And so it was, that he had not hesitated to bring with him the woman of raven hair and dead-white cheek, and to install her in the gorgeous suite in the west wing of the Ferida, where others, as frail but far less fair, had been before her—and the world never the wiser—just as now it was not the wiser as to Madeline Spencer’s presence. The time was not yet for her to show herself, and in the meantime she had remained secluded; she was too well known in Dornlitz to escape recognition; and even Lotzen dared not, at this exigency, so spurn public sentiment as to sponsor the adventuress whom he had procured to pose as wife to the Archduke Armand.
She had come with him to the Capital with deep misgiving, and only after much urging and jeweled caresses; though not the least of the inducements was the hope of annoying the Princess Dehra—for whom she had conceived the most violent hate. By herself it would, of course, have been a fatulously foolish hate, but with Lotzen, and under the peculiar situation existing at Court, there was a chance—and it was this chance she meant to play for and to seize. And besides, it promised the excitement and ample financial returns that were the mainsprings of her existence.
And though it fretted her beyond measure to dawdle in idleness and tiresome inanition, even in the luxury of the Ferida, yet she endured it with amazing equanimity; and amused herself, the while, by flirting with the Duke’s friends, when the Duke was not in presence—and sometimes when he was. And then, when he sulked or stormed, a soft arm would slip around his neck, and a pair of red lips smile close to his face; and, presently, he was caressing the one, and pleading for the others—and there was peace, and on her terms. The marvel of it all, was how she held him—as no woman had ever held him hitherto; she made no pretense of love, nor tried for it from him—a pleasant camaraderie was all she gave, and all she asked for; favor-free to-day, favor-cold to-morrow; elusive as a moon-beam; fickle as the wind; tempting and alluring as a vestal; false and faithless as the Daughter of the Foam.
And though Lotzen knew it—and knew it well—for she had told him frankly what she was and what she lived for, yet her fascinations negatived her words; while her indifference as to whether she stayed or went—and which he was thoroughly aware was not assumed—only captivated him the more, who had been used to easy conquest and clinging hearts.