LITMIR.BIZ

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them. Yet it could not be denied they were of wondrous beauty, white as polished marble.

      And all about her snowy throat and rounded arms, and in the masses of her splendid hair, were sparkling, gleaming stones, with hearts of pure light, which I know now to have been diamonds, but knew not then, for never had I seen aught of their like.

      And I gazed at her, drinking in her beauty until my soul was filled, as she stood like some goddess before her worshipper. I think she read my thought in my face and liked it — for she was a vain woman, and to such even the admiration of a child is sweet.

      Then she leaned down to me until her splendid eyes looked straight into my dazzled ones.

      “Tell me, little Beatrice — for they say the word of a child is to be believed — tell me, do you think me beautiful?”

      I found my voice and told her truly that I thought her beautiful beyond my dreams of angels — as indeed she was. Whereat she smiled as one well pleased.

      Then my Uncle Hugh came in, and though I thought that his face darkened as he looked on the naked splendour of her breast and arms, as if he liked not that the eyes of other men should gloat on it, yet he kissed her with all a lover’s fond pride, while she looked at him half mockingly.

      Then said he, “Sweet, will you grant me a favour?”

      And she answered, “It may be that I will.”

      And he said, “Do not dance with that man tonight, Alicia. I mistrust him much.”

      His voice had more of a husband’s command than a lover’s entreaty. She looked at him with some scorn, but when she saw his face grow black — for the Montressors brooked scant disregard of their authority, as I had good reason to know — she seemed to change, and a smile came to her lips, though her eyes glowed balefully.

      Then she laid her arms about his neck and — though it seemed to me that she had as soon strangled as embraced him — her voice was wondrous sweet and caressing as she murmured in his ear.

      He laughed and his brow cleared, though he said still sternly, “Do not try me too far, Alicia.”

      Then they went out, she a little in advance and very stately.

      After that my aunts also came in, very beautifully and modestly dressed, but they seemed to me as nothing after Alicia. For I was caught in the snare of her beauty, and the longing to see her again so grew upon me that after a time I did an undutiful and disobedient thing.

      I had been straitly charged to stay in bed, which I did not, but got up and put on a gown. For it was in my mind to go quietly down, if by chance I might again see Alicia, myself unseen.

      But when I reached the great hall I heard steps approaching and, having a guilty conscience, I slipped aside into the blue parlour and hid me behind the curtains lest my aunts should see me.

      Then Alicia came in, and with her a man whom I had never before seen. Yet I instantly bethought myself of a lean black snake, with a glittering and evil eye, which I had seen in Mrs. Montressor’s garden two summers agone, and which was like to have bitten me. John, the gardener, had killed it, and I verily thought that if it had a soul, it must have gotten into this man.

      Alicia sat down and he beside her, and when he had put his arms about her, he kissed her face and lips. Nor did she shrink from his embrace, but even smiled and leaned nearer to him with a little smooth motion, as they talked to each other in some strange, foreign tongue.

      I was but a child and innocent, nor knew I aught of honour and dishonour. Yet it seemed to me that no man should kiss her save only my Uncle Hugh, and from that hour I mistrusted Alicia, though I understood not then what I afterwards did.

      And as I watched them — not thinking of playing the spy — I saw her face grow suddenly cold, and she straightened herself up and pushed away her lover’s arms.

      Then I followed her guilty eyes to the door, where stood my Uncle Hugh, and all the pride and passion of the Montressors sat on his lowering brow. Yet he came forward quietly as Alicia and the snake drew apart and stood up.

      At first he looked not at his guilty wife but at her lover, and smote him heavily in the face. Whereat he, being a coward at heart, as are all villains, turned white and slunk from the room with a muttered oath, nor was he stayed.

      My uncle turned to Alicia, and very calmly and terribly he said, “From this hour you are no longer wife of mine!”

      And there was that in his tone which told that his forgiveness and love should be hers nevermore.

      Then he motioned her out and she went, like a proud queen, with her glorious head erect and no shame on her brow.

      As for me, when they were gone I crept away, dazed and bewildered enough, and went back to my bed, having seen and heard more than I had a mind for, as disobedient people and eavesdroppers ever do.

      But my Uncle Hugh kept his word, and Alicia was no more wife to him, save only in name. Yet of gossip or scandal there was none, for the pride of his race kept secret his dishonour, nor did he ever seem other than a courteous and respectful husband.

      Nor did Mrs. Montressor and my aunts, though they wondered much among themselves, learn aught, for they dared question neither their brother nor Alicia, who carried herself as loftily as ever, and seemed to pine for neither lover nor husband. As for me, no one dreamed I knew aught of it, and I kept my own counsel as to what I had seen in the blue parlour on the night of the Christmas ball.

      After the New Year I went home, but ere long Mrs. Montressor sent for me again, saying that the house was lonely without little Beatrice. So I went again and found all unchanged, though the Place was very quiet, and Alicia went out but little from the Red Room.

      Of my Uncle Hugh I saw little, save when he went and came on the business of his estate, somewhat more gravely and silently than of yore, or brought to me books and sweetmeats from town.

      But every day I was with Alicia in the Red Room, where she would talk to me, oftentimes wildly and strangely, but always kindly. And though I think Mrs. Montressor liked our intimacy none too well, she said no word, and I came and went as I listed with Alicia, though never quite liking her strange ways and the restless fire in her eyes.

      Nor would I ever kiss her, after I had seen her lips pressed by the snake’s, though she sometimes coaxed me, and grew pettish and vexed when I would not; but she guessed not my reason.

      March came in that year like a lion, exceedingly hungry and fierce, and my Uncle Hugh had ridden away through the storm nor thought to be back for some days.

      In the afternoon I was sitting in the wing hall, dreaming wondrous daydreams, when Alicia called me to the Red Room. And as I went, I marvelled anew at her loveliness, for the blood was leaping in her face and her jewels were dim before the lustre of her eyes. Her hand, when she took mine, was burning hot, and her voice had a strange ring.

      “Come, little Beatrice,” she said, “come talk to me, for I know not what to do with my lone self today. Time hangs heavily in this gloomy house. I do verily think this Red Room has an evil influence over me. See if your childish prattle can drive away the ghosts that riot in these dark old corners — ghosts of a ruined and shamed life! Nay, shrink not — do I talk wildly? I mean not all I say — my brain seems on fire, little Beatrice. Come; it may be you know some grim old legend of this room — it must surely have one. Never was place fitter for a dark deed! Tush! never be so frightened, child — forget my vagaries. Tell me now and I will listen.”

      Whereat she cast herself lithely on the satin couch and turned her lovely face on me. So I gathered up my small wits and told her what I was not supposed to know — how that, generations agone, a Montressor had disgraced himself and his name, and that, when he came home to his mother, she had met him in that same Red Room and flung at him taunts and reproaches, forgetting whose breast had nourished him; and that he, frantic with shame and despair, turned his sword against his own heart and so died. But his mother went mad with her remorse, and was kept a prisoner in the Red Room until her death.

      So

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