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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Gentleman Vagabond and Some Others
+by F. Hopkinson Smith
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Gentleman Vagabond and Some Others
+
+Author: F. Hopkinson Smith
+
+Release Date: February 7, 2005 [EBook #14967]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GENTLEMAN VAGABOND ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Melissa Er-Raqabi, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A GENTLEMAN VAGABOND
+AND SOME OTHERS
+
+BY
+
+F. HOPKINSON SMITH
+
+
+
+NEW YORK
+GROSSET & DUNLAP
+PUBLISHERS
+
+
+
+
+1895
+
+
+
+
+_INTRODUCTORY NOTE_
+
+
+_There are gentlemen vagabonds and vagabond gentlemen. Here and there one
+finds a vagabond pure and simple, and once in a lifetime one meets a
+gentleman simple and pure._
+
+_Without premeditated intent or mental bias, I have unconsciously to
+myself selected some one of these several types,--entangling them in the
+threads of the stories between these covers._
+
+_Each of my readers can group them to suit his own experience._
+
+F.H.S. NEW YORK, 150 E. 34TH ST.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                   PAGE
+A GENTLEMAN VAGABOND                  1
+A KNIGHT OF THE LEGION OF HONOR      36
+JOHN SANDERS, LABORER                67
+BÄADER                               82
+THE LADY OF LUCERNE                 102
+JONATHAN                            126
+ALONG THE BRONX                     141
+ANOTHER DOG                         147
+BROCKWAY'S HULK                     160
+
+
+
+
+A GENTLEMAN VAGABOND
+
+I
+
+I found the major standing in front of Delmonico's, interviewing a large,
+bare-headed personage in brown cloth spotted with brass buttons. The major
+was in search of his very particular friend, Mr. John Hardy of Madison
+Square, and the personage in brown and brass was rather languidly
+indicating, by a limp and indecisive forefinger, a route through a section
+of the city which, correctly followed, would have landed the major in the
+East River.
+
+I knew him by the peculiar slant of his slouch hat, the rosy glow of his
+face, and the way in which his trousers clung to the curves of his
+well-developed legs, and ended in a sprawl that half covered his shoes. I
+recognized, too, a carpet-bag, a ninety-nine-cent affair, an "occasion,"
+with galvanized iron clasps and paper-leather sides,--the kind opened with
+your thumb.
+
+The major--or, to be more definite, Major Tom Slocomb of Pocomoke--was
+from one of the lower counties of the Chesapeake. He was supposed to own,
+as a gift from his dead wife, all that remained unmortgaged of a vast
+colonial estate on Crab Island in the bay, consisting of several thousand
+acres of land and water,--mostly water,--a manor house, once painted
+white, and a number of outbuildings in various stages of dilapidation and
+decay.
+
+In his early penniless life he had migrated from his more northern native
+State, settled in the county, and, shortly after his arrival, had married
+the relict of the late lamented Major John Talbot of Pocomoke. This had
+been greatly to the surprise of many eminent Pocomokians, who boasted of
+the purity and antiquity of the Talbot blood, and who could not look on in
+silence, and see it degraded and diluted by an alliance with a "harf
+strainer or worse." As one possible Talbot heir put it, "a picayune,
+low-down corncracker, suh, without blood or breedin'."
+
+The objections were well taken. So far as the ancestry of the Slocomb
+family was concerned, it was a trifle indefinite. It really could not be
+traced back farther than the day of the major's arrival at Pocomoke,
+notwithstanding the major's several claims that his ancestors came over
+in the Mayflower, that his grandfather fought with General Washington, and
+that his own early life had been spent on the James River. These
+statements, to thoughtful Pocomokians, seemed so conflicting and
+improbable, that his neighbors and acquaintances ascribed them either to
+that total disregard for salient facts which characterized the major's
+speech, or to the vagaries of that rich and vivid imagination which had
+made his conquest of the widow so easy and complete.
+
+Gradually, however, through the influence of his wife, and because of his
+own unruffled good-humor, the antipathy had worn away. As years sped on,
+no one, except the proudest and loftiest Pocomokian, would have cared to
+trace the Slocomb blood farther back than its graft upon the Talbot tree.
+Neither would the major. In fact, the brief honeymoon of five years left
+so profound an impression upon his after life, that, to use his own words,
+his birth and marriage had occurred at the identical moment,--he had never
+lived until then.
+
+There was no question in the minds of his neighbors as to whether the
+major maintained his new social position on Crab Island with more than
+ordinary liberality. Like all new vigorous grafts on an old stock, he not
+only blossomed out with extraordinary richness, but sucked the sap of the
+primeval family tree quite dry in the process. In fact, it was universally
+admitted that could the constant drain of his hospitality have been
+brought clearly to the attention of the original proprietor of the estate,
+its draft-power would have raised that distinguished military gentleman
+out of his grave. "My dear friends," Major Slocomb would say, when, after
+his wife's death, some new extravagance was commented upon, "I felt I owed
+the additional slight expenditure to the memory of that queen among women,
+suh--Major Talbot's widow."
+
+He had espoused, too, with all the ardor of the new settler, the several
+articles of political faith of his neighbors,--loyalty to the State,
+belief in the justice and humanity of slavery and the omnipotent rights of
+man,--white, of course,--and he had, strange to say, fallen into the
+peculiar pronunciation of his Southern friends, dropping his final _g_'s,
+and slurring his _r_'s, thus acquiring that soft cadence of speech which
+makes their dialect so delicious.
+
+As to his title of "Major," no one in or out of the county could tell
+where it originated. He had belonged to no company of militia, neither
+had he won his laurels on either side during the war; nor yet had the
+shifting politics of his State ever honored him with a staff appointment
+of like grade. When pressed, he would tell you confidentially that he had
+really inherited the title from his wife, whose first husband, as was well
+known, had earned and borne that military distinction; adding tenderly,
+that she had been so long accustomed to the honor that he had continued it
+after her death simply out of respect to her memory.
+
+But the major was still interviewing Delmonico's flunky, oblivious of
+everything but the purpose in view, when I touched his shoulder, and
+extended my hand.
+
+"God bless me! Not you? Well, by gravy! Here, now, colonel, you can tell
+me where Jack Hardy lives. I've been for half an hour walkin' round this
+garden lookin' for him. I lost the letter with the number in it, so I came
+over here to Delmonico's--Jack dines here often, I know, 'cause he told me
+so. I was at his quarters once myself, but 't was in the night. I am
+completely bamboozled. Left home yesterday--brought up a couple of
+thoroughbred dogs that the owner wouldn't trust with anybody but me, and
+then, too, I wanted to see Jack."
+
+I am not a colonel, of course, but promotions are easy with the major.
+
+"Certainly; Jack lives right opposite. Give me your bag."
+
+He refused, and rattled on, upbraiding me for not coming down to Crab
+Island last spring with the "boys" when the ducks were flying, punctuating
+his remarks here and there with his delight at seeing me looking so well,
+his joy at being near enough to Jack to shake the dear fellow by the hand,
+and the inexpressible ecstasy of being once more in New York, the centre
+of fashion and wealth, "with mo' comfo't to the square inch than any other
+spot on this terrestrial ball."
+
+The "boys" referred to were members of a certain "Ducking Club" situated
+within rifle-shot of the major's house on the island, of which club Jack
+Hardy was president. They all delighted in the major's society, really
+loving him for many qualities known only to his intimates.
+
+Hardy, I knew, was not at home. This, however, never prevented his colored
+servant, Jefferson, from being always ready at a moment's notice to
+welcome the unexpected friend. In another instant I had rung Hardy's
+bell,--third on right,--and Jefferson, in faultless evening attire, was
+carrying the major's "carpet-bag" to the suite of apartments on the third
+floor front.
+
+Jefferson needs a word of comment. Although born and bred a slave, he is
+the product of a newer and higher civilization. There is hardly a trace of
+the old South left in him,--hardly a mark of the pit of slavery from which
+he was digged. His speech is as faultless as his dress. He is clean,
+close-shaven, immaculate, well-groomed, silent,--reminding me always of a
+mahogany-colored Greek professor, even to his eye-glasses. He keeps his
+rooms in admirable order, and his household accounts with absolute
+accuracy; never spilled a drop of claret, mixed a warm cocktail, or served
+a cold plate in his life; is devoted to Hardy, and so punctiliously polite
+to his master's friends and guests that it is a pleasure to have him serve
+you.
+
+Strange to say, this punctilious politeness had never extended to the
+major, and since an occurrence connected with this very bag, to be related
+shortly, it had ceased altogether. Whether it was that Jefferson had
+always seen through the peculiar varnish that made bright the major's
+veneer, or whether in an unguarded moment, on a previous visit, the major
+gave way to some such outburst as he would have inflicted upon the
+domestics of his own establishment, forgetting for the time the superior
+position to which Jefferson's breeding and education entitled him, I
+cannot say, but certain it is that while to all outward appearances
+Jefferson served the major with every indication of attention and
+humility, I could see under it all a quiet reserve which marked the line
+of unqualified disapproval. This was evident even in the way he carried
+the major's bag,--holding it out by the straps, not as became the handling
+of a receptacle containing a gentleman's wardrobe, but by the neck, so to
+speak,--as a dog to be dropped in the gutter.
+
+It was this bag, or rather its contents, or to be more exact its lack of
+contents, that dulled the fine edge of Jefferson's politeness. He unpacked
+it, of course, with the same perfunctory care that he would have bestowed
+on the contents of a Bond Street Gladstone, indulging in a prolonged
+chuckle when he found no trace of a most important part of a gentleman's
+wardrobe,--none of any pattern. It was, therefore, with a certain grim
+humor that, when he showed the major to his room the night of his
+arrival, he led gradually up to a question which the unpacking a few hours
+before had rendered inevitable.
+
+"Mr. Hardy's orders are that I should inform every gentleman when he
+retires that there's plenty of whiskey and cigars on the sideboard, and
+that"--here Jefferson glanced at the bag--"and that if any gentleman came
+unprepared there was a night shirt and a pair of pajams in the closet."
+
+"I never wore one of 'em in my life, Jefferson; but you can put the
+whiskey and the cigars on the chair by my bed, in case I wake in the
+night."
+
+When Jefferson, in answer to my inquiries as to how the major had passed
+the night, related this incident to me the following morning, I could
+detect, under all his deference and respect toward his master's guest, a
+certain manner and air plainly implying that, so far as the major and
+himself were concerned, every other but the most diplomatic of relations
+had been suspended.
+
+The major, by this time, was in full possession of my friend's home. The
+only change in his dress was in the appearance of his shoes, polished by
+Jefferson to a point verging on patent leather, and the adoption of a
+black alpaca coat, which, although it wrinkled at the seams with a
+certain home-made air, still fitted his fat shoulders very well. To this
+were added a fresh shirt and collar, a white tie, nankeen vest, and the
+same tight-fitting, splay-footed trousers, enriched by a crease of
+Jefferson's own making.
+
+As he lay sprawled out on Hardy's divan, with his round, rosy,
+clean-shaven face, good-humored mouth, and white teeth, the whole
+enlivened by a pair of twinkling eyes, you forgot for the moment that he
+was not really the sole owner of the establishment. Further intercourse
+thoroughly convinced you of a similar lapse of memory on the major's part.
+
+"My dear colonel, let me welcome you to my New York home!" he exclaimed,
+without rising from the divan. "Draw up a chair; have a mouthful of mocha?
+Jefferson makes it delicious. Or shall I call him to broil another
+po'ter-house steak? No? Then let me ring for some cigars," and he touched
+the bell.
+
+To lie on a divan, reach out one arm, and, with the expenditure of less
+energy than would open a match-box, to press a button summoning an
+attendant with all the unlimited comforts of life,--juleps, cigars,
+coffee, cocktails, morning papers, fans, matches out of arm's reach,
+everything that soul could covet and heart long for; to see all these
+several commodities and luxuries develop, take shape, and materialize
+while he lay flat on his back,--this to the major was civilization.
+
+"But, colonel, befo' you sit down, fling yo' eye over that garden in the
+square. Nature in her springtime, suh!"
+
+I agreed with the major, and was about to take in the view over the
+treetops, when he tucked another cushion under his head, elongated his
+left leg until it reached the window-sill, thus completely monopolizing
+it,-and continued without drawing a breath:--
+
+"And I am so comfo'table here. I had a po'ter-house steak this
+mornin'--you're sure you won't have one?" I shook my head. "A po'ter-house
+steak, suh, that'll haunt my memory for days. We, of co'se, have at home
+every variety of fish, plenty of soft-shell crabs, and 'casionally a
+canvasback, when Hardy or some of my friends are lucky enough to hit one,
+but no meat that is wo'th the cookin'. By the bye, I've come to take Jack
+home with me; the early strawberries are in their prime, now. You will
+join us, of course?"
+
+Before I could reply, Jefferson entered the room, laid a tray of cigars
+and cigarettes with a small silver alcohol lamp at my elbow, and, with a
+certain inquiring and, I thought, slightly surprised glance at the major's
+sprawling attitude, noiselessly withdrew. The major must have caught the
+expression on Jefferson's face, for he dropped his telescope leg, and
+straightened up his back, with the sudden awkward movement of a similarly
+placed lounger surprised by a lady in a hotel parlor. The episode seemed
+to knock the enthusiasm out of him, for after a moment he exclaimed in
+rather a subdued tone:--
+
+"Rather remarkable nigger, this servant of Jack's. I s'pose it is the
+influence of yo' New York ways, but I am not accustomed to his kind."
+
+I began to defend Jefferson, but he raised both hands in protest.
+
+"Yes, I know--education and thirty dollars a month. All very fine, but
+give me the old house-servants of the South--the old Anthonys, and
+Keziahs, and Rachels. They never went about rigged up like a stick of
+black sealing-wax in a suit of black co't-plaster. They were easy-goin'
+and comfortable. Yo' interest was their interest; they bore yo' name,
+looked after yo' children, and could look after yo' house, too. Now see
+this nigger of Jack's; he's better dressed than I am, tips round as solemn
+on his toes as a marsh-crane, and yet I'll bet a dollar he's as slick and
+cold-hearted as a high-water clam. That's what education has done for
+_him_.
+
+"You never knew Anthony, my old butler? Well, I want to tell you, he _was_
+a servant, as _was_ a servant. During Mrs. Slocomb's life"--here the major
+assumed a reminiscent air, pinching his fat chin with his thumb and
+forefinger--"we had, of co'se, a lot of niggers; but this man Anthony! By
+gravy! when he filled yo' glass with some of the old madeira that had
+rusted away in my cellar for half a century,"--here the major now slipped
+his thumb into the armhole of his vest,--"it tasted like the nectar of the
+gods, just from the way Anthony poured it out.
+
+"But you ought to have seen him move round the table when dinner was over!
+He'd draw himself up like a drum-major, and throw back the mahogany doors
+for the ladies to retire, with an air that was captivatin'." The major was
+now on his feet--his reminiscent mood was one of his best. "That's been a
+good many years ago, colonel, but I can see him now just as plain as if he
+stood before me, with his white cotton gloves, white vest, and green coat
+with brass buttons, standin' behind Mrs. Slocomb's chair. I can see the
+old sidebo'd, suh, covered with George III. silver, heirlooms of a
+century,"--this with a trance-like movement of his hand across his eyes.
+"I can see the great Italian marble mantels suppo'ted on lions' heads, the
+inlaid floor and wainscotin'."--Here the major sank upon the divan again,
+shutting both eyes reverently, as if these memories of the past were a
+sort of religion with him.
+
+"And the way those niggers loved us! And the many holes they helped us out
+of. Sit down there, and let me tell you what Anthony did for me once." I
+obeyed cheerfully. "Some years ago I received a telegram from a very
+intimate friend of mine, a distinguished Baltimorean,--the Nestor of the
+Maryland bar, suh,--informin' me that he was on his way South, and that he
+would make my house his home on the followin' night." The major's eyes
+were still shut. He had passed out of his reverential mood, but the effort
+to be absolutely exact demanded concentration.
+
+"I immediately called up Anthony, and told him that Judge Spofford of the
+Supreme Co't of Maryland would arrive the next day, and that I wanted the
+best dinner that could be served in the county, and the best bottle of
+wine in my cellar." The facts having been correctly stated, the major
+assumed his normal facial expression and opened his eyes.
+
+"What I'm tellin' you occurred after the war, remember, when putty near
+everybody down our way was busted. Most of our niggers had run away,--all
+'cept our old house-servants, who never forgot our family pride and our
+noble struggle to keep up appearances. Well, suh, when Spofford arrived
+Anthony carried his bag to his room, and when dinner was announced, if it
+_was_ my own table, I must say that it cert'ly did fa'rly groan with the
+delicacies of the season. After the crabs had been taken off,--we were
+alone, Mrs. Slocomb havin' gone to Baltimo',--I said to the judge: 'Yo'
+Honor, I am now about to delight yo' palate with the very best bottle of
+old madeira that ever passed yo' lips. A wine that will warm yo' heart,
+and unbutton the top button of yo' vest. It is part of a special
+importation presented to Mrs. Slocomb's father by the captain of one of
+his ships.--Anthony, go down into the wine-cellar, the inner cellar,
+Anthony, and bring me a bottle of that old madeira of '37--stop, Anthony;
+make it '39. I think, judge, it is a little dryer.' Well, Anthony bowed,
+and left the room, and in a few moments he came back, set a lighted candle
+on the mantel, and, leanin' over my chair, said in a loud whisper: 'De
+cellar am locked, suh, and I'm 'feard Mis' Slocomb dun tuk de key.'
+
+"'Well, s'pose she has,' I said; 'put yo' knee against it, and fo'ce the
+do'.' I knew my man, suh. Anthony never moved a muscle.
+
+"Here the judge called out, 'Why, major, I couldn't think of'--
+
+"'Now, yo' Honor,' said I, 'please don't say a word. This is my affair.
+The lock is not of the slightest consequence.'
+
+"In a few minutes back comes Anthony, solemn as an owl. 'Major,' said he,
+'I done did all I c'u'd, an' dere ain't no way 'cept breakin' down de do'.
+Las' time I done dat, Mis' Slocomb neber forgib me fer a week.'
+
+"The judge jumped up. 'Major, I won't have you breakin' yo' locks and
+annoyin' Mrs. Slocomb.'
+
+"'Yo' Honor,' I said, 'please take yo' seat. I'm d----d if you shan't
+taste that wine, if I have to blow out the cellar walls.'
+
+"'I tell you, major,' replied the judge in a very emphatic tone and with
+some slight anger I thought, 'I ought not to drink yo' high-flavored
+madeira; my doctor told me only last week I must stop that kind of thing.
+If yo' servant will go upstairs and get a bottle of whiskey out of my bag,
+it's just what I ought to drink.'
+
+"Now I want to tell you, colonel, that at that time I hadn't had a bottle
+of any kind of wine in my cellar for five years." Here the major closed
+one eye, and laid his forefinger against his nose.
+
+"'Of co'se, yo' Honor,' I said, 'when you put it on a matter of yo' health
+I am helpless; that paralyzes my hospitality; I have not a word to say.
+Anthony, go upstairs and get the bottle.' And we drank the judge's
+whiskey! Now see the devotion and loyalty of that old negro servant, see
+his shrewdness! Do you think this marsh-crane of Jack's"--
+
+Here Jefferson threw open the door, ushering in half a dozen gentlemen,
+and among them the rightful host, just returned after a week's
+absence,--cutting off the major's outburst, and producing another equally
+explosive:--
+
+"Why, Jack!"
+
+Before the two men grasp hands I must, in all justice to the major, say
+that he not only had a sincere admiration for Jack's surroundings, but
+also for Jack himself, and that while he had not the slightest
+compunction in sharing or, for that matter, monopolizing his hospitality,
+he would have been equally generous in return had it been possible for him
+to revive the old days, and to afford a menage equally lavish.
+
+It is needless for me to make a like statement for Jack. One half the
+major's age, trained to practical business life from boyhood, frank,
+spontaneous, every inch a man, kindly natured, and, for one so young, a
+deep student, of men as well as of books, it was not to be wondered at
+that not only the major but that every one else who knew him loved him.
+The major really interested him enormously. He represented a type which
+was new to him, and which it delighted him to study. The major's
+heartiness, his magnificent disregard for _meum_ and _tuum_, his unique
+and picturesque mendacity, his grandiloquent manners at times, studied, as
+he knew, from some example of the old regime, whom he either consciously
+or unconsciously imitated, his peculiar devotion to the memory of his late
+wife,--all appealed to Jack's sense of humor, and to his enjoyment of
+anything out of the common. Under all this he saw, too, away down in the
+major's heart, beneath these several layers, a substratum of true
+kindness and tenderness.
+
+This kindness, I know, pleased Jack best of all.
+
+So when the major sprang up in delight, calling out, "Why, Jack!" it was
+with very genuine, although quite opposite individual, sympathies, that
+the two men shook hands. It was beautiful, too, to see the major welcome
+Jack to his own apartments, dragging up the most comfortable chair in the
+room, forcing him into it, and tucking a cushion under his head, or
+ringing up Jefferson every few moments for some new luxury. These he would
+catch away from that perfectly trained servant's tray, serving them
+himself, rattling on all the time as to how sorry he was that he did not
+know the exact hour at which Jack would arrive, that he might have had
+breakfast on the table--how hot had it been on the road--how well he was
+looking, etc.
+
+It was specially interesting, besides, after the proper introductions had
+been made, to note the way in which Jack's friends, inoculated with the
+contagion of the major's mood, and carried away by his breezy, buoyant
+enthusiasm, encouraged the major to flow on, interjecting little asides
+about his horses and farm stock, agreeing to a man that the two-year old
+colt--a pure creation on the moment of the major--would certainly beat the
+record and make the major's fortune, and inquiring with great solicitude
+whether the major felt quite sure that the addition to the stables which
+he contemplated would be large enough to accommodate his stud, with other
+similar inquiries which, while indefinite and tentative, were, so to
+speak, but flies thrown out on the stream of talk,--the major rising
+continuously, seizing the bait, and rushing headlong over sunken rocks and
+through tangled weeds of the improbable in a way that would have done
+credit to a Munchausen of older date. As for Jack, he let him run on. One
+plank in the platform of his hospitality was to give every guest a free
+rein.
+
+Before the men separated for the day, the major had invited each
+individual person to make Crab Island his home for the balance of his
+life, regretting that no woman now graced his table since Mrs. Slocomb's
+death,--"Major Talbot's widow--Major John Talbot of Pocomoke, suh," this
+impressively and with sudden gravity of tone,--placing his stables, his
+cellar, and his servants at their disposal, and arranging for everybody
+to meet everybody else the following day in Baltimore, the major starting
+that night, and Jack and his friends the next day. The whole party would
+then take passage on board one of the Chesapeake Bay boats, arriving off
+Crab Island at daylight the succeeding morning.
+
+This was said with a spring and joyousness of manner, and a certain
+quickness of movement, that would surprise those unfamiliar with some of
+the peculiarities of Widow Talbot's second husband. For with that true
+spirit of vagabondage which saturated him, next to the exquisite luxury of
+lying sprawled on a lounge with a noiseless servant attached to the other
+end of an electric wire, nothing delighted the major so much as an outing,
+and no member of any such junketing party, be it said, was more popular
+every hour of the journey. He could be host, servant, cook, chambermaid,
+errand-boy, and _grand seigneur_ again in the same hour, adapting himself
+to every emergency that arose. His good-humor was perennial, unceasing,
+one constant flow, and never checked. He took care of the dogs, unpacked
+the bags, laid out everybody's linen, saw that the sheets were dry,
+received all callers so that the boys might sleep in the afternoon, did
+all the disagreeable and uncomfortable things himself, and let everybody
+else have all the fun. He did all this unconsciously, graciously, and
+simply because he could not help it. When the outing ended, you parted
+from him with all the regret that you would from some chum of your college
+days. As for him, he never wanted it to end. There was no office, nor law
+case, nor sick patient, nor ugly partner, nor complication of any kind,
+commercial, social, or professional, which could affect the major. For him
+life was one prolonged drift: so long as the last man remained he could
+stay. When he left, if there was enough in the larder to last over, the
+major always made another day of it.
+
+
+II
+
+The major was standing on the steamboat wharf in Baltimore, nervously
+consulting his watch, when Jack and I stepped from a cab next day.
+
+"Well, by gravy! is this all? Where are the other gentlemen?"
+
+"They'll be down in the morning, major," said Jack. "Where shall we send
+this baggage?"
+
+"Here, just give it to me! Po'ter, _po'ter_!" in a stentorian voice. "Take
+these bags and guns, and put 'em on the upper deck alongside of my
+luggage. Now, gentlemen, just a sip of somethin' befo' they haul the
+gang-plank,--we've six minutes yet."
+
+The bar was across the street. On the way over, the major confided to Jack
+full information regarding the state-rooms, remarking that he had selected
+the "fo' best on the upper deck," and adding that he would have paid for
+them himself only a friend had disappointed him.
+
+It was evident that the barkeeper knew his peculiarities, for a tall,
+black bottle with a wabbly cork--consisting of a porcelain marble confined
+in a miniature bird-cage--was passed to the major before he had opened his
+mouth. When he did open it--the mouth--there was no audible protest as
+regards the selection. When he closed it again the flow line had fallen
+some three fingers. It is, however, fair to the major to say that only one
+third of this amount was tucked away under his own waistcoat.
+
+The trip down the bay was particularly enjoyable, brightened outside on
+the water by the most brilliant of sunsets, the afternoon sky a glory of
+purple and gold, and made gay and delightful inside the after-cabin by
+the charm of the major's talk,--the whole passenger-list entranced as he
+skipped from politics and the fine arts to literature, tarrying a moment
+in his flight to discuss a yellow-backed book that had just been
+published, and coming to a full stop with the remark:--
+
+"And you haven't read that book, Jack,--that scurrilous attack on the
+industries of the South? My dear fellow! I'm astounded that a man of yo'
+gifts should not--Here--just do me the favor to look through my baggage on
+the upper deck, and bring me a couple of books lyin' on top of my
+dressin'-case."
+
+"Which trunk, major?" asked Jack, a slight smile playing around his mouth.
+
+"Why, my sole-leather trunk, of co'se; or perhaps that English
+hat-box--no, stop, Jack, come to think, it is in the small valise. Here,
+take my keys," said the major, straightening his back, squeezing his fat
+hand into the pocket of his skin-tight trousers, and fishing up with his
+fore-finger a small bunch of keys. "Right on top, Jack; you can't miss
+it."
+
+"Isn't he just too lovely for anything?" said Jack to me, when we reached
+the upper deck,--I had followed him out. "He's wearing now the only
+decent suit of clothes he owns, and the rest of his wardrobe you could
+stuff into a bandbox. English sole-leather trunk! Here, put your thumb on
+that catch," and he drew out the major's bag,--the one, of course, that
+Jefferson unpacked, with the galvanized-iron clasps and paper-leather
+sides.
+
+The bag seemed more rotund, and heavier, and more important looking than
+when I handled it that afternoon in front of Delmonico's, presenting a
+well-fed, even a bloated, appearance. The clasps, too, appeared to have
+all they could do to keep its mouth shut, while the hinges bulged in an
+ominous way.
+
+I started one clasp, the other gave way with a burst, and the next
+instant, to my horror, the major's wardrobe littered the deck. First the
+books, then a package of tobacco, then the one shirt, porcelain-finished
+collars, and the other necessaries, including a pair of slippers and a
+comb. Next, three bundles loosely wrapped, one containing two wax dolls,
+the others some small toys, and a cheap Noah's ark, and last of all,
+wrapped up in coarse, yellow butcher's paper, stained and moist, a freshly
+cut porter-house steak.
+
+Jack roared with laughter as he replaced the contents. "Yes; toys for the
+little children--he never goes back without something for them if it takes
+his last dollar; tobacco for his old cook, Rachel; not a thing for
+himself, you see--and this steak! Who do you suppose he bought that for?"
+
+"Did you find it?" called out the major, as we reëntered the cabin.
+
+"Yes; but it wasn't in the English trunk," said Jack, handing back the
+keys, grave as a judge, not a smile on his face.
+
+"Of co'se not; didn't I tell you it was in the small bag? Now, gentlemen,
+listen!" turning the leaves. "Here is a man who has the impertinence to
+say that our industries are paralyzed. It is not our industries; it is our
+people. Robbed of their patrimony, their fields laid waste, their estates
+confiscated by a system of foreclosure lackin' every vestige of decency
+and co'tesy,--Shylocks wantin' their pound of flesh on the very hour and
+day,--why shouldn't they be paralyzed?" He laughed heartily. "Jack, you
+know Colonel Dorsey Kent, don't you?"
+
+Jack did not, but the owners of several names on the passenger-list did,
+and hitched their camp-stools closer.
+
+"Well, Kent was the only man I ever knew who ever held out against the
+damnable oligarchy."
+
+Here an old fellow in a butternut suit, with a half-moon of white whiskers
+tied under his chin, leaned forward in rapt attention.
+
+The major braced himself, and continued: "Kent, gentlemen, as many of you
+know, lived with his maiden sister over on Tinker Neck, on the same piece
+of ground where he was bo'n. She had a life interest in the house and
+property, and it was so nominated in the bond. Well, when it got down to
+hog and hominy, and very little of that, she told Kent she was goin' to
+let the place to a strawberry-planter from Philadelphia, and go to
+Baltimo' to teach school. She was sorry to break up the home, but there
+was nothin' else to do. Well, it hurt Kent to think she had to leave home
+and work for her living, for he was a very tender-hearted man.
+
+"'You don't say so, Jane,' said he, 'and you raised here! Isn't that very
+sudden?' She told him it was, and asked him what he was going to do for a
+home when the place was rented?
+
+"'Me, Jane? I shan't do anythin'. I shall stay here. If your money affairs
+are so badly mixed up that you're obliged to leave yo' home, I am very
+deeply grieved, but I am powerless to help. I am not responsible for the
+way this war ended. I was born here, and here I am going to stay." And he
+did. Nothing could move him. She finally had to rent him with the
+house,--he to have three meals a day, and a room over the kitchen.
+
+"For two years after that Kent was so disgusted with life, and the turn of
+events, that he used to lie out on a rawhide, under a big sycamore tree in
+front of the po'ch, and get a farm nigger to pull him round into the shade
+by the tail of the hide, till the grass was wore as bare as yo' hand. Then
+he got a bias-cut rockin'-chair, and rocked himself round.
+
+"The strawberry man said, of co'se, that he was too lazy to live. But I
+look deeper than that. To me, gentlemen, it was a crushin', silent protest
+against the money power of our times. And it never broke his spirit,
+neither. Why, when the census man came down a year befo' the colonel's
+death, he found him sittin' in his rockin'-chair, bare-headed. Without
+havin' the decency to take off his own hat, or even ask Kent's permission
+to speak to him, the census man began askin' questions,--all kinds, as
+those damnable fellows do. Colonel Kent let him ramble on for a while,
+then he brought him up standin'.
+
+"'Who did you say you were, suh?'
+
+"'The United States census-taker.'
+
+"'Ah, a message from the enemy. Take a seat on the grass.'
+
+"'It's only a matter of form,' said the man.
+
+"'So I presume, and very bad form, suh,' looking at the hat still on the
+man's head. 'But go on.'
+
+"'Well, what's yo' business?' asked the agent, taking out his book and
+pencil.
+
+"'My business, suh?' said the colonel, risin' from his chair, mad clear
+through,--'I've no business, suh. I am a prisoner of war waitin' to be
+exchanged!' and he stomped into the house."
+
+Here the major burst into a laugh, straightened himself up to his full
+height, squeezed the keys back into his pocket, and said he must take a
+look into the state-rooms on the deck to see if they were all ready for
+his friends for the night.
+
+When I turned in for the night, he was on deck again, still talking, his
+hearty laugh ringing out every few moments. Only the white-whiskered man
+was left. The other camp-stools were empty.
+
+
+II
+
+At early dawn the steamboat slowed down, and a scow, manned by two
+bare-footed negroes with sweep oars, rounded to. In a few moments the
+major, two guns, two valises, Jack, and I were safely landed on its wet
+bottom, the major's bag with its precious contents stowed between his
+knees.
+
+To the left, a mile or more away, lay Crab Island, the landed estate of
+our host,--a delicate, green thread on the horizon line, broken by two
+knots, one evidently a large house with chimneys, and the other a clump of
+trees. The larger knot proved to be the manor house that sheltered the
+belongings of the major, with the wine-cellars of marvelous vintage, the
+table that groaned, the folding mahogany doors that swung back for bevies
+of beauties, and perhaps, for all I knew, the gray-haired, ebony butler in
+the green coat. The smaller knot, Jack said, screened from public view the
+little club-house belonging to his friends and himself.
+
+As the sun rose and we neared the shore, there came into view on the near
+end of the island the rickety outline of a palsied old dock, clutching
+with one arm a group of piles anchored in the marsh grass, and extending
+the other as if in welcome to the slow-moving scow. We accepted the
+invitation, threw a line over a thumb of a pile, and in five minutes were
+seated in a country stage. Ten more, and we backed up to an old-fashioned
+colonial porch, with sloping roof and dormer windows supported by high
+white columns. Leaning over the broken railing of the porch was a
+half-grown negro boy, hatless and bare-footed; inside the door, looking
+furtively out, half concealing her face with her apron, stood an old negro
+woman, her head bound with a bandana kerchief, while peeping from behind
+an outbuilding was a group of children in sun-bonnets and straw
+hats,--"the farmer's boys and girls," the major said, waving his hand, as
+we drove up, his eyes brightening. Then there was the usual collection of
+farm-yard fowl, beside two great hounds, who visited each one of us in
+turn, their noses rubbing our knees.
+
+If the major, now that he was on his native heath, realized in his own
+mind any difference between the Eldorado which his eloquence had conjured
+up in my own mind, the morning before in Jack's room, and the hard, cold
+facts before us, he gave no outward sign. To all appearances, judging
+from his perfect ease and good temper, the paint-scaled pillars were the
+finest of Carrara marble, the bare floors were carpeted with the softest
+fabrics of Turkish looms, and the big, sparsely furnished rooms were so
+many salons, where princes trod in pride, and fair ladies stepped a
+measure.
+
+The only remark he made was in answer to a look of surprise on my face
+when I peered curiously into the bare hall and made a cursory mental
+inventory of its contents.
+
+"Yes, colonel; you will find, I regret to say, some slight changes since
+the old days. Then, too, my home is in slight confusion owin' to the
+spring cleanin', and a good many things have been put away."
+
+I looked to Jack for explanation, but if that thoroughbred knew where the
+major had permanently put the last batch of his furniture, he, too, gave
+no outward sign.
+
+As for the servants, were there not old Rachel and Sam, chef and valet?
+What more could one want? The major's voice, too, had lost none of its
+persuasive powers.
+
+"Here, Sam, you black imp, carry yo' Marster Jack's gun and things to my
+room, and, Rachel, take the colonel's bag to the sea-room, next to the
+dinin'-hall. Breakfast in an hour, gentlemen, as Mrs. Slocomb used to
+say."
+
+I found only a bed covered with a quilt, an old table with small drawers,
+a wash-stand, two chairs, and a desk on three legs. The walls were bare
+except for a fly-stained map yellow with age. As I passed through the
+sitting-room, Rachel preceding me with my traps, I caught a glimpse of
+traces of better times. There was a plain wooden mantelpiece, a wide
+fireplace with big brass andirons, a sideboard with and without brass
+handles and a limited number of claw feet,--which if brought under the
+spell of the scraper and varnish-pot might once more regain its lost
+estate,--a corner-cupboard built into the wall, half full of fragments of
+old china, and, to do justice to the major's former statement, there was
+also a pair of dull old mahogany doors with glass knobs separating the
+room from some undiscovered unknown territory of bareness and emptiness
+beyond. These, no doubt, were the doors Anthony threw open for the bevies
+of beauties so picturesquely described by the major, but where were the
+Chippendale furniture, the George III. silver, the Italian marble mantels
+with carved lions' heads, the marquetry floors and cabinets?
+
+I determined to end my mental suspense. I would ask Rachel and get at the
+facts. The old woman was opening the windows, letting in the fresh breath
+of a honeysuckle, and framing a view of the sea beyond.
+
+"How long have you lived here, aunty?"
+
+"'Most fo'ty years, sah. Long 'fo' Massa John Talbot died."
+
+"Where's old Anthony?" I said.
+
+"What Anthony? De fust major's body-servant?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Go 'long, honey. He's daid dese twenty years. Daid two years 'fo' Massa
+Slocomb married Mis' Talbot."
+
+"And Anthony never waited at all on Major Slocomb?"
+
+"How could he wait on him, honey, when he daid 'fo' he see him?"
+
+I pondered for a moment over the picturesque quality of the major's
+mendacity.
+
+Was it, then, only another of the major's tributes to his wife,--this
+whole story of Anthony and the madeira of '39? How he must have loved this
+dear relict of his military predecessor!
+
+An hour later the major strolled into the sitting-room, his arm through
+Jack's.
+
+"Grand old place, is it not?" he said, turning to me. "Full of historic
+interest. Of co'se the damnable oligarchy has stripped us, but"--
+
+Here Aunt Rachel flopped in--her slippers, I mean; the sound was
+distinctly audible.
+
+"Bre'kfus', major."
+
+"All right, Rachel. Come, gentlemen!"
+
+When we were all seated, the major leaned back in his chair, toyed with
+his knife a moment, and said with an air of great deliberation:--
+
+"Gentlemen, when I was in New York I discovered that the fashionable dish
+of the day was a po'ter-house steak. So when I knew you were coming, I
+wired my agent in Baltimo' to go to Lexington market and to send me down
+on ice the best steak he could buy fo' money. It is now befo' you.
+
+"Jack, shall I cut you a piece of the tenderloin?"
+
+
+
+
+A KNIGHT OF THE LEGION OF HONOR
+
+
+It was in the smoking-room of a Cunarder two days out. The evening had
+been spent in telling stories, the fresh-air passengers crowding the
+doorways to listen, the habitual loungers and card-players abandoning
+their books and games.
+
+When my turn came,--mine was a story of Venice, a story of the old palace
+of the Barbarozzi,--I noticed in one corner of the room a man seated alone
+wrapped in a light shawl, who had listened intently as he smoked, but who
+took no part in the general talk. He attracted my attention from his
+likeness to my friend Vereschagin the painter; his broad, white forehead,
+finely wrought features, clear, honest, penetrating eye, flowing mustache
+and beard streaked with gray,--all strongly suggestive of that
+distinguished Russian. I love Vereschagin, and so, unconsciously, and by
+mental association, perhaps, I was drawn to this stranger. Seeing my eye
+fixed constantly upon him, he threw off his shawl, and crossed the room.
+
+"Pardon me, but your story about the Barbarozzi brought to my mind so many
+delightful recollections that I cannot help thanking you. I know that old
+palace,--knew it thirty years ago,--and I know that cortile, and although
+I have not had the good fortune to run across either your gondolier,
+Espero, or his sweetheart, Mariana, I have known a dozen others as
+romantic and delightful. The air is stifling here. Shall we have our
+coffee outside on the deck?"
+
+When we were seated, he continued, "And so you are going to Venice to
+paint?"
+
+"Yes; and you?"
+
+"Me? Oh, to the Engadine to rest. American life is so exhausting that I
+must have these three months of quiet to make the other nine possible."
+
+The talk drifted into the many curious adventures befalling a man in his
+journeyings up and down the world, most of them suggested by the queer
+stories of the night. When coffee had been served, he lighted another
+cigar, held the match until it burned itself out,--the yellow flame
+lighting up his handsome face,--looked out over the broad expanse of
+tranquil sea, with its great highway of silver leading up to the full
+moon dominating the night, and said as if in deep thought:--
+
+"And so you are going to Venice?" Then, after a long pause: "Will you mind
+if I tell you of an adventure of my own,--one still most vivid in my
+memory? It happened near there many years ago." He picked up his shawl,
+pushed our chairs close to the overhanging life-boat, and continued: "I
+had begun my professional career, and had gone abroad to study the
+hospital system in Europe. The revolution in Poland--the revolt of
+'62--had made traveling in northern Europe uncomfortable, if not
+dangerous, for foreigners, even with the most authentic of passports, and
+so I had spent the summer in Italy. One morning, early in the autumn, I
+bade good-by to my gondolier at the water-steps of the railroad station,
+and bought a ticket for Vienna. An important letter required my immediate
+presence in Berlin.
+
+"On entering the train I found the carriage occupied by two persons: a
+lady, richly dressed, but in deep mourning and heavily veiled; and a man,
+dark and smooth-faced, wearing a high silk hat. Raising my cap, I placed
+my umbrella and smaller traps under the seat, and hung my bundle of
+traveling shawls in the rack overhead. The lady returned my salutation
+gravely, lifting her veil and making room for my bundles. The dark man's
+only response was a formal touching of his hat-brim with his forefinger.
+
+"The lady interested me instantly. She was perhaps twenty-five years of
+age, graceful, and of distinguished bearing. Her hair was jet-black,
+brushed straight back from her temples, her complexion a rich olive, her
+teeth pure white. Her lashes were long, and opened and shut with a slow,
+fan-like movement, shading a pair of deep blue eyes, which shone with that
+peculiar light only seen when quick tears lie hidden under half-closed
+lids. Her figure was rounded and full, and her hands exquisitely modeled.
+Her dress, while of the richest material, was perfectly plain, with a
+broad white collar and cuffs like those of a nun. She wore no jewels of
+any kind. I judged her to be a woman of some distinction,--an Italian or
+Hungarian, perhaps.
+
+"When the train started, the dark man, who had remained standing, touched
+his hat to me, raised it to the lady, and disappeared. Her only
+acknowledgment was a slight inclination of the head. A polite stranger,
+no doubt, I thought, who prefers the smoker. When the train stopped for
+luncheon, I noticed that the lady did not leave the carriage, and on my
+return I found her still seated, looking listlessly out of the window, her
+head upon her hand.
+
+"'Pardon me, madame,' I said in French, 'but unless you travel some
+distance this is the last station where you can get anything to eat.'
+
+"She started, and looked about helplessly. 'I am not hungry. I cannot
+eat--but I suppose I should.'
+
+"'Permit me;' and I sprang from the carriage, and caught a waiter with a
+tray before the guard reclosed the doors. She drank the coffee, tasted the
+fruit, thanking me in a low, sweet voice, and said:--
+
+"'You are very considerate. It will help me to bear my journey. I am very
+tired, and weaker than I thought; for I have not slept for many nights.'
+
+"I expressed my sympathy, and ended by telling her I hoped we could keep
+the carriage to ourselves; she might then sleep undisturbed. She looked at
+me fixedly, a curious startled expression crossing her face, but made no
+reply.
+
+"Almost every man is drawn, I think, to a sad or tired woman. There is a
+look about the eyes that makes an instantaneous draft on the sympathies.
+So, when these slight confidences of my companion confirmed my misgivings
+as to her own weariness, I at once began diverting her as best I could
+with some account of my summer's experience in Venice, and with such of my
+plans for the future as at the moment filled my mind. I was younger
+then,--perhaps only a year or two her senior,--and you know one is not
+given to much secrecy at twenty-six: certainly not with a gentle lady
+whose good-will you are trying to gain, and whose sorrowful face, as I
+have said, enlists your sympathy at sight. Then, to establish some sort of
+footing for myself, I drifted into an account of my own home life; telling
+her of my mother and sisters, of the social customs of our country, of the
+freedom given the women,--so different from what I had seen abroad,--of
+their perfect safety everywhere.
+
+"We had been talking in this vein some time, she listening quietly until
+something I said reacted in a slight curl of her lips,--more incredulous
+than contemptuous, perhaps, but significant all the same; for, lifting her
+eyes, she answered slowly and meaningly:--
+
+"'It must be a paradise for women. I am glad to believe that there is one
+corner of the earth where they are treated with respect. My own
+experiences have been so different that I have begun to believe that none
+of us are safe after we leave our cradles.' Then, as if suddenly realizing
+the inference, the color mounting to her cheeks, she added: 'But please do
+not misunderstand me. I am quite willing to accept your statement; for I
+never met an American before.'
+
+"As we neared the foothills the air grew colder. She instinctively drew
+her cloak the closer, settling herself in one corner and closing her eyes
+wearily. I offered my rug, insisting that she was not properly clad for a
+journey over the mountains at night. She refused gently but firmly, and
+closed her eyes again, resting her head against the dividing cushion. For
+a moment I watched her; then arose from my seat, and, pulling down my
+bundle of shawls, begged that I might spread my heaviest rug over her lap.
