teach you to love me," he cried, drunk now with the wine of her lips, with the perfume of her exquisite youth. "I will make you happy. We shall be mad with happiness."

She gently freed herself. "I don't believe I could ever think of you in that way."

"Yes, darling--you will. You can't help loving where you are loved so utterly."

She gazed at him wonderingly--the puzzled wonder of a child.

"You--love--me?" she said slowly.

"Call it what you like. I am mad about you. I have forgotten everything--pride--position--things you can't imagine--and I care for nothing but you."

And again he was kissing her with the soft fury of fire; and again she was submitting with the pa.s.sive, dazed expression that seemed to add to his pa.s.sion. To make her feel! To make her respond! He, whom so many women had loved--women of position, of fame for beauty, of social distinction or distinction as singers, players--women of society and women of talent all kinds of worth-while women--they had cared, had run after him, had given freely all he had asked and more. And this girl--n.o.body at all--she had nothing for him.

He held her away from him, cried angrily: "What is the matter with you?

What is the matter with me?"

"I don't understand," she said. "I wish you wouldn't kiss me so much."

He released her, laughed satirically. "Oh--you are playing a game. I might have known."

"I don't understand," said she. "A while ago you said you loved me. Now you act as if you didn't like me at all." And she smiled gayly at him, pouting her lips a little. Once more her beauty was s.h.i.+ning. It made his nerves quiver to see the color in her pure white skin where he had kissed her.

"I don't care whether it is a game or not," he cried. And he was about to seize her again, when she repulsed him. He crushed her resistance, held her tight in his arms.

"You frighten me," she murmured. "You--hurt me."

He released her. "What do you want?" he cried. "Don't you care at all?"

"Oh, yes. I like you--very much. I have from the first time I saw you.

But you seem older--and more serious."

"Never mind about that. We are going to love each other--and I am going to make you and your father happy."

"If you make father happy I will do anything for you. I don't want anything myself--but he is getting old and sometimes his despair is terrible." There were tears in her voice--tears and the most touching tenderness. "He has some great secret that he wants to discover, and he is afraid he will die without having had the chance."

"You will love me if I make your father happy?"

He knew it was the question of a fool, but he so longed to hear from her lips some word to give him hope that he could not help asking it. She said:

"Love you as--as you seem to love me? Not that same way. I don't feel that way toward you. But I will love you in my own way."

He observed her with penetrating eyes. Was this speech of hers innocence or calculation? He could get no clue to the truth. He saw nothing but innocence; the teaching of experience warned him to believe in nothing but guile. He hid his doubt and chagrin behind a mocking smile. "As you please," said he. "I will do my part. Then--we'll see. . . . Do you care about anyone else--in _my_ way of loving, I mean?"

It was again the question of an infatuated fool, and put in an infatuated fool's way. For, if she were a "deep one," how could he hope to get the truth? But her answer rea.s.sured him. "No," she said--her simple, direct negation that had a convincing power he had never seen equaled.

"If I ever knew of another man's touching you," he said, "I'd feel like strangling him." He laughed at himself. "Not that I should strangle him.

That sort of thing isn't done any more. But I'd do something devilish."

"But I haven't promised not to kiss anyone else," she said. "Why should I? I don't love you."

He looked at her strangely. "But you're going to love me," he said.

She shrank within herself again. She looked at him with uneasy eyes.