The Face and the Mask, Robert Barr [best color ereader TXT] 📗

She glanced sideways shyly at him, but did not answer, and the young man walked on beside her.

“You come this way every night,” he said. “I have been watching you. Are you offended?”

“No,” she answered, almost in a whisper.

“Then may I walk with you to your home?” he asked.

“You may walk with me as far as the corner of the Rue de Lille,” she replied.

“Thank you!” said the young fellow, and together they walked the short distance, and there he bade her good night, after asking permission to meet her at the corner of the Rue St. Honoré, and walk home with her, the next night.

“You must not come to the shop,” she said.

“I understand,” he replied, nodding his head in assent to her wishes. He told her his name was Jean Duret, and by-and-by she called him Jean, and he called her Lurine. He never haunted the Pharmacie now, but waited for her at the corner, and one Sunday he took her for a little excursion on the river, which she enjoyed exceedingly. Thus time went on, and Lurine was very happy. The statue smiled its enigmatical smile, though, when the sky was overcast, there seemed to her a subtle warning in the smile. Perhaps it was because they had quarrelled the night before. Jean had seemed to her harsh and unforgiving. He had asked her if she could not bring him some things from the Pharmacie, and gave her a list of three chemicals, the names of which he had written on a paper.

“You can easily get them,” he had said; “they are in every Pharmacie, and will never be missed.”

“But,” said the girl in horror, “that would be stealing.”

The young man laughed.

“How much do they pay you there?” he asked. And when she told him, he laughed again and said,

“Why, bless you, if I got so little as that I would take something from the shelves every day and sell it.”

The girl looked at him in amazement, and he, angry at her, turned upon his heel and left her. She leaned her arms upon the parapet of the bridge, and looked down into the dark water. The river always fascinated her at night, and she often paused to look at it when crossing the bridge, shuddering as she did so. She cried a little as she thought of his abrupt departure, and wondered if she had been too harsh with him. After all, it was not very much he had asked her to do, and they did pay her so little at the Pharmacie. And then perhaps her lover was poor, and needed the articles he had asked her to get. Perhaps he was ill, and had said nothing. There was a touch on her shoulder. She looked round. Jean was standing beside her, but the frown had not yet disappeared from his brow.

“Give me that paper,” he said, abruptly.

She unclosed her hand, and he picked the paper from it, and was turning away.

“Stop!” she said, “I will get you what you want, but I will myself put the money in the till for what they cost.”

He stood there, looking at her for a moment, and then said—“Lurine, I think you are a little fool. They owe you ever so much more than that. However, I must have the things,” and he gave her back the paper with the caution—“Be sure you let no one see that, and be very certain that you get the right things.” He walked with her as far as the corner of the Rue de Lille. “You are not angry with me?” he asked her before they parted.

“I would do anything for you,” she whispered, and then he kissed her good night.

She got the chemicals when the proprietor was out, and tied them up neatly, as was her habit, afterwards concealing them in the little basket in which she carried her lunch. The proprietor was a sharp-eyed old lynx, who looked well after his shop and his pretty little assistant.

“Who has been getting so much chlorate of potash?” he asked, taking down the jar, and looking sharply at her.

The girl trembled.

“It is all right,” she said. “Here is the money in the till.”

“Of course,” he said. “I did not expect you to give it away for nothing. Who bought it?”

“An old man,” replied the girl, trembling still, but the proprietor did not notice that—he was counting the money, and found it right.

“I was wondering what he wanted with so much of it. If he comes in again look sharply at him, and be able to describe him to me. It seems suspicious.” Why it seemed suspicious Lurine did not know, but she passed an anxious time until she took the basket in her hand and went to meet her lover at the corner of the Rue des Pyramides. His first question was—

“Have you brought me the things?”

“Yes,” she answered. “Will you take them here, now?”

“Not here, not here,” he replied hurriedly, and then asked anxiously, “Did anyone see you take them?”

“No, but the proprietor knows of the large package, for he counted the money.”

“What money?” asked Jean.

“Why, the money for the things. You didn’t think I was going to steal them, did you?”

The young man laughed, and drew her into a quiet corner of the Gardens of the Tuileries.

“I will not have time to go with you to the Rue de Lille to-night,” he said.

“But you will come as usual to-morrow night?” she asked, anxiously.

“Certainly, certainly.” he replied, as he rapidly concealed the packages in his pockets.

The next night the girl waited patiently for her lover at the corner where they were in the habit of meeting, but he did not come. She stood under the glaring light of a lamp-post so that he would recognize her at once. Many people accosted her as she stood there, but she answered none, looking straight before her with clear honest eyes, and they passed on after a moment’s hesitation. At last she saw a man running rapidly down the street, and as he passed a brilliantly-lighted window she recognized Jean. He came quickly towards her.

“Here I am,” she cried, running forward. She caught him by the arm, saying, “Oh, Jean, what is the matter?”

He shook her rudely, and shouted at her—“Let me go, you fool!” But she clung to him, until he raised his fist and struck her squarely in the face. Lurine staggered against the wall, and Jean ran on. A stalwart man who had spoken to Lurine a few moments before, and, not understanding her silence, stood in a doorway near watching her, sprang out when he saw