+An angry color mounted to her cheeks. She turned upon me, and was about to
+refuse indignantly, when I interrupted:--
+
+"'Please allow me; don't you know you cannot sleep if you are cold? Let
+me put this wrap about you. I have two.'
+
+"With the unrolling, the leather tablet of the shawl-strap, bearing my
+name, fell in her lap.
+
+"'Your name is Bosk,' she said, with a quick start, 'and you an American?'
+
+"'Yes; why not?'
+
+"'My maiden name is Boski,' she replied, looking at me in astonishment,
+'and I am a Pole.'
+
+"Here were two mysteries solved. She was married, and neither Italian nor
+Slav.
+
+"'And your ancestry?' she continued with increased animation. 'Are you of
+Polish blood? You know our name is a great name in Poland. Your
+grandfather, of course, was a Pole.' Then, with deep interest, 'What are
+your armorial bearings?'
+
+"I answered that I had never heard that my grandfather was a Pole. It was
+quite possible, though, that we might be of Polish descent, for my father
+had once told me of an ancestor, an old colonel, who fell at Austerlitz.
+As to the armorial bearings, we Americans never cared for such things. The
+only thing I could remember was a certain seal which my father used to
+wear, and with which he sealed his letters. The tradition in the family
+was that it belonged to this old colonel. My sister used it sometimes. I
+had a letter from her in my pocket.
+
+"She examined the indented wax on the envelope, opened her cloak quickly,
+and took from the bag at her side a seal mounted in jewels, bearing a
+crest and coat of arms.
+
+"'See how slight the difference. The quarterings are almost the same, and
+the crest and motto identical. This side is mine, the other is my
+husband's. How very, very strange! And yet you are an American?'
+
+"'And your husband's crest?' I asked. 'Is he also a Pole?'
+
+"'Yes; I married a Pole,' with a slight trace of haughtiness, even
+resentment, at the inquiry.
+
+"'And his name, madame? Chance has given you mine--a fair exchange is
+never a robbery.'
+
+"She drew herself up, and said quickly, and with a certain bearing I had
+not noticed before:--
+
+"'Not now; it makes no difference.'
+
+"Then, as if uncertain of the effect of her refusal, and with a
+willingness to be gracious, she added:--
+
+"In a few minutes--at ten o'clock--we reach Trieste. The train stops
+twenty minutes. You were so kind about my luncheon; I am stronger now.
+Will you dine with me?'
+
+"I thanked her, and on arriving at Trieste followed her to the door. As we
+alighted from the carriage I noticed the same dark man standing by the
+steps, his fingers on his hat. During the meal my companion seemed
+brighter and less weary, more gracious and friendly, until I called the
+waiter and counted out the florins on his tray. Then she laid her hand
+quietly but firmly upon my arm.
+
+"'Please do not--you distress me; my servant Polaff has paid for
+everything.'
+
+"I looked up. The dark man was standing behind her chair, his hat in his
+hand.
+
+"I can hardly express to you my feelings as these several discoveries
+revealed to me little by little the conditions and character of my
+traveling companion. Brought up myself under a narrow home influence, with
+only a limited knowledge of the world, I had never yet been thrown in with
+a woman of her class. And yet I cannot say that it was altogether the
+charm of her person that moved me. It was more a certain hopeless sort of
+sorrow that seemed to envelop her, coupled with an indefinable distrust
+which I could not solve. Her reserve, however, was impenetrable, and her
+guarded silence on every subject bearing upon herself so pronounced that I
+dared not break through it. Yet, as she sat there in the carriage after
+dinner, during the earlier hours of the night, she and I the only
+occupants, her eyes heavy and red for want of sleep, her beautiful hair
+bound in a veil, the pallor of her skin intensified by the sombre hues of
+her dress, I would have given anything in the world to have known her well
+enough to have comforted her, even by a word.
+
+"As the night wore on the situation became intolerable. Every now and then
+she would start from her seat, jostled awake by the roughness of the
+road,--this section had just been completed,--turn her face the other way,
+only to be awakened again.
+
+"'You cannot sleep. May I make a pillow for your head of my other shawl? I
+do not need it. My coat is warm enough.'
+
+"'No; I am very comfortable.'
+
+"'Forgive me, you are not. You are very uncomfortable, and it pains me to
+see you so weary. These dividing-irons make it impossible for you to lie
+down. Perhaps I can make a cushion for your head so that you will rest
+easier.'
+
+"She looked at me coldly, her eyes riveted on mine.
+
+"'You are very kind, but why do you care? You have never seen me before,
+and may never again.'
+
+"'I care because you are a woman, alone and unprotected. I care most
+because you are suffering. Will you let me help you?'
+
+"She bent her head, and seemed wrapped in thought. Then straightening up,
+as if her mind had suddenly resolved,--
+
+"'No; leave me alone. I will sleep soon. Men never really care for a woman
+when she suffers.' She turned her face to the window.
+
+"'I pity you, then, from the bottom of my heart,' I replied, nettled at
+her remark. 'There is not a man the length and breadth of my land who
+would not feel for you now as I do, and there is not a woman who would
+misunderstand him.'
+
+"She raised her head, and in a softened voice, like a sorrowing child's,
+it was so pathetic, said: 'Please forgive me. I had no right to speak so.
+I shall be very grateful to you if you can help me; I am so tired.'
+
+"I folded the shawl, arranged the rug over her knees, and took the seat
+beside her. She thanked me, laid her cheek upon the impromptu pillow, and
+closed her eyes. The train sped on, the carriage swaying as we rounded the
+curves, the jolting increasing as we neared the great tunnel. Settling
+myself in my seat, I drew my traveling-cap well down so that its shadow
+from the overhead light would conceal my eyes, and watched her unobserved.
+For half an hour I followed every line in her face, with its delicate
+nostrils, finely cut nose, white temples with their blue veins, and the
+beautiful hair glistening in the half-shaded light, the long lashes
+resting, tired out, upon her cheek. Soon I noticed at irregular intervals
+a nervous twitching pass over her face; the brow would knit and relax
+wearily, the mouth droop. These indications of extreme exhaustion occurred
+constantly, and alarmed me. Unchecked, they would result in an alarming
+form of nervous prostration. A sudden lurch dislodged the pillow.
+
+"'Have you slept?' I asked.
+
+"'I do not know. A little, I think. The car shakes so.'
+
+"'My dear lady,' I said, laying my hand on hers,--she started, but did not
+move her own,--'it is absolutely necessary that you sleep, and at once.
+What your nervous strain has been, I know not; but my training tells me
+that it has been excessive, and still is. Its continuance is dangerous.
+This road gets rougher as the night passes. If you will rest your head
+upon my shoulder, I can hold you so that you will go to sleep.'
+
+"Her face flushed, and she recovered her hand quickly.
+
+"'You forget, sir, that'--
+
+"'No, no; I forget nothing. I remember everything; that I am a stranger,
+that you are ill, that you are rapidly growing worse, that, knowing as I
+do your condition, I cannot sit here and not help you. It would be
+brutal.'
+
+"Her lips quivered, and her eyes filled. 'I believe you,' she said. Then,
+turning quickly with an anxious look, 'But it will tire you.'
+
+"'No; I have held my mother that way for hours at a time.'
+
+"She put out her hand, laid it gently on my wrist, looked into my face
+long and steadily, scanning every feature, as if reassuring herself, then
+laid her cheek upon my shoulder, and fell asleep.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"When the rising sun burst behind a mountain-crag, and, at a turn in the
+road, fell full upon her face, she awoke with a start, and looked about
+bewildered. Then her mind cleared.
+
+"'How good you have been. You have not moved all night so I might rest. I
+awoke once frightened, but your hands were folded in your lap.'
+
+"With this her whole manner changed. All the haughty reserve was gone; all
+the cynicism, the distrust, and suspicion. She became as gentle and tender
+as an anxious mother, begging me to go to sleep at once. She would see
+that no one disturbed me. It was cruel that I was so exhausted.
+
+"When the guard entered, she sent for her servant, and bade him watch out
+for a pot of coffee at the next station. 'To think monsieur had not slept
+all night!' When Polaff handed in the tray, she filled the cups herself,
+adding the sugar, and insisting that I should also drink part of her
+own,--one cup was not enough. Upon Polaff's return she sent for her
+dressing-case. She must make her toilet at once, and not disturb me. It
+would be several hours before we reached Vienna; she felt sure I would
+sleep now.
+
+"I watched her as she spread a dainty towel over the seat in front, and
+began her preparations, laying out the powder-boxes, brushes, and comb,
+the bottles of perfume, and the little knickknacks that make up the
+fittings of a gentlewoman's boudoir. It was almost with a show of
+enthusiasm that she picked up one of the bottles, and pointed out to me
+again the crest in relief upon its silver top, saying over and over again
+how glad she was to know that some of her own blood ran in my veins. She
+was sure now that I belonged to her mother's people. When, at the next
+station, Polaff brought a basin of water, and I arose to leave the car,
+she begged me to remain,--the toilet was nothing; it would be over in a
+minute. Then she loosened her hair, letting it fall in rich masses about
+her shoulders, and bathed her face and hands, rearranging her veil, and
+adding a fresh bit of lace to her throat. I remember distinctly how
+profound an impression this strange scene made upon my mind, so different
+from any former experience of my life,--its freedom from conventionality,
+the lack of all false modesty, the absolute absence of any touch of
+coquetry or conscious allurement.
+
+"When it was all over, her beauty being all the more pronounced now that
+the tired, nervous look had gone out of her face, she still talked on,
+saying how much better and fresher she felt, and how much more rested than
+the night before. Suddenly her face saddened, and for many minutes she
+kept silence, gazing dreamily down into the abysses white with the rush of
+Alpine torrents, or hidden in the early morning fog. Then, finding I would
+not sleep, and with an expression as if she had finally resolved upon some
+definite action, and with a face in which every line showed the sincerest
+confidence and trust,--as unexpected as it was incomprehensible to
+me,--she said:--
+
+"'Last night you asked me for my name. I would not tell you then. Now you
+shall know. I am the Countess de Rescka Smolenski. I live in Cracow. My
+husband died in Venice four days ago. I took him there because he was
+ill,--so ill that he was carried in Polaff's arms from the gondola to his
+bed. The Russian government permitted me to take him to Italy to die. One
+Pole the less is of very little consequence. A week ago this permit was
+revoked, and we were ordered to report at Cracow without delay. Why, I do
+not know, except perhaps to add another cruelty to the long list of wrongs
+the government have heaped upon my family. My husband lingered three days
+with the order spread out on the table beside him. The fourth day they
+laid him in Campo Santo. That night my maid fell ill. Yesterday morning a
+second peremptory order was handed me. I am now on my way home to obey.'
+
+"Then followed in slow, measured sentences the story of her life: married
+at seventeen at her father's bidding to a man twice her age; surrounded by
+a court the most dissolute in eastern Europe; forced into a social
+environment that valued woman only as a chattel, and that ostracized or
+defamed every wife who, reverencing her womanhood, protested against its
+excesses. For five years past--ever since her marriage--her husband's
+career had been one long, unending dissipation. At last, broken down by a
+life he had not the moral courage to resist, he had succumbed and taken to
+his bed; thence, wavering between life and death, like a burnt-out candle
+flickering in its socket, he had been carried to Venice.
+
+"'Do you wonder, now, that my faith is gone, my heart broken?'
+
+"We were nearing Vienna; the stations were more frequent; our own carriage
+began filling up. For an hour we rode side by side, silent, she gazing
+fixedly from the window, I half stunned by this glimpse of a life the
+pathos of which wrung my very heart. When we entered the station she
+roused herself, and said to me half pleadingly:--
+
+"'I cannot bear to think I may never see you again. To-night I must stay
+in Vienna. Will you dine with me at my hotel? I go to the Metropole. And
+you? Where did you intend to go?'
+
+"'To the Metropole, also.'
+
+"'Not when you left Venice?'
+
+"'Yes; before I met you.'
+
+"'There is a fate that controls us,' she said reverently. 'Come at seven.'
+
+"When the hour arrived I sent my card to her apartment, and was ushered
+into a small room with a curtain-closed door opening out into a larger
+salon, through which I caught glimpses of a table spread with glass and
+silver. Polaff, rigid and perpendicular, received me with a stiff, formal
+recognition. I do not think he quite understood, nor altogether liked, his
+mistress's chance acquaintance. In a moment she entered from a door
+opposite, still in her black garments with the nun's cuffs and broad
+collar. Extending her hand graciously, she said:--
+
+"'You have slept since I left you this morning. I see it in your face. I
+am so glad. And I too. I have rested all day. It was so good of you to
+come.'
+
+"There was no change in her manner; the same frank, trustful look in her
+eyes, the same anxious concern about me. When dinner was announced she
+placed me beside her, Polaff standing behind her chair, and the other
+attendants serving.
+
+"The talk drifted again into my own life, she interrupting with pointed
+questions, and making me repeat again and again the stories I told her of
+our humble home. She must learn them herself to tell them to her own
+people, she said. It was all so strange and new to her, so simple and so
+genuine. With the coffee she fell to talking of her own home, the
+despotism of Russia, the death of her father, the forcing of her brothers
+into the army. Still holding her cup in her hands, she began pacing up and
+down, her eyes on the floor (we were alone, Polaff having retired). Then
+stopping in front of me, and with an earnestness that startled me:--
+
+"'Do not go to Berlin. Please come to Cracow with me. Think. I am alone,
+absolutely alone. My house is in order, and has been for months, expecting
+me every day. It is so terrible to go back; come with me, please.'
+
+"'I must not, madame. I have promised my friends to be in Berlin in two
+days. I would, you know, sacrifice anything of my own to serve you.'
+
+"'And you will not?' and a sigh of disappointment escaped her.
+
+"'I cannot.'
+
+"'No; I must not ask you. You are right. It is better that you keep your
+word.'
+
+"She continued walking, gazing still on the floor. Then she moved to the
+mantel, and touched a bell. Instantly the curtains of the door divided,
+and Polaff stood before her.
+
+"'Bring me my jewel-case.'
+
+"The man bowed gravely, looked at me furtively from the corner of his eye,
+and closed the curtains behind him. In a moment he returned, bearing a
+large, morocco-covered box, which he placed on the table. She pressed the
+spring, and the lid flew up, uncovering several velvet-lined trays filled
+with jewels that flashed under the lighted candles.
+
+"'You need not wait, Polaff. You can go to bed.'
+
+"The man stepped back a pace, stood by the wall, fixed his eye upon his
+mistress, as if about to speak, looked at me curiously, then, bowing low,
+drew the curtains aside, and closed the door behind him.
+
+"Another spring, and out came a great string of pearls, a necklace of
+sapphires, some rubies, and emeralds. These she heaped up upon the white
+cloth beside her. Carefully examining the contents of the case, she drew
+from a lower tray a bracelet set with costly diamonds, a rare and
+beautiful ornament, and before I was aware of her intent had clasped it
+upon my wrist.
+
+"'I want you to wear this for me. You see it is large enough to go quite
+up the arm."
+
+"For a moment my astonishment was so great I could not speak. Then I
+loosened it and laid it in her hand again. She looked up, her eyes
+filling, her face expressive of the deepest pain.
+
+"'And you will not?'
+
+"'I cannot, madame. In my country men do not accept such costly presents
+from women, and then we do not wear bracelets, as your men do here.'
+
+"'Then take this case, and choose for yourself.'
+
+"I poured the contents of a small tray into my hand, and picked out a
+plain locket, almond-shaped, simply wrought, with an opening on one side
+for hair.
+
+"'Give me this with your hair.'
+
+"She threw the bracelet into the case, and her eyes lighted up.
+
+"'Oh, I am so glad, so glad! It was mine when I was a child,--my mother
+gave it to me. The dear little locket--yes; you shall always wear it.'
+
+"Then, rising from her seat, she took my hands in hers, and, looking down
+into my face, said, her voice breaking:--
+
+"'It is eleven o'clock. Soon you must leave me. You cannot stay longer. I
+know that in a few hours I shall never see you again. Will you join me in
+my prayers before I go?'
+
+"A few minutes later she called to me. She was on her knees in the next
+room, two candles burning beside her, her rich dark hair loose about her
+shoulders, an open breviary bound with silver in her hands. I can see her
+now, with her eyes closed, her lips moving noiselessly, her great lashes
+wet with tears, and that Madonna-like look as she motioned me to kneel.
+For several minutes she prayed thus, the candles lighting her face, the
+room deathly still. Then she arose, and with her eyes half shut, and her
+lips moving as if with her unfinished prayer, she lifted her head and
+kissed me on the forehead, on the chin, and on each cheek, making with
+her finger the sign of the cross. Then, reaching for a pair of scissors,
+and cutting a small tress from her hair, she closed the locket upon it,
+and laid it in my hand.
+
+"Early the next morning I was at her door. She was dressed and waiting.
+She greeted me kindly, but mournfully, saying in a tone which denoted her
+belief in its impossibility:--
+
+"'And you will not go to Cracow?'
+
+"When we reached the station, and I halted at the small gate opening upon
+the train platform, she merely pressed my hand, covered her head with her
+veil, and entered the carriage followed by Polaff. I watched, hoping to
+see her face at the window, but she remained hidden.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I turned into the Ringstrasse, still filled with her presence, and
+tortured by the thought of the conditions that prevented my following her,
+called a cab, and drove to our minister's. Mr. Motley then held the
+portfolio; my passport had expired, and, as I was entering Germany, needed
+renewing. The attaché agreed to the necessity, stamped it, and brought it
+back to me with the ink still wet.
+
+"'His excellency,' said he, 'advises extreme caution on your part while
+here. Be careful of your associates, and keep out of suspicious company.
+Vienna is full of spies watching escaped Polish refugees. Your
+name'--reading it carefully--'is apt to excite remark. We are powerless to
+help in these cases. Only last week an American who befriended a man in
+the street was arrested on the charge of giving aid and comfort to the
+enemy, and, despite our efforts, is still in prison.'
+
+"I thanked him, and regained my cab with my head whirling. What, after
+all, if the countess should have deceived me? My blood chilled as I
+remembered her words of the day before: recalled by the government she
+hated, her two brothers forced into the army, the cruelties and
+indignities Russia had heaped upon her family, and this last peremptory
+order to return. Had my sympathetic nature and inexperience gotten me into
+trouble? Then that Madonna-like head with angelic face, the lips moving in
+prayer, rose before me. No, no; not she. I would stake my life.
+
+"I entered my hotel, and walked across the corridor for the key of my
+room. Standing by the porter was an Austrian officer in full uniform, even
+to his white kid gloves. As I passed I heard the porter say in German:--
+
+"'Yes; that is the man.'
+
+"The Austrian looked at me searchingly, and, wheeling around sharply,
+said:--
+
+"'Monsieur, can I see you alone? I have something of importance to
+communicate.'
+
+"The remark and his abrupt manner indicated so plainly an arrest, that for
+the moment I hesitated, running over in my mind what might be my wisest
+course to pursue. Then, thinking I could best explain my business in
+Vienna in the privacy of my room, _I_ said stiffly:--
+
+"'Yes; I am now on my way to my apartment. I will see you there.'
+
+"He entered first, shut the door behind him, crossed the room; passed his
+hand behind the curtains, opened the closet, shut it, and said:--
+
+"'We are alone?'
+
+"'Quite.'
+
+"Then, confronting me, 'You are an American?'
+
+"'You are right.'
+
+"'And have your passport with you?'
+
+"I drew it from my pocket, and handed it to him. He glanced at the
+signature, refolded it, and said:--
+
+"'You took the Countess Smolensk! to the station this morning. Where did
+you meet her?'
+
+"'On the train yesterday leaving Venice.'
+
+"'Never before?'
+
+"'Never.'
+
+"'Why did she not leave Venice earlier?'
+
+"'The count was dying, and could not be moved. He was buried two days
+ago.'
+
+"A shade passed over his face, 'Poor De Rescka! I suspected as much.'
+
+"Then facing me again, his face losing its suspicious expression:--
+
+"'Monsieur, I am the brother of the countess,--Colonel Boski of the army.
+A week ago my letters were intercepted, and I left Cracow in the night.
+Since then I have been hunted like an animal. This uniform is my third
+disguise. As soon as my connection with the plot was discovered, my sister
+was ordered home. The death of the count explains her delay, and prevented
+my seeing her at the station. I had selected the first station out of
+Vienna. I tried for an opportunity this morning at the depot, but dared
+not. I saw you, and learned from the cabman your hotel.'
+
+"'But, colonel,' said I, the attaché's warning in my ears, 'you will
+pardon me, but these are troublous times. I am alone here, on my way to
+Berlin to pursue my studies. I found the countess ill and suffering, and
+unable to sleep. She interested me profoundly, and I did what I could to
+relieve her. I would have done the same for any other woman in her
+condition the world over, no matter what the consequences. If you are her
+brother, you will appreciate this. If you are here for any other purpose,
+say so at once. I leave Vienna at noon.'
+
+"His color flushed, and his hand instinctively felt for his sword; then,
+relaxing, he said:--
+
+"'You are right. The times are troublous. Every other man is a spy. I do
+not blame you for suspecting me. I have nothing but my word. If you do not
+believe it, I cannot help it. I will go. You will at least permit me to
+thank you for your kindness to my sister,' drawing off his glove and
+holding out his hand.
+
+"'The hand of a soldier is never refused the world over,' and I shook it
+warmly. As it dropped to his side I caught sight of his seal-ring.
+
+"'Pardon me one moment. Give me your hand again.' The ring bore the crest
+and motto of the countess.
+
+"'It is enough, colonel. Your sister showed me her own on the train.
+Pardon my suspicions. What can I do for you?' He looked puzzled, hardly
+grasping my meaning.
+
+"'Nothing. You have told me all I wanted to know.'
+
+"'But you will breakfast with me before I take the train?' I said.
+
+"'No; that might get you into trouble--serious trouble, if I should be
+arrested. On the contrary, I must insist that you remain in this room
+until I leave the building.'
+
+"'But you perhaps need money; these disguises are expensive,' glancing at
+his perfect appointment.
+
+"'You are right. Perhaps twenty rubles--it will be enough. Give me your
+address in Berlin. If I am taken, you will lose your money. If I escape,
+it will be returned.'
+
+"I shook his hand, and the door closed. A week later a man wrapped in a
+cloak called at my lodgings and handed me an envelope. There was no
+address and no message, only twenty rubles."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I looked out over the sea wrinkling below me like a great sheet of gray
+satin. The huge life-boat swung above our heads, standing out in strong
+relief against the sky. After a long pause,--the story had strangely
+thrilled me,--I asked:--
+
+"Pardon me, have you ever seen or heard of the countess since?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"Nor her brother?"
+
+"Nor her brother."
+
+"And the locket?"
+
+"It is here where she placed it."
+
+At this instant the moon rolled out from behind a cloud, and shone full on
+his face. He drew out his watch-chain, touched it with his thumb-nail, and
+placed the trinket in my hand. It was such as a child might wear, an
+enameled thread encircling it. Through the glass I could see the tiny nest
+of jet-black hair.
+
+For some moments neither of us spoke. At last, with my heart aglow, my
+whole nature profoundly stirred by the unconscious nobility of the man, I
+said:--
+
+"My friend, do you know why she bound the bracelet to your wrist?"
+
+"No; that always puzzled me. I have often wondered."
+
+"She bound the bracelet to your wrist, as of old a maid would have wound
+her scarf about the shield of her victorious knight, as the queen would
+pin the iron cross to the breast of a hero. You were the first gentleman
+she had ever known in her life."
+
+
+
+
+JOHN SANDERS, LABORER
+
+[The outlines of this story were given me by my friend Augustus Thomas,
+whose plays are but an index to the tenderness of his own nature.]
+
+
+He came from up the railroad near the State line. Sanders was the name on
+the pay-roll,--John Sanders, laborer. There was nothing remarkable about
+him. He was like a hundred others up and down the track. If you paid him
+off on Saturday night you would have forgotten him the next week, unless,
+perhaps, he had spoken to you. He looked fifty years of age, and yet he
+might have been but thirty. He was stout and strong, his hair and beard
+cropped short. He wore a rough blue jumper, corduroy trousers, and a red
+flannel shirt, which showed at his throat and wrists. He wore, too, a
+leather strap buckled about his waist.
+
+If there was anything that distinguished him it was his mouth and eyes,
+especially when he smiled. The mouth was clean and fresh, the teeth
+snow-white and regular, as if only pure things came through them; the
+eyes were frank and true, and looked straight at you without wavering. If
+you gave him an order he said, "Yes, sir," never taking his gaze from
+yours until every detail was complete. When he asked a question it was to
+the point and short.
+
+The first week he shoveled coal on a siding, loading the yard engines.
+Then Burchard, the station-master, sent him down to the street crossing to
+flag the trains for the dump carts filling the scows at the long dock.
+
+This crossing right-angled a deep railroad cut half a mile long. On the
+level above, looking down upon its sloping sides, staggered a row of
+half-drunken shanties with blear-eyed windows, and ragged roofs patched
+and broken; some hung over on crutches caught under their floor timbers.
+Sanders lived in one of these cabins,--the one nearest the edge of the
+granite retaining-wall flanking the street crossing.
+
+Up the slopes of this railroad cut lay the refuse of the
+shanties,--bottomless buckets, bits of broken chairs, tomato cans, rusty
+hoops, fragments of straw matting, and other debris of the open lots. In
+the summer-time a few brave tufts of grass, coaxed into life by the warm
+sun, clung desperately to an accidental level, and now and then a gay
+dandelion flamed for a day or two and then disappeared, cut off by some
+bedouin goat. In the winter there were only patches of blackened snow,
+fouled by the endless smoke of passing trains, and seamed with the
+short-cut footpaths of the yard men.
+
+There were only two in Sanders's shanty,--Sanders and his crippled
+daughter, a girl of twelve, with a broken back. She barely reached the
+sill when she stood at the low window to watch her father waving his flag.
+Bent, hollow-eyed, shrunken; her red hair cropped short in her neck; her
+poor little white fingers clutching the window-frame. "The express is late
+this morning," or "No. 14 is on time," she would say, her restless, eager
+blue eyes glancing at the clock, or "What a lot of ashes they do be
+haulin' to-day!" Nothing else was to be seen from her window.
+
+When the whistle blew she took down the dinner-pail, filled it with
+potatoes and the piece of pork hot from the boiling pot, poured the coffee
+in the tin cup, put on the cover, and, limping to the edge of the
+retaining-wall, lowered it over by a string to her father. Sanders looked
+up and waved his hand, and the girl went back to her post at the window.
+
+When the night came he would light the kerosene lamp in their one room and
+read aloud the stories from the Sunday papers, she listening eagerly and
+asking him questions he could not answer, her eyes filling with tears or
+her face breaking into smiles. This summed up her life.
+
+Not much in the world, all this, for Sanders!--not much of rest, or
+comfort, or happy sunshine,--not much of song or laughter, the pipe of
+birds or smell of sweet blossoms,--not much room for gratitude or courage
+or human kindness or charity. Only the ceaseless engine-bell, the grime,
+the sulphurous hellish smoke, the driving rain, the ice and dust,--only
+the endless monotony of ill-smelling, steaming carts, the smoke-stained
+signal-flag and greasy lantern,--only the tottering shanty with the two
+beds, the stove, and the few chairs and table,--only the blue-eyed
+crippled girl who wound her thin arms about his neck.
+
+It was on Sundays in the summer that the dreary monotony ceased. Then
+Sanders would carry her to the edge of the woods, a mile or more back of
+the cut. There was a little hollow carpeted with violets, and a pond,
+where now and then a water-lily escaped the factory boys, and there were
+big trees and bushes and stretches of grass, ending in open lots squared
+all over by the sod gatherers.
+
+On these days Sanders would lie on his back and watch the treetops swaying
+in the sunlight against the sky, and the girl would sit by him and make
+mounds of fresh mosses and pebbles, and tie the wild flowers into bunches.
+Sometimes he would pretend that there were fish in the pond, and would cut
+a pole and bend a pin, tie on a bit of string, and sit for hours watching
+the cork, she laughing beside him in expectation. Sometimes they would
+both go to sleep, his arm across her. And so the summer passed.
+
+One day in the autumn, at twelve-o'clock whistle, a crowd of young
+ruffians from the bolt-works near the brewery swept down the crossing
+chasing a homeless dog. Sanders stood in the road with his flag. A passing
+freight train stopped the mob. The dog dashed between the wheels,
+doubling, and then bounding up the slope of the cut, sprang through the
+half-open door of the shanty. When he saw the girl he stopped short,
+hesitated, looked anxiously into her face, crouched flat, and pulling
+himself along by his paws, laid his head at her feet. When Sanders came
+home that night the dog was asleep in her lap. He was about to drive him
+out until he caught the look in her face, then he stopped, and laid his
+empty dinner-pail on the shelf.
+
+"I seen him a-comin'," he said; "them rats from the bolt-factory was
+a-humpin' him, too! Guess if the freight hadn't a-come along they'd
+a-ketched him."
+
+The dog looked wistfully into Sanders's face, scanning him curiously,
+timidly putting out his paw and dropping it, as if he had been too bold,
+and wanted to make some sort of a dumb apology, like a poor relation who
+has come to spend the day. He had never had any respectable
+ancestors,--none to speak of. You could see that in the coarse, shaggy
+hair, like a door mat; the awkward ungainly walk, the legs doubling under
+him; the drooping tail with bare spots down its length, suggesting past
+indignities. He was not a large dog--only about as high as a chair seat;
+he had mottled lips, too, and sharp, sawlike teeth. One ear was gone,
+perhaps in his puppyhood, when some one had tried to make a terrier of
+him and had stopped when half done. The other ear, however, was active
+enough for two. It would curl forward in attention like a deer's, or start
+up like a rabbit's in alarm, or lie back on his head when the girl stroked
+him to sleep. He was only a kickable, chasable kind of a dog,--a dog made
+for sounding tin pans tied to his tail and whooping boys behind.
+
+All but his eyes! These were brown as agates, and as deep and clear.
+Kindly eyes that looked and thought and trusted. It was these eyes that
+first made the girl love him; they reminded her, strange to say, of her
+father's. She saw, too, perhaps unconsciously to herself, down in their
+depths, something of the same hunger for sympathy that stirred her own
+heart--the longing for companionship. She wanted something nearer her own
+age to love, though she never told her father. This was a heartache she
+kept to herself, perhaps because she hardly understood it.
+
+The dog and the girl became inseparable. At night he slept under her bed,
+reaching his head up in the gray dawn, and licking her face until she
+covered him up warm beside her. When the trains passed he would stand up
+on his hind legs, his paws on the sill, his blunt little nose against the
+pane, whining at the clanging bells, or barking at the great rings of
+steam and smoke coughed up by the engines below.
+
+She taught him all manner of tricks. How to walk on his hind feet with a
+paper cap on his head, a plate in his mouth, begging. How to make believe
+he was dead, lying still a minute at a time, his odd ear furling nervously
+and his eyes snapping fun; how to carry a basket to the grocery on the
+corner, when she would limp out in the morning for a penny's worth of milk
+or a loaf of bread, he waiting until she crossed the street, and then
+marching on proudly before her.
+
+With the coming of the dog a new and happier light seemed to have
+brightened the shanty. Sanders himself began to feel the influence. He
+would play with him by the hour, holding his mouth tight, pushing back his
+lips so that his teeth glistened, twirling his ear. There was a third
+person now for him to consult and talk to. "It'll be turrible cold at the
+crossin' to-day, won't it, Dog?" or, "Thet's No. 23 puffin' up in the cut:
+don't yer know her bell? Wonder, Dog, what she's switched fur?" he would
+say to him. He noticed, too, that the girl's cheeks were not so white and
+pinched. She seemed taller and not so weary; and when he walked up the
+cut, tired out with the day's work, she always met him at the door, the
+dog springing half way down the slope, wagging his tail and bounding ahead
+to welcome him. And she would sing little snatches of songs that her
+mother had taught her years ago, before the great flood swept away the
+cabin and left only her father and herself clinging to a bridge, she with
+a broken back.
+
+After a while Sanders coaxed him down to the track, teaching him to bring
+back his empty dinner-pail, the dog spending the hour with him, sitting by
+his side demurely, or asleep in the sentry-box.
+
+All this time the dog never rose to the dignity of any particular name.
+The girl spoke of him as "Doggie," and Sanders always as "the Dog." The
+trainmen called him "Rags," in deference, no doubt, to his torn ear and
+threadbare tail. They threw coal at him as he passed, until it leaked out
+that he belonged to "Sanders's girl." Then they became his champions, and
+this name and pastime seemed out of place. Only once did he earn any
+distinguishing sobriquet. That was when he had saved the girl's basket,
+after a sharp fight with a larger and less honest dog. Sanders then spoke
+of him, with half-concealed pride, as "the Boss," but this only lasted a
+day or so. Publicly, in the neighborhood, he was known as "Sanders's dog."
+
+One morning the dog came limping up the cut with a broken leg. Some said a
+horse had kicked him; some that the factory boys had thrown stones at him.
+He made no outcry, only came sorrowfully in, his mouth dry and
+dust-covered, dragging his hind leg, that hung loose like a flail; then he
+laid his head in the girl's lap. She crooned and cried over him all day,
+binding up the bruised limb, washing his eyes and mouth, putting him in
+her own bed. There was no one to go for her father, and if there were, he
+could not leave the crossing. When Sanders came home he felt the leg over
+carefully, the girl watching eagerly. "No, Kate, child, yees can't do
+nothin'; it's broke at the jint. Don't cry, young one."
+
+Then he went outside and sat on a bench, looking across the cut and over
+the roofs of the factories, hazy in the breath of a hundred furnaces, and
+so across the blue river fringed with waving trees where the blessed sun
+was sinking to rest. He was not surprised. It was like everything else in
+his life. When he loved something, it was sure to be this way.
+
+That night, when the girl was asleep, he took the dog up in his arms, and
+wrapping his coat around him so the corner loafers could not see, rang the
+bell of the dispensary. The doctor was out, but a nurse looked at the
+wound. "No, there was nothing to be done; the socket had been crushed.
+Keep it bandaged, that was all." Then he brought him home and put him
+under the bed.
+
+In three or four weeks he was about again, dragging the leg when he
+walked. He could still get around the shanty and over to the grocer's, but
+he could not climb the hill, even with the pail empty. He tried one day,
+but he only climbed half way. Sanders found him in the path when he went
+home, lying down by the pail.
+
+Sanders worried over the dog. He missed the long talks at the crossing
+over the dinner, the poor fellow sitting by his side watching every
+spoonful, his eyes glistening, the old ear furling and unfurling like
+a toy flag. He missed, too, his scampering after the sparrows and pigeons
+that often braved the desolation and smoke of this inferno to pick up
+the droppings from the carts. He missed more than all the
+companionship,--somebody to sit beside him.
+
+As for the girl--there was now a double bond between her and the dog. He
+was not only poor and an outcast, but a cripple like herself. Before, she
+was his friend, now, she was his mother, whispering to him, her cheek to
+his; holding him up to the window to see the trains rush by, his nose
+touching the glass, his poor leg dangling.
+
+The train hands missed him too, vowing vengeance, and the fireman of No.
+6, Joe Connors, spent half a Sunday trying to find the boy that threw the
+stone. Bill Adams, who ran the yard engine, went all the way home the next
+day after the accident for a bottle of horse liniment, and left it at the
+shanty, and said he'd get the doctor at the next station if Sanders
+wanted.
+
+One broiling hot August day--a day when the grasshoppers sang among the
+weeds in the open lot, and the tar dripped down from the roofs, when the
+teams strained up the hill reeking with sweat, a wet sponge over their
+eyes, and the drivers walked beside their carts mopping their necks--on
+one of these steaming August days the dog limped down to the crossing just
+to rub his nose once against Sanders as he stood waving his flag, or to
+look wistfully up into his face as he sat in the little pepper-box of a
+house that sheltered his flags and lantern. He did not often come now.
+They were making up the local freight--the yard engine backing and
+shunting the cars into line. Bill Adams was at the throttle and Connors
+was firing. A few yards below Sanders's sentry-box stood an empty flat car
+on a siding. It threw a grateful shade over the hard cinder-covered
+tracks. The dog had crawled beneath its trucks and lay asleep, his
+stiffened leg over the switch frog. Adams's yard engine puffing by woke
+him with a start. There was a struggle, a yell of pain, and the dog fell
+over on his back, his useless leg fast in the frog. Sanders heard the cry
+of agony, threw down his flag, bounded over the cross-ties, and crawled
+beneath the trucks. The dog's cries stopped. But the leg was fast. In a
+moment more he had rushed back to his box, caught up a crowbar, and was
+forcing the joint. It did not give an inch. There was but one thing
+left--to throw the switch before the express, due in two minutes, whirled
+past. In another instant a man in a blue jumper was seen darting up the
+tracks. He sprang at a lever, bounded back, and threw himself under the
+flat car. Then the yelp of a dog in pain, drowned by the shriek of an
+engine dashing into the cut at full speed. Then a dog thrown clear of the
+track, a crash like a falling house, and a flat car smashed into kindling
+wood.
+
+When the conductor and passengers of the express walked back, Bill Adams
+was bending over a man in a blue jumper laid flat on the cinders. He was
+bleeding from a wound in his head. Lying beside him was a yellow dog
+licking his stiffened hand. A doctor among the passengers opened his red
+shirt and pressed his hand on the heart. He said he was breathing, and
+might live. Then they brought a stretcher from the office, and Connors and
+Bill Adams carried him up the hill, the dog following, limping.
+
+Here they laid him on a bed beside a sobbing, frightened girl; the dog at
+her feet.
+
+Adams bent over him, washing his head with a wad of cotton waste.
+
+Just before he died he opened his eyes, rested them on his daughter, half
+raised his head as if in search of the dog, and then fell back on his bed,
+that same sweet, clear smile about his mouth.
+
+"John Sanders," said Adams, "how in h--- could a sensible man like you
+throw his life away for a damned yellow dog?"
+
+"Don't, Billy," he said. "I couldn't help it. He was a cripple."
+
+
+
+
+BÄADER
+
+
+I was sitting in the shadow of Mme. Poulard's delightful inn at St. Michel
+when I first saw Bäader. Dinner had been served, and I had helped to pay
+for my portion by tacking a sketch on the wall behind the chair of the
+hostess. This high valuation was not intended as a special compliment to
+me, the wall being already covered with similar souvenirs from the
+sketch-books of half the painters in Europe.
+
+Bäader, he pronounced it Bayder, had at that moment arrived in answer to a
+telegram from the governor, who the night before, in a moment of
+desperation, had telegraphed the proprietor of his hotel in Paris, "Send
+me a courier at once who knows Normandy and speaks English." The
+bare-headed man who, hat in hand, was at this moment bowing so
+obsequiously to the governor, was the person who had arrived in response.
+He was short and thick-set, and perfectly bald on the top of his head in a
+small spot, friar-fashion. He glistened with perspiration that collected
+near the hat-line, and escaped in two streams, drowning locks of black
+hair covering each temple, stranding them like wet grass on his
+cheek-bones below. His full face was clean-shaven, smug, and persuasive,
+and framed two shoe-button eyes that, while sharp and alert, lacked
+neither humor nor tenderness.
+
+He wore a pair of new green kid gloves, was dressed in a brown cloth coat
+bound with a braid of several different shades, showing different dates of
+repair, and surmounted by a velvet collar of the same date as the coat.
+His trousers were of a nondescript gray, and flapped about a pair of
+brand-new gaiters, evidently purchased for the occasion, and, from the
+numerous positions assumed while he talked, evidently one size too small.
+
+His hat--the judicious use of which added such warmth, color, and
+picturesqueness to his style of delivery, now pressed to his chest, now
+raised aloft, now debased to the cobbles--had once had some dignity and
+proportions. Continual maltreatment had long since taken all the gay and
+frolicsome curl out of its brim, while the crown had so often collapsed
+that the scars of ill-usage were visible upon it. And yet at a distance
+this relic of a former fashion, as handled by Bäader,--it was so
+continually in his grasp and so seldom on his head, that you could never
+say it was worn,--this hat, brushed, polished, and finally slicked by its
+owner to a state slightly confusing as to whether it were made of polished
+iron or silk, was really a very gay and attractive affair.
+
+It was easy to see that the person before me had spared neither skill,
+time, nor expense to make as favorable an impression on his possible
+employers as lay in his power.
+
+"At the moment of the arrival of ze dépêche télégraphique," Bäader
+continued, "I was in ze office of monsieur ze propriétaire. It was at ze
+conclusion of some arrangement commercial, when mon ami ze propriétaire
+say to me: 'Bäader, it is ze abandoned season in Paris. Why not arrange
+for ze gentlemen in Normandy? The number of francs a day will be at
+least'"--here Bäader scrutinized carefully the governor's face--'"at least
+to ze amount of ten'--is it not so, messieurs? Of course," noting a slight
+contraction of the eyebrows, "if ze service was of long time, and to ze
+most far-away point, some abatement could be posseeble. If, par exemple,
+it was to St. Malo, St. Servan, Paramé, Cancale spéciale, Dieppe petite,
+Dinard, and ze others, the sum of nine francs would be quite sufficient."
+
+The governor had never heard Dieppe called "petite" nor Cancale
+"spéciale," and said so, lifting his eyebrows inquiringly. Bäader did not
+waver. "But if messieurs pretend a much smaller route and of few days, say
+to St. Michel, Paramé, and Cancale,"--here the governor's brow relaxed
+again,--"then it was imposseeble,--if messieurs will pardon,--quite
+imposseeble for less zan ten francs."
+
+So the price was agreed upon, and the hat, now with a decided metallic
+sheen, once more swept the cobblestones of the courtyard. The ceremony
+being over, its owner then drew off the green kid gloves, folded them flat
+on his knee, guided them into the inside pocket of the brown coat with the
+assorted bindings as carefully as if they had been his letter of credit,
+and declared himself at our service.
+
+It was when he had been installed as custodian not only of our hand
+luggage, but to a certain extent of our bank accounts and persons for some
+days, that he urged upon the governor the advisability of our at once
+proceeding to Cancale, or Cancale spéciale, as he insisted on calling it.
+I immediately added my own voice to his pleadings, arguing that Cancale
+must certainly be on the sea. That, from my recollection of numerous
+water-colors and black-and-whites labeled in the catalogue, "Coast near
+Cancale," and the like, I was sure there must be the customary fish-girls,
+with shrimp-nets carried gracefully over one shoulder, to say nothing of
+brawny-chested fishermen with flat, rimless caps, having the usual little
+round button on top.
+
+The governor, however, was obdurate. He had a way of being obdurate when
+anything irritated him, and Bäader began to be one of these things.
+Cancale might be all very well for me, but how about the hotel for him,
+who had nothing to do, no pictures to paint? He had passed that time in
+his life when he could sleep under a boat with water pouring down the back
+of his neck through a tarpaulin full of holes.
+
+"The hotel, messieurs! Imagine! Is it posseeble that monsieur imagine for
+one moment that Bäader would arrange such annoyances? I remember ze hotel
+quite easily. It is not like, of course, ze Grand Hôtel of Paris, but it
+is simple, clean, ze cuisine superb, and ze apartment fine and hospitable.
+Remembare it is Bäader."
+
+"And the baths?" broke out the governor savagely.
+
+Bäader's face was a study; a pained, deprecating expression passed over it
+as he uncovered his head, his glazed headpiece glistening in the sun.
+
+"Baths, monsieur--and ze water of ze sea everywhere?"
+
+These assurances of future comfort were not overburdened with details, but
+they served to satisfy and calm the governor, I pleading, meanwhile, that
+Bäader had always proved himself a man of resource, quite ready when
+required with either a meal or an answer.
+
+So we started for Cancale.
+
+On the way our courier grew more and more enthusiastic. We were traveling
+in a four-seated carriage, Bäader on the box, pointing out to us in
+English, after furtive conversations with the driver in French, the
+principal points of interest. With many flourishes he led us to Paramé,
+one of those Normandy cities which consist of a huge hotel with enormous
+piazzas, a beach ten miles from the sea, and a small so-called
+fishing-village as a sort of marine attachment. To give a realistic touch,
+a lone boat is always being tarred somewhere down at the end of one of its
+toy streets, two or three donkey-carts and donkeys add an air of
+picturesqueness, and the usual number of children with red pails and
+shovels dig in the sand of the roadside. All the fish that are sold come
+from the next town. It was too early in the season when we reached there
+for girls in sabots and white caps, the tide from Paris not having set in.
