Chapter XIV: Lilith’s Metamorphosis

The run of the Kaiser Wilhelm was an almost ideal voyage. After the first few hours, winds and waves subsided.

On Sunday morning the voyagers arose to find themselves borne steadily onward over a summer sea, under a sunny sky, freshened by a gentle breeze.

As this day was, so were all the succeeding days of the voyage.

Only twice it rained, and then only in the night, so that all the mornings were clear and fair.

Lilith was young, fresh and sensitive and so, notwithstanding all her past griefs, disappointments and humiliations, she enjoyed the voyage.

The baroness was very kind to her young companion, and very delicate in making the gradual change she had determined upon in her case. She never said to the young creature in so many words: “From this time you are my little sister;” but she treated her with the free and fond affection due to such a relationship. She never asked Lilith to perform the slightest service for her; but, on the contrary, very often offered attentions to the girl—wrapping her shawl around her when they were going up on deck, and showing her all the solicitous tenderness of an affectionate relative.

Lilith was very grateful for all this kindness; nor did its excess embarrass her in the least degree. She had been used to the greatest care and the tenderest love all her young days until the brief episode of her married life; and she had no experience to teach her that the baroness’ treatment of her was not the treatment usually bestowed by a lady upon her salaried companion. So she accepted all the favors and all the attentions of the great lady with gratitude and enjoyment.

Their fellow-voyagers had not the least idea that these two young ladies stood in the relations of employer and employed towards each other, but believed them to be very young widowed sisters or dear friends.

There happened to be on board not one of Madame Von Bruyin’s own circle who was acquainted with her family history and knew that she had no sisters.

The baroness happened to come on deck one morning with Lilith.

She sat down near a lady, who, after exchanging salutations with the new-comer, said, politely:

“I hope, madame, that your dear sister is not indisposed this morning, this fine, fine morning, that she is not on deck.”

“Thank you, she is quite well, only a trifle late in rising; but Mrs. Wyvil is not my sister except in affection; though indeed there are few sisters so strongly attached to each other as we are. Circumstances have brought this friendly union about. We are both orphans, without sister or brother; both widows without children; we have, in fact, no family ties whatever. We are fast friends who have no one but each other,” Madame Von Bruyin explained, speaking purposely so to one whom she knew to be one of the busiest gossips among all the ladies of the first cabin.

After this there was much talk about the “romantic friendship” existing between the two beautiful young widows. This talk found its way from the ladies’ cabin to the gentlemen’s saloon, where the status of the two lovely widows was often canvassed. Both were acknowledged to be “beautiful exceedingly,” and yet so different in style that there could be no comparison between them—one a tall and stately blonde, the other a petite and graceful brunette; so that they were relatively called Juno and Psyche. Both were supposed to be enormously rich—great chances for “elegant but impecunious” fortune-hunters. And more than one adventurer who could not manage to approach the hedged-in royalty on ship-board, determined to keep track of the beauties in hopes of golden opportunities after they should have landed on the other side.

Meanwhile Madame Von Bruyin and Lilith, unconscious of the buzz of gossip, criticism and speculation going on around them in cabin and saloon, kept on the even tenor of their way, until one fine morning near the middle of June they awoke to find themselves at Havre. Their ship had arrived in the night while they slept.

Lilith started up to look through the port-hole of her state-room, but she could see nothing but the hulk of another great steamer that lay close alongside.

She dressed herself with eager, childish haste to go upon deck and look upon the shores of the old world, so new to her, and which she had so longed to see.

Such first sights are often a surprise and a disappointment to the young traveler. They expect to see something very new and very strange, instead of which they see what seem to be very familiar objects—all sea-port towns are at first view so very much alike in their general appearance.

When Lilith hurriedly dressed herself, and without waiting for Madame Von Bruyin, hastened up on deck, and looked around her, she saw what, as it seemed to her, she must have seen a hundred times before—a harbor with a forest of shipping, docks crowded with men, women and children, horses, mules, carts and vans, and laden with bales, boxes, barrels and bundles of merchandise; dingy warehouses rising to the sky, with dusty windows and many ropes and pulleys reaching from roof to basement; beyond these the crowded streets of the city.

“Why, but for that old tower in the distance, and those old churches, this might be New York or Baltimore,” said Lilith, unconscious of having spoken out.

“Yes, my dear, at a very casual and superficial glance; but wait until we get into the town. Then I will show you some antiquities of the time of Louis XI., when Havre was but a little fishing-hamlet and never dreamed of becoming the great sea-port that it now is,” said the baroness, who had come quietly up to the side of her young friend.

“Ah! but it is not beautiful to look upon from this point,” said Lilith.

“What sea-port town is? But it is interesting away from the docks—though I can well believe that the ships, docks and warehouses are decidedly the most interesting portion of the town to those busy business men whom we see in the crowd there. But, as I said, wait until we land and see the old city. And remember that beyond the city spread

‘Thy corn-fields green and sunny vines,
Oh, pleasant land of France.’

