<h2>CHAPTER XXX</h2>
<br/>
<div class="first">MAXINE was in high exaltation—the
exaltation that makes no count of cost. Yesterday mattered not at
all; to-morrow might never dawn! As the outer door closed upon
Blake, she turned back into the lighted <i>salon</i>—the
little <i>salon</i> of Max's books, of Max's boyish
tastes—the little <i>salon</i> loved beyond all rooms in
Paris!</div>
<p>In a smiling dream she passed through it, on into the studio
where no light was, save the light from a shred of crescent moon
that had lately climbed into the sky. It had a curious
effect—this bare, white room with its gaunt easel, upon which
the portrait still stood, and to superstitious eyes, it might well
have suggested a ghost-chamber, peopled by dead thoughts, dead
impressions: but Maxine was in no morbid mood, happiness ran too
high—too red and warm—to permit of shadows disputing
its high place.</p>
<p>Smiling, smiling, she passed from the studio to the bedroom. The
room that had witnessed her first weakness; the room that had
brought her strength. How infinitely wise had been the conduct of
that night! How irrevocably fate had created doubt and dispersed it
by inspiration. If she had not twisted her hair about her
head—if the little Jacqueline had not entered at the critical
moment—if, for that matter, M. Cartel and his friend had not
talked late and partaken of <i>bouillon</i>—</p>
<p>She laughed; she wandered round the room, touching, appraising
the little familiar trifles associated with that past hour; at last
she sat down before her mirror, and there Jacqueline found her ten
minutes later, when curiosity could no longer be withheld and she
came creeping across the landing for news of the night's
doings.</p>
<p>Maxine heard her enter; heard her search the <i>salon</i> and
then the studio; finally called to her.</p>
<p>"Jacqueline!"</p>
<p>"Madame!"</p>
<p>The door opened, and Maxine looked round, the smile still upon
her lips.</p>
<p>"No soup for me to-night, Jacqueline? Not even tea?"</p>
<p>Jacqueline caught the happy lightness of the tone, and silently
nodded her blonde head as she tiptoed into the room.</p>
<p>"Ah, madame has had a banquet of the mind! Madame has no need of
my poor food."</p>
<p>Maxine picked up a comb and arranged the tendrils of hair that
curled about her temples.</p>
<p>"Jacqueline," she said, after a silence, "what do you consider
the highest thing?"</p>
<p>The question might have been astonishing, but her visitor did
not betray surprise by even the quiver of an eyelash.</p>
<p>"Love, madame," she said.</p>
<p>And Maxine did not flash round upon her in one of her swift
rages, did not even draw her brows together into their frowning
line. She merely gazed into the mirror, as if weighing the
statement judicially.</p>
<p>"All people do not hold that opinion," she said, at last.</p>
<p>Jacqueline shrugged her shoulders in the exercise of an infinite
patience. "No, madame?"</p>
<p>"No. M. Blake talked to-night of 'the highest thing,' and he did
not mean love."</p>
<p>"No, madame?" Jacqueline was very guileless.</p>
<p>But guileless as her tone was—nay, by reason of its
guilelessness—it touched Maxine in some shadowy corner of her
woman's consciousness; and spurred by a subtle, disquieting
suggestion, she turned in her chair, and fixed her serious gray
eyes upon her visitor.</p>
<p>"What are your thoughts, Jacqueline?"</p>
<p>Jacqueline, taken unawares, deprecated.</p>
<p>"Oh, madame—"</p>
<p>But Maxine was set to her point. "Answer my question," she
insisted. "I wish to know. I am, above all things, practical."</p>
<p>It was to Jacqueline's credit that she did not smile, that she
simply murmured: "Who doubts it, madame?"</p>
<p>"Yes; I am, above all things, practical. In this affair of the
woman, I know exactly where I stand."</p>
<p>The girl made no comment; but even to Maxine's own ears, her
declaration left a little suggestion of over-vehemence vibrating in
the air; and startled by this suggestion, she did the least wise,
the most human thing possible, she accentuated it.</p>
<p>"If I were different—if M. Blake were different, I grant
that, perhaps—" She stopped abruptly. "Jacqueline, what are
your thoughts?"</p>
<p>"Oh, madame, I have none!"</p>
<p>And here Maxine made a change of front, became very grave,
touched the gracious, encouraging note of the being to whom life is
an open book.</p>
<p>"You must not say that," she corrected, sweetly. "You always
have ideas—even if they are sometimes a little in the air.
Come! Tell me. What are your thoughts?"</p>
<p>But Jacqueline was wary, as befitted one who made no pretence of
scholarship, but who knew the old human story by heart, and daily
recited it to one ardent listener.</p>
<p>"Oh, madame, it is not fitting—"</p>
<p>"Absurd! Tell me."</p>
<p>Jacqueline, hard pressed, sought refuge in a truth.</p>
<p>"My thoughts might displease madame."</p>
<p>Maxine sat straighter in her chair. Here was another matter!</p>
<p>"Ah, so that is it! Well, now I am determined. Now I will have
the thoughts at any cost."</p>
<p>When Maxine spoke like this, when her lips closed upon her
words, when her eyes rested unflinchingly upon her listener, she
was wont to have her questions answered. Jacqueline recognized the
moment, saw Maxine in all her proud foolishness, loved her with
that swift intermingling of pity and worship that such beings as
she inevitably call forth, finally tossed her little head in her
most tantalizing manner and laughed.</p>
<p>"With madame's permission," she said, "I will wish her
good-night!"</p>
<p>"The permission is not granted."</p>
<p>"Nevertheless, madame!" Her hand was on the door.</p>
<p>"Wait!" cried Maxine, peremptorily. "I have asked you a question
and you must answer it."</p>
<p>Jacqueline stopped half-way through the doorway, and looked
back, her flower-like face alight with mischief.</p>
<p>"Pardon, madame! 'Must' is the word for the ruler. Lucien says
'must' to me; M. Blake says 'must' to"—she paused, with
maddening precision; she dropped a little impertinent
curtsy—"to M. Max!"</p>
<p>She tossed the word upon the air, as a child might blow
thistle-down; she laughed and was gone, leaving Maxine conscious of
a strange new sensation that whipped her to anger and yet, most
curiously, left her bereft of words.</p>
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