+The governor hailed it with delight. "Why the devil didn't you tell me
+about this place before? Here we have been fooling away our time."
+
+"But it is only Paramé, monsieur," with an accent on the "only" and a
+lifting of the hands. "Cancale spéciale will charm you; ze coast it is so
+immediately flat, and ze life of ze sea charmante. Nevare at Paramé,
+always at Cancale." So we drove on. The governor pacified but
+anxious--only succumbing at my argument that Bäader knew all Normandy
+thoroughly, and that an old courier like him certainly could be trusted to
+select a hotel.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+You all know the sudden dip from the rich, flat country of Normandy down
+the steep cliffs to the sea. Cancale is like the rest of it. The town
+itself stands on the brink of a swoop to the sands; the fishing-village
+proper, where the sea packs it solid in a great half-moon, with a light
+burning on one end that on clear nights can be seen as far as Mme.
+Poulard's cozy dining-room at St. Michel.
+
+One glimpse of this sea-burst tumbled me out of the carriage, sketch-trap
+in hand. Bäader and the governor kept on. If the latter noticed the
+discrepancy between Bäader's description of the country and the actual
+topography, no word fell from him at the moment of departure.
+
+From my aerie, as I worked under my white umbrella below the cliff, I
+could distinctly make out our traveling-carriage several hundred feet
+below and a mile away, crawling along a road of white tape with a green
+selvage of trees, the governor's glazed trunk flashing behind, Bäader's
+silk hat burning in front. Then the little insect stopped at a white spot
+backed by dots of green; a small speck broke away, and was swallowed up
+for a few minutes in the white dot,--doubtless Bäader to parley for
+rooms,--and then to my astonishment the whole insect turned and began
+crawling back again, growing larger every minute. All this occurred before
+I had half finished my outline or opened my color-box. Instantly the truth
+dawned upon me,--the governor was going back to Paramé. An hour, perhaps,
+had elapsed when Bäader, with uncovered head and beaded with perspiration,
+the two locks of hair hanging limp and straight, stood before me.
+
+"What was the matter with the governor, Bäader? No hotel after all?"
+
+"On the contraire, pardonnez-moi, monsieur, a most excellent hotel, simple
+and quite of ze people, and with many patrons. Even at ze moment of
+arrival a most distinguished artist, a painter of ze Salon, was with his
+cognac upon a table at ze entrance."
+
+"No bath, perhaps," I remarked casually, still absorbed in my work, and
+with my mind at rest, now that Bäader remained with me.
+
+"On the contraire, monsieur, les bains are most excellent--primitive, of
+course, simple, and quite of ze people. But, monsieur le gouverneur is no
+more young. When one is no more young,"--with a deprecating
+shrug,--"parbleu, it is imposseeble to enjoy everything. Monsieur le
+gouverneur, I do assure you, make ze conclusion most regretfully to return
+to Paramé."
+
+I learned the next morning that he evinced every desire to drown Bäader in
+the surf for bringing him to such an inn, and was restrained only by the
+knowledge that I should miss his protection during my one night in
+Cancale.
+
+"Moreover, it is ze grande fête to-night--ze fête of ze République. Zare
+are fireworks and illumination and music by ze municipality. It is simple,
+but quite of ze people. It is for zis reason that I made ze effort special
+with monsieur le gouverneur to remain with you. Ah! it is you, monsieur,
+who are so robust, so enthusiastic, so appreciative."
+
+Here Bäader put on his hat, and I closed my sketch-trap.
+
+"But monsieur has not yet dined," he said as we walked, "nor even at his
+hotel arrived. Ze inn of Mme. Flamand is so very far away, and ze ascent
+up ze cliffs difficile. If monsieur will be so good, zare is a café near
+by where it is quite posseeble to dine."
+
+Relieved of the governor's constant watchfulness Bäader became himself. He
+bustled about the restaurant, called for "Cancale spéciale," a variety of
+oysters apparently entirely unknown to the landlord, and interviewed the
+_chef_ himself. In a few moments a table was spread in a corner of the
+porch overlooking a garden gay with hollyhocks, and a dinner was ordered
+of broiled chicken, French rolls, some radishes, half a dozen apricots,
+and a fragment of cheese. When it was over,--Bäader had been served in an
+adjoining apartment,--there remained not the amount mentioned in a former
+out-of-door feast, but sufficient to pack at least one basket,--in this
+case a paper box,--the drumsticks being stowed below, dunnaged by two
+rolls, and battened down with fragments of cheese and three apricots.
+
+"What's this for, Bäader? Have you not had enough to eat?"
+
+Bäader's face wore its blandest smile. "On ze contraire, I have made for
+myself a most excellent repast; but if monsieur will consider--ze dinner
+is a prix fixe, and monsieur can eat it all, or it shall remain for ze
+propriétaire. Zis, if monsieur will for one moment attend, will be stupid
+extraordinaire. I have made ze investigation, and discover zat ze post
+départ from Cancale in one hour. How simple zen to affeex ze stamps,--only
+five sous,--and in ze morning, even before Mme. Bäader is out of ze bed,
+it is in Paris--a souvenir from Cancale. How charmante ze surprise!"
+
+I discovered afterward that since he had joined us Bäader's own domestic
+larder had been almost daily enriched with crumbs like these from Dives's
+table.
+
+The _fête,_ despite Bäader's assurances, lacked one necessary feature.
+There was no music. The band was away with the boats, the triangle
+probably cooking, the French horn and clarinet hauling seines.
+
+But Bäader, not to be outdone by any _contretemps_, started off to find an
+old blind fellow who played an accordeon, collecting five francs of me in
+advance for his pay, under the plea that it was quite horrible that the
+young people could not dance. "While one is young, monsieur, music is ze
+life of ze heart."
+
+He brought the old man back, and with a certain care and tenderness set
+him down on a stone bench, the sightless eyes of the poor peasant turning
+up to the stars as he swayed the primitive instrument back and forth. The
+young girls clung to Bäader's arm, and blessed him for his goodness. I
+forgave him his duplicity, his delight in their happiness was so genuine.
+Perhaps it was even better than a _fête_.
+
+When, later in the evening, we arrived at Mme. Flamand's, we found her in
+the doorway, her brown face smiling, her white cap and apron in full
+relief under the glare of an old-fashioned ship's light, which hung from a
+rafter of the porch. Bäader inscribed my name in a much-thumbed,
+ink--stained register, which looked like a neglected ship's log, and then
+added his own. This, by the by, Bäader never neglected. Neither did he
+neglect a certain little ceremony always connected with it.
+
+After it was all over and "Moritz Bäader Courrier et Interprète" was duly
+inscribed,--and in justice it must be confessed it was always clearly
+written with a flourish at the end that lent it additional
+dignity,--Bäader would pause for a moment, carefully balance the pen,
+trying it first on his thumb-nail, and then place two little dots of ink
+over the first _a_, saying, with a certain wave of his hand, as he did so,
+"For ze honor of my families, monsieur." This peculiarity gained for him
+from the governor the sobriquet of "old fly-specks."
+
+The inn of Mme. Flamand, although less pretentious than many others that
+had sheltered us, was clean and comfortable, the lower deck and
+companionway were freshly sanded,--the whole house had a decidedly
+nautical air about it,--and the captain's state-room on the upper deck, a
+second-floor room, was large and well-lighted, although the ceiling might
+have been a trifle too low for the governor, and the bed a few inches too
+short.
+
+I ascended to the upper deck, preceded by the hostess carrying the ship's
+lantern, now that the last guest had been housed for the night. Bäader
+followed with a brass candlestick and a tallow dip about the size of a
+lead pencil. With the swinging open of the bedroom door, I made a mental
+inventory of all the conveniences: bed, two pillows, plenty of windows,
+washstand, towels. Then the all-important question recurred to me, Where
+had they hidden the portable tub?
+
+I opened the door of the locker, looked behind a sea-chest, then out of
+one window, expecting to see the green-painted luxury hanging by a hook or
+drying on a convenient roof. In some surprise I said:--
+
+"And the bath, Bäader?"
+
+"Does monsieur expect to bathe at ze night?" inquired Bäader with a
+lifting of his eyebrows, his face expressing a certain alarm for my
+safety.
+
+"No, certainly not; but to-morrow, when I get up."
+
+"Ah, to-morrow!" with a sigh of relief. "I do assure you, monsieur, zat it
+will be complete. At ze moment of ze déflexion of monsieur le gouverneur
+zare was not ze time. Of course it is imposseeble in Cancale to have ze
+grand bain of Paris, but then zare is still something,--a bath quite
+spécial, simple, and of ze people. Remember, monsieur, it is Bäader."
+
+And so, with a cheery "Bon soir" from madame, and a profound bow from
+Bäader, I fell asleep.
+
+The next morning I was awakened by a rumbling in the lower hold, as if the
+cargo was being shifted. Then came a noise like the moving of heavy
+barrels on the upper deck forward of the companionway. The next instant my
+door was burst open, and in stalked two brawny, big-armed fish-girls,
+yarn-stockinged to their knees, and with white sabots and caps. They were
+trundling the lower half of a huge hogshead.
+
+"Pour le bain, monsieur," they both called out, bursting into laughter, as
+they rolled the mammoth tub behind my bed, grounded it with a revolving
+whirl, as a juggler would spin a plate, and disappeared, slamming the door
+behind them, their merriment growing fainter as they dropped down the
+companionway.
+
+I peered over the head-board, and discovered the larger half of an
+enormous storage-barrel used for packing fish, with fresh saw-marks
+indenting its upper rim. Then I shouted for Bäader.
+
+Before anybody answered, there came another onslaught, and in burst the
+same girls, carrying a great iron beach-kettle filled with water. This,
+with renewed fits of laughter, they dashed into the tub, and in a flash
+were off again, their wooden sabots clattering down the steps.
+
+There was no mistaking the indications; Bäader's bath had arrived.
+
+I climbed up, and, dropping in with both feet, avoiding the splinters and
+the nails, sat on the sawed edge, ready for total immersion. Before I
+could adjust myself to its conditions there came another rush along the
+companionway, accompanied by the same clatter of sabots and splashing of
+water. There was no time to reach the bed, and it was equally evident that
+I could not vault out and throw myself against the door. So I simply
+ducked down, held on, and shouted, in French, Normandy patois, English:--
+
+"Don't come in! Don't open the door! Leave the water outside!" and the
+like. I might as well have ruined my throat on a Cancale lugger driving
+before a gale. In burst the door, and in swept the Amazons, letting go
+another kettleful, this time over my upper half, my lower half being
+squeezed down into the tub.
+
+When the girls had emptied the contents of this last kettle over the
+edge, and caught sight of my face,--they evidently thought I was still
+behind the head-board,--both gave one prolonged shriek that literally
+roused the house. The brawnier of the two,--a magnificent creature, with
+her corsets outside of her dress,--after holding her sides with laughter
+until I thought she would suffocate, sank upon the sea-chest, from which
+her companion rescued her just as Mme. Flamand and Bäader opened the door.
+All this time my chin was resting on the jagged rim of the tub, and my
+teeth were chattering.
+
+"Bäader, where in thunder have you been? Drag that chest against that door
+quick, and come in. Is this what you call a bath?"
+
+"Monsieur, if you will pardon. I arouse myself at ze daylight; I rely upon
+Mme. Flamand that ze Englishman who is dead had left one behind; I search
+everywhere. Zen I make inquiry of ze mother of ze two demoiselles who have
+just gone. She was much insulted; she make ze bad face. She say with much
+indignation: 'Monsieur, since I was a baby ze water has not touched my
+body.' At ze supreme moment, when all hope was gone, I discover near ze
+house of ze same madame this grand arrangement. Immediately I am on fire,
+and say to myself, 'Bäader, all is not lost. Even if zare was still ze
+bath of ze Englishman, it would not compare.' In ze quickness of an eye I
+bring a saw, and ze demoiselles are on zare knees making ze arrangement,
+one part big, one small. I say to myself, 'Bäader, monsieur is an artist,
+and of enthusiasm, and will appreciate zis utensile agréable of ze
+fisherman.' If monsieur will consider, it is, of course, not ze grand bain
+of Paris, but it is simple, and quite of ze people."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Some two months later, the governor and I happened to be strolling through
+the flower-market of the Madeleine. He had been selecting plants for the
+windows of his apartment, and needed a reliable man to arrange them in
+suitable boxes.
+
+"That fellow Bäader lives down here somewhere; perhaps he might know of
+some one," he said, consulting his notebook. "Yes; No. 21 Rue Chambord.
+Let us look him up."
+
+In five minutes we stood before a small, two-story house, with its door
+and wide basement-window protected by an awning. Beneath this, upon low
+shelves, was arranged a collection of wicker baskets, containing the
+several varieties of oysters from Normandy and Brittany coasts greatly
+beloved by Parisian epicures of Paris. On the top of each lid lay a tin
+sign bearing the name of the exact locality from which each toothsome
+bivalve was supposed to be shipped. These signs were all of one size.
+
+The governor is a great lover of oysters, especially his own Chesapeakes,
+and his eye ran rapidly over the tempting exhibit as he read aloud,
+perhaps, unconsciously, to himself, the several labels: "Dinard, Paramé,
+Dieppe petite, Cancale spéciale." Then a new light seemed to break in upon
+him.
+
+"Dieppe petite, Cancale spéciale,"--here his face was a study,--"why,
+that's what Bäader always called Cancale. By thunder! I believe that's
+where that fellow got his names. I don't believe the rascal was ever in
+Normandy in his life until I took him. Here, landlord!" A small
+shop-keeper, wearing an apron, ran out smiling, uncovering the baskets as
+he approached. "Do you happen to know a courier by the name of Bäader?"
+
+"Never as courier, messieurs--always as commissionaire; he sells wood and
+charcoal to ze hotels. See! zare is his sign."
+
+"Where does he live?"
+
+"Upstairs."
+
+
+
+
+THE LADY OF LUCERNE
+
+I
+
+Above the Schweizerhof Hotel, and at the end of the long walk fronting the
+lake at Lucerne,--the walk studded with the round, dumpy, Noah's-ark
+trees,--stands a great building surrounded by flowers and palms, and at
+night ablaze with hundreds of lamps hung in festoons of blue, yellow, and
+red. This is the Casino. On each side of the wide entrance is a
+bill-board, announcing that some world-renowned Tyrolean warbler, famous
+acrobat, or marvelous juggler will sing or tumble or bewilder, the price
+of admission remaining the same, despite the enormous sum paid for the
+appearance of the performer.
+
+Inside this everybody's club is a café, with hurrying waiters and a solid
+brass band, and opening from its smoke and absinthe laden interior blazes
+a small theatre, with stage footlights and scenery, where the several
+world-renowned artists redeem at a very considerable discount the
+promissory notes of the bill-boards outside.
+
+During the performance the audience smoke and sip. Between the acts most
+of them swarm out into the adjacent corridors leading to the
+gaming-rooms,--licensed rooms these, with toy-horses ridden by tin
+jockeys, and another equally delusive and tempting device of the devil--a
+game of tipsy marbles, rolling about in search of sunken saucers
+emblazoned with the arms of the nations of the earth. These whirligigs of
+amateur crime are constantly surrounded by eager-eyed men and women, who
+try their luck for the amusement of the moment, or by broken-down, seedy
+gamblers, hazarding their last coin for a turn of fortune. Now and then,
+too, some sweet-faced girl, her arm in her father's, wins a louis with a
+franc, her childish laughter ringing out in the stifling atmosphere.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Tyrolean warbler had just finished her high-keyed falsetto, bowing
+backward in her short skirts and stout shoes with silver buckles, and I
+had just reached the long corridor on my way to the garden, to escape the
+blare and pound of the band, when a man leaned out of a half-opened door
+and touched my shoulder.
+
+"Pardon, monsieur. May I speak to you a moment?"
+
+He was a short, thick-set, smooth-shaven, greasy man, dressed plainly in
+black, with a huge emerald pin in his shirt front. I have never had any
+particular use for a man with an emerald pin in his shirt front.
+
+"There will be a game of baccarat," he continued in a low voice, his eyes
+glancing about furtively, "at eleven o'clock precisely. Knock twice at
+this door."
+
+Old habitués of Lucerne--habitués of years, men who never cross the Alps
+without at least a day's stroll under the Noah's-ark trees,--will tell you
+over their coffee that since the opening of the St. Gotthard Tunnel this
+half-way house of Lucerne--this oasis between Paris and Rome--has
+sheltered most of the adventurers of Europe; that under these same trees,
+and on these very benches, nihilists have sat and plotted, refugees and
+outlaws have talked in whispers, and adventuresses, with jeweled stilettos
+tucked in their bosoms, have lain in wait for fresher victims.
+
+I had never in my wanderings met any of these mysterious and delightful
+people. And, strange to say, I had never seen a game of baccarat. This
+might be my opportunity. I would see the game and perhaps run across some
+of these curious individuals. I consulted my watch; there was half an hour
+yet. The man was a runner, of course, for this underground, unlicensed
+gaming-house, who had picked me out as a possible victim.
+
+When the moment arrived I knocked at the door.
+
+It was opened, not by the greasy Jack-in-the-box with the emerald pin, but
+by a deferential old man, who looked at me for a moment, holding the door
+with his foot. Then gently closing it, he preceded me across a hall and up
+a long staircase. At the top was a passageway and another door, and behind
+this a large room paneled in dark wood. On one side of this apartment was
+a high desk. Here sat the cashier counting money, and arranging little
+piles of chips of various colors. In the centre stood a table covered with
+black cloth: I had always supposed such tables to be green. About it were
+seated ten people, the croupier in the middle. The game had already begun.
+I moved up a chair, saying that I would look on, but not play.
+
+Had the occasion been a clinic, the game a corpse, and the croupier the
+operating surgeon, the group about the table could not have been more
+absorbed or more silent; a cold, death-like, ominous stillness that seemed
+to saturate the very air. The only sounds were the occasional clickings of
+the ivory chips, like the chattering of teeth, and the monotones of the
+croupier announcing the results of the play:--
+
+"Faites vos jeux. Le jeu est fait; rien ne va plus."
+
+I began to study the _personnel_ of this clinic of chance.
+
+Two Englishmen in evening dress sat side by side, never speaking, scarcely
+moving, their eyes riveted on the falling cards flipped from the
+croupier's hands. A coarse-featured, oily-skinned woman--a Russian, I
+thought--looked on calmly, resting her head on her palm. A man in a gray
+suit, with waxy face and watery, yellow eyes, made paper pills, rolling
+them slowly between thumb and forefinger--his features as immobile as a
+death-mask. A blue-eyed, blond German officer, with a decoration on the
+lapel of his coat, nonchalantly twirled his mustache, his shoulders
+straining in tension. A Parisienne, with bleached hair and penciled
+eyebrows, leaned over her companion's arm. There was also a flashily
+dressed negro, evidently a Haytian, who sat motionless at the far end, as
+stolid as a boiler, only the steam-gauge of his eyes denoting the pressure
+beneath.
+
+No one spoke, no one laughed.
+
+Two of the group interested me at once,--the croupier and a woman who sat
+within three feet of me.
+
+The croupier, who was in evening dress, might have been of any age from
+thirty to fifty. His eyes were deep-set and glassy, like those of a
+consumptive. His hair was jet-black, his face clean-shaven; the skin, not
+ivory, but a dirty white, and flabby, like the belly of a toad. His thin
+and bloodless lips were flattened over a row of pure white teeth with
+glistening specks of gold that opened when he smiled; closing again slowly
+like an automaton's. His shrunken, colorless hands lay on the black cloth
+like huge white spiders; their long, thin legs of fingers turned up at the
+tips--stealthy, creeping fingers. Sometimes, too, in their nervous
+workings, they drooped together like a bunch of skeleton keys. On one of
+these lock picks he wore a ring studded alternately with diamonds and
+rubies.
+
+The cards seemed to know these fingers, fluttering about them, or
+lighting noiselessly at their bidding on the cloth.
+
+When the bank won, the croupier permitted a slight shade of disappointment
+to flash over his face, fading into an expression of apology for taking
+the stakes. When the bank lost, the lips parted slowly, showing the teeth,
+in a half smile. Such delicate outward consideration for the feelings of
+his victims seemed a part of his education, an index to his natural
+refinement.
+
+The woman was of another type. Although she sat with her back to me, I
+could catch her profile when she pushed her long veil from her face. She
+was dressed entirely in black. She had been, and was still, a woman of
+marked beauty, with an air of high breeding which was unmistakable. Her
+features were clean-cut and refined, her mouth and nose delicately shaped.
+Her forehead was shaded by waves of brown hair which half covered her
+ears. The eyes were large and softened by long lashes, the lids red as if
+with recent weeping. Her only ornament was a plain gold ring, worn on her
+left hand. Outwardly, she was the only person in the room who betrayed by
+her manner any vital interest in the game.
+
+There are some faces that once seen haunt you forever afterward--faces
+with masks so thinly worn that you look through into the heart below. Hers
+was one of these. Every light and shadow of hope and disappointment that
+crossed it showed only the clearer the intensity of her mental strain, and
+the bitterness of her anxiety.
+
+Once when she lost she bit her lips so deeply that a speck of blood tinged
+her handkerchief. The next instant she was clutching her winnings with
+almost the ferocity of a hungry animal. Then she leaned back a moment
+later exhausted in her chair, her face thrown up, her eyes closing
+wearily.
+
+In her hand she held a small chamois bag filled with gold; when her chips
+were exhausted she would rise silently, float like a shadow to the desk,
+lay a handful of gold from the bag upon the counter, sweep the ivories
+into her hand, and noiselessly regain her seat. She seemed to know no one,
+and no one to know her, unless it might have been the croupier, who, I
+thought, watched her closely when he pushed over her winnings, parting his
+lips a little wider, his smile a trifle more cringing and devilish.
+
+At twelve o'clock she was still playing, her face like chalk, her eyes
+bloodshot, her teeth clenched fast, her hair disheveled across her face.
+
+The game went on.
+
+When the clock reached the half-hour the man in gray pushed back his
+chair, gathered up his winnings, and moved to the door, an attendant
+handing him his hat. With the exception of the Parisienne, who had gone
+some time before, taking her companion with her, the devotees were the
+same,--the two Englishmen still exchanging clean, white Bank of England
+notes, the German and Haytian losing, but calm as mummies, the fat, oily
+woman, melting like a red candle, the perspiration streaming down her
+face.
+
+Suddenly I heard a convulsive gasp. The woman in black was on her feet
+leaning over the table. Her eyes blazed in a frenzy of delight. She was
+sweeping into her open hands the piles of gold before her. By some
+marvelous stroke of luck, and with almost her last louis, she had won
+every franc on the cloth!
+
+Then she drew herself up defiantly, covered her face with her veil, hugged
+the money to her breast, and staggered from the room.
+
+
+II
+
+So deep an impression had the gambling scene of the night before made upon
+me that the next morning I loitered under the Noah's-ark trees, hoping I
+might identify the woman, and in some impossible, improbable way know more
+of her history. I even lounged into the Casino, tried the door at which I
+had knocked the night before, and, finding it locked and the scrubwoman
+suspicious, strolled out carelessly into the garden, and, sitting down
+under the palms, tried to pick out the windows that opened into the
+gaming-room. But they were all alike, with pots of flowers blooming in
+each.
+
+Still burdened with these memories, I entered the church,--the old church
+with square towers and deep-receding entrance, that stands on the crest of
+a steep hill overlooking the Casino, and within a short distance of the
+Noah's-ark trees. Every afternoon, near the hour of twilight, when the
+shadows reach down Mount Pilatus, and the mists gather in the valley, a
+broken procession of strollers, in twos and threes and larger groups,
+slowly climb its path. They are on their way to hear the great organ
+played.
+
+The audience was already seated. It was at the moment of that profound
+hush which precedes the recital. Even my footfall, light as it was,
+reëchoed to the groined arches. The church was ghostly dark,--so dark that
+the hundreds of heads melted into the mass of pews, and they into the
+gloom of column and wall. The only distinguishable gleam was the soft glow
+of the dying day struggling through the lower panes of the dust-begrimed
+windows. Against these hung long chains holding unlighted lamps.
+
+I felt my way to an empty pew on a side aisle, and sat down. The silence
+continued. Now and again there was a slight cough, instantly checked. Once
+a child dropped a book, the echoes lasting apparently for minutes. The
+darkness became almost black night. Only the clean, new panes of glass
+used in repairing some break in the begrimed windows showed clear. These
+seemed to hang out like small square lanterns.
+
+Suddenly I was aware that the stillness was broken by a sound faint as a
+sigh, delicate as the first breath of a storm. Then came a great sweep
+growing louder, the sweep of deep thunder tones with the roar of the
+tempest, the rush of the mighty rain, the fury of the avalanche, the
+voices of the birds singing in the sunlight, the gurgle of the brooks,
+and the soft cadence of the angelus calling the peasants to prayers.
+Then, a pause and another burst of melody, ending in profound silence,
+as if the door of heaven had been opened and as quickly shut. Then a
+clear voice springing into life, singing like a lark, rising,
+swelling--up--up--filling the church--the roof--the sky! Then the heavenly
+door thrown wide, and the melody pouring out in a torrent, drowning the
+voice. Then above it all, while I sat quivering, there soared like a bird
+in the air, singing as it flew, one great, superb, vibrating, resolute
+note, pure, clear, full, sensuous, untrammeled, dominating the heavens:
+not human, not divine; like no woman's, like no man's, like no angel's
+ever dreamed of,--the vox humana.
+
+It did not awaken in me any feeling of reverence or religious ecstasy. I
+only remember that the music took possession of my soul. That beneath and
+through it all I felt the vibrations of all the tragic things that come to
+men and women in their lives. Scenes from out an irrelevant past swept
+across my mind. I heard again the long winding note of the bugle echoing
+through the pines, the dead in uneven rows, the moon lighting their faces.
+I caught once more the cry of the girl my friend loved, he who died and
+never knew. I saw the quick plunge of the strong swimmer, white arms
+clinging to his neck, and heard once more that joyous shout from a hundred
+throats. And I could still hear the hoarse voice of the captain with
+drenched book and flickering lantern, and shivered again as I caught the
+dull splash of the sheeted body dropping into the sea.
+
+The vox humana stopped, not gradually, but abruptly, as if the heart had
+broken and its life had gone out in the one supreme effort. Then
+silence,--a silence so profound that a low sob from the pew across the
+aisle startled me. I strained my eyes, and caught the outlines of a woman
+heavily veiled. I could see, too, a child beside her, his head on her
+shoulder. The boy was bare-headed, his curls splashed over her black
+dress. Then another sob, half smothered, as if the woman were strangling.
+
+No other sound broke the stillness; only the feeling everywhere of
+pent-up, smothered sighs.
+
+In this intense moment a faint footfall was heard approaching from the
+church door, walking in the gloom. It proved to be that of an old man,
+bent and trembling. He came slowly down the sombre church, with unsteady,
+shambling gait, holding in one hand a burning taper,--a mere speck. In the
+other he carried a rude lantern, its wavering light hovering about his
+feet. As he passed in his long brown cloak, the swaying light encircled
+his white beard and hair with a fluffy halo. He moved slowly, the spark he
+carried no larger than a firefly. The sacristan had come to light the
+candles.
+
+He stopped half way down the middle aisle, opposite a pew, the faint flush
+of his lantern falling on the nearest upturned face. A long thin candle
+was fastened to this pew. The firefly of a taper, held aloft in his
+trembling hand, flickered uncertainly like a moth, and rested on the top
+of this candle. Then the wick kindled and burned. As its rays felt their
+way over the vast interior, struggling up into the dark roof, reaching the
+gilded ornaments on the side altar enshrouded in gloom, glinting on the
+silver of the hanging lamps, a plaintive note fluttered softly, swelled
+into an ecstasy of sound, and was lost in a chorus of angel voices.
+
+The sacristan moved down the aisle, kindled two other candles on the
+distant altar, and was lost in the shadows.
+
+The woman in the pew across the aisle bent forward, resting her head on
+the back of the seat in front, drawing the child to her. The boy cuddled
+closer. As she turned, a spark of light trickled down her cheek. I caught
+sight of the falling tear, but could not see the face.
+
+The music ceased; the last anthem had been played; a gas-jet flared in the
+organ-loft; the people began to rise from their seats. The sacristan
+appeared again from behind the altar, and walked slowly down the side
+aisle, carrying only his lantern. As he neared my seat the woman stood
+erect, and passed out of the pew, her hand caressing the child. Surely I
+could not be mistaken about that movement, the slow, undulating, rhythmic
+walk, the floating shadow of the night before. Certainly not with the
+light of the sacristan's lantern now full on her face. Yes: the same
+finely chiseled features, the same waves of brown hair, the same eyes, the
+same drooping eyelids, like blossoms wet with dew! At last I had found
+her.
+
+I walked behind,--so close that I could have laid my hand on her boy's
+head, or touched her hand as it lay buried in his curls. The old, bent
+sacristan stepped in front, swinging his lantern, the ghostly shadows
+wavering about his feet. Then he halted to let the crowd clear the main
+aisle.
+
+As he stood still, the woman drew suddenly back as if stunned by a blow,
+clutched the boy to her side, and fixed her eyes on the lantern's ghostly
+shadows. I leaned over quickly. The glow of the rude lamp, with its
+squares of waving light flecking the stone flagging, traced in
+unmistakable outlines the form of a cross!
+
+For some minutes she stood as if in a trance, her eyes fastened upon the
+floating shadow, her whole form trembling, bent, her body swaying. Only
+when the sacristan moved a few paces ahead to hold open the swinging door,
+and the shadow of the cross faded, did she awake from the spell.
+
+Then, recovering herself slowly, she bowed reverently, crossed herself,
+drew the boy closer, and, with his hand in hers, passed out into the cool
+starlit night.
+
+
+III
+
+The following morning I was sitting under the Noah's-ark trees, watching
+the people pass and repass, when a man in a suit of white flannel,
+carrying a light cane, and wearing a straw hat with a red band, and a
+necktie to match, stopped a flower-girl immediately in front of me, and
+affixed an additional dot of blood-color to his buttonhole.
+
+In the glare of the daylight he was even more yellow than when under the
+blaze of the gas-jets. His eyes were still glassy and brilliant, but the
+rims showed red, as if for want of sleep, and beneath the lower lids lay
+sunken half-circles of black. He moved with his wonted precision, but
+without that extreme gravity of manner which had characterized him the
+night of the game. Looked at as a mere passer-by, he would have impressed
+you as a rather debonair, overdressed habitué, who was enjoying his
+morning stroll under the trees, without other purpose in life than the
+breathing of the cool air and enjoyment of the attendant exercise. His
+spider-ship had doubtless seen me when he entered the walk,--I was still
+an untrapped fly,--and had picked out this particular flower-girl beside
+me as a safe anchorage for one end of his web. I turned away my head; but
+it was too late.
+
+"Monsieur did not play last night?" the croupier asked deferentially.
+
+"No; I did not know the game." Then an idea struck me. "Sit down; I want
+to talk to you." He touched the edge of his hat with one finger, opened a
+gold cigarette-case studded with jewels, offered me its contents, and took
+the seat beside me.
+
+"Pardon the abruptness of the inquiry, but who was the woman in black?" I
+asked.
+
+He looked at me curiously.
+
+"Ah, you mean madame with the bag?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"She was once the Baroness Frontignac."
+
+"Was once! What is she now?"
+
+"Now? Ah, that is quite a story." He stopped, shut the gold case with a
+click, and leaned forward, flicking the pebbles with the point of his
+cane. "If madame had had a larger bag she might have broken the bank. Is
+it not so?"
+
+"You know her, then?" I persisted.
+
+"Monsieur, men of my profession know everybody. Sooner or later they all
+come to us--when they are young, and their francs have wings; when they
+are gray-haired and cautious; when they are old and foolish."
+
+"But she did not look like a gambler," I replied stiffly.
+
+He smiled his old cynical, treacherous smile.
+
+"Monsieur is pleased to be very pronounced in his language. A gambler!
+Monsieur no doubt means to say that madame has not the appearance of being
+under the intoxication of the play." Then with a positive tone, still
+flicking the pebbles, "The baroness played for love."
+
+"Of the cards?" I asked persistently. I was determined to drive the nail
+to the head.
+
+The croupier looked at me fixedly, shrugged his shoulders, laughed between
+his teeth, a little, hissing laugh that sounded like escaping steam, and
+said slowly:--
+
+"No; of a man."
+
+Then, noticing my increasing interest, "Monsieur would know something of
+madame?"
+
+He held up his hand, and began crooking one finger after another as he
+recounted her history. These bent keys, it seemed, unlocked secrets as
+well.
+
+"Le voilà! the drama of Madame la Baronne! The play opens when she is
+first a novice in the convent of Saint Ursula, devoted to good works and
+the church. Next you find her a grand dame and rich, the wife of Baron
+Alphonse de Frontignac, first secretary of legation at Vienna. Then a
+mother with one child,--a boy, now six or seven years old, who is hardly
+ever out of her arms." He stopped, toyed for a moment with his match-safe,
+slipped it into his pocket, and said carelessly, "So much for Act I."
+
+Then, after a pause during which he traced again little diagrams in the
+gravel, he said suddenly:--
+
+"Does this really interest you, monsieur?"
+
+"Unquestionably."
+
+"You know her, then?" This with a glance of suspicion as keen as it was
+unexpected by me.
+
+"Never saw her in my life before," I answered frankly, "and never shall
+again. I leave for Paris to-day, and sail from Havre on Saturday."
+
+He drew in the point of his cane, looked me all over with one of those
+comprehensive sweeps of the eye, as if he would read my inmost thought,
+and then, with an expression of confidence born doubtless of my evident
+sincerity, continued:--
+
+"In the next act Frontignac gets mixed up in some banking scandals,--he
+would, like a fool, play roulette--baccarat was always his strong
+game,--disappears from Vienna, is arrested at the frontier, escapes, and
+is found the next morning under a brush-heap with a bullet through his
+head. This ends the search. Two years later--this is now Act III.--Madame
+la Baronne, without a sou to her name, is hard at work in the hospitals of
+Metz. The child is pensioned out near by.
+
+"Now comes the grand romance. An officer attached to the 13th
+Cuirassiers--a regiment with not men enough left after Metz to muster a
+company--is picked up for dead, with one arm torn off, and a sabre-slash
+over his head, and brought to her ward. She nurses him back to life, inch
+by inch, and in six months he joins his regiment. Now please follow the
+plot. It is quite interesting. Is it not easy to see what will happen?
+Tender and beautiful, young and brave! Vive le bel amour! It is the old
+story, but it is also une affaire de coeur--la grande passion. In a few
+months they are married, and he takes her to his home in Rouen. There he
+listens to her entreaties, and resigns his commission.
+
+"This was five years ago. To-day he is a broken-down man, starving on his
+pension; a poor devil about the streets, instead of a general commanding a
+department; and all for love of her. Some, of course, said it was the
+sabre-cut; some that he could no longer hold his command, he was so badly
+slashed. But it is as I tell you. You can see him here any day, sitting
+under the trees, playing with the child, or along the lake front, leaning
+on her arm."
+
+Here the croupier rose from the bench, looked critically over his case of
+cigarettes, selected one carefully, and began buttoning his coat as if to
+go.
+
+By this time I had determined to know the end. I felt that he had told me
+the truth as far as he had gone; but I felt, also, that he had stopped at
+the most critical point of her career. I saw, too, that he was familiar
+with its details.
+
+"Go on, please. Here, try a cigar." My interest in my heroine had even
+made me courteous. My aversion to him, too, was wearing off. Perhaps,
+after all, croupiers were no worse than other people. "Now, one thing
+more. Why was she in your gambling-house?"
+
+He lighted the cigar, touched his hat with his forefinger, and again
+seated himself.
+
+"Well, then, monsieur, as you will. I always trust you Americans. When you
+lose, you pay; when you win, you keep your mouths shut. Besides,"--this
+was spoken more to himself,--"you have never seen him, and never will. Le
+voilà. One night,--this only a year ago, remember,--in one of the gardens
+at Baden, a hand touched the baroness's shoulder.
+
+"It was _Frontignac's_.
+
+"The body under the brush-heap had been that of another man dressed in
+Frontignac's clothes. The bullet-hole in his head was made by a ball from
+Frontignac's pistol. Since then he had been hiding in exile.
+
+"He threatened exposure. She pleaded for her boy and her crippled husband.
+She could, of course, have handed him over to the nearest gendarme; but
+that meant arrest, and arrest meant exposure. At their home in Vienna, let
+me tell you, baccarat had been played nightly as a pastime for their
+guests. So great was her luck that 'As lucky as the Baronne Frontignac'
+was a byword. Frontignac's price was this: she must take his fifty louis
+and play that stake at the Casino that night; when she brought him ten
+thousand francs he would vanish.
+
+"That night at Baden--I was dealing, and know--she won twelve thousand
+francs in as many minutes. Here her slavery began. It will continue until
+Frontignac is discovered and captured; then he will put a second bullet
+into his own head. When I saw her enter my room I knew he had turned up
+again. As she staggered out, one of my men shadowed her. I was right;
+Frontignac was skulking in the garden."
+
+All my disgust for the croupier returned in an instant. He was still the
+same bloodless spider of the night before. I could hardly keep my hands
+off him.
+
+"And you permit this, and let this woman suffer these tortures, her life
+made miserable by this scoundrel, when a word, even a look, from you would
+send him out of the country and"--
+
+"Softly, monsieur, softly. Why blame me? What business is it of mine. Do I
+love the cripple? Have I robbed the bank and murdered my double? This is
+not my game; it is Frontignac's. Would you have me kick over his chess
+board?"
+
+
+
+
+JONATHAN
+
+
+He was so ugly,--outside, I mean: long and lank, flat-chested, shrunken,
+round-shouldered, stooping when he walked; body like a plank, arms and
+legs like split rails, feet immense, hands like paddles, head set on a
+neck scrawny as a picked chicken's, hair badly put on and in patches, some
+about his head, some around his jaws, some under his chin in a half
+moon,--a good deal on the back of his hands and on his chest. Nature had
+hewn him in the rough and had left him with every axe mark showing.
+
+He wore big shoes tied with deer hide strings and nondescript breeches
+that wrinkled along his knotted legs like old gun covers. These were
+patched and repatched with various hues and textures,--parts of another
+pair,--bits of a coat and fragments of tailor's cuttings. Sewed in their
+seat was half of a cobbler's apron,--for greater safety in sliding over
+ledges and logs, he would tell you. Next came a leather belt polished
+with use, and then a woolen shirt,--any kind of a shirt,--cross-barred or
+striped,--whatever the store had cheapest, and over that a waistcoat with
+a cotton back and some kind of a front, looking like a state map, it had
+so many colored patches. There was never any coat,--none that I remember.
+When he wore a coat he was another kind of a Jonathan,--a store-dealing
+Jonathan, or a church-going Jonathan, or a town-meeting Jonathan,--not the
+"go-a-fishin'," or "bee-huntin'," or "deer-stalkin'" Jonathan whom I knew.
+
+There was a wide straw hat, too, that crowned his head and canted with the
+wind and flopped about his neck, and would have sailed away down many a
+mountain brook but for a faithful leather strap that lay buried in the
+half-moon whiskers and held on for dear life. And from under the rim of
+this thatch, and half hidden in the matted masses of badly adjusted hair,
+was a thin, peaked nose, bridged by a pair of big spectacles, and
+somewhere below these, again, a pitfall of a mouth covered with twigs of
+hair and an underbrush of beard, while deep-set in the whole tangle, like
+still pools reflecting the blue and white of the sweet heavens above, lay
+his eyes,--eyes that won you, kindly, twinkling, merry, trustful, and
+trusting eyes. Beneath these pools of light, way down below, way down
+where his heart beat warm, lived Jonathan.
+
+I know a fruit in Mexico, delicious in flavor, called Timburici, covered
+by a skin as rough and hairy as a cocoanut; and a flower that bristles
+with thorns before it blooms into waxen beauty; and there are agates
+encrusted with clay and pearls that lie hidden in oysters. All these
+things, somehow, remind me of Jonathan.
+
+His cabin was the last bit of shingle and brick chimney on that side of
+the Franconia Notch. There were others, farther on in the forest, with
+bark slants for shelter, and forked sticks for swinging kettles; but
+civilization ended with Jonathan's store-stove and the square of oil-cloth
+that covered his sitting-room floor. Upstairs, under the rafters, there
+was a guest-chamber smelling of pine boards and drying herbs, and
+sheltering a bed gridironed with bed-cord and softened by a thin layer of
+feathers encased in a ticking and covered with a cotton quilt. This bed
+always made a deep impression upon me mentally and bodily. Mentally,
+because I always slept so soundly in it whenever I visited
+Jonathan,--even with the rain pattering on the roof and the wind soughing
+through the big pine-trees; and bodily, because--well, because of the
+cords. Beside this bed was a chair for my candle, and on the floor a small
+square plank, laid loosely over the stovepipe hole which, in winter, held
+the pipe.
+
+In summer mornings Jonathan made an alarm clock of this plank, flopping it
+about with the end of a fishing-rod poked up from below, never stopping
+until he saw my sleepy face peering down into his own. There was no
+bureau, only a nail or so in the scantling, and no washstand, of course;
+the tin basin at the well outside was better.
+
+Then there was an old wife that lived in the cabin,--an old wife made of
+sole leather, with yellow-white hair and a thin, pinched face and a body
+all angles,--chest, arms, everywhere,--outlined through her straight up
+and down calico dress. When she spoke, however, you stopped to listen,--it
+was like a wood sound, low and far away,--soft as a bird call. People
+living alone in the forests often have these voices.
+
+Last there was a dog,--a mean, sniveling, stump-tailed dog, of no
+particular breed or kidney. One of those dogs whose ancestry went to the
+bad many generations before he was born. A dog part fox,--he got all his
+slyness here; and part wolf, this made him ravenous; and part
+bull-terrier, this made him ill-tempered; and all the rest poodle, that
+made him too lazy to move.
+
+The wife knew this dog, and hung the bacon on a high nail out of his
+reach, and covered with a big dish the pies cooling on the bench; and the
+neighbors down the road knew him and chased him out of their dairy-cellars
+when he nosed into the milk-pans and cheese-pots; and even the little
+children found out what a coward he was, and sent him howling home to his
+hole under the porch, where he grumbled and pouted all day like a spoiled
+child that had been half whipped. Everybody knew him, and everybody
+despised him for a low-down, thieving, lazy cur,--everybody except
+Jonathan. Jonathan loved him,--loved his weepy, smeary eyes, and his
+rough, black hair, and his fat round body, short stumpy legs, and shorter
+stumpy tail,--especially the tail. Everything else that the dog lacked
+could be traced back to the peccadillos of his ancestors,--Jonathan was
+responsible for the tail.
+
+"Ketched in a b'ar-trap I hed sot up back in thet green timber on Loon
+Pond Maountin' six year ago last fall, when he wuz a pup," he would say,
+holding the dog in his lap,--his favorite seat. "I swan, ef it warn't too
+bad! Thinks I, when I sot it, I'll tell the leetle cuss whar it wuz;
+then--I must hev forgot it. It warn't a week afore he wuz runnin' a rabbet
+and run right into it. Wall, sir, them iron jaws took thet tail er his'n
+off julluk a knife. He's allus been kinder sore ag'in me sence, and I
+dunno but he's right, fur it wuz mighty keerless in me. Wall, sir, he come
+yowlin' hum, and when he see me he did look saour,--no use talkin',--jest
+ez ef he wuz a-sayin', 'Yer think you're paowerful cunnin' with yer
+b'ar-traps, don't ye? Jest see what it's done to my tail. It's kinder
+sp'ilt me for a dog.' All my fault, warn't it, George?" patting his head.
+(Only Jonathan would call a dog George.)
+
+Here the dog would look up out of one eye as he spoke,--he hadn't
+forgotten the bear-trap, and never intended to let Jonathan forget it
+either. Then Jonathan would admire ruefully the end of the stump, stroking
+the dog all the while with his big, hairy, paddle-like hands, George
+rooting his head under the flap of the party-colored waistcoat.
+
+One night, I remember, we had waited supper,--the wife and I,--we were
+obliged to wait, the trout being in Jonathan's creel,--when Jonathan
+walked in, looking tired and worried.
+
+"Hez George come home, Marthy?" he asked, resting his long bamboo rod
+against the porch rail and handing the creel of trout to the wife. "No?
