Read Online Twilight Sleep by Edith Wharton - Free Book Online Page B

Toy. That lady's obvious charms were
no more to him, Nona suspected, than those of the florid Bathsheba
in the tapestry behind his chair. But Pauline had evidently had
some special reason—over and above her usual diffused benevolence—
for wanting to put Manford in a good humour. "The Mahatma,
probably." Nona knew how her mother hated a fuss: how vulgar and
unchristian she always thought it. And it would certainly be
inconvenient to give up the rest–cure at Dawnside she had planned
for March, when Manford was to go off tarpon–fishing.
    Nona's glance, in the intervals of talk with her neighbours,
travelled farther, lit on Jim's good–humoured wistful face—Jim was
always wistful at his mother's banquets—and flitted on to Aggie
Heuston's precise little mask, where everything was narrow and
perpendicular, like the head of a saint squeezed into a cathedral
niche. But the girl's eyes did not linger, for as they rested on
Aggie they abruptly met the latter's gaze. Aggie had been
furtively scrutinizing her, and the discovery gave Nona a faint
shock. In another instant Mrs. Heuston turned to Parker Greg, the
interesting young social reformer whom Pauline had thoughtfully
placed next to her, with the optimistic idea that all persons
interested in improving the world must therefore be in the fullest
sympathy. Nona, knowing Parker Greg's views, smiled at that too.
Aggie, she was sure, would feel much safer with her other
neighbour, Mr. Herman Toy, who thought, on all subjects, just what
all his fellow capitalists did.
    Nona caught Stan Heuston's smile, and knew he had read her thought;
but from him too she turned. The last thing she wanted was that he
should guess her real opinion of his wife. Something deep down and
dogged in Nona always, when it came to the touch, made her avert
her feet from the line of least resistance.
    Manford lent an absent ear first to one neighbour, then the other.
Mrs. Toy was saying, in her flat uncadenced voice, like tepid water
running into a bath: "I don't see how people can LIVE without
lifts in their houses, do you? But perhaps it's because I've never
had to. Father's house had the first electric lift at Climax.
Once, in England, we went to stay with the Duke of Humber, at
Humber Castle—one of those huge parties, royalties and everything—
golf and polo all day, and a ball every night; and, will you
believe it, WE HAD TO WALK UP AND DOWN STAIRS! I don't know what
English people are made of. I suppose they've never been used to
what we call comfort. The second day I told Herman I couldn't
stand those awful slippery stairs after two rounds of golf, and
dancing till four in the morning. It was simply destroying my
heart—the doctor has warned me so often! I wanted to leave right
away—but Herman said it would offend the Duke. The Duke's such a
sweet old man. But, any way, I made Herman promise me a sapphire
and emerald plaque from Carrier's before I'd agree to stick it
out…"
    The Marchesa's little ferret face with sharp impassioned eyes
darted conversationally forward. "The Duke of Humber? I know him
so WELL. Dear old man! Ah, you also stayed at Humber? So often
he invites me. We are related … yes, through his first wife,
whose mother was a Venturini of the Calabrian branch: Donna
Ottaviana. Yes. Another sister, Donna Rosmunda, the beauty of the
family, married the Duke of Lepanto … a mediatized prince…"
    She stopped, and Manford read in her eyes the hasty inward
interrogation: "Will they think that expression queer? I'm not
sure myself just what 'mediatized' means. And these Americans!
They stick at nothing, but they're shocked at everything." Aloud
she continued: "A mediatized prince—but a man of the VERY HIGHEST
character."
    "Oh—" murmured Mrs. Toy, puzzled but obviously relieved.
    Manford's attention, tugging at its moorings, had broken loose
again and was off and away.
    The how–many–eth dinner did that make this winter? And no end in
sight! How could Pauline stand it? Why