She had never known what real freedom was; women of the comfortable class--and men, too, for that matter--usually are born into the petty slavery of conventions at least, and know nothing else their whole lives through--never know the joy of the thought and the act of a free mind and a free heart.Still, she was released from a bondage that seemed slavish even to her, and the release gave her a sensation akin to the joy of freedom.A heavy hand that was crushing her very soul had been lifted off--no, FLUNG off, and by herself.
That thought, terrifying though it was, also gave her a certain new and exalting self-respect.After all, she was not a worm.She must have somewhere in her the germs of something less contemptible than the essential character of so many of the eminently respectable women she knew.She could picture them in the situation in which she had found herself.What would they have done? Why, what every instinct of her education impelled her to do; what some latent love of freedom, some unsuspected courage of self-respect had forbidden her to do, had withheld her from doing.
Her thoughts and the gorgeous sunshine and her youth and health put her in a steadily less cheerless mood as by a roundabout way she sought the shop of the jeweler who sold the general the gold bag she had selected.The proprietor himself was in the front part of the shop and received ``Madame la Generale'' with all the honors of her husband's wealth.She brought no experience and no natural trading talent to the enterprise she was about to undertake; so she went directly to the main point.
``This bag,'' said she, laying it upon the glass between them, ``I bought it here a short time ago.''
``I remember perfectly, madame.It is the handsomest, the most artistic, we have sold this year.''
``I wish to sell it back to you,'' said she.
``You wish to get something else and include it as part payment, madame?''
``No, I wish to get the money for it.''
``Ah, but that is difficult.We do not often make those arrangements.Second-hand articles--''
``But the bag is quite new.Anyhow, it must have some value.Of course I'd not expect the full price.''
The jeweler smiled.``The full price? Ah, madame, we should not think of offering it again as it is.
We should--''
``No matter,'' interrupted Mildred.The man's expression--the normally pleasant and agreeable countenance turned to repulsive by craft and lying--made her eager to be gone.``What is the most you will give me?''
``I shall have to consider--''
``I've only a few minutes.Please do not irritate me.''
The man was studying her countenance with adesperate look.Why was she, the bride of the monstrously rich American, why was she trying to sell the bag? Did it mean the end of her resources? Or, were there still huge orders to be got from her? His shrewd-ness, trained by thirty years of dealing with all kinds of luxurious human beings, went exploring in vain.He was alarmed by her frown.He began hesitatingly:
``The jewels and the gold are only a small part of the value.The chief value is the unique design, so elegant yet so simple.For the jewels and the gold, perhaps two thousand francs--''
``The purse was twelve thousand francs,'' interrupted she.
``Perfectly, madame.But--''
``I am in great haste.How much will you give me?''
``The most would be four thousand, I fear.I shall count up more carefully, if madame will--''
``No, four thousand will do.''
``I will send the money to madame at her hotel.The Continental, is it not?''
``No, I must have it at once.''
The jeweler hesitated.Mildred, flushing scarlet with shame--but he luckily thought it anger--took up the bag and moved toward the door.
``Pardon, madame, but certainly.Do you wish some gold or all notes?''
``Notes,'' answered she.``Fifty and hundred-franc notes.''
A moment later she was in the street with the notes in a small bundle in the bosom of her wrap.She went hurriedly up the street.As she was about to turn the corner into the boulevard she on impulse glanced back.
An automobile had just drawn up at the jeweler's door and General Siddall--top-hat, sable-lined overcoat, waxed mustache and imperial, high-heeled boots, gold-mounted cane--was descending.And she knew that he had awakened to his one oversight, and was on his way to repair it.But she did not know that the jeweler --old and wise in human ways--would hastily vanish with the bag and that an assistant would come forward with assurances that madame had not been in the shop and that, if she should come in, no business would be negotiated without the general's express consent.She all but fainted at the narrowness of her escape and fled round into the boulevard.She entered a taxi and told the man to drive to Foyot's restaurant on the left bank --where the general would never think of looking for her.
When she had breakfasted she strolled in the Luxembourg Gardens, in even better humor with herself and with the world.There was still that horrid-faced future, but it was not leering into her very face.It was nearly four thousand francs away--``and if Ihadn't been so stupid, I'd have got eight thousand, I'm sure,'' she said.But she was rather proud of a stupidity about money matters.And four thousand francs, eight hundred dollars--that was quite a good sum.
She had an instinct that the general would do something disagreeable about the French and English ports of departure for America.But perhaps he would not think of the Italian ports.That night she set out for Genoa, and three days later, in a different dress and with her hair done as she never wore it, sailed as Miss Mary Stevens for America on a German Mediterranean boat.