+Wall, I'm beat ef thet ain't cur'us. Guess I got ter look him up." And he
+disappeared hurriedly into the darkening forest, his anxious, whistling
+call growing fainter and fainter as he was lost in its depths. Marthy was
+not uneasy,--not about the dog; it was the supper that troubled her. She
+knew Jonathan's ways, and she knew George. This was a favorite trick of
+the dog's,--this of losing Jonathan.
+
+The trout were about burnt to a crisp and the corn-bread stone cold when
+Jonathan came trudging back, George in his arms,--a limp, soggy, half-dead
+dog, apparently. Marthy said nothing. It was an old story. Half the time
+Jonathan carried him home.
+
+"Supper's ready," she said quietly, and we went in.
+
+George slid out of Jonathan's arms, smelt about for a soft plank, and fell
+in a heap on the porch, his chin on his paws, his mean little eyes
+watching lazily,--speaking to nobody, noticing nobody, sulking all to
+himself. There he stayed until he caught a whiff of the fragrant, pungent
+odor of fried trout. Then he cocked one eye and lifted an ear. He must not
+carry things too far. Next, I heard a single thump of his six-inch tail.
+George was beginning to get pleased; he always did when there were things
+to eat.
+
+All this time Jonathan, tired out, sat in his big splint chair at the
+supper-table. He had been thrashing the brook since daylight,--over his
+knees sometimes. I could still see the high-water mark on his patched
+trousers. Another whiff of the frying-pan, and George got up. He dared not
+poke his nose into Marthy's lap,--there were too many chunks of wood
+within easy reach of her hand. So he sidled up to Jonathan, rubbing his
+nose against his big knees, whining hungrily, looking up into his face.
+
+"I tell ye," said Jonathan, smiling at me, patting the dog as he spoke,
+"this yere George hez got more sense'n most men. He knows what's become of
+them trout we ketched. I guess he's gittin' over the way I treated him
+to-day. Ye see, we wuz up the East Branch when he run a fox south. Thinks
+I, the fox'll take a whirl back and cross the big runway; and, sure
+enough, it warn't long afore I heard George a-comin' back, yippin' along
+up through Hank Simons' holler. So I whistled to him and steered off up
+onto the maountin' to take a look at Bog-eddy and try and git a pickerel.
+When I come daown ag'in, I see George warn't whar I left him, so I
+hollered and whistled ag'in. Then, thinks I, you're mad 'cause I left ye,
+an' won't let on ye _kin_ hear; so I come along hum without him. When I
+went back a while ago a-lookin' for him, would yer believe it, thar he wuz
+a-layin' in the road, about forty rod this side of Hank Simons' sugar
+maples, flat onto his stummick an' disgusted an' put out awful. It wuz
+about all I could do ter git him hum. I knowed the minute I come in fust
+time an' see he warn't here thet his feelin's wuz hurt 'cause I left him.
+I presaume mebbe I oughter hollered ag'in afore I got so fer off. Then I
+thought, of course, he knowed I'd gone to Bog-eddy. Beats all, what sense
+some dogs hez."
+
+I never knew Jonathan to lose patience with George but once: that was when
+the dog tried to burrow into the hole of a pair of chipmunks whom Jonathan
+loved. They lived in a tree blanketed with moss and lying across the wood
+road. George had tried to scrape an acquaintance by crawling in
+uninvited, nearly scaring the little fellows to death, and Jonathan had
+flattened him into the dry leaves with his big, paddle-like hands. That
+was before the bear-trap had nipped his tail, but George never forgot it.
+
+He was particularly polite to chipmunks after that. He would lie still by
+the hour and hear Jonathan talk to them without even a whine of
+discontent. I watched the old man one morning up beneath the ledges,
+groping, on his hands and knees, filling his pockets with nuts, and when
+he reached the wood road, emptying them in a pile near the chipmunk's
+tree, George looking on good-naturedly.
+
+"Guess you leetle cunnin's better hurry up," he said, while he poured out
+the nuts on the ground, his knees sticking up as he sat, like some huge
+grasshopper's. "Guess ye ain't got more 'n time to fill yer
+cubbud,--winter's a-comin'! Them leetle birches on Bog-eddy is turnin'
+yeller,--that's the fust sign. 'Fore ye knows it snow'll be flyin'. Then
+whar'll ye be with everything froze tighter'n Sampson bound the heathen,
+you cunnin' leetle skitterin' pups. Then I presaume likely ye'll come
+a-drulin' raound an' want me an' George should gin ye suthin to git
+through th' winter on,--won't they, George?"
+
+"Beats all," he said to me that night, "how thoughtful some dogs is.
+Hadn't been fer George to-day, I'd clean forgot them leetle folks. I see
+him scratching raound in the leaves an' I knowed right away what he wuz
+thinkin' of."
+
+Often when I was sketching in the dense forest, Jonathan would lie down
+beside me, the old flop of a hat under his head, his talk rambling on.
+
+"I don't wonder ye like to paint 'em. Thar hain't nothin' so human as
+trees. Take thet big hemlock right in front er yer. Hain't he led a pretty
+decent life? See how praoud an' tall he's growed, with them arms of his'n
+straight aout an' them leetle chillen of his'n spraouting up raound him. I
+tell ye them hemlocks is pretty decent people. Now take a look at them two
+white birches down by thet big rock. Ain't it a shame the way them fellers
+hez been goin' on sence they wuz leetle saplin's, makin' it so nothin'
+could grow raound 'em,--with their jackets all ragged an' tore like
+tramps, an' their toes all out of their shoes whar ther roots is stickin'
+clear of the bark,--ain't they a-ketchin' it in their ole age? An' then
+foller on daown whar thet leetle bunch er silver maples is dancin' in the
+sunlight, so slender an' cunnin',--all aout in their summer dresses,
+julluk a bevy er young gals,--ain't they human like? I tell ye, trees is
+the humanest things thet is."
+
+These talks with me made George restless. He was never happy unless
+Jonathan had _him_ on his mind.
+
+But it was a cluster of daisies that first lifted the inner lid of
+Jonathan's heart for me. I was away up the side of the Notch overlooking
+the valley, my easel and canvas lashed to a tree, the wind blew so, when
+Jonathan came toiling up the slope, a precipice in fact, with a tin can
+strapped to his back, filled with hot corn and some doughnuts, and threw
+himself beside me, the sweat running down his weather-tanned neck.
+
+"So long ez we know whar you're settin' at work it ain't nat'ral to let ye
+starve, be it?" throwing himself beside me. George had started ahead of
+him and had been picked up and carried as usual.
+
+When Jonathan sat upright, after a breathing spell, his eye fell on a tuft
+of limp, bruised daisies, flattened to the earth by the heel of his clumsy
+shoe. There were acres of others in sight.
+
+"Gosh hang!" he said, catching his breath suddenly, as if something had
+stung him, and reaching down with his horny, bent fingers, "ef thet ain't
+too bad." Then to himself in a tone barely audible,--he had entirely
+forgotten my presence,--"You never had no sense, Jonathan, nohow,
+stumblin' raound like er bull calf tramplin' everything. Jes' see what
+ye've gone an' done with them big feet er yourn," bending over the bruised
+plant and tenderly adjusting the leaves. "Them daisies hez got jest ez
+good a right ter live ez you hev."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I was almost sure when I began that I had a story to tell. I had thought
+of that one about Luke Pollard,--the day Luke broke his leg behind Loon
+Mountain, and Jonathan carried him down the gorge on his back, crossing
+ledges that would have scared a goat. It was snowing at the time, they
+said, and blowing a gale. When they got half way down White Face,
+Jonathan's foot slipped and he fell into the ravine, breaking his wrist.
+Only the drifts saved his life. Luke caught a sapling and held on. The
+doctor set Jonathan's wrist last, and Luke never knew it had been broken
+until the next day. It is one of the stories they tell you around the
+stove winter evenings.
+
+"Julluk the night Jonathan carried aout Luke," they say, listening to the
+wind howling over the ledges.
+
+And then I thought of that other story that Hank Simons told me,--the one
+about the mill back of Woodstock caving in from the freshet and burying
+the miller's girl. No one dared lift the timbers until Jonathan crawled
+in. The child was pinned down between the beams, and the water rose so
+fast they feared the wreckage would sweep the mill. Jonathan clung to the
+sills waist-deep in the torrent, crept under the floor timbers, and then
+bracing his back held the beam until he dragged her clear. It happened a
+good many years ago, but Hank always claimed it had bent Jonathan's back.
+
+But, after all, they are not the things I love best to remember of
+Jonathan.
+
+It is always the old man's voice, crooning his tuneless song as he trudges
+home in the twilight, his well-filled creel at his side,--the
+good-for-nothing dog in his arms; or it is that look of sweet contentment
+on his face,--the deep and thoughtful eyes, filled with the calm serenity
+of his soul. And then the ease and freedom of his life! Plenty of air and
+space, and plenty of time to breathe and move! Having nothing, possessing
+all things! No bonds to guard,--no cares to stifle,--no trains to
+catch,--no appointments to keep,--no fashions to follow,--no follies to
+shun! Only the old wife and worthless, lazy dog, and the rod and the
+creel! Only the blessed sunshine and fresh, sweet air, and the cool touch
+of deep woods.
+
+No, there is no story--only Jonathan.
+
+
+
+
+ALONG THE BRONX
+
+
+Hidden in our memories there are quaint, quiet nooks tucked away at the
+end of leafy lanes; still streams overhung with feathery foliage; gray
+rocks lichen-covered; low-ground meadows, knee-deep in lush grass;
+restful, lazy lakes dotted with pond-lilies; great, wide-spreading trees,
+their arms uplifted in song, their leaves quivering with the melody.
+
+I say there are all these delights of leaf, moss, ripple, and shade stored
+away somewhere in our memories,--dry bulbs of a preceding summer's bloom,
+that need only the first touch of spring, the first glorious day in June,
+to break out into flower. When they do break out, they are generally
+chilled in the blooming by the thousand and one difficulties of prolonged
+travel, time of getting there and time of getting back again, expense, and
+lack of accommodations.
+
+If you live in New York--and really you should not live anywhere
+else!--there are a few buttons a tired man can touch that will revive for
+him all these delights in half an hour's walk, costing but a car-fare, and
+robbing no man or woman of time, even without the benefits of the
+eight-hour law.
+
+You touch one of these buttons when you plan to spend an afternoon along
+the Bronx.
+
+There are other buttons, of course. You can call up the edges of the
+Palisades, with their great sweep of river below, the seething, steaming
+city beyond; or, you can say "Hello!" to the Upper Harlem, with its
+house-boats and floating restaurants; or you can ring up Westchester and
+its picturesque waterline. But you cannot get them all together in half an
+hour except in one place, and that is along the Bronx.
+
+The Bronx is the forgotten, the overlooked, the "disremembered," as the
+provincial puts it. Somebody may know where it begins--I do not. I only
+know where it ends. What its early life may be, away up near White Plains,
+what farms it waters, what dairies it cools, what herds it refreshes, I
+know not. I only know that when I get off at Woodlawn--that City of the
+Silent--it comes down from somewhere up above the railroad station, and
+that it "takes a header," as the boys say, under an old mill, abandoned
+long since, and then, like another idler, goes singing along through open
+meadows, and around big trees in clumps, their roots washed bare, and then
+over sandy stretches reflecting the flurries of yellow butterflies, and
+then around a great hill, and so on down to Laguerre's.
+
+Of course, when it gets to Laguerre's I know all about it. I know the old
+rotting landing-wharf where Monsieur moors his boats,--the one with the
+little seat is still there; and Lucette's big eyes are just as brown, and
+her hair just as black, and her stockings and slippers just as dainty on
+Sundays as when first I knew her. And the wooden bench is still there,
+where the lovers used to sit; only Monsieur, her father, tells me that
+François works very late in the big city,--three mouths to feed now, you
+see,--and only when le petit François is tucked away in his crib in the
+long summer nights, and Lucette has washed the dishes and put on her best
+apron, and the Bronx stops still in a quiet pool to listen, is the bench
+used as in the old time when Monsieur discovered the lovers by the flash
+of his lantern.
+
+Then I know where it floats along below Laguerre's, and pulls itself
+together in a very dignified way as it sails under the brand-new
+bridge,--the old one, propped up on poles, has long since paid tribute to
+a spring freshet,--and quickens its pace below the old Dye-house,--also a
+wreck now (they say it is haunted),--and then goes slopping along in and
+out of the marshes, sousing the sunken willow roots, oozing through beds
+of weeds and tangled vines.
+
+But only a very little while ago did I know where it began to leave off
+all its idle ways and took really to the serious side of life; when it
+began rushing down long, stony ravines, plunging over respectable,
+well-to-do masonry dams, skirting once costly villas, whispering between
+dark defiles of rock, and otherwise disporting itself as becomes a
+well-ordered, conventional, self-respecting mountain stream,
+uncontaminated by the encroachments and frivolities of civilized life.
+
+All this begins at Fordham. Not exactly at Fordham, for you must walk due
+east from the station for half a mile, climb a fence, and strike through
+the woods before you hear its voice and catch the gleam of its tumbling
+current.
+
+They will all be there when you go--all the quaint nooks, all the delights
+of leaf, moss, ripple, and shade, of your early memories. And in the
+half-hour, too,--less if you are quick-footed,--from your desk or shop in
+the great city.
+
+No, you never heard of it. I knew that before you said a word. You thought
+it was the dumping-ground of half the cast-off tinware of the earth; that
+only the shanty, the hen-coop, and the stable overhung its sluggish
+waters, and only the carpet shaker, the sod gatherer, and the tramp
+infested its banks.
+
+I tell you that in all my wanderings in search of the picturesque, nothing
+within a day's journey is half as charming. That its stretches of meadow,
+willow clumps, and tangled densities are as lovely, fresh, and enticing as
+can be found--yes, within a thousand miles of your door. That the rocks
+are encrusted with the thickest of moss and lichen, gray, green, black,
+and brilliant emerald. That the trees are superb, the solitude and rest
+complete. That it is finer, more subtle, more exquisite than its sister
+brooks in the denser forest, because that here and there it shows the
+trace of some human touch,--and nature is never truly picturesque without
+it,--the broken-down fence, the sagging bridge, and vine-covered roof.
+
+But you must go _now_.
+
+Now, before the grip of the great city has been fastened upon it; before
+the axe of the "dago" clears out the wilderness of underbrush; before the
+landscape gardener, the sanitary engineer, and the contractor pounce upon
+it and strangle it; before the crimes of the cast-iron fountain, the
+varnished grapevine arbor, with seats to match, the bronze statues
+presented by admiring groups of citizens, the rambles, malls, and
+cement-lined caverns, are consummated; before the gravel walk confines
+your steps, and the granite curbing imprisons the flowers, as if they,
+too, would escape.
+
+Now, when the tree lies as it falls; when the violets bloom and are there
+for the picking; when the dogwood sprinkles the bare branches with white
+stars, and the scent of the laurel fills the air.
+
+Touch the button some day soon for an hour along the Bronx.
+
+
+
+
+ANOTHER DOG
+
+
+Do not tell me dogs cannot talk. I know better. I saw it all myself. It
+was at Sterzing, that most picturesque of all the Tyrolean villages on the
+Italian slope of the Brenner, with its long, single street, zigzagged like
+a straggling path in the snow,--perhaps it was laid out in that way,--and
+its little open square, with shrine and rude stone fountain, surrounded by
+women in short skirts and hobnailed shoes, dipping their buckets. On both
+sides of this street ran queer arcades sheltering shops, their doorways
+piled with cheap stuffs, fruit, farm implements, and the like, and at the
+far end, it was almost the last house in the town, stood the old inn,
+where you breakfast. Such an old, old inn! with swinging sign framed by
+fantastic iron work, and decorated with overflows of foaming ale in green
+mugs, crossed clay pipes, and little round dabs of yellow-brown cakes.
+There was a great archway, too, wide and high, with enormous, barn-like
+doors fronting on this straggling, zigzag, sabot-trodden street. Under
+this a cobble-stone pavement led to the door of the coffee-room and out to
+the stable beyond. These barn-like doors keep out the driving snows and
+the whirls of sleet and rain, and are slammed to behind horse, sleigh, and
+all, if not in the face, certainly in the very teeth of the winter gale,
+while the traveler disentangles his half-frozen legs at his leisure,
+almost within sight of the blazing fire of the coffee-room within.
+
+Under this great archway, then, against one of these doors, his big paws
+just inside the shadow line,--for it was not winter, but a brilliant
+summer morning, the grass all dusted with powdered diamonds, the sky a
+turquoise, the air a joy,--under this archway, I say, sat a big St.
+Bernard dog, squat on his haunches, his head well up, like a grenadier on
+guard. His eyes commanded the approaches down the road, up the road, and
+across the street; taking in the passing peddler with the tinware, and the
+girl with a basket strapped to her back, her fingers knitting for dear
+life, not to mention so unimportant an object as myself swinging down the
+road, my iron-shod alpenstock hammering the cobbles.
+
+He made no objection to my entering, neither did he receive me with any
+show of welcome. There was no bounding forward, no wagging of the tail, no
+aimless walking around for a moment, and settling down in another spot;
+nor was there any sudden growl or forbidding look in the eye. None of
+these things occurred to him, for none of these things was part of his
+duty. The landlord would do the welcoming, the blue-shirted porter take my
+knapsack and show me the way to the coffee-room. His business was to sit
+still and guard that archway. Paying guests, and those known to the
+family,--yes! But stray mountain goats, chickens, inquisitive, pushing
+peddlers, pigs, and wandering dogs,--well, he would look out for these.
+
+While the cutlets and coffee were being fried and boiled, I dragged a
+chair across the road and tilted it back out of the sun against the wall
+of a house. I, too, commanded a view down past the blacksmith shop, where
+they were heating a huge iron tire to clap on the hind wheel of a
+diligence, and up the street as far as the little square where the women
+were still clattering about on the cobbles, their buckets on their
+shoulders. This is how I happened to be watching the dog.
+
+The more I looked at him, the more strongly did his personality impress
+me. The exceeding gravity of his demeanor! The dignified attitude! The
+quiet, silent reserve! The way he looked at you from under his eyebrows,
+not eagerly, nor furtively, but with a self-possessed, competent air,
+quite like a captain of a Cunarder scanning a horizon from the bridge, or
+a French gendarme, watching the shifting crowds from one of the little
+stone circles anchored out in the rush of the boulevards,--a look of
+authority backed by a sense of unlimited power. Then, too, there was such
+a dignified cut to his hairy chops as they drooped over his teeth beneath
+his black, stubby nose. His ears rose and fell easily, without undue haste
+or excitement when the sound of horses' hoofs put him on his guard, or a
+goat wandered too near. Yet one could see that he was not a meddlesome
+dog, nor a snarler, no running out and giving tongue at each passing
+object, not that kind of a dog at all! He was just a plain, substantial,
+well-mannered, dignified, self-respecting St. Bernard dog, who knew his
+place and kept it, who knew his duty and did it, and who would no more
+chase a cat than he would bite your legs in the dark. Put a cap with a
+gold band on his head and he would really have made an ideal concierge.
+Even without the band, he concentrated in his person all the superiority,
+the repose, and exasperating reticence of that necessary concomitant of
+Continental hotel life.
+
+Suddenly I noticed a more eager expression on his face. One ear was
+unfurled, like a flag, and almost run to the masthead; the head was turned
+quickly down the road. A sound of wheels was heard below the shop. His
+dogship straightened himself and stood on four legs, his tail wagging
+slowly.
+
+Another dog was coming.
+
+A great Danish hound, with white eyes, black-and-tan ears, and tail as
+long and smooth as a policeman's night-club;--one of those sleek and
+shining dogs with powerful chest and knotted legs, a little bowed in
+front, black lips, and dazzling, fang-like teeth. He was spattered with
+brown spots, and sported a single white foot. Altogether, he was a dog of
+quality, of ancestry, of a certain position in his own land,--one who had
+clearly followed his master's mountain wagon to-day as much for love of
+adventure as anything else. A dog of parts, too, who could perhaps, hunt
+the wild boar, or give chase to the agile deer. He was certainly not an
+inn dog. He was rather a palace dog, a chateau, or a shooting-box dog,
+who, in his off moments, trotted behind hunting carts filled with guns,
+sportsmen in knee-breeches, or in front of landaus when my lady went
+an-airing.
+
+And with all this, and quite naturally, he was a dog of breeding, who,
+while he insisted on his own rights, respected those of others. I saw this
+before he had spoken ten words to the concierge,--the St. Bernard dog, I
+mean. For he did talk to him, and the conversation was just as plain to
+me, tilted back against the wall, out of the sun, waiting for my cutlets
+and coffee, as if I had been a dog myself, and understood each word of it.
+
+First, he walked up sideways, his tail wagging and straight out, like a
+patent towel-rack. Then he walked round the concierge, who followed his
+movements with becoming interest, wagging his own tail, straightening his
+forelegs, and sidling around him kindly, as befitted the stranger's rank
+and quality, but with a certain dog-independence of manner, preserving his
+own dignities while courteously passing the time of day, and intimating,
+by certain twists of his tail, that he felt quite sure his excellency
+would like the air and scenery the farther he got up the pass,--all
+strange dogs did.
+
+During this interchange of canine civilities, the landlord was helping out
+the two men, the companions of the dog. One was round and pudgy, the other
+lank and scrawny. Both were in knickerbockers, with green hats decorated
+with cock feathers and edelweiss. The blue-shirted porter carried in the
+bags and alpenstocks, closing the coffee-room door behind them.
+
+Suddenly the strange dog, who had been beguiled by the courteous manner of
+the concierge, realized that his master had disappeared. The man had been
+hungry, no doubt, and half blinded by the glare of the sun. After the
+manner of his kind, he had dived into this shelter without a word to the
+dumb beast who had tramped behind his wheels, swallowing the dust his
+horses kicked up.
+
+When the strange dog realized this,--I saw the instant the idea entered
+his mind, as I caught the sudden toss of the head,--he glanced quickly
+about with that uneasy, anxious look that comes into the face of a dog
+when he discovers that he is adrift in a strange place without his master.
+What other face is so utterly miserable, and what eyes so pleading, the
+tears just under the lids, as the lost dog's?
+
+Then it was beautiful to see the St. Bernard. With a sudden twist of the
+head he reassured the strange dog,--telling him, as plainly as could be,
+not to worry, the gentlemen were only inside, and would be out after
+breakfast. There was no mistaking what he said. It was done with a
+peculiar curving of the neck, a reassuring wag of the tail, a glance
+toward the coffee-room, and a few frolicsome, kittenish jumps, these last
+plainly indicating that as for himself the occasion was one of great
+hilarity, with absolutely no cause in it for anxiety. Then, if you could
+have seen that anxious look fade away from the face of the strange dog,
+the responsive, reciprocal wag of the night-club of a tail. If you could
+have caught the sudden peace that came into his eyes, and have seen him as
+he followed the concierge to the doorway, dropping his ears, and throwing
+himself beside him, looking up into his face, his tongue out, panting
+after the habit of his race, the white saliva dropping upon his paws.
+
+Then followed a long talk, conducted in side glances, and punctuated with
+the quiet laughs of more slappings of tails on the cobbles, as the
+concierge listened to the adventures of the stranger, or matched them with
+funny experiences of his own.
+
+Here a whistle from the coffee-room window startled them. Even so rude a
+being as a man is sometimes mindful of his dog. In an instant both
+concierge and stranger were on their feet, the concierge ready for
+whatever would turn up, the stranger trying to locate the sound and his
+master. Another whistle, and he was off, bounding down the road, looking
+wistfully at the windows, and rushing back bewildered. Suddenly it came to
+him that the short cut to his master lay through the archway.
+
+Just here there was a change in the manner of the concierge. It was not
+gruff, nor savage, nor severe,--it was only firm and decided. With his
+tail still wagging, showing his kindness and willingness to oblige, but
+with spine rigid and hair bristling, he explained clearly and succinctly
+to that strange dog how absolutely impossible it would be for him to
+permit his crossing the archway. Up went the spine of the stranger, and
+out went his tail like a bar of steel, the feet braced, and the whole body
+taut as standing rigging. But the concierge kept on wagging his tail,
+though his hair still bristled,--saying as plainly as he could:--
+
+"My dear sir, do not blame me. I assure you that nothing in the world
+would give me more pleasure than to throw the whole house open to you; but
+consider for a moment. My master puts me here to see that nobody enters
+the inn but those whom he wishes to see, and that all other live-stock,
+especially dogs, shall on no account be admitted." (This with head bent on
+one side and neck arched.) "Now, while I have the most distinguished
+consideration for your dogship" (tail wagging violently), "and would
+gladly oblige you, you must see that my honor is at stake" (spine more
+rigid), "and I feel assured that under the circumstances you will not
+press a request (low growl) which you must know would be impossible for me
+to grant."
+
+And the strange dog, gentleman as he was, expressed himself as entirely
+satisfied with the very free and generous explanation. With tail wagging
+more violently than ever, he assured the concierge that he understood his
+position exactly. Then wheeling suddenly, he bounded down the road. Though
+convinced, he was still anxious.
+
+Then the concierge gravely settled himself once more on his haunches in
+his customary place, his eyes commanding the view up and down and across
+the road, where I sat still tilted back in my chair waiting for my
+cutlets, his whole body at rest, his face expressive of that quiet content
+which comes from a sense of duties performed and honor untarnished.
+
+But the stranger had duties, too; he must answer the whistle, and find his
+master. His search down the road being fruitless, he rushed back to the
+concierge, looking up into his face, his eyes restless and anxious.
+
+"If it were inconsistent with his honor to permit him to cross the
+threshold, was there any other way he could get into the coffee-room?"
+This last with a low whine of uneasiness, and a toss of head.
+
+"Yes, certainly," jumping to his feet, "why had he not mentioned it
+before? It would give him very great pleasure to show him the way to the
+side entrance." And the St. Bernard, everything wagging now, walked with
+the stranger to the corner, stopping stock still to point with his nose to
+the closed door.
+
+Then the stranger bounded down with a scurry and plunge, nervously edging
+up to the door, wagging his tail, and with a low, anxious whine springing
+one side and another, his paws now on the sill, his nose at the crack,
+until the door was finally opened, and he dashed inside.
+
+What happened in the coffee-room I do not know, for I could not see. I am
+willing, however, to wager that a dog of his loyalty, dignity, and sense
+of duty did just what a dog of quality would do. No awkward springing at
+his master's chest with his dusty paws leaving marks on his vest front; no
+rushing around chairs and tables in mad joy at being let in, alarming
+waitresses and children. Only a low whine and gurgle of delight, a rubbing
+of his cold nose against his master's hand, a low, earnest look up into
+his face, so frank, so trustful, a look that carried no reproach for being
+shut out, and only gratitude for being let in.
+
+A moment more, and he was outside again, head in air, looking for his
+friend. Then a dash, and he was around by the archway, licking the
+concierge in the face, biting his neck, rubbing his nose under his
+forelegs, saying over and over again how deeply he thanked him,--how glad
+and proud he was of his acquaintance, and how delighted he would be if he
+came down to Vienna, or Milan, or wherever he did come from, so that he
+might return his courtesies in some way, and make his stay pleasant.
+
+Just here the landlord called out that the cutlets and coffee were ready,
+and, man-like, I went in to breakfast.
+
+
+
+
+BROCKWAY'S HULK
+
+
+I first saw Brockway's towards the close of a cold October day. Since
+early morning I had been tramping and sketching about the northern suburbs
+of New York, and it was late in the afternoon when I reached the edge of
+that high ground overlooking the two rivers. I could see through an
+opening in the woods the outline of the great aqueduct,--a huge stone
+centipede stepping across on its sturdy legs; the broad Hudson, with its
+sheer walls of rock, and the busy Harlem crowded with boats and braced
+with bridges. A raw wind was blowing, and a gray mist blurred the edges of
+the Palisades where they cut against the sky.
+
+As the darkness fell the wind increased, and scattered drops of rain,
+piloting the coming storm, warned me to seek a shelter. Shouldering my
+trap and hurrying forward, I descended the hill, followed the road to the
+East River, and, finding no boat, walked along the shore hoping to hail a
+fisherman or some belated oarsman, and reach the station opposite.
+
+My search led me around a secluded cove edged with white sand and yellow
+marsh grass, ending in a low, jutting point. Here I came upon a curious
+sort of dwelling,--half house, half boat. It might have passed for an
+abandoned barge, or wharf boat, too rotten to float and too worthless to
+break up,--the relic and record of some by-gone tide of phenomenal height.
+When I approached nearer it proved to be an old-fashioned canal-boat, sunk
+to the water line in the grass, its deck covered by a low-hipped roof.
+Midway its length was cut a small door, opening upon a short staging or
+portico which supported one end of a narrow, rambling bridge leading to
+the shore. This bridge was built of driftwood propped up on shad poles.
+Over the door itself flapped a scrap of a tattered sail which served as an
+awning. Some pots of belated flowers bloomed on the sills of the
+ill-shaped windows, and a wind-beaten vine, rooted in a fish basket,
+crowded into the door, as if to escape the coming winter. Nothing could
+have been more dilapidated or more picturesque.
+
+The only outward sign of life about the dwelling was a curl of blue
+smoke. Without this signal of good cheer it had a menacing look, as it
+lay in its bed of mud glaring at me from under its eaves of eyebrows,
+shading eyes of windows a-glint in the fading light.
+
+I crossed the small beach strewn with oyster shells, ascended the
+tottering bridge, and knocked. The door was opened by a gray-bearded old
+man in a rough jacket. He was bare-footed, his trousers rolled up above
+his ankles, like a boy's.
+
+"Can you help me across the river?" I asked.
+
+"Yes, perhaps I can. Come into the Hulk," he replied, holding the door
+against the gusts of wind.
+
+The room was small and low, with doors leading into two others. In its
+centre, before a square stove, stood a young child cooking the evening
+meal. I saw no other inmates.
+
+"You are wet," said the old man, laying his hand on my shoulder, feeling
+me over carefully; "come nearer the stove."
+
+The child brought a chair. As I dropped into it I caught his eye fixed
+upon me intently.
+
+"What are you?" he said abruptly, noting my glance,--"a peddler." He said
+this standing over me,--his arms akimbo, his bare feet spread apart.
+
+"No, a painter," I answered smiling; my trap had evidently misled him.
+
+He mused a little, rubbing his beard with his thumb and forefinger; then,
+making a mental inventory of my exterior, beginning with my slouch hat and
+taking in each article down to my tramping shoes, he said slowly,--
+
+"And poor?"
+
+"Yes, we all are." And I laughed; his manner made me a little
+uncomfortable.
+
+My reply, however, seemed to reassure him. His features relaxed and a more
+kindly expression overspread his countenance.
+
+"And now, what are _you_?" I asked, offering him a cigarette as I spoke.
+
+"Me? Nothing," he replied curtly, refusing it with a wave of his hand.
+"Only Brockway,--just Brockway,--that's all,--just Brockway." He kept
+repeating this in an abstracted way, as if the remark was addressed to
+himself, the words dying in his throat.
+
+Then he moved to the door, took down an oilskin from a peg, and saying
+that he would get the boat ready, went out into the night, shutting the
+door behind him, his bare feet flapping like wet fish as he walked.
+
+I was not sorry I was going away so soon. The man and the place seemed
+uncanny.
+
+I roused myself and crossed the room, attracted by the contents of a
+cupboard filled with cheap pottery and some bits of fine old English
+lustre. Then I examined the furniture of the curious interior,--the
+high-backed chairs, mahogany table,--one leg replaced with pine,--the hair
+sofa and tall clock in the corner by the door. They were all old and once
+costly, and all of a pattern of by-gone days. Everything was scrupulously
+clean, even to the strip of unbleached muslin hung at the small windows.
+
+The door blew in with a whirl of wind, and Brockway entered shaking the
+wet from his sou'wester.
+
+"You must wait," he said. "Dan the brakeman has taken my boat to the
+Railroad Dock. He will return in an hour. If you are hungry, you can sup
+with us. Emily, set a place for the painter."
+
+His manner was more frank. He seemed less uncanny too. Perhaps he had been
+in some special ill humor when I entered. Perhaps, too, he had been
+suspicious of me; I had not thought of that before.
+
+The child spread the cloth and busied herself with the dishes and plates.
+She was about twelve years old, slightly built and neatly dressed. Her
+eyes were singularly large and expressive. The light brown hair about her
+shoulders held a tinge of gold when the lamplight shone upon it.
+
+Despite the evident poverty of the interior, a certain air of refinement
+pervaded everything. Even the old man's bare feet did not detract from it.
+These, by the way, he never referred to; it was evidently a habit with
+him. I felt this refinement not only in the relics of what seemed to
+denote better days, but in the arrangement of the table, the placing of
+the tea tray and the providing of a separate pot for the hot water. Their
+voices, too, were low, characteristic of people who live alone and in
+peace,--especially the old man's.
+
+Brockway resumed his seat and continued talking, asking about the city as
+if it were a thousand miles away instead of being almost at his door; of
+the artists,--their mode of life, their successes, etc. As he talked his
+eye brightened and his manner became more gentle. It was only his outside
+that seemed to belong to an old boatman, roughened by the open air, with
+hands hard and brown. Yet these were well shaped, with tapering fingers.
+One bore a gold ring curiously marked and worn to a thread.
+
+I asked about the fishing, hoping the subject would lead him to talk of
+his own life, and so solve the doubt in my mind as to his class and
+antecedents. His replies showed his thorough knowledge of his trade. He
+deplored the scarcity of bass, now that the steamboats and factories
+fouled the river; the decrease of the oysters, of which he had several
+beds, all being injured by the same cause. Then he broke out against the
+encroachments of the real estate pirates, as he called them, staking out
+lots behind the Hulk and destroying his privacy.
+
+"But you own the marsh?" I asked carelessly. I saw instantly in his face
+the change working in his mind. He looked at me searchingly, almost
+fiercely, and said, weighing each word,--
+
+"Not one foot, young man,--do you hear?--not one foot! Own nothing but
+what you see. But this hulk is mine,--mine from the mud to the ridgepole,
+with every rotten timber in it."
+
+The outburst was so sudden that I rose from my chair. For a moment he
+seemed consumed with an inward rage,--not directed to me in any
+way,--more as if the memory of some past wrong had angered him.
+
+Here the child, with an anxious face, rose quickly from her seat by the
+window, and laid her hand on his.
+
+The old man looked into her face for a moment, and then, as if her touch
+had softened him, rose courteously, took her arm, seated her at the table
+and then me. In a moment more he had regained his gentle manner.
+
+The meal was a frugal one, broiled fish and potatoes, a loaf of bread, and
+stewed apples served in a cut glass dish with broken handles.
+
+The meal over, the girl replaced the cotton cloth with a red one,
+retrimmed the lamps, and disappeared into an adjoining room, carrying the
+dishes. The old man lighted his pipe and seated himself in a large chair,
+smoking on in silence. I opened my portfolio and began retouching the
+sketches of the morning.
+
+Outside the weather grew more boisterous. The wind increased; the rain
+thrashed against the small windows, the leakage dropping on the floor like
+the slow ticking of a clock.
+
+As the evening wore on I began to be uneasy, speculating as to the
+possibility of my reaching home that night. To be entirely frank, I did
+not altogether like my surroundings or my host. One moment he was like a
+child; the next there came into his face an expression of uncontrollable
+hate that sent a shiver through me. But for the clear, steady gaze of his
+eye I should have doubted his sanity.
+
+There was no sign of the return of the boat. The old man became restless
+himself. He said nothing, but every now and then he would peer through the
+window and raise his hand to his ear as if listening. It was evident that
+he did not want me over night if he could help it. This partly reassured
+me.
+
+Finally, he laid down his pipe, put on his oilskin again, lighted a
+lantern, and pulled the door behind him, the wind struggling to force an
+entrance.
+
+In a few minutes he returned with lantern out, the rain glistening on his
+white, bushy beard. Without a word, he hung up his dripping garments,
+placed the lantern on the floor, and called the child into the adjoining
+room. When he came back, he laid his hand on my shoulder and said, with a
+tone in his voice that was unmistakable in its sincerity:--
+
+"I am sorry, friend, but the boat cannot get back to-night. You seem like
+a decent man, and I believe you are. I knew some of your kind once, and I
+always liked them. You must stay where you are to-night, and have Emily's
+room."
+
+I thanked him, but hoped the weather would clear. As to taking Emily's
+room, this I could not do. I would not, of course, disturb the child. If
+there was no chance of my getting away, I said, I preferred taking the
+floor, with my trap for a pillow. But he would not hear of it. He was not
+accustomed, he said, to have people stay with him, especially of late
+years; but when they did, they could not sleep on the floor.
+
+The child's room proved to be the old cabin of the canal-boat, with the
+three steps leading down from the decks. The little slanting windows were
+still there, and so were the bunks,--or, rather, the lower one. The upper
+one had been altered into a sort of closet. On one side hung a row of
+shelves on which were such small knickknacks as a child always loves,--a
+Christmas card or two, some books, a pin-cushion backed with shells, a
+doll's bonnet, besides some trinkets and strings of beads. Next to this
+ran a row of hooks covered by a curtain of cheap calico, half concealing
+her few simple dresses, with her muddy little shoes and frayed straw hat
+in the farther corner.
+
+Above the head-board hung the likeness of a woman with large eyes, her
+hair pushed back from a wide, high forehead. It was framed in an
+old-fashioned black frame with a gold mat. Not a beautiful face, but so
+interesting and so expressive that I looked at it half a dozen times
+before I could return it to its place.
+
+Everything was as clean and fresh as care could make it. When I dropped to
+sleep, the tide was swashing the floor beneath me, the rain still sousing
+and drenching the little windows and the roof.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The following week, one crisp, fresh morning, I was again at the Hulk. My
+experience the night of the storm had given me more confidence in
+Brockway, although the mystery of his life was still impenetrable. As I
+rounded the point, the old man and little Emily were just pushing off in
+the boat. He was on his way to his oyster beds a short distance off, his
+grappling-tongs and basket beside him. In his quick, almost gruff way, he
+welcomed me heartily and insisted on my staying to dinner. He would be
+back in an hour with a mess of oysters to help out. "Somebody has been
+raking my beds and I must look after them," he called to me as he rowed
+away.
+
+I drew my own boat well up on the gravel, out of reach of the making tide,
+and put my easel close to the water's edge. I wanted to paint the Hulk and
+the river with the bluffs beyond. Before I had blocked in my sky, I caught
+sight of Brockway rowing hurriedly back, followed by a shell holding half
+a dozen oarsmen from one of the boating clubs down the river. The crew
+were out for a spin in their striped shirts and caps; the coxswain was
+calling to him, but he made no reply.
+
+"Say, Mr. Brockway! will you please fill our water-keg? We have come off
+from the boat-house without a drop," I heard one call out.
+
+"No; not to save your lives, I wouldn't!" he shouted back, his boat
+striking the beach. Springing out and catching Emily by the shoulder,
+pushing her before him,--"Go into the Hulk, child." Then, lowering his
+voice to me, "They are all alike, d--- them, all alike. Just such a gang!
+I know 'em, I know 'em. Get you a drink? I'll see you dead first, d---
+you. See you dead first; do you hear?"
+
+His face was livid, his eyes blazing with anger. The crew turned and shot
+up the river, grumbling as they went. Brockway unloaded his boat,
+clutching the tongs as if they were weapons; then, tying the painter to a
+stake, sat down and watched me at work. Soon Emily crept back and slipped
+one hand around her grandfather's neck.
+
+"Do you think you can ever do that, little Frowsy-head?" he said, pointing
+to my sketch. I looked up. His face was as serene and sunny as that of the
+child beside him.
+
+Gradually I came to know these people better. I never could tell why, our
+tastes being so dissimilar. I fancied, sometimes, from a remark the old
+man once made, that he had perhaps known some one who had been a painter,
+and that I reminded him of his friend, and on that account he trusted me;
+for I often detected him examining my brushes, spreading the bristles on
+his palm, or holding them to the light with a critical air. I could see,
+too, that their touch was not new to him.
+
+As for me, the picturesqueness of the Hulk, the simple mode of life of the
+inmates, their innate refinement, the unselfish devotion of little Emily
+to the old man, the conflicting elements in his character, his
+fierceness--almost brutality--at times, his extreme gentleness at others,
+his rough treatment of every stranger who attempted to land on his shore,
+his tenderness over the child, all combined to pique my curiosity to know
+something of his earlier life.
+
+Moreover, I constantly saw new beauties in the old Hulk. It always seemed
+to adapt itself to the changing moods of the weather,--being grave or gay
+as the skies lowered or smiled. In the dull November days, when the clouds
+drifted in straight lines of slaty gray, it assumed a weird, forbidding
+look. When the wind blew a gale from the northeast, and the back water of
+the river overflowed the marsh,--submerging the withered grass and
+breaking high upon the foot-bridge,--it seemed for all the world like the
+original tenement of old Noah himself, derelict ever since his
+disembarkation, and stranded here after centuries of buffetings. On other
+days it had a sullen air, settling back in its bed of mud as if tired out
+with all these miseries, glaring at you with its one eye of a window
+aflame with the setting sun.
+
+As the autumn lost itself in the winter, I continued my excursions to the
+Hulk, sketching in the neighborhood, gathering nuts with little Emily, or
+helping the old man with his nets.
+
+On one of these days a woman, plainly but neatly dressed, met me at the
+edge of the wood, inquired if I had seen a child pass my way, and quickly
+disappeared in the bushes. I noticed her anxious face and the pathos of
+her eyes when I answered. Then the incident passed out of my mind. A few
+days later I saw her again, sitting on a pile of stones as if waiting for
+some one. Little Emily had seen her too, and stopped to talk to her. I
+could follow their movements over my easel. As soon as the child caught my
+eye she started up and ran towards the Hulk, the woman darting again into
+the bushes. When I questioned Emily about it she hesitated, and said it
+was a poor woman who had lost her little girl and who was very sad.
+
+Brockway himself became more and more a mystery. I sought every
+opportunity to coax from him something of his earlier life, but he never
+referred to it but once, and then in a way that left the subject more
+impenetrable than ever.
+
+I was speaking of a recent trip abroad, when he turned abruptly and
+said:--
+
+"Is the Milo still in that little room in the Louvre?"
+
+"Yes," I answered, surprised.
+
+"I am glad of that. Against that red curtain she is the most beautiful
+thing I know."
+
+"When did you see the Venus?" I asked, as quietly as my astonishment would
+allow.
+
+"Oh, some years ago, when I was abroad."
+
+He was bending over and putting some new teeth in his oyster tongs at the
+time, riveting them on a flat-iron with a small hammer.
+
+I agreed with him and asked carelessly what year that was and what he was
+doing in Paris, but he affected not to hear me and went on with his
+hammering, remarking that the oysters were running so small that some
+slipped through his tongs and he was getting too old to rake for them
+twice. It was only a glimpse of some part of his past, but it was all I
+could get. He never referred to it again.
+
+December of that year was unusually severe. The snow fell early and the
+river was closed before Christmas. This shut off all communication with
+the Brockways except by the roundabout way I had first followed, over the
+hills from the west. So my weekly tramps ceased.
+
+Late in the following February I heard, through Dan the brakeman, that the
+old man was greatly broken and had not been out of the Hulk for weeks. I
+started at once to see him. The ice was adrift and running with the tide,
+and the passage across was made doubly difficult by the floating cakes
+shelved one upon the other. When I reached the Hulk, the only sign of life
+was the thin curl of smoke from the rusty pipe. Even the snow of the night
+before lay unbroken on the bridge, showing that no foot had crossed it
+that morning. I knocked, and Emily opened the door.
+
+"Oh, it's the painter, grandpa! We thought it might be the doctor."
+
+He was sitting in an armchair by the fire, wrapped in a blanket. Holding
+out his hand, he motioned to a chair and said feebly:--
+
+"How did you hear?"
+
+"The brakeman told me."
+
+"Yes, Dan knows. He comes over Sundays."
+
+He was greatly changed,--his skin drawn and shrunken,--his grizzled beard,
+once so great a contrast to his ruddy skin, only added to the pallor of
+his face. He had had a slight "stroke," he thought. It had passed off, but
+left him very weak.
+
+I sat down and, to change the current of his thoughts, told him of the
+river outside, and the shelving ice, of my life since I had seen him, and
+whatever I thought would interest him. He made no reply, except in
+monosyllables, his head buried in his hands. Soon the afternoon light
+faded, and I rose to go. Then he roused himself, threw the blanket from
+his shoulders and said in something of his old voice:--
+
+"Don't leave me. Do you hear? Don't leave me!" this was with an
+authoritative gesture. Then, his voice faltering and with almost a tender
+tone, "Please help me through this. My strength is almost gone."