I always enjoy the railway ride from Havre to Paris. We will take that ride to-morrow, little beauty. To-day we will do Havre.”

“But, madame, I was thinking, as I have before hinted to you, of returning to New York by the first homeward bound steamer,” said Lilith, deprecatingly.

The baroness turned suddenly around and stared at her little friend for a moment, and then exclaimed: “You must never think of doing such a thing! Why have you ever thought of it?”

“Because you are going in the course of your travels to the very city and court where you will be sure to meet—Mr. Hereward,” said Lilith, hesitating over the name. “And I should not like to seem to be following him, after all that has passed,” she added.

“Nonsense, my dear! We may make the tour of the continent without going to that city. Or even if we go there, we may see everything worth seeing without meeting that man.”

“But——”

“I will hear no ‘but,’ my dear. You must not leave me. You engaged to stay with me for twelve months, unless our engagement should be annulled by mutual consent. Now, I do not consent to any such thing, my dear; and you, I know, are too honest and honorable to break a contract. There has been quite enough of that sort of thing in our lives, at least in yours, without a new example. But there! we will not discuss this matter further until we get to our hotel. See! the plank has been laid and the people are beginning to go on shore. Ah! Monsieur Le Grange, will you be so good as to send Felix on shore to engage two carriages? I shall then ask you to attend Mrs. Wyvil and myself to the Hotel de l’Europe, where you will please engage rooms for us,” said the baroness, turning to her private secretary, who had just stepped up.

The polite old gentleman bowed and bowed and went away to perform his commission.

“We will go down and put on our wraps, my dear. You need not take the trouble to pack or to remove anything. I will leave Lisette in charge of our rooms to do all that. Felix can see our trunks through the Custom House, and then come on with Lisette and all the other trumpery to the hotel.”

Lilith followed her friend’s advice and soon joined her in the cabin, dressed for landing.

They went up on deck, and while they stood waiting for the return of Monsieur Le Grange they exchanged good-byes with several fellow-voyagers who were leaving the ship for various points.

At length Monsieur Le Grange came up, bowing.

“I have procured a very comfortable carriage which awaits madame, and I have sent Felix on to the Hotel de l’Europe to secure a suite of rooms that they may be ready for madame, that she may not be kept waiting.”

“Thank you, monsieur; you have been very prompt,” said the baroness, graciously.

“Will madame now proceed to the carriage?” formally inquired the precise old gentleman.

“If you please, monsieur. And will you do me the favor to give your arm to Mrs. Wyvil?” inquired the baroness, according to her usual custom, “in honor preferring” her protégée, to herself.

“I will with pleasure do myself that honor, madame,” said the courtly old gentleman, first with a deep bow to his patroness and then with another to her protégée, as he offered the latter his arm.

“I have left everything here in charge of Felix and Lisette, monsieur. They will follow in the second carriage, as soon as our luggage can be got through, to that you need take no trouble at all,” the baroness explained, as they left the steamer.

The old secretary then put both ladies into the carriage, seated himself beside them, and gave the order:

“To the Hotel de l’Europe.”

A few moments’ drive through the narrow streets brought them up to the fine hotel.

Their rooms were ready, so that there was but little delay before they found themselves in possession of them—handsome rooms they were, on the second floor, fronting the street, very elegantly furnished—“chiefly with gilded mirrors,” as the baroness laughingly observed. But there were also luxurious lounges and reclining chairs, downy cushions and hassocks, and soft rugs, graceful draperies before doors as well as before windows, and, in fact, all the refinements of modern upholstery, better understood by the French than by any other people.

Monsieur Le Grange had ordered the breakfast, which was soon served in madame’s small salon.

The two ladies had just time to lay off their bonnets and wraps, before it was placed on the table, served in silver and Sevres china by the most obsequious of garçons. The dainty new dishes, the delicate rolls, the exquisite coffee, and the rare light wines of the French breakfast, were all novelties in the experience of Lilith, and greatly enjoyed by her.

When the breakfast was over, the two ladies put on their bonnets, and took the carriage that had been engaged by Monsieur Le Grange, and, with him for their cicerone, drove around the city to whatever they considered worth looking at.

They visited the old churches of Notre Dame and St. Francis, and the ancient tower of Franart. They drove out to the picturesque suburbs of Ingouville and Graville l’Heure, lunched at the little café in the last mentioned place, and finally returned to their hotel in time for late dinner.

That evening, after Monsieur Le Grange had bidden them good-night, Madame Von Bruyin and Lilith had a final talk on the question of her—Lilith—returning to New York or traveling over Europe with the baroness.

The prospect of varied travel in company with her charming friend had great attractions for Lilith, certainly, so that when the baroness put it to her heart and conscience not to break the compact she had made with so fond a friend, Lilith not only yielded the point and consented to remain with the baroness, but she did so with evident pleasure.

Madame Von Bruyin kissed her ardently to seal the bargain, and they retired to bed in their adjoining alcoves.

Early the next morning the whole party commenced their continental tour by taking the railway train to Paris.