She Painted her Face by Dornford Yates

Author:Dornford Yates [Yates, Dornford]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Pulp Shop
Published: 2014-07-25T16:00:00+00:00

WE COULD not talk freely at table, for never less than three men were constantly in the room. The meal was royally served, and the dishes set before us were fit for a king. All the appointments were flawless, and, ruled by the major-domo, the foot-men moved and waited as though their duty had been tirelessly rehearsed.

At these things I shall always wonder, for Caroline told me later that months had passed since the Duchess had left her room, while no guest had been entertained for nearly two years. Indeed, I can only submit that they showed forth Old Harry's dominion as nothing else could have done. The palace was out of commission, its mistress was out of sight: and yet, at a nod from her, the machinery sprang to life, to move with all the precision of practised vigilance.

Coffee was served upon the terrace, above an Italian garden run to seed. And there we were left to ourselves— and the lizards that stared and darted over the mouldering stone.

"She deserves her fame," said Caroline. "I know no more than you what line she's going to take; but whatever she does I haven't wasted my time, because I have seen and talked with 'Harriet the Great.' " (Here let me say that that surname does her justice as can no periods. A few men and women have borne it, since Time was young. If she had had as fair fields, I have no doubt that she would have borne it, too.)

"I wish," said I, "she was not confined to her bed."

"She isn't," said Caroline swiftly. "She stays there because she likes it. She told me so. She said she had crowded so much into fifty years that she never had time to digest 'the brilliant burden they held.' And now she is doing that. She goes leisurely through her diaries, considering in detail the play which, because she was leading, she never saw."

"And she never gets up?"

"Never. She says that the mental exercise keeps her perfectly fit and the more she rests her body the clearer her brain becomes."

I felt rather dazed. There were more things at Tracery than were dreamt of in my philosophy.

"Her English," I said, "is better than that of an English judge."

Caroline nodded.

"And she's right up to date," she said. "She has a wireless set by her bed. and books and papers from England come to her all the time. She has agents in London, New York and Paris, whose only business is to keep her informed. Say Shakespeare's right and 'all the world's a stage.' For fifty years she was playing a leading part. Well, now she sits in a box and watches the play."

"Talk of yourself, Caroline." My lady laughed.

"As you saw, she was sweet to me. And her brain's like mercury. When I came in, 'Why you and not Brief?' she said. I gave her the statement at once. She read it through in silence. Then— 'I beg your pardon,' she said. 'It seems you are Brief.

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