+
+Later, when the night closed in, he called Emily to him, pushed her hair
+back and, kissing her forehead, said:--
+
+"Now go to bed, little Frowsy-head. The painter will stay with me."
+
+I filled his pipe, threw some dry driftwood in the stove, and drew my
+chair nearer. He tried to smoke for a moment, but laid his pipe down. For
+some minutes he kept his eyes on the crackling wood; then, reaching his
+hand out, laid it on my arm and said slowly:--
+
+"If it were not for the child, I would be glad that the end was near."
+
+"Has she no one to care for her?" I asked.
+
+"Only her mother. When I am gone, she will come."
+
+"Her mother? Why, Brockway! I did not know Emily's mother was alive. Why
+not send for her now," I said, looking into his shrunken face. "You need a
+woman's care at once."
+
+His grasp tightened on my arm as he half rose from the chair, his eyes
+blazing as I had seen them that morning when he cursed the boat's crew.
+
+"But not that woman! Never, while I live!" and he bent down his eyes on
+mine. "Look at me. Men sometimes cut you to the quick, and now and then a
+woman can leave a scar that never heals; but your own child,--do you
+hear?--your little girl, the only one you ever had, the one you laid store
+by and loved and dreamed dreams of,--_she can tear your heart out_. That's
+what Emily's mother did for me. Oh, a fine gentleman, with his yachts, and
+boats, and horses,--a fine young aristocrat! He was a thief, I tell you, a
+blackguard, a beast, to steal my girl. Damn him! Damn him! Damn him!" and
+he fell back in his chair exhausted.
+
+"Where is she now?" I asked cautiously, trying to change his thoughts. I
+was afraid of the result if the outburst continued.
+
+"God knows! Somewhere in the city. She comes here every now and then," in
+a weaker voice. "Emily meets her and they go off together when I am out
+raking my beds. Not long ago I met her outside on the foot-bridge; she did
+not look up; her hair is gray now, and her face is thin and old, and so
+sad,--not as it once was. God forgive me,--not as it once was!" He leaned
+forward, his face buried in his hands.
+
+Then he staggered to his feet, took the lamp from the table, and brought
+me the picture I had seen in Emily's room the night of the storm.
+
+"You can see what she was like. It was taken the year before his death and
+came with Emily's clothes. She found it in her box."
+
+I held it to the light. The large, dreamy eyes seemed even more pleading
+than when I first had seen the picture; and the smooth hair pushed back
+from the high forehead, I now saw, marked all the more clearly the lines
+of anxious care which were then beginning to creep over the sweet young
+face. It seemed to speak to me in an earnest, pleading way, as if for
+help.
+
+"She is your daughter, Brockway, don't forget that."
+
+He made no reply. After a pause, I went on, "And a girl's heart is not her
+own. Was it all her fault?"
+
+He pushed his chair back and stood erect, one hand raised above the
+other, clutching the blanket around his throat, the end trailing on the
+floor. By the flickering light of the dying fire he looked like some gaunt
+spectre towering above me, the blackness of the shadows only intensifying
+the whiteness of his face.
+
+"Go on, go on. I know what you would say. You would have me wipe out the
+past and forget. Forget the home she ruined and the dead mother's heart
+she broke. Forget the weary months abroad, the tramping of London's
+streets looking into every woman's face, afraid it was she. Forget these
+years of exile and poverty, living here in this hulk like a dog, my very
+name unknown. When I am dead, they will say I have been cruel to her. God
+knows, perhaps I have; listen!" Then, glancing cautiously towards Emily's
+room and lowering his voice, he stooped down, his white sunken face close
+to mine, his eyes burning, gazed long and steadily into my face as if
+reading my very thoughts, and then, gathering himself up, said slowly:
+"No, no. I will not Let it all be buried with me. I cannot,--cannot!" and
+sank into his chair.
+
+After a while he raised his head, picked up the portrait from the table
+and looked into its eyes eagerly, holding it in both hands; and muttering
+to himself, crossed the room, and threw himself on his bed. I stirred the
+fire, wrapped my coat about me and fell asleep on the lounge. Later, I
+awoke and crept into his room. He was lying on his back, the picture still
+clasped in his hands.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A week later, I reached the landing opposite the Hulk. There I met Dan's
+wife. Dan himself had been away for several days. She told me that two
+nights before she had been roused by a woman who had come up on the night
+express and wanted to be rowed over to the Hulk at once. She was in great
+distress, and did not mind the danger. Dan was against taking her, the ice
+being heavy and the night dark; but she begged so hard he had not the
+heart to refuse her. She seemed to be expected, for Emily was waiting with
+a lantern on the bridge and put her arms around her and led her into the
+Hulk.
+
+Dan being away, I found another boatman, and we pushed out into the river.
+I stood up in the boat and looked over the waste of ice and snow. Under
+the leaden sky lay the lifeless Hulk. About the entrance and on the bridge
+were black dots of figures, standing out in clear relief like crows on
+the unbroken snow.
+
+As I drew nearer, the dots increased in size and fell into line, the
+procession slowly creeping along the tottering bridge, crunching the snow
+under foot. Then I made out little Emily and a neatly-dressed woman
+heavily veiled.
+
+When the shore was reached, I joined some fishermen who stood about on the
+beach, uncovering their heads as the coffin passed. An open wagon waited
+near the propped-up foot-bridge of the Hulk, the horse covered with a
+black blanket. Two men, carrying the body, crouched down and pushed the
+box into the wagon. The blanket was then taken from the horse and wrapped
+over the pine casket.
+
+The woman drew nearer and tenderly smoothed its folds. Then she turned,
+lifted her veil, and in a low voice thanked the few bystanders for their
+kindness.
+
+It was the same face I had seen with Emily in the woods,--the same that
+lay upon his heart the last night I saw him alive.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Gentleman Vagabond and Some Others
+by F. Hopkinson Smith
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GENTLEMAN VAGABOND ***
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Gentleman Vagabond and Some Others
+by F. Hopkinson Smith
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Gentleman Vagabond and Some Others
+
+Author: F. Hopkinson Smith
+
+Release Date: February 7, 2005 [EBook #14967]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GENTLEMAN VAGABOND ***
+
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+
+
+
+<h1>A GENTLEMAN VAGABOND
+AND SOME OTHERS</h1>
+
+<h3>BY</h3>
+
+<h2>F. HOPKINSON SMITH</h2>
+
+<p class="center">
+<br />
+NEW YORK<br />
+GROSSET &amp; DUNLAP<br />
+PUBLISHERS
+</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="center">1895
+</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><i>INTRODUCTORY NOTE</i></h2>
+
+<div style="margin-left: 25%; margin-right: 25%;">
+<p><i>There are gentlemen vagabonds and vagabond gentlemen. Here and there one
+finds a vagabond pure and simple, and once in a lifetime one meets a
+gentleman simple and pure.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Without premeditated intent or mental bias, I have unconsciously to
+myself selected some one of these several types,&mdash;entangling them in the
+threads of the stories between these covers.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Each of my readers can group them to suit his own experience.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<div style="margin-left: 65%;">
+<p>F.H.S.<br />
+NEW YORK, <br />
+150 E. 34TH ST.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS" />CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<div style="margin-left: 40%;">
+<a href="#A_KNIGHT_OF_THE_LEGION_OF_HONOR"><b>A KNIGHT OF THE LEGION OF HONOR</b></a><br /><br />
+<a href="#JOHN_SANDERS_LABORER"><b>JOHN SANDERS, LABORER</b></a><br /><br />
+<a href="#BAADER"><b>B&Auml;ADER</b></a><br /><br />
+<a href="#THE_LADY_OF_LUCERNE"><b>THE LADY OF LUCERNE</b></a><br /><br />
+<a href="#JONATHAN"><b>JONATHAN</b></a><br /><br />
+<a href="#ALONG_THE_BRONX"><b>ALONG THE BRONX</b></a><br /><br />
+<a href="#ANOTHER_DOG"><b>ANOTHER DOG</b></a><br /><br />
+<a href="#BROCKWAYS_HULK"><b>BROCKWAY'S HULK</b></a><br /><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="A_GENTLEMAN_VAGABOND" id="A_GENTLEMAN_VAGABOND" /><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1" />A GENTLEMAN VAGABOND</h2>
+
+<h2>I</h2>
+
+<p>I found the major standing in front of Delmonico's, interviewing a large,
+bare-headed personage in brown cloth spotted with brass buttons. The major
+was in search of his very particular friend, Mr. John Hardy of Madison
+Square, and the personage in brown and brass was rather languidly
+indicating, by a limp and indecisive forefinger, a route through a section
+of the city which, correctly followed, would have landed the major in the
+East River.</p>
+
+<p>I knew him by the peculiar slant of his slouch hat, the rosy glow of his
+face, and the way in which his trousers clung to the curves of his
+well-developed legs, and ended in a sprawl that half covered his shoes. I
+recognized, too, a carpet-bag, a ninety-nine-cent affair, an &quot;occasion,&quot;
+with galvanized iron clasps and paper-leather sides,&mdash;the kind opened with
+your thumb.</p>
+
+<p>The major&mdash;or, to be more definite,<a name="Page_2" id="Page_2" /> Major Tom Slocomb of Pocomoke&mdash;was
+from one of the lower counties of the Chesapeake. He was supposed to own,
+as a gift from his dead wife, all that remained unmortgaged of a vast
+colonial estate on Crab Island in the bay, consisting of several thousand
+acres of land and water,&mdash;mostly water,&mdash;a manor house, once painted
+white, and a number of outbuildings in various stages of dilapidation and
+decay.</p>
+
+<p>In his early penniless life he had migrated from his more northern native
+State, settled in the county, and, shortly after his arrival, had married
+the relict of the late lamented Major John Talbot of Pocomoke. This had
+been greatly to the surprise of many eminent Pocomokians, who boasted of
+the purity and antiquity of the Talbot blood, and who could not look on in
+silence, and see it degraded and diluted by an alliance with a &quot;harf
+strainer or worse.&quot; As one possible Talbot heir put it, &quot;a picayune,
+low-down corncracker, suh, without blood or breedin'.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The objections were well taken. So far as the ancestry of the Slocomb
+family was concerned, it was a trifle indefinite. It really could not be
+traced back farther than the day of the major's arrival at Pocomoke,
+notwithstanding the major's <a name="Page_3" id="Page_3" />several claims that his ancestors came over
+in the Mayflower, that his grandfather fought with General Washington, and
+that his own early life had been spent on the James River. These
+statements, to thoughtful Pocomokians, seemed so conflicting and
+improbable, that his neighbors and acquaintances ascribed them either to
+that total disregard for salient facts which characterized the major's
+speech, or to the vagaries of that rich and vivid imagination which had
+made his conquest of the widow so easy and complete.</p>
+
+<p>Gradually, however, through the influence of his wife, and because of his
+own unruffled good-humor, the antipathy had worn away. As years sped on,
+no one, except the proudest and loftiest Pocomokian, would have cared to
+trace the Slocomb blood farther back than its graft upon the Talbot tree.
+Neither would the major. In fact, the brief honeymoon of five years left
+so profound an impression upon his after life, that, to use his own words,
+his birth and marriage had occurred at the identical moment,&mdash;he had never
+lived until then.</p>
+
+<p>There was no question in the minds of his neighbors as to whether the
+major maintained his new social position on Crab Island with more than
+ordinary lib<a name="Page_4" id="Page_4" />erality. Like all new vigorous grafts on an old stock, he not
+only blossomed out with extraordinary richness, but sucked the sap of the
+primeval family tree quite dry in the process. In fact, it was universally
+admitted that could the constant drain of his hospitality have been
+brought clearly to the attention of the original proprietor of the estate,
+its draft-power would have raised that distinguished military gentleman
+out of his grave. &quot;My dear friends,&quot; Major Slocomb would say, when, after
+his wife's death, some new extravagance was commented upon, &quot;I felt I owed
+the additional slight expenditure to the memory of that queen among women,
+suh&mdash;Major Talbot's widow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He had espoused, too, with all the ardor of the new settler, the several
+articles of political faith of his neighbors,&mdash;loyalty to the State,
+belief in the justice and humanity of slavery and the omnipotent rights of
+man,&mdash;white, of course,&mdash;and he had, strange to say, fallen into the
+peculiar pronunciation of his Southern friends, dropping his final <i>g</i>'s,
+and slurring his <i>r</i>'s, thus acquiring that soft cadence of speech which
+makes their dialect so delicious.</p>
+
+<p>As to his title of &quot;Major,&quot; no one in or out of the county could tell
+where it originated. He had belonged to no <a name="Page_5" id="Page_5" />company of militia, neither
+had he won his laurels on either side during the war; nor yet had the
+shifting politics of his State ever honored him with a staff appointment
+of like grade. When pressed, he would tell you confidentially that he had
+really inherited the title from his wife, whose first husband, as was well
+known, had earned and borne that military distinction; adding tenderly,
+that she had been so long accustomed to the honor that he had continued it
+after her death simply out of respect to her memory.</p>
+
+<p>But the major was still interviewing Delmonico's flunky, oblivious of
+everything but the purpose in view, when I touched his shoulder, and
+extended my hand.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;God bless me! Not you? Well, by gravy! Here, now, colonel, you can tell
+me where Jack Hardy lives. I've been for half an hour walkin' round this
+garden lookin' for him. I lost the letter with the number in it, so I came
+over here to Delmonico's&mdash;Jack dines here often, I know, 'cause he told me
+so. I was at his quarters once myself, but 't was in the night. I am
+completely bamboozled. Left home yesterday&mdash;brought up a couple of
+thoroughbred dogs that the owner wouldn't trust with anybody <a name="Page_6" id="Page_6" />but me, and
+then, too, I wanted to see Jack.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I am not a colonel, of course, but promotions are easy with the major.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Certainly; Jack lives right opposite. Give me your bag.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He refused, and rattled on, upbraiding me for not coming down to Crab
+Island last spring with the &quot;boys&quot; when the ducks were flying, punctuating
+his remarks here and there with his delight at seeing me looking so well,
+his joy at being near enough to Jack to shake the dear fellow by the hand,
+and the inexpressible ecstasy of being once more in New York, the centre
+of fashion and wealth, &quot;with mo' comfo't to the square inch than any other
+spot on this terrestrial ball.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The &quot;boys&quot; referred to were members of a certain &quot;Ducking Club&quot; situated
+within rifle-shot of the major's house on the island, of which club Jack
+Hardy was president. They all delighted in the major's society, really
+loving him for many qualities known only to his intimates.</p>
+
+<p>Hardy, I knew, was not at home. This, however, never prevented his colored
+servant, Jefferson, from being always ready at a moment's notice to
+welcome the unexpected friend. In <a name="Page_7" id="Page_7" />another instant I had rung Hardy's
+bell,&mdash;third on right,&mdash;and Jefferson, in faultless evening attire, was
+carrying the major's &quot;carpet-bag&quot; to the suite of apartments on the third
+floor front.</p>
+
+<p>Jefferson needs a word of comment. Although born and bred a slave, he is
+the product of a newer and higher civilization. There is hardly a trace of
+the old South left in him,&mdash;hardly a mark of the pit of slavery from which
+he was digged. His speech is as faultless as his dress. He is clean,
+close-shaven, immaculate, well-groomed, silent,&mdash;reminding me always of a
+mahogany-colored Greek professor, even to his eye-glasses. He keeps his
+rooms in admirable order, and his household accounts with absolute
+accuracy; never spilled a drop of claret, mixed a warm cocktail, or served
+a cold plate in his life; is devoted to Hardy, and so punctiliously polite
+to his master's friends and guests that it is a pleasure to have him serve
+you.</p>
+
+<p>Strange to say, this punctilious politeness had never extended to the
+major, and since an occurrence connected with this very bag, to be related
+shortly, it had ceased altogether. Whether it was that Jefferson had
+always seen through the peculiar varnish that made bright <a name="Page_8" id="Page_8" />the major's
+veneer, or whether in an unguarded moment, on a previous visit, the major
+gave way to some such outburst as he would have inflicted upon the
+domestics of his own establishment, forgetting for the time the superior
+position to which Jefferson's breeding and education entitled him, I
+cannot say, but certain it is that while to all outward appearances
+Jefferson served the major with every indication of attention and
+humility, I could see under it all a quiet reserve which marked the line
+of unqualified disapproval. This was evident even in the way he carried
+the major's bag,&mdash;holding it out by the straps, not as became the handling
+of a receptacle containing a gentleman's wardrobe, but by the neck, so to
+speak,&mdash;as a dog to be dropped in the gutter.</p>
+
+<p>It was this bag, or rather its contents, or to be more exact its lack of
+contents, that dulled the fine edge of Jefferson's politeness. He unpacked
+it, of course, with the same perfunctory care that he would have bestowed
+on the contents of a Bond Street Gladstone, indulging in a prolonged
+chuckle when he found no trace of a most important part of a gentleman's
+wardrobe,&mdash;none of any pattern. It was, therefore, with a certain grim
+humor that, when he showed <a name="Page_9" id="Page_9" />the major to his room the night of his
+arrival, he led gradually up to a question which the unpacking a few hours
+before had rendered inevitable.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mr. Hardy's orders are that I should inform every gentleman when he
+retires that there's plenty of whiskey and cigars on the sideboard, and
+that&quot;&mdash;here Jefferson glanced at the bag&mdash;&quot;and that if any gentleman came
+unprepared there was a night shirt and a pair of pajams in the closet.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I never wore one of 'em in my life, Jefferson; but you can put the
+whiskey and the cigars on the chair by my bed, in case I wake in the
+night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>When Jefferson, in answer to my inquiries as to how the major had passed
+the night, related this incident to me the following morning, I could
+detect, under all his deference and respect toward his master's guest, a
+certain manner and air plainly implying that, so far as the major and
+himself were concerned, every other but the most diplomatic of relations
+had been suspended.</p>
+
+<p>The major, by this time, was in full possession of my friend's home. The
+only change in his dress was in the appearance of his shoes, polished by
+Jefferson to a point verging on patent leather, and the adoption of a
+black <a name="Page_10" id="Page_10" />alpaca coat, which, although it wrinkled at the seams with a
+certain home-made air, still fitted his fat shoulders very well. To this
+were added a fresh shirt and collar, a white tie, nankeen vest, and the
+same tight-fitting, splay-footed trousers, enriched by a crease of
+Jefferson's own making.</p>
+
+<p>As he lay sprawled out on Hardy's divan, with his round, rosy,
+clean-shaven face, good-humored mouth, and white teeth, the whole
+enlivened by a pair of twinkling eyes, you forgot for the moment that he
+was not really the sole owner of the establishment. Further intercourse
+thoroughly convinced you of a similar lapse of memory on the major's part.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My dear colonel, let me welcome you to my New York home!&quot; he exclaimed,
+without rising from the divan. &quot;Draw up a chair; have a mouthful of mocha?
+Jefferson makes it delicious. Or shall I call him to broil another
+po'ter-house steak? No? Then let me ring for some cigars,&quot; and he touched
+the bell.</p>
+
+<p>To lie on a divan, reach out one arm, and, with the expenditure of less
+energy than would open a match-box, to press a button summoning an
+attendant with all the unlimited comforts of life,&mdash;juleps, cigars,
+coffee, cocktails, morning papers, <a name="Page_11" id="Page_11" />fans, matches out of arm's reach,
+everything that soul could covet and heart long for; to see all these
+several commodities and luxuries develop, take shape, and materialize
+while he lay flat on his back,&mdash;this to the major was civilization.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, colonel, befo' you sit down, fling yo' eye over that garden in the
+square. Nature in her springtime, suh!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I agreed with the major, and was about to take in the view over the
+treetops, when he tucked another cushion under his head, elongated his
+left leg until it reached the window-sill, thus completely monopolizing
+it,-and continued without drawing a breath:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And I am so comfo'table here. I had a po'ter-house steak this
+mornin'&mdash;you're sure you won't have one?&quot; I shook my head. &quot;A po'ter-house
+steak, suh, that'll haunt my memory for days. We, of co'se, have at home
+every variety of fish, plenty of soft-shell crabs, and 'casionally a
+canvasback, when Hardy or some of my friends are lucky enough to hit one,
+but no meat that is wo'th the cookin'. By the bye, I've come to take Jack
+home with me; the early strawberries are in their prime, now. You will
+join us, of course?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Before I could reply, Jefferson entered <a name="Page_12" id="Page_12" />the room, laid a tray of cigars
+and cigarettes with a small silver alcohol lamp at my elbow, and, with a
+certain inquiring and, I thought, slightly surprised glance at the major's
+sprawling attitude, noiselessly withdrew. The major must have caught the
+expression on Jefferson's face, for he dropped his telescope leg, and
+straightened up his back, with the sudden awkward movement of a similarly
+placed lounger surprised by a lady in a hotel parlor. The episode seemed
+to knock the enthusiasm out of him, for after a moment he exclaimed in
+rather a subdued tone:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rather remarkable nigger, this servant of Jack's. I s'pose it is the
+influence of yo' New York ways, but I am not accustomed to his kind.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I began to defend Jefferson, but he raised both hands in protest.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, I know&mdash;education and thirty dollars a month. All very fine, but
+give me the old house-servants of the South&mdash;the old Anthonys, and
+Keziahs, and Rachels. They never went about rigged up like a stick of
+black sealing-wax in a suit of black co't-plaster. They were easy-goin'
+and comfortable. Yo' interest was their interest; they bore yo' name,
+looked after yo' children, and could look after yo' house, too. Now <a name="Page_13" id="Page_13" />see
+this nigger of Jack's; he's better dressed than I am, tips round as solemn
+on his toes as a marsh-crane, and yet I'll bet a dollar he's as slick and
+cold-hearted as a high-water clam. That's what education has done for
+<i>him</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You never knew Anthony, my old butler? Well, I want to tell you, he <i>was</i>
+a servant, as <i>was</i> a servant. During Mrs. Slocomb's life&quot;&mdash;here the major
+assumed a reminiscent air, pinching his fat chin with his thumb and
+forefinger&mdash;&quot;we had, of co'se, a lot of niggers; but this man Anthony! By
+gravy! when he filled yo' glass with some of the old madeira that had
+rusted away in my cellar for half a century,&quot;&mdash;here the major now slipped
+his thumb into the armhole of his vest,&mdash;&quot;it tasted like the nectar of the
+gods, just from the way Anthony poured it out.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you ought to have seen him move round the table when dinner was over!
+He'd draw himself up like a drum-major, and throw back the mahogany doors
+for the ladies to retire, with an air that was captivatin'.&quot; The major was
+now on his feet&mdash;his reminiscent mood was one of his best. &quot;That's been a
+good many years ago, colonel, but I can see him now just as plain as if he
+stood before me, with his white cotton gloves, <a name="Page_14" id="Page_14" />white vest, and green coat
+with brass buttons, standin' behind Mrs. Slocomb's chair. I can see the
+old sidebo'd, suh, covered with George III. silver, heirlooms of a
+century,&quot;&mdash;this with a trance-like movement of his hand across his eyes.
+&quot;I can see the great Italian marble mantels suppo'ted on lions' heads, the
+inlaid floor and wainscotin'.&quot;&mdash;Here the major sank upon the divan again,
+shutting both eyes reverently, as if these memories of the past were a
+sort of religion with him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And the way those niggers loved us! And the many holes they helped us out
+of. Sit down there, and let me tell you what Anthony did for me once.&quot; I
+obeyed cheerfully. &quot;Some years ago I received a telegram from a very
+intimate friend of mine, a distinguished Baltimorean,&mdash;the Nestor of the
+Maryland bar, suh,&mdash;informin' me that he was on his way South, and that he
+would make my house his home on the followin' night.&quot; The major's eyes
+were still shut. He had passed out of his reverential mood, but the effort
+to be absolutely exact demanded concentration.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I immediately called up Anthony, and told him that Judge Spofford of the
+Supreme Co't of Maryland would arrive the next day, and that I wanted the
+best <a name="Page_15" id="Page_15" />dinner that could be served in the county, and the best bottle of
+wine in my cellar.&quot; The facts having been correctly stated, the major
+assumed his normal facial expression and opened his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What I'm tellin' you occurred after the war, remember, when putty near
+everybody down our way was busted. Most of our niggers had run away,&mdash;all
+'cept our old house-servants, who never forgot our family pride and our
+noble struggle to keep up appearances. Well, suh, when Spofford arrived
+Anthony carried his bag to his room, and when dinner was announced, if it
+<i>was</i> my own table, I must say that it cert'ly did fa'rly groan with the
+delicacies of the season. After the crabs had been taken off,&mdash;we were
+alone, Mrs. Slocomb havin' gone to Baltimo',&mdash;I said to the judge: 'Yo'
+Honor, I am now about to delight yo' palate with the very best bottle of
+old madeira that ever passed yo' lips. A wine that will warm yo' heart,
+and unbutton the top button of yo' vest. It is part of a special
+importation presented to Mrs. Slocomb's father by the captain of one of
+his ships.&mdash;Anthony, go down into the wine-cellar, the inner cellar,
+Anthony, and bring me a bottle of that old madeira of '37&mdash;stop, Anthony;
+make it '39. I think, judge, it is a little <a name="Page_16" id="Page_16" />dryer.' Well, Anthony bowed,
+and left the room, and in a few moments he came back, set a lighted candle
+on the mantel, and, leanin' over my chair, said in a loud whisper: 'De
+cellar am locked, suh, and I'm 'feard Mis' Slocomb dun tuk de key.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Well, s'pose she has,' I said; 'put yo' knee against it, and fo'ce the
+do'.' I knew my man, suh. Anthony never moved a muscle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Here the judge called out, 'Why, major, I couldn't think of'&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Now, yo' Honor,' said I, 'please don't say a word. This is my affair.
+The lock is not of the slightest consequence.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In a few minutes back comes Anthony, solemn as an owl. 'Major,' said he,
+'I done did all I c'u'd, an' dere ain't no way 'cept breakin' down de do'.
+Las' time I done dat, Mis' Slocomb neber forgib me fer a week.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The judge jumped up. 'Major, I won't have you breakin' yo' locks and
+annoyin' Mrs. Slocomb.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Yo' Honor,' I said, 'please take yo' seat. I'm d&mdash;&mdash;d if you shan't
+taste that wine, if I have to blow out the cellar walls.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'I tell you, major,' replied the judge in a very emphatic tone and with
+some <a name="Page_17" id="Page_17" />slight anger I thought, 'I ought not to drink yo' high-flavored
+madeira; my doctor told me only last week I must stop that kind of thing.
+If yo' servant will go upstairs and get a bottle of whiskey out of my bag,
+it's just what I ought to drink.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now I want to tell you, colonel, that at that time I hadn't had a bottle
+of any kind of wine in my cellar for five years.&quot; Here the major closed
+one eye, and laid his forefinger against his nose.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Of co'se, yo' Honor,' I said, 'when you put it on a matter of yo' health
+I am helpless; that paralyzes my hospitality; I have not a word to say.
+Anthony, go upstairs and get the bottle.' And we drank the judge's
+whiskey! Now see the devotion and loyalty of that old negro servant, see
+his shrewdness! Do you think this marsh-crane of Jack's&quot;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Here Jefferson threw open the door, ushering in half a dozen gentlemen,
+and among them the rightful host, just returned after a week's
+absence,&mdash;cutting off the major's outburst, and producing another equally
+explosive:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, Jack!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Before the two men grasp hands I must, in all justice to the major, say
+that he not only had a sincere admiration for Jack's surroundings, but
+also for Jack <a name="Page_18" id="Page_18" />himself, and that while he had not the slightest
+compunction in sharing or, for that matter, monopolizing his hospitality,
+he would have been equally generous in return had it been possible for him
+to revive the old days, and to afford a menage equally lavish.</p>
+
+<p>It is needless for me to make a like statement for Jack. One half the
+major's age, trained to practical business life from boyhood, frank,
+spontaneous, every inch a man, kindly natured, and, for one so young, a
+deep student, of men as well as of books, it was not to be wondered at
+that not only the major but that every one else who knew him loved him.
+The major really interested him enormously. He represented a type which
+was new to him, and which it delighted him to study. The major's
+heartiness, his magnificent disregard for <i>meum</i> and <i>tuum</i>, his unique
+and picturesque mendacity, his grandiloquent manners at times, studied, as
+he knew, from some example of the old regime, whom he either consciously
+or unconsciously imitated, his peculiar devotion to the memory of his late
+wife,&mdash;all appealed to Jack's sense of humor, and to his enjoyment of
+anything out of the common. Under all this he saw, too, away down in the
+major's heart, beneath these sev<a name="Page_19" id="Page_19" />eral layers, a substratum of true
+kindness and tenderness.</p>
+
+<p>This kindness, I know, pleased Jack best of all.</p>
+
+<p>So when the major sprang up in delight, calling out, &quot;Why, Jack!&quot; it was
+with very genuine, although quite opposite individual, sympathies, that
+the two men shook hands. It was beautiful, too, to see the major welcome
+Jack to his own apartments, dragging up the most comfortable chair in the
+room, forcing him into it, and tucking a cushion under his head, or
+ringing up Jefferson every few moments for some new luxury. These he would
+catch away from that perfectly trained servant's tray, serving them
+himself, rattling on all the time as to how sorry he was that he did not
+know the exact hour at which Jack would arrive, that he might have had
+breakfast on the table&mdash;how hot had it been on the road&mdash;how well he was
+looking, etc.</p>
+
+<p>It was specially interesting, besides, after the proper introductions had
+been made, to note the way in which Jack's friends, inoculated with the
+contagion of the major's mood, and carried away by his breezy, buoyant
+enthusiasm, encouraged the major to flow on, interjecting little asides
+about his horses and <a name="Page_20" id="Page_20" />farm stock, agreeing to a man that the two-year old
+colt&mdash;a pure creation on the moment of the major&mdash;would certainly beat the
+record and make the major's fortune, and inquiring with great solicitude
+whether the major felt quite sure that the addition to the stables which
+he contemplated would be large enough to accommodate his stud, with other
+similar inquiries which, while indefinite and tentative, were, so to
+speak, but flies thrown out on the stream of talk,&mdash;the major rising
+continuously, seizing the bait, and rushing headlong over sunken rocks and
+through tangled weeds of the improbable in a way that would have done
+credit to a Munchausen of older date. As for Jack, he let him run on. One
+plank in the platform of his hospitality was to give every guest a free
+rein.</p>
+
+<p>Before the men separated for the day, the major had invited each
+individual person to make Crab Island his home for the balance of his
+life, regretting that no woman now graced his table since Mrs. Slocomb's
+death,&mdash;&quot;Major Talbot's widow&mdash;Major John Talbot of Pocomoke, suh,&quot; this
+impressively and with sudden gravity of tone,&mdash;placing his stables, his
+cellar, and his servants at their disposal, and arranging for <a name="Page_21" id="Page_21" />everybody
+to meet everybody else the following day in Baltimore, the major starting
+that night, and Jack and his friends the next day. The whole party would
+then take passage on board one of the Chesapeake Bay boats, arriving off
+Crab Island at daylight the succeeding morning.</p>
+
+<p>This was said with a spring and joyousness of manner, and a certain
+quickness of movement, that would surprise those unfamiliar with some of
+the peculiarities of Widow Talbot's second husband. For with that true
+spirit of vagabondage which saturated him, next to the exquisite luxury of
+lying sprawled on a lounge with a noiseless servant attached to the other
+end of an electric wire, nothing delighted the major so much as an outing,
+and no member of any such junketing party, be it said, was more popular
+every hour of the journey. He could be host, servant, cook, chambermaid,
+errand-boy, and <i>grand seigneur</i> again in the same hour, adapting himself
+to every emergency that arose. His good-humor was perennial, unceasing,
+one constant flow, and never checked. He took care of the dogs, unpacked
+the bags, laid out everybody's linen, saw that the sheets were dry,
+received all callers so that the boys might sleep in <a name="Page_22" id="Page_22" />the afternoon, did
+all the disagreeable and uncomfortable things himself, and let everybody
+else have all the fun. He did all this unconsciously, graciously, and
+simply because he could not help it. When the outing ended, you parted
+from him with all the regret that you would from some chum of your college
+days. As for him, he never wanted it to end. There was no office, nor law
+case, nor sick patient, nor ugly partner, nor complication of any kind,
+commercial, social, or professional, which could affect the major. For him
+life was one prolonged drift: so long as the last man remained he could
+stay. When he left, if there was enough in the larder to last over, the
+major always made another day of it.</p>
+
+
+<h2>II</h2>
+
+<p>The major was standing on the steamboat wharf in Baltimore, nervously
+consulting his watch, when Jack and I stepped from a cab next day.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, by gravy! is this all? Where are the other gentlemen?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They'll be down in the morning, major,&quot; said Jack. &quot;Where shall we send
+this baggage?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Here, just give it to me! Po'ter, <i>po'ter</i>!&quot; in a stentorian voice. &quot;Take
+<a name="Page_23" id="Page_23" />these bags and guns, and put 'em on the upper deck alongside of my
+luggage. Now, gentlemen, just a sip of somethin' befo' they haul the
+gang-plank,&mdash;we've six minutes yet.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The bar was across the street. On the way over, the major confided to Jack
+full information regarding the state-rooms, remarking that he had selected
+the &quot;fo' best on the upper deck,&quot; and adding that he would have paid for
+them himself only a friend had disappointed him.</p>
+
+<p>It was evident that the barkeeper knew his peculiarities, for a tall,
+black bottle with a wabbly cork&mdash;consisting of a porcelain marble confined
+in a miniature bird-cage&mdash;was passed to the major before he had opened his
+mouth. When he did open it&mdash;the mouth&mdash;there was no audible protest as
+regards the selection. When he closed it again the flow line had fallen
+some three fingers. It is, however, fair to the major to say that only one
+third of this amount was tucked away under his own waistcoat.</p>
+
+<p>The trip down the bay was particularly enjoyable, brightened outside on
+the water by the most brilliant of sunsets, the afternoon sky a glory of
+purple and gold, and made gay and delightful <a name="Page_24" id="Page_24" />inside the after-cabin by
+the charm of the major's talk,&mdash;the whole passenger-list entranced as he
+skipped from politics and the fine arts to literature, tarrying a moment
+in his flight to discuss a yellow-backed book that had just been
+published, and coming to a full stop with the remark:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you haven't read that book, Jack,&mdash;that scurrilous attack on the
+industries of the South? My dear fellow! I'm astounded that a man of yo'
+gifts should not&mdash;Here&mdash;just do me the favor to look through my baggage on
+the upper deck, and bring me a couple of books lyin' on top of my
+dressin'-case.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Which trunk, major?&quot; asked Jack, a slight smile playing around his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, my sole-leather trunk, of co'se; or perhaps that English
+hat-box&mdash;no, stop, Jack, come to think, it is in the small valise. Here,
+take my keys,&quot; said the major, straightening his back, squeezing his fat
+hand into the pocket of his skin-tight trousers, and fishing up with his
+fore-finger a small bunch of keys. &quot;Right on top, Jack; you can't miss
+it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Isn't he just too lovely for anything?&quot; said Jack to me, when we reached
+the upper deck,&mdash;I had fol<a name="Page_25" id="Page_25" />lowed him out. &quot;He's wearing now the only
+decent suit of clothes he owns, and the rest of his wardrobe you could
+stuff into a bandbox. English sole-leather trunk! Here, put your thumb on
+that catch,&quot; and he drew out the major's bag,&mdash;the one, of course, that
+Jefferson unpacked, with the galvanized-iron clasps and paper-leather
+sides.</p>
+
+<p>The bag seemed more rotund, and heavier, and more important looking than
+when I handled it that afternoon in front of Delmonico's, presenting a
+well-fed, even a bloated, appearance. The clasps, too, appeared to have
+all they could do to keep its mouth shut, while the hinges bulged in an
+ominous way.</p>
+
+<p>I started one clasp, the other gave way with a burst, and the next
+instant, to my horror, the major's wardrobe littered the deck. First the
+books, then a package of tobacco, then the one shirt, porcelain-finished
+collars, and the other necessaries, including a pair of slippers and a
+comb. Next, three bundles loosely wrapped, one containing two wax dolls,
+the others some small toys, and a cheap Noah's ark, and last of all,
+wrapped up in coarse, yellow butcher's paper, stained and moist, a freshly
+cut porter-house steak.</p>
+
+<p>Jack roared with laughter as he re<a name="Page_26" id="Page_26" />placed the contents. &quot;Yes; toys for the
+little children&mdash;he never goes back without something for them if it takes
+his last dollar; tobacco for his old cook, Rachel; not a thing for
+himself, you see&mdash;and this steak! Who do you suppose he bought that for?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Did you find it?&quot; called out the major, as we re&euml;ntered the cabin.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes; but it wasn't in the English trunk,&quot; said Jack, handing back the
+keys, grave as a judge, not a smile on his face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of co'se not; didn't I tell you it was in the small bag? Now, gentlemen,
+listen!&quot; turning the leaves. &quot;Here is a man who has the impertinence to
+say that our industries are paralyzed. It is not our industries; it is our
+people. Robbed of their patrimony, their fields laid waste, their estates
+confiscated by a system of foreclosure lackin' every vestige of decency
+and co'tesy,&mdash;Shylocks wantin' their pound of flesh on the very hour and
+day,&mdash;why shouldn't they be paralyzed?&quot; He laughed heartily. &quot;Jack, you
+know Colonel Dorsey Kent, don't you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jack did not, but the owners of several names on the passenger-list did,
+and hitched their camp-stools closer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, Kent was the only man I ever <a name="Page_27" id="Page_27" />knew who ever held out against the
+damnable oligarchy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Here an old fellow in a butternut suit, with a half-moon of white whiskers
+tied under his chin, leaned forward in rapt attention.</p>
+
+<p>The major braced himself, and continued: &quot;Kent, gentlemen, as many of you
+know, lived with his maiden sister over on Tinker Neck, on the same piece
+of ground where he was bo'n. She had a life interest in the house and
+property, and it was so nominated in the bond. Well, when it got down to
+hog and hominy, and very little of that, she told Kent she was goin' to
+let the place to a strawberry-planter from Philadelphia, and go to
+Baltimo' to teach school. She was sorry to break up the home, but there
+was nothin' else to do. Well, it hurt Kent to think she had to leave home
+and work for her living, for he was a very tender-hearted man.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'You don't say so, Jane,' said he, 'and you raised here! Isn't that very
+sudden?' She told him it was, and asked him what he was going to do for a
+home when the place was rented?</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Me, Jane? I shan't do anythin'. I shall stay here. If your money affairs
+are so badly mixed up that you're obliged to leave yo' home, I am very
+deeply <a name="Page_28" id="Page_28" />grieved, but I am powerless to help. I am not responsible for the
+way this war ended. I was born here, and here I am going to stay.&quot; And he
+did. Nothing could move him. She finally had to rent him with the
+house,&mdash;he to have three meals a day, and a room over the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For two years after that Kent was so disgusted with life, and the turn of
+events, that he used to lie out on a rawhide, under a big sycamore tree in
+front of the po'ch, and get a farm nigger to pull him round into the shade
+by the tail of the hide, till the grass was wore as bare as yo' hand. Then
+he got a bias-cut rockin'-chair, and rocked himself round.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The strawberry man said, of co'se, that he was too lazy to live. But I
+look deeper than that. To me, gentlemen, it was a crushin', silent protest
+against the money power of our times. And it never broke his spirit,
+neither. Why, when the census man came down a year befo' the colonel's
+death, he found him sittin' in his rockin'-chair, bare-headed. Without
+havin' the decency to take off his own hat, or even ask Kent's permission
+to speak to him, the census man began askin' questions,&mdash;all kinds, as
+those damnable fellows do. Colonel<a name="Page_29" id="Page_29" /> Kent let him ramble on for a while,
+then he brought him up standin'.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Who did you say you were, suh?'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'The United States census-taker.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Ah, a message from the enemy. Take a seat on the grass.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'It's only a matter of form,' said the man.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'So I presume, and very bad form, suh,' looking at the hat still on the
+man's head. 'But go on.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Well, what's yo' business?' asked the agent, taking out his book and
+pencil.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'My business, suh?' said the colonel, risin' from his chair, mad clear
+through,&mdash;'I've no business, suh. I am a prisoner of war waitin' to be
+exchanged!' and he stomped into the house.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Here the major burst into a laugh, straightened himself up to his full
+height, squeezed the keys back into his pocket, and said he must take a
+look into the state-rooms on the deck to see if they were all ready for
+his friends for the night.</p>
+
+<p>When I turned in for the night, he was on deck again, still talking, his
+hearty laugh ringing out every few moments. Only the white-whiskered man
+was left. The other camp-stools were empty.<a name="Page_30" id="Page_30" /></p>
+
+
+<h2>II</h2>
+
+<p>At early dawn the steamboat slowed down, and a scow, manned by two
+bare-footed negroes with sweep oars, rounded to. In a few moments the
+major, two guns, two valises, Jack, and I were safely landed on its wet
+bottom, the major's bag with its precious contents stowed between his
+knees.</p>
+
+<p>To the left, a mile or more away, lay Crab Island, the landed estate of
+our host,&mdash;a delicate, green thread on the horizon line, broken by two
+knots, one evidently a large house with chimneys, and the other a clump of
+trees. The larger knot proved to be the manor house that sheltered the
+belongings of the major, with the wine-cellars of marvelous vintage, the
+table that groaned, the folding mahogany doors that swung back for bevies
+of beauties, and perhaps, for all I knew, the gray-haired, ebony butler in
+the green coat. The smaller knot, Jack said, screened from public view the
+little club-house belonging to his friends and himself.</p>
+
+<p>As the sun rose and we neared the shore, there came into view on the near
+end of the island the rickety outline of a palsied old dock, clutching
+with one <a name="Page_31" id="Page_31" />arm a group of piles anchored in the marsh grass, and extending
+the other as if in welcome to the slow-moving scow. We accepted the
+invitation, threw a line over a thumb of a pile, and in five minutes were
+seated in a country stage. Ten more, and we backed up to an old-fashioned
+colonial porch, with sloping roof and dormer windows supported by high
+white columns. Leaning over the broken railing of the porch was a
+half-grown negro boy, hatless and bare-footed; inside the door, looking
+furtively out, half concealing her face with her apron, stood an old negro
+woman, her head bound with a bandana kerchief, while peeping from behind
+an outbuilding was a group of children in sun-bonnets and straw
+hats,&mdash;&quot;the farmer's boys and girls,&quot; the major said, waving his hand, as
+we drove up, his eyes brightening. Then there was the usual collection of
+farm-yard fowl, beside two great hounds, who visited each one of us in
+turn, their noses rubbing our knees.</p>
+
+<p>If the major, now that he was on his native heath, realized in his own
+mind any difference between the Eldorado which his eloquence had conjured
+up in my own mind, the morning before in Jack's room, and the hard, cold
+facts <a name="Page_32" id="Page_32" />before us, he gave no outward sign. To all appearances, judging
+from his perfect ease and good temper, the paint-scaled pillars were the
+finest of Carrara marble, the bare floors were carpeted with the softest
+fabrics of Turkish looms, and the big, sparsely furnished rooms were so
+many salons, where princes trod in pride, and fair ladies stepped a
+measure.</p>
+
+<p>The only remark he made was in answer to a look of surprise on my face
+when I peered curiously into the bare hall and made a cursory mental
+inventory of its contents.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, colonel; you will find, I regret to say, some slight changes since
+the old days. Then, too, my home is in slight confusion owin' to the
+spring cleanin', and a good many things have been put away.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I looked to Jack for explanation, but if that thoroughbred knew where the
+major had permanently put the last batch of his furniture, he, too, gave
+no outward sign.</p>
+
+<p>As for the servants, were there not old Rachel and Sam, chef and valet?
