Argosy and Railroad Man's Magazine — page 51: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

‘7 Ne WHOSE HANDS? 393 Hers were no fantom hands, certainly. But whatever it was, De Charleu held the key, and I felt that he used it as a means of torture, like a knife in the hands of a cruel small boy. We dropped him at Canal Street, where the crowds were so great that we moved with difficulty. Lights blazed in long fes- toons down the long streets. I was surprised several times to see my host-in our-neighborhood, and in the most unexpected moments. Always he appeared unconscious of our presence. If Nita ever saw him, she gave no sign, but talked on. Once when we stopped to let a crowd of maskers pass, a young man of perhaps thir- ty, with fair hair and keen gray eyes, threaded his way to us. Nita introduced him as M. Randolph. He talked to me with the inquisitive courtesy of the South- erner toward a stranger; but his eyes dwelt on Nita in a fashion that left no room for doubt as to his feelings for the brilliant little woman. I ¢aught myself watching her for some answering sign on her vivid, dark face. There was none. She chatted along gaily, indifferently, about many things; then sud- denly I felt her stiffen. I looked up, and, following her eyes, found De Charleu com- ing toward us. “Ah, M. Randolph!” he cried, extend- ing his hand in great cordiality on reaching the carriage. “I hear you are doing big things, eh?” - The young man made an embarrassed gesture of dissent, and De Charleau turned to me. : ‘“M. Randolph is one of our brilliant young attorneys. He will be our next Con- gressman from this district.” He seemed to say it in the tone of one who wishes to entertain a guest and compliment a friend. “ He is a young man of great charm and promise. Once he wished to be my deadly rival and deprive me of my countess— mais ””—De Charleu shrugged his shoulders —“those things are arranged for us, and so it was destined he shall lose her, and I win.” He laughed softly. ‘“ Now he is my friend; but I suspect he would not weep if I am laid beside my ancestors; for~ which I do not blame him.” De Charleu’s black eyes turned with ador- ation toward his lovely wife as if to say? “But look at her and you will see he is not to blame.” His words and manner were light, almost frivolous; his white teeth were exposed in a good-humored smile, and redolent with flat- tery toward his wife; but, somehow, back of all, there seemed something sinister. Nita accepted the implied compliment with a little, forced laugh. Randolph flushed under the credle’s words; but his own smile did not waver. He retorted-with some pleasant banter for De Charleu, a compliment for madame, and left us in a few moments. T was curiously shocked by the scene. It seemed in bad taste at best, and so out of keeping with my suave, courteous host, who also left us directly, saying he was going up to the club. Nita’s eyes, that had grown absent as we trailed along, again drifted out of space to her own limp hands. She studied them for a long while; then apropos of nothing began to tell me about young Randolph, as if she thought she must explain her husband’s words. ~‘““We were in love with each other as boy and girl,” she said, her dark face flush- ing noticeably under the lights. “I mar- ried Amédée by my father’s request before he died, and never since my marriage have we, M. Randolph and I, exchanged a word except in public. Have you ever been greatly in love, Eleanor?” she asked,. a catch in her voice. Then she went on to speak with the passionate frankness of her people. © In this sweet, warm, palpitating land of the creoles, where the very breath is love, ‘they have none of our reticence about dis- cussing matters of the heart. But as we are ashamed of love, so they are ashamed of divorce. t In the course of a gay evening, full of shifting scenes, Nita seemed to forget her disturbing thoughts. It was almost twelve when she turned to me, contrition in her big, dark eyes. “ But I am a sorry hostess to forget how tired you must be!”’ she exclaimed. “ Uncle Jesse, drive home at once.” Conmicoool<S.conn