+What more could one want? The major's voice, too, had lost none of its
+persuasive powers.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Here, Sam, you black imp, carry yo'<a name="Page_33" id="Page_33" /> Marster Jack's gun and things to my
+room, and, Rachel, take the colonel's bag to the sea-room, next to the
+dinin'-hall. Breakfast in an hour, gentlemen, as Mrs. Slocomb used to
+say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I found only a bed covered with a quilt, an old table with small drawers,
+a wash-stand, two chairs, and a desk on three legs. The walls were bare
+except for a fly-stained map yellow with age. As I passed through the
+sitting-room, Rachel preceding me with my traps, I caught a glimpse of
+traces of better times. There was a plain wooden mantelpiece, a wide
+fireplace with big brass andirons, a sideboard with and without brass
+handles and a limited number of claw feet,&mdash;which if brought under the
+spell of the scraper and varnish-pot might once more regain its lost
+estate,&mdash;a corner-cupboard built into the wall, half full of fragments of
+old china, and, to do justice to the major's former statement, there was
+also a pair of dull old mahogany doors with glass knobs separating the
+room from some undiscovered unknown territory of bareness and emptiness
+beyond. These, no doubt, were the doors Anthony threw open for the bevies
+of beauties so picturesquely described by the major, but where were the
+Chippendale furniture, the George III.<a name="Page_34" id="Page_34" /> silver, the Italian marble mantels
+with carved lions' heads, the marquetry floors and cabinets?</p>
+
+<p>I determined to end my mental suspense. I would ask Rachel and get at the
+facts. The old woman was opening the windows, letting in the fresh breath
+of a honeysuckle, and framing a view of the sea beyond.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How long have you lived here, aunty?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Most fo'ty years, sah. Long 'fo' Massa John Talbot died.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Where's old Anthony?&quot; I said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What Anthony? De fust major's body-servant?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Go 'long, honey. He's daid dese twenty years. Daid two years 'fo' Massa
+Slocomb married Mis' Talbot.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And Anthony never waited at all on Major Slocomb?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How could he wait on him, honey, when he daid 'fo' he see him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I pondered for a moment over the picturesque quality of the major's
+mendacity.</p>
+
+<p>Was it, then, only another of the major's tributes to his wife,&mdash;this
+whole story of Anthony and the madeira of '39? How he must have loved this
+dear relict of his military predecessor!</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35" />An hour later the major strolled into the sitting-room, his arm through
+Jack's.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Grand old place, is it not?&quot; he said, turning to me. &quot;Full of historic
+interest. Of co'se the damnable oligarchy has stripped us, but&quot;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Here Aunt Rachel flopped in&mdash;her slippers, I mean; the sound was
+distinctly audible.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bre'kfus', major.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All right, Rachel. Come, gentlemen!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>When we were all seated, the major leaned back in his chair, toyed with
+his knife a moment, and said with an air of great deliberation:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Gentlemen, when I was in New York I discovered that the fashionable dish
+of the day was a po'ter-house steak. So when I knew you were coming, I
+wired my agent in Baltimo' to go to Lexington market and to send me down
+on ice the best steak he could buy fo' money. It is now befo' you.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jack, shall I cut you a piece of the tenderloin?&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="A_KNIGHT_OF_THE_LEGION_OF_HONOR" id="A_KNIGHT_OF_THE_LEGION_OF_HONOR" /><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36" />A KNIGHT OF THE LEGION OF HONOR</h2>
+
+
+<p>It was in the smoking-room of a Cunarder two days out. The evening had
+been spent in telling stories, the fresh-air passengers crowding the
+doorways to listen, the habitual loungers and card-players abandoning
+their books and games.</p>
+
+<p>When my turn came,&mdash;mine was a story of Venice, a story of the old palace
+of the Barbarozzi,&mdash;I noticed in one corner of the room a man seated alone
+wrapped in a light shawl, who had listened intently as he smoked, but who
+took no part in the general talk. He attracted my attention from his
+likeness to my friend Vereschagin the painter; his broad, white forehead,
+finely wrought features, clear, honest, penetrating eye, flowing mustache
+and beard streaked with gray,&mdash;all strongly suggestive of that
+distinguished Russian. I love Vereschagin, and so, unconsciously, and by
+mental association, perhaps, I was drawn to this stranger. Seeing my eye
+<a name="Page_37" id="Page_37" />fixed constantly upon him, he threw off his shawl, and crossed the room.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pardon me, but your story about the Barbarozzi brought to my mind so many
+delightful recollections that I cannot help thanking you. I know that old
+palace,&mdash;knew it thirty years ago,&mdash;and I know that cortile, and although
+I have not had the good fortune to run across either your gondolier,
+Espero, or his sweetheart, Mariana, I have known a dozen others as
+romantic and delightful. The air is stifling here. Shall we have our
+coffee outside on the deck?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>When we were seated, he continued, &quot;And so you are going to Venice to
+paint?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes; and you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Me? Oh, to the Engadine to rest. American life is so exhausting that I
+must have these three months of quiet to make the other nine possible.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The talk drifted into the many curious adventures befalling a man in his
+journeyings up and down the world, most of them suggested by the queer
+stories of the night. When coffee had been served, he lighted another
+cigar, held the match until it burned itself out,&mdash;the yellow flame
+lighting up his handsome face,&mdash;looked out over the broad expanse of
+tranquil sea, with its great <a name="Page_38" id="Page_38" />highway of silver leading up to the full
+moon dominating the night, and said as if in deep thought:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And so you are going to Venice?&quot; Then, after a long pause: &quot;Will you mind
+if I tell you of an adventure of my own,&mdash;one still most vivid in my
+memory? It happened near there many years ago.&quot; He picked up his shawl,
+pushed our chairs close to the overhanging life-boat, and continued: &quot;I
+had begun my professional career, and had gone abroad to study the
+hospital system in Europe. The revolution in Poland&mdash;the revolt of
+'62&mdash;had made traveling in northern Europe uncomfortable, if not
+dangerous, for foreigners, even with the most authentic of passports, and
+so I had spent the summer in Italy. One morning, early in the autumn, I
+bade good-by to my gondolier at the water-steps of the railroad station,
+and bought a ticket for Vienna. An important letter required my immediate
+presence in Berlin.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;On entering the train I found the carriage occupied by two persons: a
+lady, richly dressed, but in deep mourning and heavily veiled; and a man,
+dark and smooth-faced, wearing a high silk hat. Raising my cap, I placed
+my umbrella and smaller traps under the seat, and <a name="Page_39" id="Page_39" />hung my bundle of
+traveling shawls in the rack overhead. The lady returned my salutation
+gravely, lifting her veil and making room for my bundles. The dark man's
+only response was a formal touching of his hat-brim with his forefinger.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The lady interested me instantly. She was perhaps twenty-five years of
+age, graceful, and of distinguished bearing. Her hair was jet-black,
+brushed straight back from her temples, her complexion a rich olive, her
+teeth pure white. Her lashes were long, and opened and shut with a slow,
+fan-like movement, shading a pair of deep blue eyes, which shone with that
+peculiar light only seen when quick tears lie hidden under half-closed
+lids. Her figure was rounded and full, and her hands exquisitely modeled.
+Her dress, while of the richest material, was perfectly plain, with a
+broad white collar and cuffs like those of a nun. She wore no jewels of
+any kind. I judged her to be a woman of some distinction,&mdash;an Italian or
+Hungarian, perhaps.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;When the train started, the dark man, who had remained standing, touched
+his hat to me, raised it to the lady, and disappeared. Her only
+acknowledgment was a slight inclination of <a name="Page_40" id="Page_40" />the head. A polite stranger,
+no doubt, I thought, who prefers the smoker. When the train stopped for
+luncheon, I noticed that the lady did not leave the carriage, and on my
+return I found her still seated, looking listlessly out of the window, her
+head upon her hand.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Pardon me, madame,' I said in French, 'but unless you travel some
+distance this is the last station where you can get anything to eat.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She started, and looked about helplessly. 'I am not hungry. I cannot
+eat&mdash;but I suppose I should.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Permit me;' and I sprang from the carriage, and caught a waiter with a
+tray before the guard reclosed the doors. She drank the coffee, tasted the
+fruit, thanking me in a low, sweet voice, and said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'You are very considerate. It will help me to bear my journey. I am very
+tired, and weaker than I thought; for I have not slept for many nights.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I expressed my sympathy, and ended by telling her I hoped we could keep
+the carriage to ourselves; she might then sleep undisturbed. She looked at
+me fixedly, a curious startled expression crossing her face, but made no
+reply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Almost every man is drawn, I think, <a name="Page_41" id="Page_41" />to a sad or tired woman. There is a
+look about the eyes that makes an instantaneous draft on the sympathies.
+So, when these slight confidences of my companion confirmed my misgivings
+as to her own weariness, I at once began diverting her as best I could
+with some account of my summer's experience in Venice, and with such of my
+plans for the future as at the moment filled my mind. I was younger
+then,&mdash;perhaps only a year or two her senior,&mdash;and you know one is not
+given to much secrecy at twenty-six: certainly not with a gentle lady
+whose good-will you are trying to gain, and whose sorrowful face, as I
+have said, enlists your sympathy at sight. Then, to establish some sort of
+footing for myself, I drifted into an account of my own home life; telling
+her of my mother and sisters, of the social customs of our country, of the
+freedom given the women,&mdash;so different from what I had seen abroad,&mdash;of
+their perfect safety everywhere.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We had been talking in this vein some time, she listening quietly until
+something I said reacted in a slight curl of her lips,&mdash;more incredulous
+than contemptuous, perhaps, but significant all the same; for, lifting her
+eyes, she answered slowly and meaningly:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<a name="Page_42" id="Page_42" />'It must be a paradise for women. I am glad to believe that there is one
+corner of the earth where they are treated with respect. My own
+experiences have been so different that I have begun to believe that none
+of us are safe after we leave our cradles.' Then, as if suddenly realizing
+the inference, the color mounting to her cheeks, she added: 'But please do
+not misunderstand me. I am quite willing to accept your statement; for I
+never met an American before.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As we neared the foothills the air grew colder. She instinctively drew
+her cloak the closer, settling herself in one corner and closing her eyes
+wearily. I offered my rug, insisting that she was not properly clad for a
+journey over the mountains at night. She refused gently but firmly, and
+closed her eyes again, resting her head against the dividing cushion. For
+a moment I watched her; then arose from my seat, and, pulling down my
+bundle of shawls, begged that I might spread my heaviest rug over her lap.
+An angry color mounted to her cheeks. She turned upon me, and was about to
+refuse indignantly, when I interrupted:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Please allow me; don't you know you cannot sleep if you are cold? Let
+<a name="Page_43" id="Page_43" />me put this wrap about you. I have two.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;With the unrolling, the leather tablet of the shawl-strap, bearing my
+name, fell in her lap.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Your name is Bosk,' she said, with a quick start, 'and you an American?'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Yes; why not?'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'My maiden name is Boski,' she replied, looking at me in astonishment,
+'and I am a Pole.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Here were two mysteries solved. She was married, and neither Italian nor
+Slav.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'And your ancestry?' she continued with increased animation. 'Are you of
+Polish blood? You know our name is a great name in Poland. Your
+grandfather, of course, was a Pole.' Then, with deep interest, 'What are
+your armorial bearings?'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I answered that I had never heard that my grandfather was a Pole. It was
+quite possible, though, that we might be of Polish descent, for my father
+had once told me of an ancestor, an old colonel, who fell at Austerlitz.
+As to the armorial bearings, we Americans never cared for such things. The
+only thing I could remember was a certain seal which my father used to
+wear, and with which he sealed his letters. The tradi<a name="Page_44" id="Page_44" />tion in the family
+was that it belonged to this old colonel. My sister used it sometimes. I
+had a letter from her in my pocket.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She examined the indented wax on the envelope, opened her cloak quickly,
+and took from the bag at her side a seal mounted in jewels, bearing a
+crest and coat of arms.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'See how slight the difference. The quarterings are almost the same, and
+the crest and motto identical. This side is mine, the other is my
+husband's. How very, very strange! And yet you are an American?'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'And your husband's crest?' I asked. 'Is he also a Pole?'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Yes; I married a Pole,' with a slight trace of haughtiness, even
+resentment, at the inquiry.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'And his name, madame? Chance has given you mine&mdash;a fair exchange is
+never a robbery.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She drew herself up, and said quickly, and with a certain bearing I had
+not noticed before:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Not now; it makes no difference.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then, as if uncertain of the effect of her refusal, and with a
+willingness to be gracious, she added:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In a few minutes&mdash;at ten o'clock&mdash;we reach Trieste. The train stops
+<a name="Page_45" id="Page_45" />twenty minutes. You were so kind about my luncheon; I am stronger now.
+Will you dine with me?'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I thanked her, and on arriving at Trieste followed her to the door. As we
+alighted from the carriage I noticed the same dark man standing by the
+steps, his fingers on his hat. During the meal my companion seemed
+brighter and less weary, more gracious and friendly, until I called the
+waiter and counted out the florins on his tray. Then she laid her hand
+quietly but firmly upon my arm.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Please do not&mdash;you distress me; my servant Polaff has paid for
+everything.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I looked up. The dark man was standing behind her chair, his hat in his
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I can hardly express to you my feelings as these several discoveries
+revealed to me little by little the conditions and character of my
+traveling companion. Brought up myself under a narrow home influence, with
+only a limited knowledge of the world, I had never yet been thrown in with
+a woman of her class. And yet I cannot say that it was altogether the
+charm of her person that moved me. It was more a certain hopeless sort of
+sorrow that <a name="Page_46" id="Page_46" />seemed to envelop her, coupled with an indefinable distrust
+which I could not solve. Her reserve, however, was impenetrable, and her
+guarded silence on every subject bearing upon herself so pronounced that I
+dared not break through it. Yet, as she sat there in the carriage after
+dinner, during the earlier hours of the night, she and I the only
+occupants, her eyes heavy and red for want of sleep, her beautiful hair
+bound in a veil, the pallor of her skin intensified by the sombre hues of
+her dress, I would have given anything in the world to have known her well
+enough to have comforted her, even by a word.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As the night wore on the situation became intolerable. Every now and then
+she would start from her seat, jostled awake by the roughness of the
+road,&mdash;this section had just been completed,&mdash;turn her face the other way,
+only to be awakened again.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'You cannot sleep. May I make a pillow for your head of my other shawl? I
+do not need it. My coat is warm enough.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'No; I am very comfortable.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Forgive me, you are not. You are very uncomfortable, and it pains me to
+see you so weary. These dividing-irons make it impossible for you to lie
+down.<a name="Page_47" id="Page_47" /> Perhaps I can make a cushion for your head so that you will rest
+easier.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She looked at me coldly, her eyes riveted on mine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'You are very kind, but why do you care? You have never seen me before,
+and may never again.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'I care because you are a woman, alone and unprotected. I care most
+because you are suffering. Will you let me help you?'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She bent her head, and seemed wrapped in thought. Then straightening up,
+as if her mind had suddenly resolved,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'No; leave me alone. I will sleep soon. Men never really care for a woman
+when she suffers.' She turned her face to the window.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'I pity you, then, from the bottom of my heart,' I replied, nettled at
+her remark. 'There is not a man the length and breadth of my land who
+would not feel for you now as I do, and there is not a woman who would
+misunderstand him.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She raised her head, and in a softened voice, like a sorrowing child's,
+it was so pathetic, said: 'Please forgive me. I had no right to speak so.
+I shall be very grateful to you if you can help me; I am so tired.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<a name="Page_48" id="Page_48" />I folded the shawl, arranged the rug over her knees, and took the seat
+beside her. She thanked me, laid her cheek upon the impromptu pillow, and
+closed her eyes. The train sped on, the carriage swaying as we rounded the
+curves, the jolting increasing as we neared the great tunnel. Settling
+myself in my seat, I drew my traveling-cap well down so that its shadow
+from the overhead light would conceal my eyes, and watched her unobserved.
+For half an hour I followed every line in her face, with its delicate
+nostrils, finely cut nose, white temples with their blue veins, and the
+beautiful hair glistening in the half-shaded light, the long lashes
+resting, tired out, upon her cheek. Soon I noticed at irregular intervals
+a nervous twitching pass over her face; the brow would knit and relax
+wearily, the mouth droop. These indications of extreme exhaustion occurred
+constantly, and alarmed me. Unchecked, they would result in an alarming
+form of nervous prostration. A sudden lurch dislodged the pillow.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Have you slept?' I asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'I do not know. A little, I think. The car shakes so.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'My dear lady,' I said, laying my hand on hers,&mdash;she started, but did not
+<a name="Page_49" id="Page_49" />move her own,&mdash;'it is absolutely necessary that you sleep, and at once.
+What your nervous strain has been, I know not; but my training tells me
+that it has been excessive, and still is. Its continuance is dangerous.
+This road gets rougher as the night passes. If you will rest your head
+upon my shoulder, I can hold you so that you will go to sleep.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Her face flushed, and she recovered her hand quickly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'You forget, sir, that'&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'No, no; I forget nothing. I remember everything; that I am a stranger,
+that you are ill, that you are rapidly growing worse, that, knowing as I
+do your condition, I cannot sit here and not help you. It would be
+brutal.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Her lips quivered, and her eyes filled. 'I believe you,' she said. Then,
+turning quickly with an anxious look, 'But it will tire you.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'No; I have held my mother that way for hours at a time.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She put out her hand, laid it gently on my wrist, looked into my face
+long and steadily, scanning every feature, as if reassuring herself, then
+laid her cheek upon my shoulder, and fell asleep.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>&quot;When the rising sun burst behind <a name="Page_50" id="Page_50" />a mountain-crag, and, at a turn in the
+road, fell full upon her face, she awoke with a start, and looked about
+bewildered. Then her mind cleared.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'How good you have been. You have not moved all night so I might rest. I
+awoke once frightened, but your hands were folded in your lap.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;With this her whole manner changed. All the haughty reserve was gone; all
+the cynicism, the distrust, and suspicion. She became as gentle and tender
+as an anxious mother, begging me to go to sleep at once. She would see
+that no one disturbed me. It was cruel that I was so exhausted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;When the guard entered, she sent for her servant, and bade him watch out
+for a pot of coffee at the next station. 'To think monsieur had not slept
+all night!' When Polaff handed in the tray, she filled the cups herself,
+adding the sugar, and insisting that I should also drink part of her
+own,&mdash;one cup was not enough. Upon Polaff's return she sent for her
+dressing-case. She must make her toilet at once, and not disturb me. It
+would be several hours before we reached Vienna; she felt sure I would
+sleep now.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I watched her as she spread a dainty towel over the seat in front, and
+began <a name="Page_51" id="Page_51" />her preparations, laying out the powder-boxes, brushes, and comb,
+the bottles of perfume, and the little knickknacks that make up the
+fittings of a gentlewoman's boudoir. It was almost with a show of
+enthusiasm that she picked up one of the bottles, and pointed out to me
+again the crest in relief upon its silver top, saying over and over again
+how glad she was to know that some of her own blood ran in my veins. She
+was sure now that I belonged to her mother's people. When, at the next
+station, Polaff brought a basin of water, and I arose to leave the car,
+she begged me to remain,&mdash;the toilet was nothing; it would be over in a
+minute. Then she loosened her hair, letting it fall in rich masses about
+her shoulders, and bathed her face and hands, rearranging her veil, and
+adding a fresh bit of lace to her throat. I remember distinctly how
+profound an impression this strange scene made upon my mind, so different
+from any former experience of my life,&mdash;its freedom from conventionality,
+the lack of all false modesty, the absolute absence of any touch of
+coquetry or conscious allurement.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;When it was all over, her beauty being all the more pronounced now that
+the tired, nervous look had gone out of <a name="Page_52" id="Page_52" />her face, she still talked on,
+saying how much better and fresher she felt, and how much more rested than
+the night before. Suddenly her face saddened, and for many minutes she
+kept silence, gazing dreamily down into the abysses white with the rush of
+Alpine torrents, or hidden in the early morning fog. Then, finding I would
+not sleep, and with an expression as if she had finally resolved upon some
+definite action, and with a face in which every line showed the sincerest
+confidence and trust,&mdash;as unexpected as it was incomprehensible to
+me,&mdash;she said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Last night you asked me for my name. I would not tell you then. Now you
+shall know. I am the Countess de Rescka Smolenski. I live in Cracow. My
+husband died in Venice four days ago. I took him there because he was
+ill,&mdash;so ill that he was carried in Polaff's arms from the gondola to his
+bed. The Russian government permitted me to take him to Italy to die. One
+Pole the less is of very little consequence. A week ago this permit was
+revoked, and we were ordered to report at Cracow without delay. Why, I do
+not know, except perhaps to add another cruelty to the long list of wrongs
+the government have heaped upon my <a name="Page_53" id="Page_53" />family. My husband lingered three days
+with the order spread out on the table beside him. The fourth day they
+laid him in Campo Santo. That night my maid fell ill. Yesterday morning a
+second peremptory order was handed me. I am now on my way home to obey.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then followed in slow, measured sentences the story of her life: married
+at seventeen at her father's bidding to a man twice her age; surrounded by
+a court the most dissolute in eastern Europe; forced into a social
+environment that valued woman only as a chattel, and that ostracized or
+defamed every wife who, reverencing her womanhood, protested against its
+excesses. For five years past&mdash;ever since her marriage&mdash;her husband's
+career had been one long, unending dissipation. At last, broken down by a
+life he had not the moral courage to resist, he had succumbed and taken to
+his bed; thence, wavering between life and death, like a burnt-out candle
+flickering in its socket, he had been carried to Venice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Do you wonder, now, that my faith is gone, my heart broken?'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We were nearing Vienna; the stations were more frequent; our own carriage
+<a name="Page_54" id="Page_54" />began filling up. For an hour we rode side by side, silent, she gazing
+fixedly from the window, I half stunned by this glimpse of a life the
+pathos of which wrung my very heart. When we entered the station she
+roused herself, and said to me half pleadingly:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'I cannot bear to think I may never see you again. To-night I must stay
+in Vienna. Will you dine with me at my hotel? I go to the Metropole. And
+you? Where did you intend to go?'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'To the Metropole, also.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Not when you left Venice?'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Yes; before I met you.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'There is a fate that controls us,' she said reverently. 'Come at seven.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;When the hour arrived I sent my card to her apartment, and was ushered
+into a small room with a curtain-closed door opening out into a larger
+salon, through which I caught glimpses of a table spread with glass and
+silver. Polaff, rigid and perpendicular, received me with a stiff, formal
+recognition. I do not think he quite understood, nor altogether liked, his
+mistress's chance acquaintance. In a moment she entered from a door
+opposite, still in her black garments with the nun's cuffs and broad
+collar. Extending her hand graciously, she said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<a name="Page_55" id="Page_55" />'You have slept since I left you this morning. I see it in your face. I
+am so glad. And I too. I have rested all day. It was so good of you to
+come.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There was no change in her manner; the same frank, trustful look in her
+eyes, the same anxious concern about me. When dinner was announced she
+placed me beside her, Polaff standing behind her chair, and the other
+attendants serving.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The talk drifted again into my own life, she interrupting with pointed
+questions, and making me repeat again and again the stories I told her of
+our humble home. She must learn them herself to tell them to her own
+people, she said. It was all so strange and new to her, so simple and so
+genuine. With the coffee she fell to talking of her own home, the
+despotism of Russia, the death of her father, the forcing of her brothers
+into the army. Still holding her cup in her hands, she began pacing up and
+down, her eyes on the floor (we were alone, Polaff having retired). Then
+stopping in front of me, and with an earnestness that startled me:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Do not go to Berlin. Please come to Cracow with me. Think. I am alone,
+absolutely alone. My house is in order, and has been for months, expecting
+me <a name="Page_56" id="Page_56" />every day. It is so terrible to go back; come with me, please.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'I must not, madame. I have promised my friends to be in Berlin in two
+days. I would, you know, sacrifice anything of my own to serve you.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'And you will not?' and a sigh of disappointment escaped her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'I cannot.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'No; I must not ask you. You are right. It is better that you keep your
+word.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She continued walking, gazing still on the floor. Then she moved to the
+mantel, and touched a bell. Instantly the curtains of the door divided,
+and Polaff stood before her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Bring me my jewel-case.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The man bowed gravely, looked at me furtively from the corner of his eye,
+and closed the curtains behind him. In a moment he returned, bearing a
+large, morocco-covered box, which he placed on the table. She pressed the
+spring, and the lid flew up, uncovering several velvet-lined trays filled
+with jewels that flashed under the lighted candles.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'You need not wait, Polaff. You can go to bed.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The man stepped back a pace, stood by the wall, fixed his eye upon his
+mistress, as if about to speak, looked at me <a name="Page_57" id="Page_57" />curiously, then, bowing low,
+drew the curtains aside, and closed the door behind him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Another spring, and out came a great string of pearls, a necklace of
+sapphires, some rubies, and emeralds. These she heaped up upon the white
+cloth beside her. Carefully examining the contents of the case, she drew
+from a lower tray a bracelet set with costly diamonds, a rare and
+beautiful ornament, and before I was aware of her intent had clasped it
+upon my wrist.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'I want you to wear this for me. You see it is large enough to go quite
+up the arm.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For a moment my astonishment was so great I could not speak. Then I
+loosened it and laid it in her hand again. She looked up, her eyes
+filling, her face expressive of the deepest pain.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'And you will not?'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'I cannot, madame. In my country men do not accept such costly presents
+from women, and then we do not wear bracelets, as your men do here.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Then take this case, and choose for yourself.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I poured the contents of a small tray into my hand, and picked out a
+plain locket, almond-shaped, simply wrought, with an opening on one side
+for hair.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<a name="Page_58" id="Page_58" />'Give me this with your hair.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She threw the bracelet into the case, and her eyes lighted up.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Oh, I am so glad, so glad! It was mine when I was a child,&mdash;my mother
+gave it to me. The dear little locket&mdash;yes; you shall always wear it.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then, rising from her seat, she took my hands in hers, and, looking down
+into my face, said, her voice breaking:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'It is eleven o'clock. Soon you must leave me. You cannot stay longer. I
+know that in a few hours I shall never see you again. Will you join me in
+my prayers before I go?'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A few minutes later she called to me. She was on her knees in the next
+room, two candles burning beside her, her rich dark hair loose about her
+shoulders, an open breviary bound with silver in her hands. I can see her
+now, with her eyes closed, her lips moving noiselessly, her great lashes
+wet with tears, and that Madonna-like look as she motioned me to kneel.
+For several minutes she prayed thus, the candles lighting her face, the
+room deathly still. Then she arose, and with her eyes half shut, and her
+lips moving as if with her unfinished prayer, she lifted her head and
+kissed me on the forehead, on the <a name="Page_59" id="Page_59" />chin, and on each cheek, making with
+her finger the sign of the cross. Then, reaching for a pair of scissors,
+and cutting a small tress from her hair, she closed the locket upon it,
+and laid it in my hand.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Early the next morning I was at her door. She was dressed and waiting.
+She greeted me kindly, but mournfully, saying in a tone which denoted her
+belief in its impossibility:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'And you will not go to Cracow?'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;When we reached the station, and I halted at the small gate opening upon
+the train platform, she merely pressed my hand, covered her head with her
+veil, and entered the carriage followed by Polaff. I watched, hoping to
+see her face at the window, but she remained hidden.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>&quot;I turned into the Ringstrasse, still filled with her presence, and
+tortured by the thought of the conditions that prevented my following her,
+called a cab, and drove to our minister's. Mr. Motley then held the
+portfolio; my passport had expired, and, as I was entering Germany, needed
+renewing. The attach&eacute; agreed to the necessity, stamped it, and brought it
+back to me with the ink still wet.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<a name="Page_60" id="Page_60" />'His excellency,' said he, 'advises extreme caution on your part while
+here. Be careful of your associates, and keep out of suspicious company.
+Vienna is full of spies watching escaped Polish refugees. Your
+name'&mdash;reading it carefully&mdash;'is apt to excite remark. We are powerless to
+help in these cases. Only last week an American who befriended a man in
+the street was arrested on the charge of giving aid and comfort to the
+enemy, and, despite our efforts, is still in prison.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I thanked him, and regained my cab with my head whirling. What, after
+all, if the countess should have deceived me? My blood chilled as I
+remembered her words of the day before: recalled by the government she
+hated, her two brothers forced into the army, the cruelties and
+indignities Russia had heaped upon her family, and this last peremptory
+order to return. Had my sympathetic nature and inexperience gotten me into
+trouble? Then that Madonna-like head with angelic face, the lips moving in
+prayer, rose before me. No, no; not she. I would stake my life.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I entered my hotel, and walked across the corridor for the key of my
+room. Standing by the porter was an Austrian officer in full uniform, even
+to <a name="Page_61" id="Page_61" />his white kid gloves. As I passed I heard the porter say in German:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Yes; that is the man.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The Austrian looked at me searchingly, and, wheeling around sharply,
+said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Monsieur, can I see you alone? I have something of importance to
+communicate.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The remark and his abrupt manner indicated so plainly an arrest, that for
+the moment I hesitated, running over in my mind what might be my wisest
+course to pursue. Then, thinking I could best explain my business in
+Vienna in the privacy of my room, <i>I</i> said stiffly:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Yes; I am now on my way to my apartment. I will see you there.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He entered first, shut the door behind him, crossed the room; passed his
+hand behind the curtains, opened the closet, shut it, and said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'We are alone?'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Quite.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then, confronting me, 'You are an American?'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'You are right.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'And have your passport with you?'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I drew it from my pocket, and handed it to him. He glanced at the
+signature, refolded it, and said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<a name="Page_62" id="Page_62" />'You took the Countess Smolensk! to the station this morning. Where did
+you meet her?'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'On the train yesterday leaving Venice.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Never before?'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Never.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Why did she not leave Venice earlier?'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'The count was dying, and could not be moved. He was buried two days
+ago.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A shade passed over his face, 'Poor De Rescka! I suspected as much.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then facing me again, his face losing its suspicious expression:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Monsieur, I am the brother of the countess,&mdash;Colonel Boski of the army.
+A week ago my letters were intercepted, and I left Cracow in the night.
+Since then I have been hunted like an animal. This uniform is my third
+disguise. As soon as my connection with the plot was discovered, my sister
+was ordered home. The death of the count explains her delay, and prevented
+my seeing her at the station. I had selected the first station out of
+Vienna. I tried for an opportunity this morning at the depot, but dared
+not. I saw you, and learned from the cabman your hotel.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<a name="Page_63" id="Page_63" />'But, colonel,' said I, the attach&eacute;'s warning in my ears, 'you will
+pardon me, but these are troublous times. I am alone here, on my way to
+Berlin to pursue my studies. I found the countess ill and suffering, and
+unable to sleep. She interested me profoundly, and I did what I could to
+relieve her. I would have done the same for any other woman in her
+condition the world over, no matter what the consequences. If you are her
+brother, you will appreciate this. If you are here for any other purpose,
+say so at once. I leave Vienna at noon.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;His color flushed, and his hand instinctively felt for his sword; then,
+relaxing, he said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'You are right. The times are troublous. Every other man is a spy. I do
+not blame you for suspecting me. I have nothing but my word. If you do not
+believe it, I cannot help it. I will go. You will at least permit me to
+thank you for your kindness to my sister,' drawing off his glove and
+holding out his hand.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'The hand of a soldier is never refused the world over,' and I shook it
+warmly. As it dropped to his side I caught sight of his seal-ring.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Pardon me one moment. Give me <a name="Page_64" id="Page_64" />your hand again.' The ring bore the crest
+and motto of the countess.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'It is enough, colonel. Your sister showed me her own on the train.
+Pardon my suspicions. What can I do for you?' He looked puzzled, hardly
+grasping my meaning.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Nothing. You have told me all I wanted to know.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'But you will breakfast with me before I take the train?' I said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'No; that might get you into trouble&mdash;serious trouble, if I should be
+arrested. On the contrary, I must insist that you remain in this room
+until I leave the building.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'But you perhaps need money; these disguises are expensive,' glancing at
+his perfect appointment.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'You are right. Perhaps twenty rubles&mdash;it will be enough. Give me your
+address in Berlin. If I am taken, you will lose your money. If I escape,
+it will be returned.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I shook his hand, and the door closed. A week later a man wrapped in a
+cloak called at my lodgings and handed me an envelope. There was no
+address and no message, only twenty rubles.&quot;</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>I looked out over the sea wrinkling <a name="Page_65" id="Page_65" />below me like a great sheet of gray
+satin. The huge life-boat swung above our heads, standing out in strong
+relief against the sky. After a long pause,&mdash;the story had strangely
+thrilled me,&mdash;I asked:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pardon me, have you ever seen or heard of the countess since?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Never.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nor her brother?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nor her brother.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And the locket?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is here where she placed it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At this instant the moon rolled out from behind a cloud, and shone full on
+his face. He drew out his watch-chain, touched it with his thumb-nail, and
+placed the trinket in my hand. It was such as a child might wear, an
+enameled thread encircling it. Through the glass I could see the tiny nest
+of jet-black hair.</p>
+
+<p>For some moments neither of us spoke. At last, with my heart aglow, my
+whole nature profoundly stirred by the unconscious nobility of the man, I
+said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My friend, do you know why she bound the bracelet to your wrist?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No; that always puzzled me. I have often wondered.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She bound the bracelet to your wrist, <a name="Page_66" id="Page_66" />as of old a maid would have wound
+her scarf about the shield of her victorious knight, as the queen would
+pin the iron cross to the breast of a hero. You were the first gentleman
+she had ever known in her life.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="JOHN_SANDERS_LABORER" id="JOHN_SANDERS_LABORER" /><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67" />JOHN SANDERS, LABORER</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<i>The outlines of this story were given me by my friend Augustus Thomas,
+whose plays are but an index to the tenderness of his own nature.</i>]</p>
+
+
+<p>He came from up the railroad near the State line. Sanders was the name on
+the pay-roll,&mdash;John Sanders, laborer. There was nothing remarkable about
+him. He was like a hundred others up and down the track. If you paid him
+off on Saturday night you would have forgotten him the next week, unless,
+perhaps, he had spoken to you. He looked fifty years of age, and yet he
+might have been but thirty. He was stout and strong, his hair and beard
+cropped short. He wore a rough blue jumper, corduroy trousers, and a red
+flannel shirt, which showed at his throat and wrists. He wore, too, a
+leather strap buckled about his waist.</p>
+
+<p>If there was anything that distinguished him it was his mouth and eyes,
+especially when he smiled. The mouth was clean and fresh, the teeth
+snow-white and regular, as if only pure things <a name="Page_68" id="Page_68" />came through them; the
+eyes were frank and true, and looked straight at you without wavering. If
+you gave him an order he said, &quot;Yes, sir,&quot; never taking his gaze from
+yours until every detail was complete. When he asked a question it was to
+the point and short.</p>
+
+<p>The first week he shoveled coal on a siding, loading the yard engines.
+Then Burchard, the station-master, sent him down to the street crossing to
+flag the trains for the dump carts filling the scows at the long dock.</p>
+
+<p>This crossing right-angled a deep railroad cut half a mile long. On the
+level above, looking down upon its sloping sides, staggered a row of
+half-drunken shanties with blear-eyed windows, and ragged roofs patched
+and broken; some hung over on crutches caught under their floor timbers.
+Sanders lived in one of these cabins,&mdash;the one nearest the edge of the
+granite retaining-wall flanking the street crossing.</p>
+
+<p>Up the slopes of this railroad cut lay the refuse of the
+shanties,&mdash;bottomless buckets, bits of broken chairs, tomato cans, rusty
+hoops, fragments of straw matting, and other debris of the open lots. In
+the summer-time a few brave tufts of grass, coaxed into life by the warm
+sun, clung desperately to an acci<a name="Page_69" id="Page_69" />dental level, and now and then a gay
+dandelion flamed for a day or two and then disappeared, cut off by some
+bedouin goat. In the winter there were only patches of blackened snow,
+fouled by the endless smoke of passing trains, and seamed with the
+short-cut footpaths of the yard men.</p>
+
+<p>There were only two in Sanders's shanty,&mdash;Sanders and his crippled
+daughter, a girl of twelve, with a broken back. She barely reached the
+sill when she stood at the low window to watch her father waving his flag.
+Bent, hollow-eyed, shrunken; her red hair cropped short in her neck; her
+poor little white fingers clutching the window-frame. &quot;The express is late
+this morning,&quot; or &quot;No. 14 is on time,&quot; she would say, her restless, eager
+blue eyes glancing at the clock, or &quot;What a lot of ashes they do be
+haulin' to-day!&quot; Nothing else was to be seen from her window.</p>
+
+<p>When the whistle blew she took down the dinner-pail, filled it with
+potatoes and the piece of pork hot from the boiling pot, poured the coffee
+in the tin cup, put on the cover, and, limping to the edge of the
+retaining-wall, lowered it over by a string to her father. Sanders looked
+up and waved his hand, and the <a name="Page_70" id="Page_70" />girl went back to her post at the window.</p>
+
+<p>When the night came he would light the kerosene lamp in their one room and
+read aloud the stories from the Sunday papers, she listening eagerly and
+asking him questions he could not answer, her eyes filling with tears or
+her face breaking into smiles. This summed up her life.</p>
+
+<p>Not much in the world, all this, for Sanders!&mdash;not much of rest, or
+comfort, or happy sunshine,&mdash;not much of song or laughter, the pipe of
+birds or smell of sweet blossoms,&mdash;not much room for gratitude or courage
+or human kindness or charity. Only the ceaseless engine-bell, the grime,
+the sulphurous hellish smoke, the driving rain, the ice and dust,&mdash;only
+the endless monotony of ill-smelling, steaming carts, the smoke-stained
+signal-flag and greasy lantern,&mdash;only the tottering shanty with the two
+beds, the stove, and the few chairs and table,&mdash;only the blue-eyed
+crippled girl who wound her thin arms about his neck.</p>
+
+<p>It was on Sundays in the summer that the dreary monotony ceased. Then
+Sanders would carry her to the edge of the woods, a mile or more back of
+the cut. There was a little hollow carpeted <a name="Page_71" id="Page_71" />with violets, and a pond,
+where now and then a water-lily escaped the factory boys, and there were
+big trees and bushes and stretches of grass, ending in open lots squared
+all over by the sod gatherers.</p>
+
+<p>On these days Sanders would lie on his back and watch the treetops swaying
+in the sunlight against the sky, and the girl would sit by him and make
+mounds of fresh mosses and pebbles, and tie the wild flowers into bunches.
+Sometimes he would pretend that there were fish in the pond, and would cut
+a pole and bend a pin, tie on a bit of string, and sit for hours watching
+the cork, she laughing beside him in expectation. Sometimes they would
+both go to sleep, his arm across her. And so the summer passed.</p>
+
+<p>One day in the autumn, at twelve-o'clock whistle, a crowd of young
+ruffians from the bolt-works near the brewery swept down the crossing
+chasing a homeless dog. Sanders stood in the road with his flag. A passing
+freight train stopped the mob. The dog dashed between the wheels,
+doubling, and then bounding up the slope of the cut, sprang through the
+half-open door of the shanty. When he saw the girl he stopped short,
+hesitated, looked <a name="Page_72" id="Page_72" />anxiously into her face, crouched flat, and pulling
+himself along by his paws, laid his head at her feet. When Sanders came
+home that night the dog was asleep in her lap. He was about to drive him
+out until he caught the look in her face, then he stopped, and laid his
+empty dinner-pail on the shelf.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I seen him a-comin',&quot; he said; &quot;them rats from the bolt-factory was
+a-humpin' him, too! Guess if the freight hadn't a-come along they'd
+a-ketched him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The dog looked wistfully into Sanders's face, scanning him curiously,
+timidly putting out his paw and dropping it, as if he had been too bold,
+and wanted to make some sort of a dumb apology, like a poor relation who
+has come to spend the day. He had never had any respectable
+ancestors,&mdash;none to speak of. You could see that in the coarse, shaggy
+hair, like a door mat; the awkward ungainly walk, the legs doubling under
+him; the drooping tail with bare spots down its length, suggesting past
+indignities. He was not a large dog&mdash;only about as high as a chair seat;
+he had mottled lips, too, and sharp, sawlike teeth. One ear was gone,
+perhaps in his puppyhood, when some one had tried to make a terrier of
+<a name="Page_73" id="Page_73" />him and had stopped when half done. The other ear, however, was active
+enough for two. It would curl forward in attention like a deer's, or start
+up like a rabbit's in alarm, or lie back on his head when the girl stroked
+him to sleep. He was only a kickable, chasable kind of a dog,&mdash;a dog made
+for sounding tin pans tied to his tail and whooping boys behind.</p>
+
+<p>All but his eyes! These were brown as agates, and as deep and clear.
+Kindly eyes that looked and thought and trusted. It was these eyes that
+first made the girl love him; they reminded her, strange to say, of her
+father's. She saw, too, perhaps unconsciously to herself, down in their
+depths, something of the same hunger for sympathy that stirred her own
+heart&mdash;the longing for companionship. She wanted something nearer her own
+age to love, though she never told her father. This was a heartache she
+kept to herself, perhaps because she hardly understood it.</p>
+
+<p>The dog and the girl became inseparable. At night he slept under her bed,
+reaching his head up in the gray dawn, and licking her face until she
+covered him up warm beside her. When the trains passed he would stand up
+on his hind legs, his paws on the sill, his blunt <a name="Page_74" id="Page_74" />little nose against the
+pane, whining at the clanging bells, or barking at the great rings of
+steam and smoke coughed up by the engines below.</p>
+
+<p>She taught him all manner of tricks. How to walk on his hind feet with a
+paper cap on his head, a plate in his mouth, begging. How to make believe
+he was dead, lying still a minute at a time, his odd ear furling nervously
+and his eyes snapping fun; how to carry a basket to the grocery on the
+corner, when she would limp out in the morning for a penny's worth of milk
+or a loaf of bread, he waiting until she crossed the street, and then
+marching on proudly before her.</p>
+
+<p>With the coming of the dog a new and happier light seemed to have
+brightened the shanty. Sanders himself began to feel the influence. He
+would play with him by the hour, holding his mouth tight, pushing back his
+lips so that his teeth glistened, twirling his ear. There was a third
+person now for him to consult and talk to. &quot;It'll be turrible cold at the
+crossin' to-day, won't it, Dog?&quot; or, &quot;Thet's No. 23 puffin' up in the cut:
+don't yer know her bell? Wonder, Dog, what she's switched fur?&quot; he would
+say to him. He noticed, too, that the girl's cheeks were not so <a name="Page_75" id="Page_75" />white and
+pinched. She seemed taller and not so weary; and when he walked up the
+cut, tired out with the day's work, she always met him at the door, the
+dog springing half way down the slope, wagging his tail and bounding ahead
+to welcome him. And she would sing little snatches of songs that her
+mother had taught her years ago, before the great flood swept away the
+cabin and left only her father and herself clinging to a bridge, she with
+a broken back.</p>
+
+<p>After a while Sanders coaxed him down to the track, teaching him to bring
+back his empty dinner-pail, the dog spending the hour with him, sitting by
+his side demurely, or asleep in the sentry-box.</p>
+
+<p>All this time the dog never rose to the dignity of any particular name.
+The girl spoke of him as &quot;Doggie,&quot; and Sanders always as &quot;the Dog.&quot; The
+trainmen called him &quot;Rags,&quot; in deference, no doubt, to his torn ear and
+threadbare tail. They threw coal at him as he passed, until it leaked out
+that he belonged to &quot;Sanders's girl.&quot; Then they became his champions, and
+this name and pastime seemed out of place. Only once did he earn any
+distinguishing sobriquet. That was when he had saved the girl's basket,
+after a sharp fight with <a name="Page_76" id="Page_76" />a larger and less honest dog. Sanders then spoke
+of him, with half-concealed pride, as &quot;the Boss,&quot; but this only lasted a
+day or so. Publicly, in the neighborhood, he was known as &quot;Sanders's dog.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>One morning the dog came limping up the cut with a broken leg. Some said a
+horse had kicked him; some that the factory boys had thrown stones at him.
+He made no outcry, only came sorrowfully in, his mouth dry and
+dust-covered, dragging his hind leg, that hung loose like a flail; then he
+laid his head in the girl's lap. She crooned and cried over him all day,
+binding up the bruised limb, washing his eyes and mouth, putting him in
+her own bed. There was no one to go for her father, and if there were, he
+could not leave the crossing. When Sanders came home he felt the leg over
+carefully, the girl watching eagerly. &quot;No, Kate, child, yees can't do
+nothin'; it's broke at the jint. Don't cry, young one.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then he went outside and sat on a bench, looking across the cut and over
+the roofs of the factories, hazy in the breath of a hundred furnaces, and
+so across the blue river fringed with waving trees where the blessed sun
+was sinking to rest. He was not surprised. It was <a name="Page_77" id="Page_77" />like everything else in
+his life. When he loved something, it was sure to be this way.</p>
+
+<p>That night, when the girl was asleep, he took the dog up in his arms, and
+wrapping his coat around him so the corner loafers could not see, rang the
+bell of the dispensary. The doctor was out, but a nurse looked at the
+wound. &quot;No, there was nothing to be done; the socket had been crushed.
+Keep it bandaged, that was all.&quot; Then he brought him home and put him
+under the bed.</p>
+
+<p>In three or four weeks he was about again, dragging the leg when he
+walked. He could still get around the shanty and over to the grocer's, but
+he could not climb the hill, even with the pail empty. He tried one day,
+but he only climbed half way. Sanders found him in the path when he went
+home, lying down by the pail.</p>
+
+<p>Sanders worried over the dog. He missed the long talks at the crossing
+over the dinner, the poor fellow sitting by his side watching every
+spoonful, his eyes glistening, the old ear furling and unfurling like
+a toy flag. He missed, too, his scampering after the sparrows and pigeons
+that often braved the desolation and smoke of this inferno to pick up
+the droppings from the carts. He <a name="Page_78" id="Page_78" />missed more than all the
+companionship,&mdash;somebody to sit beside him.</p>
+
+<p>As for the girl&mdash;there was now a double bond between her and the dog. He
+was not only poor and an outcast, but a cripple like herself. Before, she
+was his friend, now, she was his mother, whispering to him, her cheek to
+his; holding him up to the window to see the trains rush by, his nose
+touching the glass, his poor leg dangling.</p>
+
+<p>The train hands missed him too, vowing vengeance, and the fireman of No.
+6, Joe Connors, spent half a Sunday trying to find the boy that threw the
+stone. Bill Adams, who ran the yard engine, went all the way home the next
+day after the accident for a bottle of horse liniment, and left it at the
+shanty, and said he'd get the doctor at the next station if Sanders
+wanted.</p>
+
+<p>One broiling hot August day&mdash;a day when the grasshoppers sang among the
+weeds in the open lot, and the tar dripped down from the roofs, when the
+teams strained up the hill reeking with sweat, a wet sponge over their
+eyes, and the drivers walked beside their carts mopping their necks&mdash;on
+one of these steaming August days the dog limped down to the crossing just
+to rub his nose once against Sanders as he stood waving <a name="Page_79" id="Page_79" />his flag, or to
+look wistfully up into his face as he sat in the little pepper-box of a
+house that sheltered his flags and lantern. He did not often come now.
+They were making up the local freight&mdash;the yard engine backing and
+shunting the cars into line. Bill Adams was at the throttle and Connors
+was firing. A few yards below Sanders's sentry-box stood an empty flat car
+on a siding. It threw a grateful shade over the hard cinder-covered
+tracks. The dog had crawled beneath its trucks and lay asleep, his
+stiffened leg over the switch frog. Adams's yard engine puffing by woke
+him with a start. There was a struggle, a yell of pain, and the dog fell
+over on his back, his useless leg fast in the frog. Sanders heard the cry
+of agony, threw down his flag, bounded over the cross-ties, and crawled
+beneath the trucks. The dog's cries stopped. But the leg was fast. In a
+moment more he had rushed back to his box, caught up a crowbar, and was
+forcing the joint. It did not give an inch. There was but one thing
+left&mdash;to throw the switch before the express, due in two minutes, whirled
+past. In another instant a man in a blue jumper was seen darting up the
+tracks. He sprang at a lever, bounded back, and threw himself under the
+flat car. Then <a name="Page_80" id="Page_80" />the yelp of a dog in pain, drowned by the shriek of an
+engine dashing into the cut at full speed. Then a dog thrown clear of the
+track, a crash like a falling house, and a flat car smashed into kindling
+wood.</p>
+
+<p>When the conductor and passengers of the express walked back, Bill Adams
+was bending over a man in a blue jumper laid flat on the cinders. He was
+bleeding from a wound in his head. Lying beside him was a yellow dog
+licking his stiffened hand. A doctor among the passengers opened his red
+shirt and pressed his hand on the heart. He said he was breathing, and
+might live. Then they brought a stretcher from the office, and Connors and
+Bill Adams carried him up the hill, the dog following, limping.</p>
+
+<p>Here they laid him on a bed beside a sobbing, frightened girl; the dog at
+her feet.</p>
+
+<p>Adams bent over him, washing his head with a wad of cotton waste.</p>
+
+<p>Just before he died he opened his eyes, rested them on his daughter, half
+raised his head as if in search of the dog, and then fell back on his bed,
+that same sweet, clear smile about his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;John Sanders,&quot; said Adams, &quot;how in h&mdash;- could a sensible man like you
+<a name="Page_81" id="Page_81" />throw his life away for a damned yellow dog?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Don't, Billy,&quot; he said. &quot;I couldn't help it. He was a cripple.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="BAADER" id="BAADER" /><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82" />B&Auml;ADER</h2>
+
+
+<p>I was sitting in the shadow of Mme. Poulard's delightful inn at St. Michel
+when I first saw B&auml;ader. Dinner had been served, and I had helped to pay
+for my portion by tacking a sketch on the wall behind the chair of the
+hostess. This high valuation was not intended as a special compliment to
+me, the wall being already covered with similar souvenirs from the
+sketch-books of half the painters in Europe.</p>
+
+<p>B&auml;ader, he pronounced it Bayder, had at that moment arrived in answer to a
+telegram from the governor, who the night before, in a moment of
+desperation, had telegraphed the proprietor of his hotel in Paris, &quot;Send
+me a courier at once who knows Normandy and speaks English.&quot; The
+bare-headed man who, hat in hand, was at this moment bowing so
+obsequiously to the governor, was the person who had arrived in response.
+He was short and thick-set, and perfectly bald on the top of his head in a
+small spot, friar-fashion. He glistened with <a name="Page_83" id="Page_83" />perspiration that collected
+near the hat-line, and escaped in two streams, drowning locks of black
+hair covering each temple, stranding them like wet grass on his
+cheek-bones below. His full face was clean-shaven, smug, and persuasive,
+and framed two shoe-button eyes that, while sharp and alert, lacked
+neither humor nor tenderness.</p>
+
+<p>He wore a pair of new green kid gloves, was dressed in a brown cloth coat
+bound with a braid of several different shades, showing different dates of
+repair, and surmounted by a velvet collar of the same date as the coat.
+His trousers were of a nondescript gray, and flapped about a pair of
+brand-new gaiters, evidently purchased for the occasion, and, from the
+numerous positions assumed while he talked, evidently one size too small.</p>
+
+<p>His hat&mdash;the judicious use of which added such warmth, color, and
+picturesqueness to his style of delivery, now pressed to his chest, now
+raised aloft, now debased to the cobbles&mdash;had once had some dignity and
+proportions. Continual maltreatment had long since taken all the gay and
+frolicsome curl out of its brim, while the crown had so often collapsed
+that the scars of ill-usage were visible upon it. And yet at a distance
+<a name="Page_84" id="Page_84" />this relic of a former fashion, as handled by B&auml;ader,&mdash;it was so
+continually in his grasp and so seldom on his head, that you could never
+say it was worn,&mdash;this hat, brushed, polished, and finally slicked by its
+owner to a state slightly confusing as to whether it were made of polished
+iron or silk, was really a very gay and attractive affair.</p>
+
+<p>It was easy to see that the person before me had spared neither skill,
+time, nor expense to make as favorable an impression on his possible
+employers as lay in his power.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;At the moment of the arrival of ze d&eacute;p&ecirc;che t&eacute;l&eacute;graphique,&quot; B&auml;ader
+continued, &quot;I was in ze office of monsieur ze propri&eacute;taire. It was at ze
+conclusion of some arrangement commercial, when mon ami ze propri&eacute;taire
+say to me: 'B&auml;ader, it is ze abandoned season in Paris. Why not arrange
+for ze gentlemen in Normandy? The number of francs a day will be at
+least'&quot;&mdash;here B&auml;ader scrutinized carefully the governor's face&mdash;'&quot;at least
+to ze amount of ten'&mdash;is it not so, messieurs? Of course,&quot; noting a slight
+contraction of the eyebrows, &quot;if ze service was of long time, and to ze
+most far-away point, some abatement could be posseeble. If, par exemple,
+it was to St. Malo, St. Ser<a name="Page_85" id="Page_85" />van, Param&eacute;, Cancale sp&eacute;ciale, Dieppe petite,
+Dinard, and ze others, the sum of nine francs would be quite sufficient.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The governor had never heard Dieppe called &quot;petite&quot; nor Cancale
+&quot;sp&eacute;ciale,&quot; and said so, lifting his eyebrows inquiringly. B&auml;ader did not
+waver. &quot;But if messieurs pretend a much smaller route and of few days, say
+to St. Michel, Param&eacute;, and Cancale,&quot;&mdash;here the governor's brow relaxed
+again,&mdash;&quot;then it was imposseeble,&mdash;if messieurs will pardon,&mdash;quite
+imposseeble for less zan ten francs.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>So the price was agreed upon, and the hat, now with a decided metallic
+sheen, once more swept the cobblestones of the courtyard. The ceremony
+being over, its owner then drew off the green kid gloves, folded them flat
+on his knee, guided them into the inside pocket of the brown coat with the
+assorted bindings as carefully as if they had been his letter of credit,
+and declared himself at our service.</p>
+
+<p>It was when he had been installed as custodian not only of our hand
+luggage, but to a certain extent of our bank accounts and persons for some
+days, that he urged upon the governor the advisability of our at once
+proceeding to Cancale, or Cancale sp&eacute;ciale, as he insisted on <a name="Page_86" id="Page_86" />calling it.
+I immediately added my own voice to his pleadings, arguing that Cancale
+must certainly be on the sea. That, from my recollection of numerous
+water-colors and black-and-whites labeled in the catalogue, &quot;Coast near
+Cancale,&quot; and the like, I was sure there must be the customary fish-girls,
+with shrimp-nets carried gracefully over one shoulder, to say nothing of
+brawny-chested fishermen with flat, rimless caps, having the usual little
+round button on top.</p>
+
+<p>The governor, however, was obdurate. He had a way of being obdurate when
+anything irritated him, and B&auml;ader began to be one of these things.
+Cancale might be all very well for me, but how about the hotel for him,
+who had nothing to do, no pictures to paint? He had passed that time in
+his life when he could sleep under a boat with water pouring down the back
+of his neck through a tarpaulin full of holes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The hotel, messieurs! Imagine! Is it posseeble that monsieur imagine for
+one moment that B&auml;ader would arrange such annoyances? I remember ze hotel
+quite easily. It is not like, of course, ze Grand H&ocirc;tel of Paris, but it
+is simple, clean, ze cuisine superb, and ze apartment fine and hospitable.
+Remembare it is B&auml;ader.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<a name="Page_87" id="Page_87" />And the baths?&quot; broke out the governor savagely.</p>
+
+<p>B&auml;ader's face was a study; a pained, deprecating expression passed over it
+as he uncovered his head, his glazed headpiece glistening in the sun.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Baths, monsieur&mdash;and ze water of ze sea everywhere?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>These assurances of future comfort were not overburdened with details, but
+they served to satisfy and calm the governor, I pleading, meanwhile, that
+B&auml;ader had always proved himself a man of resource, quite ready when
+required with either a meal or an answer.</p>
+
+<p>So we started for Cancale.</p>
+
+<p>On the way our courier grew more and more enthusiastic. We were traveling
+in a four-seated carriage, B&auml;ader on the box, pointing out to us in
+English, after furtive conversations with the driver in French, the
+principal points of interest. With many flourishes he led us to Param&eacute;,
+one of those Normandy cities which consist of a huge hotel with enormous
+piazzas, a beach ten miles from the sea, and a small so-called
+fishing-village as a sort of marine attachment. To give a realistic touch,
+a lone boat is always being tarred somewhere down at the end of one of its
+toy streets, two or three donkey-carts and <a name="Page_88" id="Page_88" />donkeys add an air of
+picturesqueness, and the usual number of children with red pails and
+shovels dig in the sand of the roadside. All the fish that are sold come
+from the next town. It was too early in the season when we reached there
+for girls in sabots and white caps, the tide from Paris not having set in.
+The governor hailed it with delight. &quot;Why the devil didn't you tell me
+about this place before? Here we have been fooling away our time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But it is only Param&eacute;, monsieur,&quot; with an accent on the &quot;only&quot; and a
+lifting of the hands. &quot;Cancale sp&eacute;ciale will charm you; ze coast it is so
+immediately flat, and ze life of ze sea charmante. Nevare at Param&eacute;,
+always at Cancale.&quot; So we drove on. The governor pacified but
+anxious&mdash;only succumbing at my argument that B&auml;ader knew all Normandy
+thoroughly, and that an old courier like him certainly could be trusted to
+select a hotel.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>You all know the sudden dip from the rich, flat country of Normandy down
+the steep cliffs to the sea. Cancale is like the rest of it. The town
+itself stands on the brink of a swoop to the sands; the fishing-village
+proper, where the sea packs it solid in a great <a name="Page_89" id="Page_89" />half-moon, with a light
+burning on one end that on clear nights can be seen as far as Mme.
+Poulard's cozy dining-room at St. Michel.</p>
+
+<p>One glimpse of this sea-burst tumbled me out of the carriage, sketch-trap
+in hand. B&auml;ader and the governor kept on. If the latter noticed the
+discrepancy between B&auml;ader's description of the country and the actual
+topography, no word fell from him at the moment of departure.</p>
+
+<p>From my aerie, as I worked under my white umbrella below the cliff, I
+could distinctly make out our traveling-carriage several hundred feet
+below and a mile away, crawling along a road of white tape with a green
+selvage of trees, the governor's glazed trunk flashing behind, B&auml;ader's
+silk hat burning in front. Then the little insect stopped at a white spot
+backed by dots of green; a small speck broke away, and was swallowed up
+for a few minutes in the white dot,&mdash;doubtless B&auml;ader to parley for
+rooms,&mdash;and then to my astonishment the whole insect turned and began
+crawling back again, growing larger every minute. All this occurred before
+I had half finished my outline or opened my color-box. Instantly the truth
+dawned upon me,&mdash;the governor was <a name="Page_90" id="Page_90" />going back to Param&eacute;. An hour, perhaps,
+had elapsed when B&auml;ader, with uncovered head and beaded with perspiration,
+the two locks of hair hanging limp and straight, stood before me.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What was the matter with the governor, B&auml;ader? No hotel after all?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;On the contraire, pardonnez-moi, monsieur, a most excellent hotel, simple
+and quite of ze people, and with many patrons. Even at ze moment of
+arrival a most distinguished artist, a painter of ze Salon, was with his
+cognac upon a table at ze entrance.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No bath, perhaps,&quot; I remarked casually, still absorbed in my work, and
+with my mind at rest, now that B&auml;ader remained with me.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;On the contraire, monsieur, les bains are most excellent&mdash;primitive, of
+course, simple, and quite of ze people. But, monsieur le gouverneur is no
+more young. When one is no more young,&quot;&mdash;with a deprecating
+shrug,&mdash;&quot;parbleu, it is imposseeble to enjoy everything. Monsieur le
+gouverneur, I do assure you, make ze conclusion most regretfully to return
+to Param&eacute;.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I learned the next morning that he evinced every desire to drown B&auml;ader in
+the surf for bringing him to such an inn, and was restrained only by the
+<a name="Page_91" id="Page_91" />knowledge that I should miss his protection during my one night in
+Cancale.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Moreover, it is ze grande f&ecirc;te to-night&mdash;ze f&ecirc;te of ze R&eacute;publique. Zare
+are fireworks and illumination and music by ze municipality. It is simple,
+but quite of ze people. It is for zis reason that I made ze effort special
+with monsieur le gouverneur to remain with you. Ah! it is you, monsieur,
+who are so robust, so enthusiastic, so appreciative.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Here B&auml;ader put on his hat, and I closed my sketch-trap.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But monsieur has not yet dined,&quot; he said as we walked, &quot;nor even at his
+hotel arrived. Ze inn of Mme. Flamand is so very far away, and ze ascent
+up ze cliffs difficile. If monsieur will be so good, zare is a caf&eacute; near
+by where it is quite posseeble to dine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Relieved of the governor's constant watchfulness B&auml;ader became himself. He
+bustled about the restaurant, called for &quot;Cancale sp&eacute;ciale,&quot; a variety of
+oysters apparently entirely unknown to the landlord, and interviewed the
+<i>chef</i> himself. In a few moments a table was spread in a corner of the
+porch overlooking a garden gay with hollyhocks, and a dinner was ordered
+of broiled chicken, French rolls, some radishes, half a dozen <a name="Page_92" id="Page_92" />apricots,
+and a fragment of cheese. When it was over,&mdash;B&auml;ader had been served in an
+adjoining apartment,&mdash;there remained not the amount mentioned in a former
+out-of-door feast, but sufficient to pack at least one basket,&mdash;in this
+case a paper box,&mdash;the drumsticks being stowed below, dunnaged by two
+rolls, and battened down with fragments of cheese and three apricots.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What's this for, B&auml;ader? Have you not had enough to eat?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>B&auml;ader's face wore its blandest smile. &quot;On ze contraire, I have made for
+myself a most excellent repast; but if monsieur will consider&mdash;ze dinner
+is a prix fixe, and monsieur can eat it all, or it shall remain for ze
+propri&eacute;taire. Zis, if monsieur will for one moment attend, will be stupid
+extraordinaire. I have made ze investigation, and discover zat ze post
+d&eacute;part from Cancale in one hour. How simple zen to affeex ze stamps,&mdash;only
+five sous,&mdash;and in ze morning, even before Mme. B&auml;ader is out of ze bed,
+it is in Paris&mdash;a souvenir from Cancale. How charmante ze surprise!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I discovered afterward that since he had joined us B&auml;ader's own domestic
+larder had been almost daily enriched with crumbs like these from Dives's
+table.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93" />The <i>f&ecirc;te,</i> despite B&auml;ader's assurances, lacked one necessary feature.
+There was no music. The band was away with the boats, the triangle
+probably cooking, the French horn and clarinet hauling seines.</p>
+
+<p>But B&auml;ader, not to be outdone by any <i>contretemps</i>, started off to find an
+old blind fellow who played an accordeon, collecting five francs of me in
+advance for his pay, under the plea that it was quite horrible that the
+young people could not dance. &quot;While one is young, monsieur, music is ze
+life of ze heart.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He brought the old man back, and with a certain care and tenderness set
+him down on a stone bench, the sightless eyes of the poor peasant turning
+up to the stars as he swayed the primitive instrument back and forth. The
+young girls clung to B&auml;ader's arm, and blessed him for his goodness. I
+forgave him his duplicity, his delight in their happiness was so genuine.
+Perhaps it was even better than a <i>f&ecirc;te</i>.</p>
+
+<p>When, later in the evening, we arrived at Mme. Flamand's, we found her in
+the doorway, her brown face smiling, her white cap and apron in full
+relief under the glare of an old-fashioned ship's light, which hung from a
+rafter of the porch. B&auml;ader inscribed my name in a much-<a name="Page_94" id="Page_94" />thumbed,
+ink&mdash;stained register, which looked like a neglected ship's log, and then
+added his own. This, by the by, B&auml;ader never neglected. Neither did he
+neglect a certain little ceremony always connected with it.</p>
+
+<p>After it was all over and &quot;Moritz B&auml;ader Courrier et Interpr&egrave;te&quot; was duly
+inscribed,&mdash;and in justice it must be confessed it was always clearly
+written with a flourish at the end that lent it additional
+dignity,&mdash;B&auml;ader would pause for a moment, carefully balance the pen,
+trying it first on his thumb-nail, and then place two little dots of ink
+over the first <i>a</i>, saying, with a certain wave of his hand, as he did so,
+&quot;For ze honor of my families, monsieur.&quot; This peculiarity gained for him
+from the governor the sobriquet of &quot;old fly-specks.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The inn of Mme. Flamand, although less pretentious than many others that
+had sheltered us, was clean and comfortable, the lower deck and
+companionway were freshly sanded,&mdash;the whole house had a decidedly
+nautical air about it,&mdash;and the captain's state-room on the upper deck, a
+second-floor room, was large and well-lighted, although the ceiling might
+have been a trifle too low for the governor, and the bed a few inches too
+short.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95" />I ascended to the upper deck, preceded by the hostess carrying the ship's
+lantern, now that the last guest had been housed for the night. B&auml;ader
+followed with a brass candlestick and a tallow dip about the size of a
+lead pencil. With the swinging open of the bedroom door, I made a mental
+inventory of all the conveniences: bed, two pillows, plenty of windows,
+washstand, towels. Then the all-important question recurred to me, Where
+had they hidden the portable tub?</p>
+
+<p>I opened the door of the locker, looked behind a sea-chest, then out of
+one window, expecting to see the green-painted luxury hanging by a hook or
+drying on a convenient roof. In some surprise I said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And the bath, B&auml;ader?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Does monsieur expect to bathe at ze night?&quot; inquired B&auml;ader with a
+lifting of his eyebrows, his face expressing a certain alarm for my
+safety.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, certainly not; but to-morrow, when I get up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, to-morrow!&quot; with a sigh of relief. &quot;I do assure you, monsieur, zat it
+will be complete. At ze moment of ze d&eacute;flexion of monsieur le gouverneur
+zare was not ze time. Of course it is imposseeble in Cancale to have ze
+grand bain of Paris, but then zare is still <a name="Page_96" id="Page_96" />something,&mdash;a bath quite
+sp&eacute;cial, simple, and of ze people. Remember, monsieur, it is B&auml;ader.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>And so, with a cheery &quot;Bon soir&quot; from madame, and a profound bow from
+B&auml;ader, I fell asleep.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning I was awakened by a rumbling in the lower hold, as if the
+cargo was being shifted. Then came a noise like the moving of heavy
+barrels on the upper deck forward of the companionway. The next instant my
+door was burst open, and in stalked two brawny, big-armed fish-girls,
+yarn-stockinged to their knees, and with white sabots and caps. They were
+trundling the lower half of a huge hogshead.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pour le bain, monsieur,&quot; they both called out, bursting into laughter, as
+they rolled the mammoth tub behind my bed, grounded it with a revolving
+whirl, as a juggler would spin a plate, and disappeared, slamming the door
+behind them, their merriment growing fainter as they dropped down the
+companionway.</p>
+
+<p>I peered over the head-board, and discovered the larger half of an
+enormous storage-barrel used for packing fish, with fresh saw-marks
+indenting its upper rim. Then I shouted for B&auml;ader.</p>
+
+<p>Before anybody answered, there came <a name="Page_97" id="Page_97" />another onslaught, and in burst the
+same girls, carrying a great iron beach-kettle filled with water. This,
+with renewed fits of laughter, they dashed into the tub, and in a flash
+were off again, their wooden sabots clattering down the steps.</p>
+
+<p>There was no mistaking the indications; B&auml;ader's bath had arrived.</p>
+
+<p>I climbed up, and, dropping in with both feet, avoiding the splinters and
+the nails, sat on the sawed edge, ready for total immersion. Before I
+could adjust myself to its conditions there came another rush along the
+companionway, accompanied by the same clatter of sabots and splashing of
+water. There was no time to reach the bed, and it was equally evident that
+I could not vault out and throw myself against the door. So I simply
+ducked down, held on, and shouted, in French, Normandy patois, English:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Don't come in! Don't open the door! Leave the water outside!&quot; and the
+like. I might as well have ruined my throat on a Cancale lugger driving
+before a gale. In burst the door, and in swept the Amazons, letting go
+another kettleful, this time over my upper half, my lower half being
+squeezed down into the tub.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98" />When the girls had emptied the contents of this last kettle over the
+edge, and caught sight of my face,&mdash;they evidently thought I was still
+behind the head-board,&mdash;both gave one prolonged shriek that literally
+roused the house. The brawnier of the two,&mdash;a magnificent creature, with
+her corsets outside of her dress,&mdash;after holding her sides with laughter
+until I thought she would suffocate, sank upon the sea-chest, from which
+her companion rescued her just as Mme. Flamand and B&auml;ader opened the door.
+All this time my chin was resting on the jagged rim of the tub, and my
+teeth were chattering.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;B&auml;ader, where in thunder have you been? Drag that chest against that door
+quick, and come in. Is this what you call a bath?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur, if you will pardon. I arouse myself at ze daylight; I rely upon
+Mme. Flamand that ze Englishman who is dead had left one behind; I search
+everywhere. Zen I make inquiry of ze mother of ze two demoiselles who have
+just gone. She was much insulted; she make ze bad face. She say with much
+indignation: 'Monsieur, since I was a baby ze water has not touched my
+body.' At ze supreme moment, when all hope was gone, I dis<a name="Page_99" id="Page_99" />cover near ze
+house of ze same madame this grand arrangement. Immediately I am on fire,
+and say to myself, 'B&auml;ader, all is not lost. Even if zare was still ze
+bath of ze Englishman, it would not compare.' In ze quickness of an eye I
+bring a saw, and ze demoiselles are on zare knees making ze arrangement,
+one part big, one small. I say to myself, 'B&auml;ader, monsieur is an artist,
+and of enthusiasm, and will appreciate zis utensile agr&eacute;able of ze
+fisherman.' If monsieur will consider, it is, of course, not ze grand bain
+of Paris, but it is simple, and quite of ze people.&quot;</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Some two months later, the governor and I happened to be strolling through
+the flower-market of the Madeleine. He had been selecting plants for the
+windows of his apartment, and needed a reliable man to arrange them in
+suitable boxes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That fellow B&auml;ader lives down here somewhere; perhaps he might know of
+some one,&quot; he said, consulting his notebook. &quot;Yes; No. 21 Rue Chambord.
+Let us look him up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>In five minutes we stood before a small, two-story house, with its door
+and wide basement-window protected by an <a name="Page_100" id="Page_100" />awning. Beneath this, upon low
+shelves, was arranged a collection of wicker baskets, containing the
+several varieties of oysters from Normandy and Brittany coasts greatly
+beloved by Parisian epicures of Paris. On the top of each lid lay a tin
+sign bearing the name of the exact locality from which each toothsome
+bivalve was supposed to be shipped. These signs were all of one size.</p>
+
+<p>The governor is a great lover of oysters, especially his own Chesapeakes,
+and his eye ran rapidly over the tempting exhibit as he read aloud,
+perhaps, unconsciously, to himself, the several labels: &quot;Dinard, Param&eacute;,
+Dieppe petite, Cancale sp&eacute;ciale.&quot; Then a new light seemed to break in upon
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Dieppe petite, Cancale sp&eacute;ciale,&quot;&mdash;here his face was a study,&mdash;&quot;why,
+that's what B&auml;ader always called Cancale. By thunder! I believe that's
+where that fellow got his names. I don't believe the rascal was ever in
+Normandy in his life until I took him. Here, landlord!&quot; A small
+shop-keeper, wearing an apron, ran out smiling, uncovering the baskets as
+he approached. &quot;Do you happen to know a courier by the name of B&auml;ader?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Never as courier, messieurs&mdash;always<a name="Page_101" id="Page_101" /> as commissionaire; he sells wood and
+charcoal to ze hotels. See! zare is his sign.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Where does he live?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Upstairs.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_LADY_OF_LUCERNE" id="THE_LADY_OF_LUCERNE" /><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102" />THE LADY OF LUCERNE</h2>
+
+<h2>I</h2>
+
+<p>Above the Schweizerhof Hotel, and at the end of the long walk fronting the
+lake at Lucerne,&mdash;the walk studded with the round, dumpy, Noah's-ark
+trees,&mdash;stands a great building surrounded by flowers and palms, and at
+night ablaze with hundreds of lamps hung in festoons of blue, yellow, and
+red. This is the Casino. On each side of the wide entrance is a
+bill-board, announcing that some world-renowned Tyrolean warbler, famous
+acrobat, or marvelous juggler will sing or tumble or bewilder, the price
+of admission remaining the same, despite the enormous sum paid for the
+appearance of the performer.</p>
+
+<p>Inside this everybody's club is a caf&eacute;, with hurrying waiters and a solid
+brass band, and opening from its smoke and absinthe laden interior blazes
+a small theatre, with stage footlights and scenery, where the several
+world-renowned <a name="Page_103" id="Page_103" />artists redeem at a very considerable discount the
+promissory notes of the bill-boards outside.</p>
+
+<p>During the performance the audience smoke and sip. Between the acts most
+of them swarm out into the adjacent corridors leading to the
+gaming-rooms,&mdash;licensed rooms these, with toy-horses ridden by tin
+jockeys, and another equally delusive and tempting device of the devil&mdash;a
+game of tipsy marbles, rolling about in search of sunken saucers
+emblazoned with the arms of the nations of the earth. These whirligigs of
+amateur crime are constantly surrounded by eager-eyed men and women, who
+try their luck for the amusement of the moment, or by broken-down, seedy
+gamblers, hazarding their last coin for a turn of fortune. Now and then,
+too, some sweet-faced girl, her arm in her father's, wins a louis with a
+franc, her childish laughter ringing out in the stifling atmosphere.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The Tyrolean warbler had just finished her high-keyed falsetto, bowing
+backward in her short skirts and stout shoes with silver buckles, and I
+had just reached the long corridor on my way to the garden, to escape the
+blare and pound of the band, when a man leaned <a name="Page_104" id="Page_104" />out of a half-opened door
+and touched my shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pardon, monsieur. May I speak to you a moment?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He was a short, thick-set, smooth-shaven, greasy man, dressed plainly in
+black, with a huge emerald pin in his shirt front. I have never had any
+particular use for a man with an emerald pin in his shirt front.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There will be a game of baccarat,&quot; he continued in a low voice, his eyes
+glancing about furtively, &quot;at eleven o'clock precisely. Knock twice at
+this door.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Old habitu&eacute;s of Lucerne&mdash;habitu&eacute;s of years, men who never cross the Alps
+without at least a day's stroll under the Noah's-ark trees,&mdash;will tell you
+over their coffee that since the opening of the St. Gotthard Tunnel this
+half-way house of Lucerne&mdash;this oasis between Paris and Rome&mdash;has
+sheltered most of the adventurers of Europe; that under these same trees,
+and on these very benches, nihilists have sat and plotted, refugees and
+outlaws have talked in whispers, and adventuresses, with jeweled stilettos
+tucked in their bosoms, have lain in wait for fresher victims.</p>
+
+<p>I had never in my wanderings met any of these mysterious and delightful
+<a name="Page_105" id="Page_105" />people. And, strange to say, I had never seen a game of baccarat. This
+might be my opportunity. I would see the game and perhaps run across some
+of these curious individuals. I consulted my watch; there was half an hour
+yet. The man was a runner, of course, for this underground, unlicensed
+gaming-house, who had picked me out as a possible victim.</p>
+
+<p>When the moment arrived I knocked at the door.</p>
+
+<p>It was opened, not by the greasy Jack-in-the-box with the emerald pin, but
+by a deferential old man, who looked at me for a moment, holding the door
+with his foot. Then gently closing it, he preceded me across a hall and up
+a long staircase. At the top was a passageway and another door, and behind
+this a large room paneled in dark wood. On one side of this apartment was
+a high desk. Here sat the cashier counting money, and arranging little
+piles of chips of various colors. In the centre stood a table covered with
+black cloth: I had always supposed such tables to be green. About it were
+seated ten people, the croupier in the middle. The game had already begun.
+I moved up a chair, saying that I would look on, but not play.</p>
+
+<p>Had the occasion been a clinic, the <a name="Page_106" id="Page_106" />game a corpse, and the croupier the
+operating surgeon, the group about the table could not have been more
+absorbed or more silent; a cold, death-like, ominous stillness that seemed
+to saturate the very air. The only sounds were the occasional clickings of
+the ivory chips, like the chattering of teeth, and the monotones of the
+croupier announcing the results of the play:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Faites vos jeux. Le jeu est fait; rien ne va plus.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I began to study the <i>personnel</i> of this clinic of chance.</p>
+
+<p>Two Englishmen in evening dress sat side by side, never speaking, scarcely
+moving, their eyes riveted on the falling cards flipped from the
+croupier's hands. A coarse-featured, oily-skinned woman&mdash;a Russian, I
+thought&mdash;looked on calmly, resting her head on her palm. A man in a gray
+suit, with waxy face and watery, yellow eyes, made paper pills, rolling
+them slowly between thumb and forefinger&mdash;his features as immobile as a
+death-mask. A blue-eyed, blond German officer, with a decoration on the
+lapel of his coat, nonchalantly twirled his mustache, his shoulders
+straining in tension. A Parisienne, with bleached hair and penciled
+eyebrows, leaned over her companion's arm.<a name="Page_107" id="Page_107" /> There was also a flashily
+dressed negro, evidently a Haytian, who sat motionless at the far end, as
+stolid as a boiler, only the steam-gauge of his eyes denoting the pressure
+beneath.</p>
+
+<p>No one spoke, no one laughed.</p>
+
+<p>Two of the group interested me at once,&mdash;the croupier and a woman who sat
+within three feet of me.</p>
+
+<p>The croupier, who was in evening dress, might have been of any age from
+thirty to fifty. His eyes were deep-set and glassy, like those of a
+consumptive. His hair was jet-black, his face clean-shaven; the skin, not
+ivory, but a dirty white, and flabby, like the belly of a toad. His thin
+and bloodless lips were flattened over a row of pure white teeth with
+glistening specks of gold that opened when he smiled; closing again slowly
+like an automaton's. His shrunken, colorless hands lay on the black cloth
+like huge white spiders; their long, thin legs of fingers turned up at the
+tips&mdash;stealthy, creeping fingers. Sometimes, too, in their nervous
+workings, they drooped together like a bunch of skeleton keys. On one of
+these lock picks he wore a ring studded alternately with diamonds and
+rubies.</p>
+
+<p>The cards seemed to know these fingers, fluttering about them, or
+light<a name="Page_108" id="Page_108" />ing noiselessly at their bidding on the cloth.</p>
+
+<p>When the bank won, the croupier permitted a slight shade of disappointment
+to flash over his face, fading into an expression of apology for taking
+the stakes. When the bank lost, the lips parted slowly, showing the teeth,
+in a half smile. Such delicate outward consideration for the feelings of
+his victims seemed a part of his education, an index to his natural
+refinement.</p>
+
+<p>The woman was of another type. Although she sat with her back to me, I
+could catch her profile when she pushed her long veil from her face. She
+was dressed entirely in black. She had been, and was still, a woman of
+marked beauty, with an air of high breeding which was unmistakable. Her
+features were clean-cut and refined, her mouth and nose delicately shaped.
+Her forehead was shaded by waves of brown hair which half covered her
+ears. The eyes were large and softened by long lashes, the lids red as if
+with recent weeping. Her only ornament was a plain gold ring, worn on her
+left hand. Outwardly, she was the only person in the room who betrayed by
+her manner any vital interest in the game.</p>
+
+<p>There are some faces that once seen <a name="Page_109" id="Page_109" />haunt you forever afterward&mdash;faces
+with masks so thinly worn that you look through into the heart below. Hers
+was one of these. Every light and shadow of hope and disappointment that
+crossed it showed only the clearer the intensity of her mental strain, and
+the bitterness of her anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>Once when she lost she bit her lips so deeply that a speck of blood tinged
+her handkerchief. The next instant she was clutching her winnings with
+almost the ferocity of a hungry animal. Then she leaned back a moment
+later exhausted in her chair, her face thrown up, her eyes closing
+wearily.</p>
+
+<p>In her hand she held a small chamois bag filled with gold; when her chips
+were exhausted she would rise silently, float like a shadow to the desk,
+lay a handful of gold from the bag upon the counter, sweep the ivories
+into her hand, and noiselessly regain her seat. She seemed to know no one,
+and no one to know her, unless it might have been the croupier, who, I
+thought, watched her closely when he pushed over her winnings, parting his
+lips a little wider, his smile a trifle more cringing and devilish.</p>
+
+<p>At twelve o'clock she was still playing, her face like chalk, her eyes
+bloodshot, <a name="Page_110" id="Page_110" />her teeth clenched fast, her hair disheveled across her face.</p>
+
+<p>The game went on.</p>
+
+<p>When the clock reached the half-hour the man in gray pushed back his
+chair, gathered up his winnings, and moved to the door, an attendant
+handing him his hat. With the exception of the Parisienne, who had gone
+some time before, taking her companion with her, the devotees were the
+same,&mdash;the two Englishmen still exchanging clean, white Bank of England
+notes, the German and Haytian losing, but calm as mummies, the fat, oily
+woman, melting like a red candle, the perspiration streaming down her
+face.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly I heard a convulsive gasp. The woman in black was on her feet
+leaning over the table. Her eyes blazed in a frenzy of delight. She was
+sweeping into her open hands the piles of gold before her. By some
+marvelous stroke of luck, and with almost her last louis, she had won
+every franc on the cloth!</p>
+
+<p>Then she drew herself up defiantly, covered her face with her veil, hugged
+the money to her breast, and staggered from the room.<a name="Page_111" id="Page_111" /></p>
+
+
+<h2>II</h2>
+
+<p>So deep an impression had the gambling scene of the night before made upon
+me that the next morning I loitered under the Noah's-ark trees, hoping I
+might identify the woman, and in some impossible, improbable way know more
+of her history. I even lounged into the Casino, tried the door at which I
+had knocked the night before, and, finding it locked and the scrubwoman
+suspicious, strolled out carelessly into the garden, and, sitting down
+under the palms, tried to pick out the windows that opened into the
+gaming-room. But they were all alike, with pots of flowers blooming in
+each.</p>
+
+<p>Still burdened with these memories, I entered the church,&mdash;the old church
+with square towers and deep-receding entrance, that stands on the crest of
+a steep hill overlooking the Casino, and within a short distance of the
+Noah's-ark trees. Every afternoon, near the hour of twilight, when the
+shadows reach down Mount Pilatus, and the mists gather in the valley, a
+broken procession of strollers, in twos and threes and larger groups,
+slowly climb its path. They are <a name="Page_112" id="Page_112" />on their way to hear the great organ
+played.</p>
+
+<p>The audience was already seated. It was at the moment of that profound
+hush which precedes the recital. Even my footfall, light as it was,
+re&euml;choed to the groined arches. The church was ghostly dark,&mdash;so dark that
+the hundreds of heads melted into the mass of pews, and they into the
+gloom of column and wall. The only distinguishable gleam was the soft glow
+of the dying day struggling through the lower panes of the dust-begrimed
+windows. Against these hung long chains holding unlighted lamps.</p>
+
+<p>I felt my way to an empty pew on a side aisle, and sat down. The silence
+continued. Now and again there was a slight cough, instantly checked. Once
+a child dropped a book, the echoes lasting apparently for minutes. The
+darkness became almost black night. Only the clean, new panes of glass
+used in repairing some break in the begrimed windows showed clear. These
+seemed to hang out like small square lanterns.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly I was aware that the stillness was broken by a sound faint as a
+sigh, delicate as the first breath of a storm. Then came a great sweep
+growing louder, the sweep of deep thunder tones with <a name="Page_113" id="Page_113" />the roar of the
+tempest, the rush of the mighty rain, the fury of the avalanche, the
+voices of the birds singing in the sunlight, the gurgle of the brooks,
+and the soft cadence of the angelus calling the peasants to prayers.
+Then, a pause and another burst of melody, ending in profound silence,
+as if the door of heaven had been opened and as quickly shut. Then a
+clear voice springing into life, singing like a lark, rising,
+swelling&mdash;up&mdash;up&mdash;filling the church&mdash;the roof&mdash;the sky! Then the heavenly
+door thrown wide, and the melody pouring out in a torrent, drowning the
+voice. Then above it all, while I sat quivering, there soared like a bird
+in the air, singing as it flew, one great, superb, vibrating, resolute
+note, pure, clear, full, sensuous, untrammeled, dominating the heavens:
+not human, not divine; like no woman's, like no man's, like no angel's
+ever dreamed of,&mdash;the vox humana.</p>
+
+<p>It did not awaken in me any feeling of reverence or religious ecstasy. I
+only remember that the music took possession of my soul. That beneath and
+through it all I felt the vibrations of all the tragic things that come to
+men and women in their lives. Scenes from out an irrelevant past swept
+across my mind. I heard again the long winding <a name="Page_114" id="Page_114" />note of the bugle echoing
+through the pines, the dead in uneven rows, the moon lighting their faces.
+I caught once more the cry of the girl my friend loved, he who died and
+never knew. I saw the quick plunge of the strong swimmer, white arms
+clinging to his neck, and heard once more that joyous shout from a hundred
+throats. And I could still hear the hoarse voice of the captain with
+drenched book and flickering lantern, and shivered again as I caught the
+dull splash of the sheeted body dropping into the sea.</p>
+
+<p>The vox humana stopped, not gradually, but abruptly, as if the heart had
+broken and its life had gone out in the one supreme effort. Then
+silence,&mdash;a silence so profound that a low sob from the pew across the
+aisle startled me. I strained my eyes, and caught the outlines of a woman
+heavily veiled. I could see, too, a child beside her, his head on her
+shoulder. The boy was bare-headed, his curls splashed over her black
+dress. Then another sob, half smothered, as if the woman were strangling.</p>
+
+<p>No other sound broke the stillness; only the feeling everywhere of
+pent-up, smothered sighs.</p>
+
+<p>In this intense moment a faint foot<a name="Page_115" id="Page_115" />fall was heard approaching from the
+church door, walking in the gloom. It proved to be that of an old man,
+bent and trembling. He came slowly down the sombre church, with unsteady,
+shambling gait, holding in one hand a burning taper,&mdash;a mere speck. In the
+other he carried a rude lantern, its wavering light hovering about his
+feet. As he passed in his long brown cloak, the swaying light encircled
+his white beard and hair with a fluffy halo. He moved slowly, the spark he
+carried no larger than a firefly. The sacristan had come to light the
+candles.</p>
+
+<p>He stopped half way down the middle aisle, opposite a pew, the faint flush
+of his lantern falling on the nearest upturned face. A long thin candle
+was fastened to this pew. The firefly of a taper, held aloft in his
+trembling hand, flickered uncertainly like a moth, and rested on the top
+of this candle. Then the wick kindled and burned. As its rays felt their
+way over the vast interior, struggling up into the dark roof, reaching the
+gilded ornaments on the side altar enshrouded in gloom, glinting on the
+silver of the hanging lamps, a plaintive note fluttered softly, swelled
+into an ecstasy of sound, and was lost in a chorus of angel voices.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116" />The sacristan moved down the aisle, kindled two other candles on the
+distant altar, and was lost in the shadows.</p>
+
+<p>The woman in the pew across the aisle bent forward, resting her head on
+the back of the seat in front, drawing the child to her. The boy cuddled
+closer. As she turned, a spark of light trickled down her cheek. I caught
+sight of the falling tear, but could not see the face.</p>
+
+<p>The music ceased; the last anthem had been played; a gas-jet flared in the
+organ-loft; the people began to rise from their seats. The sacristan
+appeared again from behind the altar, and walked slowly down the side
+aisle, carrying only his lantern. As he neared my seat the woman stood
+erect, and passed out of the pew, her hand caressing the child. Surely I
+could not be mistaken about that movement, the slow, undulating, rhythmic
+walk, the floating shadow of the night before. Certainly not with the
+light of the sacristan's lantern now full on her face. Yes: the same
+finely chiseled features, the same waves of brown hair, the same eyes, the
+same drooping eyelids, like blossoms wet with dew! At last I had found
+her.</p>
+
+<p>I walked behind,&mdash;so close that I could have laid my hand on her boy's
+<a name="Page_117" id="Page_117" />head, or touched her hand as it lay buried in his curls. The old, bent
+sacristan stepped in front, swinging his lantern, the ghostly shadows
+wavering about his feet. Then he halted to let the crowd clear the main
+aisle.</p>
+
+<p>As he stood still, the woman drew suddenly back as if stunned by a blow,
+clutched the boy to her side, and fixed her eyes on the lantern's ghostly
+shadows. I leaned over quickly. The glow of the rude lamp, with its
+squares of waving light flecking the stone flagging, traced in
+unmistakable outlines the form of a cross!</p>
+
+<p>For some minutes she stood as if in a trance, her eyes fastened upon the
+floating shadow, her whole form trembling, bent, her body swaying. Only
+when the sacristan moved a few paces ahead to hold open the swinging door,
+and the shadow of the cross faded, did she awake from the spell.</p>
+
+<p>Then, recovering herself slowly, she bowed reverently, crossed herself,
+drew the boy closer, and, with his hand in hers, passed out into the cool
+starlit night.<a name="Page_118" id="Page_118" /></p>
+
+
+<h2>III</h2>
+
+<p>The following morning I was sitting under the Noah's-ark trees, watching
+the people pass and repass, when a man in a suit of white flannel,
+carrying a light cane, and wearing a straw hat with a red band, and a
+necktie to match, stopped a flower-girl immediately in front of me, and
+affixed an additional dot of blood-color to his buttonhole.</p>
+
+<p>In the glare of the daylight he was even more yellow than when under the
+blaze of the gas-jets. His eyes were still glassy and brilliant, but the
+rims showed red, as if for want of sleep, and beneath the lower lids lay
+sunken half-circles of black. He moved with his wonted precision, but
+without that extreme gravity of manner which had characterized him the
+night of the game. Looked at as a mere passer-by, he would have impressed
+you as a rather debonair, overdressed habitu&eacute;, who was enjoying his
+morning stroll under the trees, without other purpose in life than the
+breathing of the cool air and enjoyment of the attendant exercise. His
+spider-ship had doubtless seen me when he entered the walk,&mdash;I was still
+an untrapped fly,&mdash;and had picked out this <a name="Page_119" id="Page_119" />particular flower-girl beside
+me as a safe anchorage for one end of his web. I turned away my head; but
+it was too late.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur did not play last night?&quot; the croupier asked deferentially.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No; I did not know the game.&quot; Then an idea struck me. &quot;Sit down; I want
+to talk to you.&quot; He touched the edge of his hat with one finger, opened a
+gold cigarette-case studded with jewels, offered me its contents, and took
+the seat beside me.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pardon the abruptness of the inquiry, but who was the woman in black?&quot; I
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at me curiously.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, you mean madame with the bag?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She was once the Baroness Frontignac.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Was once! What is she now?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now? Ah, that is quite a story.&quot; He stopped, shut the gold case with a
+click, and leaned forward, flicking the pebbles with the point of his
+cane. &quot;If madame had had a larger bag she might have broken the bank. Is
+it not so?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You know her, then?&quot; I persisted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur, men of my profession know everybody. Sooner or later they <a name="Page_120" id="Page_120" />all
+come to us&mdash;when they are young, and their francs have wings; when they
+are gray-haired and cautious; when they are old and foolish.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But she did not look like a gambler,&quot; I replied stiffly.</p>
+
+<p>He smiled his old cynical, treacherous smile.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Monsieur is pleased to be very pronounced in his language. A gambler!
+Monsieur no doubt means to say that madame has not the appearance of being
+under the intoxication of the play.&quot; Then with a positive tone, still
+flicking the pebbles, &quot;The baroness played for love.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of the cards?&quot; I asked persistently. I was determined to drive the nail
+to the head.</p>
+
+<p>The croupier looked at me fixedly, shrugged his shoulders, laughed between
+his teeth, a little, hissing laugh that sounded like escaping steam, and
+said slowly:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No; of a man.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then, noticing my increasing interest, &quot;Monsieur would know something of
+madame?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He held up his hand, and began crooking one finger after another as he
+recounted her history. These bent keys, it seemed, unlocked secrets as
+well.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<a name="Page_121" id="Page_121" />Le voil&agrave;! the drama of Madame la Baronne! The play opens when she is
+first a novice in the convent of Saint Ursula, devoted to good works and
+the church. Next you find her a grand dame and rich, the wife of Baron
+Alphonse de Frontignac, first secretary of legation at Vienna. Then a
+mother with one child,&mdash;a boy, now six or seven years old, who is hardly
+ever out of her arms.&quot; He stopped, toyed for a moment with his match-safe,
+slipped it into his pocket, and said carelessly, &quot;So much for Act I.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then, after a pause during which he traced again little diagrams in the
+gravel, he said suddenly:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Does this really interest you, monsieur?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Unquestionably.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You know her, then?&quot; This with a glance of suspicion as keen as it was
+unexpected by me.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Never saw her in my life before,&quot; I answered frankly, &quot;and never shall
+again. I leave for Paris to-day, and sail from Havre on Saturday.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He drew in the point of his cane, looked me all over with one of those
+comprehensive sweeps of the eye, as if he would read my inmost thought,
+and then, with an expression of confidence <a name="Page_122" id="Page_122" />born doubtless of my evident
+sincerity, continued:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In the next act Frontignac gets mixed up in some banking scandals,&mdash;he
+would, like a fool, play roulette&mdash;baccarat was always his strong
+game,&mdash;disappears from Vienna, is arrested at the frontier, escapes, and
+is found the next morning under a brush-heap with a bullet through his
+head. This ends the search. Two years later&mdash;this is now Act III.&mdash;Madame
+la Baronne, without a sou to her name, is hard at work in the hospitals of
+Metz. The child is pensioned out near by.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now comes the grand romance. An officer attached to the 13th
+Cuirassiers&mdash;a regiment with not men enough left after Metz to muster a
+company&mdash;is picked up for dead, with one arm torn off, and a sabre-slash
+over his head, and brought to her ward. She nurses him back to life, inch
+by inch, and in six months he joins his regiment. Now please follow the
+plot. It is quite interesting. Is it not easy to see what will happen?
+Tender and beautiful, young and brave! Vive le bel amour! It is the old
+story, but it is also une affaire de c&oelig;ur&mdash;la grande passion. In a few
+months they are married, and he takes her to his home in Rouen. There he
+<a name="Page_123" id="Page_123" />listens to her entreaties, and resigns his commission.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This was five years ago. To-day he is a broken-down man, starving on his
+pension; a poor devil about the streets, instead of a general commanding a
+department; and all for love of her. Some, of course, said it was the
+sabre-cut; some that he could no longer hold his command, he was so badly
+slashed. But it is as I tell you. You can see him here any day, sitting
+under the trees, playing with the child, or along the lake front, leaning
+on her arm.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Here the croupier rose from the bench, looked critically over his case of
+cigarettes, selected one carefully, and began buttoning his coat as if to
+go.</p>
+
+<p>By this time I had determined to know the end. I felt that he had told me
+the truth as far as he had gone; but I felt, also, that he had stopped at
+the most critical point of her career. I saw, too, that he was familiar
+with its details.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Go on, please. Here, try a cigar.&quot; My interest in my heroine had even
+made me courteous. My aversion to him, too, was wearing off. Perhaps,
+after all, croupiers were no worse than other people. &quot;Now, one thing
+more. Why was she in your gambling-house?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He lighted the cigar, touched his hat <a name="Page_124" id="Page_124" />with his forefinger, and again
+seated himself.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, then, monsieur, as you will. I always trust you Americans. When you
+lose, you pay; when you win, you keep your mouths shut. Besides,&quot;&mdash;this
+was spoken more to himself,&mdash;&quot;you have never seen him, and never will. Le
+voil&agrave;. One night,&mdash;this only a year ago, remember,&mdash;in one of the gardens
+at Baden, a hand touched the baroness's shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It was <i>Frontignac's</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The body under the brush-heap had been that of another man dressed in
+Frontignac's clothes. The bullet-hole in his head was made by a ball from
+Frontignac's pistol. Since then he had been hiding in exile.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He threatened exposure. She pleaded for her boy and her crippled husband.
+She could, of course, have handed him over to the nearest gendarme; but
+that meant arrest, and arrest meant exposure. At their home in Vienna, let
+me tell you, baccarat had been played nightly as a pastime for their
+guests. So great was her luck that 'As lucky as the Baronne Frontignac'
+was a byword. Frontignac's price was this: she must take his fifty louis
+and play that stake at the Casino that night; when she <a name="Page_125" id="Page_125" />brought him ten
+thousand francs he would vanish.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That night at Baden&mdash;I was dealing, and know&mdash;she won twelve thousand
+francs in as many minutes. Here her slavery began. It will continue until
+Frontignac is discovered and captured; then he will put a second bullet
+into his own head. When I saw her enter my room I knew he had turned up
+again. As she staggered out, one of my men shadowed her. I was right;
+Frontignac was skulking in the garden.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>All my disgust for the croupier returned in an instant. He was still the
+same bloodless spider of the night before. I could hardly keep my hands
+off him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you permit this, and let this woman suffer these tortures, her life
+made miserable by this scoundrel, when a word, even a look, from you would
+send him out of the country and&quot;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Softly, monsieur, softly. Why blame me? What business is it of mine. Do I
+love the cripple? Have I robbed the bank and murdered my double? This is
+not my game; it is Frontignac's. Would you have me kick over his chess
+board?&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="JONATHAN" id="JONATHAN" /><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126" />JONATHAN</h2>
+
+
+<p>He was so ugly,&mdash;outside, I mean: long and lank, flat-chested, shrunken,
+round-shouldered, stooping when he walked; body like a plank, arms and
+legs like split rails, feet immense, hands like paddles, head set on a
+neck scrawny as a picked chicken's, hair badly put on and in patches, some
+about his head, some around his jaws, some under his chin in a half
+moon,&mdash;a good deal on the back of his hands and on his chest. Nature had
+hewn him in the rough and had left him with every axe mark showing.</p>
+
+<p>He wore big shoes tied with deer hide strings and nondescript breeches
+that wrinkled along his knotted legs like old gun covers. These were
+patched and repatched with various hues and textures,&mdash;parts of another
+pair,&mdash;bits of a coat and fragments of tailor's cuttings. Sewed in their
+seat was half of a cobbler's apron,&mdash;for greater safety in sliding over
+ledges and logs, he would tell you. Next came a <a name="Page_127" id="Page_127" />leather belt polished
+with use, and then a woolen shirt,&mdash;any kind of a shirt,&mdash;cross-barred or
+striped,&mdash;whatever the store had cheapest, and over that a waistcoat with
+a cotton back and some kind of a front, looking like a state map, it had
+so many colored patches. There was never any coat,&mdash;none that I remember.
+When he wore a coat he was another kind of a Jonathan,&mdash;a store-dealing
+Jonathan, or a church-going Jonathan, or a town-meeting Jonathan,&mdash;not the
+&quot;go-a-fishin',&quot; or &quot;bee-huntin',&quot; or &quot;deer-stalkin'&quot; Jonathan whom I knew.</p>
+
+<p>There was a wide straw hat, too, that crowned his head and canted with the
+wind and flopped about his neck, and would have sailed away down many a
+mountain brook but for a faithful leather strap that lay buried in the
+half-moon whiskers and held on for dear life. And from under the rim of
+this thatch, and half hidden in the matted masses of badly adjusted hair,
+was a thin, peaked nose, bridged by a pair of big spectacles, and
+somewhere below these, again, a pitfall of a mouth covered with twigs of
+hair and an underbrush of beard, while deep-set in the whole tangle, like
+still pools reflecting the blue and white of the sweet heavens above, lay
+his eyes,&mdash;eyes<a name="Page_128" id="Page_128" /> that won you, kindly, twinkling, merry, trustful, and
+trusting eyes. Beneath these pools of light, way down below, way down
+where his heart beat warm, lived Jonathan.</p>
+
+<p>I know a fruit in Mexico, delicious in flavor, called Timburici, covered
+by a skin as rough and hairy as a cocoanut; and a flower that bristles
+with thorns before it blooms into waxen beauty; and there are agates
+encrusted with clay and pearls that lie hidden in oysters. All these
+things, somehow, remind me of Jonathan.</p>
+
+<p>His cabin was the last bit of shingle and brick chimney on that side of
+the Franconia Notch. There were others, farther on in the forest, with
+bark slants for shelter, and forked sticks for swinging kettles; but
+civilization ended with Jonathan's store-stove and the square of oil-cloth
+that covered his sitting-room floor. Upstairs, under the rafters, there
+was a guest-chamber smelling of pine boards and drying herbs, and
+sheltering a bed gridironed with bed-cord and softened by a thin layer of
+feathers encased in a ticking and covered with a cotton quilt. This bed
+always made a deep impression upon me mentally and bodily. Mentally,
+because I always slept so soundly in it <a name="Page_129" id="Page_129" />whenever I visited
+Jonathan,&mdash;even with the rain pattering on the roof and the wind soughing
+through the big pine-trees; and bodily, because&mdash;well, because of the
+cords. Beside this bed was a chair for my candle, and on the floor a small
+square plank, laid loosely over the stovepipe hole which, in winter, held
+the pipe.</p>
+
+<p>In summer mornings Jonathan made an alarm clock of this plank, flopping it
+about with the end of a fishing-rod poked up from below, never stopping
+until he saw my sleepy face peering down into his own. There was no
+bureau, only a nail or so in the scantling, and no washstand, of course;
+the tin basin at the well outside was better.</p>
+
+<p>Then there was an old wife that lived in the cabin,&mdash;an old wife made of
+sole leather, with yellow-white hair and a thin, pinched face and a body
+all angles,&mdash;chest, arms, everywhere,&mdash;outlined through her straight up
+and down calico dress. When she spoke, however, you stopped to listen,&mdash;it
+was like a wood sound, low and far away,&mdash;soft as a bird call. People
+living alone in the forests often have these voices.</p>
+
+<p>Last there was a dog,&mdash;a mean, sniveling, stump-tailed dog, of no
+particular breed or kidney. One of those <a name="Page_130" id="Page_130" />dogs whose ancestry went to the
+bad many generations before he was born. A dog part fox,&mdash;he got all his
+slyness here; and part wolf, this made him ravenous; and part
+bull-terrier, this made him ill-tempered; and all the rest poodle, that
+made him too lazy to move.</p>
+
+<p>The wife knew this dog, and hung the bacon on a high nail out of his
+reach, and covered with a big dish the pies cooling on the bench; and the
+neighbors down the road knew him and chased him out of their dairy-cellars
+when he nosed into the milk-pans and cheese-pots; and even the little
+children found out what a coward he was, and sent him howling home to his
+hole under the porch, where he grumbled and pouted all day like a spoiled
+child that had been half whipped. Everybody knew him, and everybody
+despised him for a low-down, thieving, lazy cur,&mdash;everybody except
+Jonathan. Jonathan loved him,&mdash;loved his weepy, smeary eyes, and his
+rough, black hair, and his fat round body, short stumpy legs, and shorter
+stumpy tail,&mdash;especially the tail. Everything else that the dog lacked
+could be traced back to the peccadillos of his ancestors,&mdash;Jonathan was
+responsible for the tail.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ketched in a b'ar-trap I hed sot up back in thet green timber on Loon
+Pond<a name="Page_131" id="Page_131" /> Maountin' six year ago last fall, when he wuz a pup,&quot; he would say,
+holding the dog in his lap,&mdash;his favorite seat. &quot;I swan, ef it warn't too
+bad! Thinks I, when I sot it, I'll tell the leetle cuss whar it wuz;
+then&mdash;I must hev forgot it. It warn't a week afore he wuz runnin' a rabbet
+and run right into it. Wall, sir, them iron jaws took thet tail er his'n
+off julluk a knife. He's allus been kinder sore ag'in me sence, and I
+dunno but he's right, fur it wuz mighty keerless in me. Wall, sir, he come
+yowlin' hum, and when he see me he did look saour,&mdash;no use talkin',&mdash;jest
+ez ef he wuz a-sayin', 'Yer think you're paowerful cunnin' with yer
+b'ar-traps, don't ye? Jest see what it's done to my tail. It's kinder
+sp'ilt me for a dog.' All my fault, warn't it, George?&quot; patting his head.
+(Only Jonathan would call a dog George.)</p>
+
+<p>Here the dog would look up out of one eye as he spoke,&mdash;he hadn't
+forgotten the bear-trap, and never intended to let Jonathan forget it
+either. Then Jonathan would admire ruefully the end of the stump, stroking
+the dog all the while with his big, hairy, paddle-like hands, George
+rooting his head under the flap of the party-colored waistcoat.</p>
+
+<p>One night, I remember, we had waited supper,&mdash;the wife and I,&mdash;we were
+<a name="Page_132" id="Page_132" />obliged to wait, the trout being in Jonathan's creel,&mdash;when Jonathan
+walked in, looking tired and worried.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hez George come home, Marthy?&quot; he asked, resting his long bamboo rod
+against the porch rail and handing the creel of trout to the wife. &quot;No?
+Wall, I'm beat ef thet ain't cur'us. Guess I got ter look him up.&quot; And he
+disappeared hurriedly into the darkening forest, his anxious, whistling
+call growing fainter and fainter as he was lost in its depths. Marthy was
+not uneasy,&mdash;not about the dog; it was the supper that troubled her. She
+knew Jonathan's ways, and she knew George. This was a favorite trick of
+the dog's,&mdash;this of losing Jonathan.</p>
+
+<p>The trout were about burnt to a crisp and the corn-bread stone cold when
+Jonathan came trudging back, George in his arms,&mdash;a limp, soggy, half-dead
+dog, apparently. Marthy said nothing. It was an old story. Half the time
+Jonathan carried him home.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Supper's ready,&quot; she said quietly, and we went in.</p>
+
+<p>George slid out of Jonathan's arms, smelt about for a soft plank, and fell
+in a heap on the porch, his chin on his paws, his mean little eyes
+watching lazily,&mdash;speaking to nobody, noticing nobody, <a name="Page_133" id="Page_133" />sulking all to
+himself. There he stayed until he caught a whiff of the fragrant, pungent
+odor of fried trout. Then he cocked one eye and lifted an ear. He must not
+carry things too far. Next, I heard a single thump of his six-inch tail.
+George was beginning to get pleased; he always did when there were things
+to eat.</p>
+
+<p>All this time Jonathan, tired out, sat in his big splint chair at the
+supper-table. He had been thrashing the brook since daylight,&mdash;over his
+knees sometimes. I could still see the high-water mark on his patched
+trousers. Another whiff of the frying-pan, and George got up. He dared not
+poke his nose into Marthy's lap,&mdash;there were too many chunks of wood
+within easy reach of her hand. So he sidled up to Jonathan, rubbing his
+nose against his big knees, whining hungrily, looking up into his face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I tell ye,&quot; said Jonathan, smiling at me, patting the dog as he spoke,
+&quot;this yere George hez got more sense'n most men. He knows what's become of
+them trout we ketched. I guess he's gittin' over the way I treated him
+to-day. Ye see, we wuz up the East Branch when he run a fox south. Thinks
+I, the fox'll take a whirl back and cross the big runway; and, sure
+enough, it warn't long <a name="Page_134" id="Page_134" />afore I heard George a-comin' back, yippin' along
+up through Hank Simons' holler. So I whistled to him and steered off up
+onto the maountin' to take a look at Bog-eddy and try and git a pickerel.
+When I come daown ag'in, I see George warn't whar I left him, so I
+hollered and whistled ag'in. Then, thinks I, you're mad 'cause I left ye,
+an' won't let on ye <i>kin</i> hear; so I come along hum without him. When I
+went back a while ago a-lookin' for him, would yer believe it, thar he wuz
+a-layin' in the road, about forty rod this side of Hank Simons' sugar
+maples, flat onto his stummick an' disgusted an' put out awful. It wuz
+about all I could do ter git him hum. I knowed the minute I come in fust
+time an' see he warn't here thet his feelin's wuz hurt 'cause I left him.
+I presaume mebbe I oughter hollered ag'in afore I got so fer off. Then I
+thought, of course, he knowed I'd gone to Bog-eddy. Beats all, what sense
+some dogs hez.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I never knew Jonathan to lose patience with George but once: that was when
+the dog tried to burrow into the hole of a pair of chipmunks whom Jonathan
+loved. They lived in a tree blanketed with moss and lying across the wood
+road. George had tried to scrape an acquaintance by crawling <a name="Page_135" id="Page_135" />in
+uninvited, nearly scaring the little fellows to death, and Jonathan had
+flattened him into the dry leaves with his big, paddle-like hands. That
+was before the bear-trap had nipped his tail, but George never forgot it.</p>
+
+<p>He was particularly polite to chipmunks after that. He would lie still by
+the hour and hear Jonathan talk to them without even a whine of
+discontent. I watched the old man one morning up beneath the ledges,
+groping, on his hands and knees, filling his pockets with nuts, and when
+he reached the wood road, emptying them in a pile near the chipmunk's
+tree, George looking on good-naturedly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess you leetle cunnin's better hurry up,&quot; he said, while he poured out
+the nuts on the ground, his knees sticking up as he sat, like some huge
+grasshopper's. &quot;Guess ye ain't got more 'n time to fill yer
+cubbud,&mdash;winter's a-comin'! Them leetle birches on Bog-eddy is turnin'
+yeller,&mdash;that's the fust sign. 'Fore ye knows it snow'll be flyin'. Then
+whar'll ye be with everything froze tighter'n Sampson bound the heathen,
+you cunnin' leetle skitterin' pups. Then I presaume likely ye'll come
+a-drulin' raound an' want me an' George should gin ye suthin to git
+<a name="Page_136" id="Page_136" />through th' winter on,&mdash;won't they, George?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Beats all,&quot; he said to me that night, &quot;how thoughtful some dogs is.
+Hadn't been fer George to-day, I'd clean forgot them leetle folks. I see
+him scratching raound in the leaves an' I knowed right away what he wuz
+thinkin' of.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Often when I was sketching in the dense forest, Jonathan would lie down
+beside me, the old flop of a hat under his head, his talk rambling on.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't wonder ye like to paint 'em. Thar hain't nothin' so human as
+trees. Take thet big hemlock right in front er yer. Hain't he led a pretty
+decent life? See how praoud an' tall he's growed, with them arms of his'n
+straight aout an' them leetle chillen of his'n spraouting up raound him. I
+tell ye them hemlocks is pretty decent people. Now take a look at them two
+white birches down by thet big rock. Ain't it a shame the way them fellers
+hez been goin' on sence they wuz leetle saplin's, makin' it so nothin'
+could grow raound 'em,&mdash;with their jackets all ragged an' tore like
+tramps, an' their toes all out of their shoes whar ther roots is stickin'
+clear of the bark,&mdash;ain't they a-ketchin' it in their ole age? An' then
+foller on daown whar thet leetle bunch er silver <a name="Page_137" id="Page_137" />maples is dancin' in the
+sunlight, so slender an' cunnin',&mdash;all aout in their summer dresses,
+julluk a bevy er young gals,&mdash;ain't they human like? I tell ye, trees is
+the humanest things thet is.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>These talks with me made George restless. He was never happy unless
+Jonathan had <i>him</i> on his mind.</p>
+
+<p>But it was a cluster of daisies that first lifted the inner lid of
+Jonathan's heart for me. I was away up the side of the Notch overlooking
+the valley, my easel and canvas lashed to a tree, the wind blew so, when
+Jonathan came toiling up the slope, a precipice in fact, with a tin can
+strapped to his back, filled with hot corn and some doughnuts, and threw
+himself beside me, the sweat running down his weather-tanned neck.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So long ez we know whar you're settin' at work it ain't nat'ral to let ye
+starve, be it?&quot; throwing himself beside me. George had started ahead of
+him and had been picked up and carried as usual.</p>
+
+<p>When Jonathan sat upright, after a breathing spell, his eye fell on a tuft
+of limp, bruised daisies, flattened to the earth by the heel of his clumsy
+shoe. There were acres of others in sight.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Gosh hang!&quot; he said, catching his breath suddenly, as if something had
+<a name="Page_138" id="Page_138" />stung him, and reaching down with his horny, bent fingers, &quot;ef thet ain't
+too bad.&quot; Then to himself in a tone barely audible,&mdash;he had entirely
+forgotten my presence,&mdash;&quot;You never had no sense, Jonathan, nohow,
+stumblin' raound like er bull calf tramplin' everything. Jes' see what
+ye've gone an' done with them big feet er yourn,&quot; bending over the bruised
+plant and tenderly adjusting the leaves. &quot;Them daisies hez got jest ez
+good a right ter live ez you hev.&quot;</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>I was almost sure when I began that I had a story to tell. I had thought
+of that one about Luke Pollard,&mdash;the day Luke broke his leg behind Loon
+Mountain, and Jonathan carried him down the gorge on his back, crossing
+ledges that would have scared a goat. It was snowing at the time, they
+said, and blowing a gale. When they got half way down White Face,
+Jonathan's foot slipped and he fell into the ravine, breaking his wrist.
+Only the drifts saved his life. Luke caught a sapling and held on. The
+doctor set Jonathan's wrist last, and Luke never knew it had been broken
+until the next day. It is one of the stories they tell you around the
+stove winter evenings.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Julluk the night Jonathan carried <a name="Page_139" id="Page_139" />aout Luke,&quot; they say, listening to the
+wind howling over the ledges.</p>
+
+<p>And then I thought of that other story that Hank Simons told me,&mdash;the one
+about the mill back of Woodstock caving in from the freshet and burying
+the miller's girl. No one dared lift the timbers until Jonathan crawled
+in. The child was pinned down between the beams, and the water rose so
+fast they feared the wreckage would sweep the mill. Jonathan clung to the
+sills waist-deep in the torrent, crept under the floor timbers, and then
+bracing his back held the beam until he dragged her clear. It happened a
+good many years ago, but Hank always claimed it had bent Jonathan's back.</p>
+
+<p>But, after all, they are not the things I love best to remember of
+Jonathan.</p>
+
+<p>It is always the old man's voice, crooning his tuneless song as he trudges
+home in the twilight, his well-filled creel at his side,&mdash;the
+good-for-nothing dog in his arms; or it is that look of sweet contentment
+on his face,&mdash;the deep and thoughtful eyes, filled with the calm serenity
+of his soul. And then the ease and freedom of his life! Plenty of air and
+space, and plenty of time to breathe and move! Having nothing, possessing
+all things! No bonds to guard,&mdash;no cares to stifle,&mdash;no<a name="Page_140" id="Page_140" /> trains to
+catch,&mdash;no appointments to keep,&mdash;no fashions to follow,&mdash;no follies to
+shun! Only the old wife and worthless, lazy dog, and the rod and the
+creel! Only the blessed sunshine and fresh, sweet air, and the cool touch
+of deep woods.</p>
+
+<p>No, there is no story&mdash;only Jonathan.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="ALONG_THE_BRONX" id="ALONG_THE_BRONX" /><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141" />ALONG THE BRONX</h2>
+
+
+<p>Hidden in our memories there are quaint, quiet nooks tucked away at the
+end of leafy lanes; still streams overhung with feathery foliage; gray
+rocks lichen-covered; low-ground meadows, knee-deep in lush grass;
+restful, lazy lakes dotted with pond-lilies; great, wide-spreading trees,
+their arms uplifted in song, their leaves quivering with the melody.</p>
+
+<p>I say there are all these delights of leaf, moss, ripple, and shade stored
+away somewhere in our memories,&mdash;dry bulbs of a preceding summer's bloom,
+that need only the first touch of spring, the first glorious day in June,
+to break out into flower. When they do break out, they are generally
+chilled in the blooming by the thousand and one difficulties of prolonged
+travel, time of getting there and time of getting back again, expense, and
+lack of accommodations.</p>
+
+<p>If you live in New York&mdash;and really you should not live anywhere
+else!&mdash;there are a few buttons a tired man can <a name="Page_142" id="Page_142" />touch that will revive for
+him all these delights in half an hour's walk, costing but a car-fare, and
+robbing no man or woman of time, even without the benefits of the
+eight-hour law.</p>
+
+<p>You touch one of these buttons when you plan to spend an afternoon along
+the Bronx.</p>
+
+<p>There are other buttons, of course. You can call up the edges of the
+Palisades, with their great sweep of river below, the seething, steaming
+city beyond; or, you can say &quot;Hello!&quot; to the Upper Harlem, with its
+house-boats and floating restaurants; or you can ring up Westchester and
+its picturesque waterline. But you cannot get them all together in half an
+hour except in one place, and that is along the Bronx.</p>
+
+<p>The Bronx is the forgotten, the overlooked, the &quot;disremembered,&quot; as the
+provincial puts it. Somebody may know where it begins&mdash;I do not. I only
+know where it ends. What its early life may be, away up near White Plains,
+what farms it waters, what dairies it cools, what herds it refreshes, I
+know not. I only know that when I get off at Woodlawn&mdash;that City of the
+Silent&mdash;it comes down from somewhere up above the railroad station, and
+that it &quot;takes a header,&quot; as the boys say, under an old <a name="Page_143" id="Page_143" />mill, abandoned
+long since, and then, like another idler, goes singing along through open
+meadows, and around big trees in clumps, their roots washed bare, and then
+over sandy stretches reflecting the flurries of yellow butterflies, and
+then around a great hill, and so on down to Laguerre's.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, when it gets to Laguerre's I know all about it. I know the old
+rotting landing-wharf where Monsieur moors his boats,&mdash;the one with the
+little seat is still there; and Lucette's big eyes are just as brown, and
+her hair just as black, and her stockings and slippers just as dainty on
+Sundays as when first I knew her. And the wooden bench is still there,
+where the lovers used to sit; only Monsieur, her father, tells me that
+Fran&ccedil;ois works very late in the big city,&mdash;three mouths to feed now, you
+see,&mdash;and only when le petit Fran&ccedil;ois is tucked away in his crib in the
+long summer nights, and Lucette has washed the dishes and put on her best
+apron, and the Bronx stops still in a quiet pool to listen, is the bench
+used as in the old time when Monsieur discovered the lovers by the flash
+of his lantern.</p>
+
+<p>Then I know where it floats along below Laguerre's, and pulls itself
+together in a very dignified way as it sails under <a name="Page_144" id="Page_144" />the brand-new
+bridge,&mdash;the old one, propped up on poles, has long since paid tribute to
+a spring freshet,&mdash;and quickens its pace below the old Dye-house,&mdash;also a
+wreck now (they say it is haunted),&mdash;and then goes slopping along in and
+out of the marshes, sousing the sunken willow roots, oozing through beds
+of weeds and tangled vines.</p>
+
+<p>But only a very little while ago did I know where it began to leave off
+all its idle ways and took really to the serious side of life; when it
+began rushing down long, stony ravines, plunging over respectable,
+well-to-do masonry dams, skirting once costly villas, whispering between
+dark defiles of rock, and otherwise disporting itself as becomes a
+well-ordered, conventional, self-respecting mountain stream,
+uncontaminated by the encroachments and frivolities of civilized life.</p>
+
+<p>All this begins at Fordham. Not exactly at Fordham, for you must walk due
+east from the station for half a mile, climb a fence, and strike through
+the woods before you hear its voice and catch the gleam of its tumbling
+current.</p>
+
+<p>They will all be there when you go&mdash;all the quaint nooks, all the delights
+of leaf, moss, ripple, and shade, of your early memories. And in the
+half-hour, <a name="Page_145" id="Page_145" />too,&mdash;less if you are quick-footed,&mdash;from your desk or shop in
+the great city.</p>
+
+<p>No, you never heard of it. I knew that before you said a word. You thought
+it was the dumping-ground of half the cast-off tinware of the earth; that
+only the shanty, the hen-coop, and the stable overhung its sluggish
+waters, and only the carpet shaker, the sod gatherer, and the tramp
+infested its banks.</p>
+
+<p>I tell you that in all my wanderings in search of the picturesque, nothing
+within a day's journey is half as charming. That its stretches of meadow,
+willow clumps, and tangled densities are as lovely, fresh, and enticing as
+can be found&mdash;yes, within a thousand miles of your door. That the rocks
+are encrusted with the thickest of moss and lichen, gray, green, black,
+and brilliant emerald. That the trees are superb, the solitude and rest
+complete. That it is finer, more subtle, more exquisite than its sister
+brooks in the denser forest, because that here and there it shows the
+trace of some human touch,&mdash;and nature is never truly picturesque without
+it,&mdash;the broken-down fence, the sagging bridge, and vine-covered roof.</p>
+
+<p>But you must go <i>now</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Now, before the grip of the great city <a name="Page_146" id="Page_146" />has been fastened upon it; before
+the axe of the &quot;dago&quot; clears out the wilderness of underbrush; before the
+landscape gardener, the sanitary engineer, and the contractor pounce upon
+it and strangle it; before the crimes of the cast-iron fountain, the
+varnished grapevine arbor, with seats to match, the bronze statues
+presented by admiring groups of citizens, the rambles, malls, and
+cement-lined caverns, are consummated; before the gravel walk confines
+your steps, and the granite curbing imprisons the flowers, as if they,
+too, would escape.</p>
+
+<p>Now, when the tree lies as it falls; when the violets bloom and are there
+for the picking; when the dogwood sprinkles the bare branches with white
+stars, and the scent of the laurel fills the air.</p>
+
+<p>Touch the button some day soon for an hour along the Bronx.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="ANOTHER_DOG" id="ANOTHER_DOG" /><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147" />ANOTHER DOG</h2>
+
+
+<p>Do not tell me dogs cannot talk. I know better. I saw it all myself. It
+was at Sterzing, that most picturesque of all the Tyrolean villages on the
+Italian slope of the Brenner, with its long, single street, zigzagged like
+a straggling path in the snow,&mdash;perhaps it was laid out in that way,&mdash;and
+its little open square, with shrine and rude stone fountain, surrounded by
+women in short skirts and hobnailed shoes, dipping their buckets. On both
+sides of this street ran queer arcades sheltering shops, their doorways
+piled with cheap stuffs, fruit, farm implements, and the like, and at the
+far end, it was almost the last house in the town, stood the old inn,
+where you breakfast. Such an old, old inn! with swinging sign framed by
+fantastic iron work, and decorated with overflows of foaming ale in green
+mugs, crossed clay pipes, and little round dabs of yellow-brown cakes.
+There was a great archway, too, wide and high, with enormous, barn-like
+doors fronting on <a name="Page_148" id="Page_148" />this straggling, zigzag, sabot-trodden street. Under
+this a cobble-stone pavement led to the door of the coffee-room and out to
+the stable beyond. These barn-like doors keep out the driving snows and
+the whirls of sleet and rain, and are slammed to behind horse, sleigh, and
+all, if not in the face, certainly in the very teeth of the winter gale,
+while the traveler disentangles his half-frozen legs at his leisure,
+almost within sight of the blazing fire of the coffee-room within.</p>
+
+<p>Under this great archway, then, against one of these doors, his big paws
+just inside the shadow line,&mdash;for it was not winter, but a brilliant
+summer morning, the grass all dusted with powdered diamonds, the sky a
+turquoise, the air a joy,&mdash;under this archway, I say, sat a big St.
+Bernard dog, squat on his haunches, his head well up, like a grenadier on
+guard. His eyes commanded the approaches down the road, up the road, and
+across the street; taking in the passing peddler with the tinware, and the
+girl with a basket strapped to her back, her fingers knitting for dear
+life, not to mention so unimportant an object as myself swinging down the
+road, my iron-shod alpenstock hammering the cobbles.</p>
+
+<p>He made no objection to my entering, <a name="Page_149" id="Page_149" />neither did he receive me with any
+show of welcome. There was no bounding forward, no wagging of the tail, no
+aimless walking around for a moment, and settling down in another spot;
+nor was there any sudden growl or forbidding look in the eye. None of
+these things occurred to him, for none of these things was part of his
+duty. The landlord would do the welcoming, the blue-shirted porter take my
+knapsack and show me the way to the coffee-room. His business was to sit
+still and guard that archway. Paying guests, and those known to the
+family,&mdash;yes! But stray mountain goats, chickens, inquisitive, pushing
+peddlers, pigs, and wandering dogs,&mdash;well, he would look out for these.</p>
+
+<p>While the cutlets and coffee were being fried and boiled, I dragged a
+chair across the road and tilted it back out of the sun against the wall
+of a house. I, too, commanded a view down past the blacksmith shop, where
+they were heating a huge iron tire to clap on the hind wheel of a
+diligence, and up the street as far as the little square where the women
+were still clattering about on the cobbles, their buckets on their
+shoulders. This is how I happened to be watching the dog.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150" />The more I looked at him, the more strongly did his personality impress
+me. The exceeding gravity of his demeanor! The dignified attitude! The
+quiet, silent reserve! The way he looked at you from under his eyebrows,
+not eagerly, nor furtively, but with a self-possessed, competent air,
+quite like a captain of a Cunarder scanning a horizon from the bridge, or
+a French gendarme, watching the shifting crowds from one of the little
+stone circles anchored out in the rush of the boulevards,&mdash;a look of
+authority backed by a sense of unlimited power. Then, too, there was such
+a dignified cut to his hairy chops as they drooped over his teeth beneath
+his black, stubby nose. His ears rose and fell easily, without undue haste
+or excitement when the sound of horses' hoofs put him on his guard, or a
+goat wandered too near. Yet one could see that he was not a meddlesome
+dog, nor a snarler, no running out and giving tongue at each passing
+object, not that kind of a dog at all! He was just a plain, substantial,
+well-mannered, dignified, self-respecting St. Bernard dog, who knew his
+place and kept it, who knew his duty and did it, and who would no more
+chase a cat than he would bite your legs in the dark. Put <a name="Page_151" id="Page_151" />a cap with a
+gold band on his head and he would really have made an ideal concierge.
+Even without the band, he concentrated in his person all the superiority,
+the repose, and exasperating reticence of that necessary concomitant of
+Continental hotel life.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly I noticed a more eager expression on his face. One ear was
+unfurled, like a flag, and almost run to the masthead; the head was turned
+quickly down the road. A sound of wheels was heard below the shop. His
+dogship straightened himself and stood on four legs, his tail wagging
+slowly.</p>
+
+<p>Another dog was coming.</p>
+
+<p>A great Danish hound, with white eyes, black-and-tan ears, and tail as
+long and smooth as a policeman's night-club;&mdash;one of those sleek and
+shining dogs with powerful chest and knotted legs, a little bowed in
+front, black lips, and dazzling, fang-like teeth. He was spattered with
+brown spots, and sported a single white foot. Altogether, he was a dog of
+quality, of ancestry, of a certain position in his own land,&mdash;one who had
+clearly followed his master's mountain wagon to-day as much for love of
+adventure as anything else. A dog of parts, too, who could perhaps, hunt
+the wild boar, or give chase to the agile deer. He <a name="Page_152" id="Page_152" />was certainly not an
+inn dog. He was rather a palace dog, a chateau, or a shooting-box dog,
+who, in his off moments, trotted behind hunting carts filled with guns,
+sportsmen in knee-breeches, or in front of landaus when my lady went
+an-airing.</p>
+
+<p>And with all this, and quite naturally, he was a dog of breeding, who,
+while he insisted on his own rights, respected those of others. I saw this
+before he had spoken ten words to the concierge,&mdash;the St. Bernard dog, I
+mean. For he did talk to him, and the conversation was just as plain to
+me, tilted back against the wall, out of the sun, waiting for my cutlets
+and coffee, as if I had been a dog myself, and understood each word of it.</p>
+
+<p>First, he walked up sideways, his tail wagging and straight out, like a
+patent towel-rack. Then he walked round the concierge, who followed his
+movements with becoming interest, wagging his own tail, straightening his
+forelegs, and sidling around him kindly, as befitted the stranger's rank
+and quality, but with a certain dog-independence of manner, preserving his
+own dignities while courteously passing the time of day, and intimating,
+by certain twists of his tail, that he felt quite sure his excellency
+<a name="Page_153" id="Page_153" />would like the air and scenery the farther he got up the pass,&mdash;all
+strange dogs did.</p>
+
+<p>During this interchange of canine civilities, the landlord was helping out
+the two men, the companions of the dog. One was round and pudgy, the other
+lank and scrawny. Both were in knickerbockers, with green hats decorated
+with cock feathers and edelweiss. The blue-shirted porter carried in the
+bags and alpenstocks, closing the coffee-room door behind them.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the strange dog, who had been beguiled by the courteous manner of
+the concierge, realized that his master had disappeared. The man had been
+hungry, no doubt, and half blinded by the glare of the sun. After the
+manner of his kind, he had dived into this shelter without a word to the
+dumb beast who had tramped behind his wheels, swallowing the dust his
+horses kicked up.</p>
+
+<p>When the strange dog realized this,&mdash;I saw the instant the idea entered
+his mind, as I caught the sudden toss of the head,&mdash;he glanced quickly
+about with that uneasy, anxious look that comes into the face of a dog
+when he discovers that he is adrift in a strange place without his master.
+What other face is so <a name="Page_154" id="Page_154" />utterly miserable, and what eyes so pleading, the
+tears just under the lids, as the lost dog's?</p>
+
+<p>Then it was beautiful to see the St. Bernard. With a sudden twist of the
+head he reassured the strange dog,&mdash;telling him, as plainly as could be,
+not to worry, the gentlemen were only inside, and would be out after
+breakfast. There was no mistaking what he said. It was done with a
+peculiar curving of the neck, a reassuring wag of the tail, a glance
+toward the coffee-room, and a few frolicsome, kittenish jumps, these last
+plainly indicating that as for himself the occasion was one of great
+hilarity, with absolutely no cause in it for anxiety. Then, if you could
+have seen that anxious look fade away from the face of the strange dog,
+the responsive, reciprocal wag of the night-club of a tail. If you could
+have caught the sudden peace that came into his eyes, and have seen him as
+he followed the concierge to the doorway, dropping his ears, and throwing
+himself beside him, looking up into his face, his tongue out, panting
+after the habit of his race, the white saliva dropping upon his paws.</p>
+
+<p>Then followed a long talk, conducted in side glances, and punctuated with
+the quiet laughs of more slappings of <a name="Page_155" id="Page_155" />tails on the cobbles, as the
+concierge listened to the adventures of the stranger, or matched them with
+funny experiences of his own.</p>
+
+<p>Here a whistle from the coffee-room window startled them. Even so rude a
+being as a man is sometimes mindful of his dog. In an instant both
+concierge and stranger were on their feet, the concierge ready for
+whatever would turn up, the stranger trying to locate the sound and his
+master. Another whistle, and he was off, bounding down the road, looking
+wistfully at the windows, and rushing back bewildered. Suddenly it came to
+him that the short cut to his master lay through the archway.</p>
+
+<p>Just here there was a change in the manner of the concierge. It was not
+gruff, nor savage, nor severe,&mdash;it was only firm and decided. With his
+tail still wagging, showing his kindness and willingness to oblige, but
+with spine rigid and hair bristling, he explained clearly and succinctly
+to that strange dog how absolutely impossible it would be for him to
+permit his crossing the archway. Up went the spine of the stranger, and
+out went his tail like a bar of steel, the feet braced, and the whole body
+taut as standing rigging. But the concierge kept on wagging his tail,
+<a name="Page_156" id="Page_156" />though his hair still bristled,&mdash;saying as plainly as he could:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My dear sir, do not blame me. I assure you that nothing in the world
+would give me more pleasure than to throw the whole house open to you; but
+consider for a moment. My master puts me here to see that nobody enters
+the inn but those whom he wishes to see, and that all other live-stock,
+especially dogs, shall on no account be admitted.&quot; (This with head bent on
+one side and neck arched.) &quot;Now, while I have the most distinguished
+consideration for your dogship&quot; (tail wagging violently), &quot;and would
+gladly oblige you, you must see that my honor is at stake&quot; (spine more
+rigid), &quot;and I feel assured that under the circumstances you will not
+press a request (low growl) which you must know would be impossible for me
+to grant.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>And the strange dog, gentleman as he was, expressed himself as entirely
+satisfied with the very free and generous explanation. With tail wagging
+more violently than ever, he assured the concierge that he understood his
+position exactly. Then wheeling suddenly, he bounded down the road. Though
+convinced, he was still anxious.</p>
+
+<p>Then the concierge gravely settled <a name="Page_157" id="Page_157" />himself once more on his haunches in
+his customary place, his eyes commanding the view up and down and across
+the road, where I sat still tilted back in my chair waiting for my
+cutlets, his whole body at rest, his face expressive of that quiet content
+which comes from a sense of duties performed and honor untarnished.</p>
+
+<p>But the stranger had duties, too; he must answer the whistle, and find his
+master. His search down the road being fruitless, he rushed back to the
+concierge, looking up into his face, his eyes restless and anxious.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If it were inconsistent with his honor to permit him to cross the
+threshold, was there any other way he could get into the coffee-room?&quot;
+This last with a low whine of uneasiness, and a toss of head.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, certainly,&quot; jumping to his feet, &quot;why had he not mentioned it
+before? It would give him very great pleasure to show him the way to the
+side entrance.&quot; And the St. Bernard, everything wagging now, walked with
+the stranger to the corner, stopping stock still to point with his nose to
+the closed door.</p>
+
+<p>Then the stranger bounded down with a scurry and plunge, nervously edging
+up to the door, wagging his tail, and <a name="Page_158" id="Page_158" />with a low, anxious whine springing
+one side and another, his paws now on the sill, his nose at the crack,
+until the door was finally opened, and he dashed inside.</p>
+
+<p>What happened in the coffee-room I do not know, for I could not see. I am
+willing, however, to wager that a dog of his loyalty, dignity, and sense
+of duty did just what a dog of quality would do. No awkward springing at
+his master's chest with his dusty paws leaving marks on his vest front; no
+rushing around chairs and tables in mad joy at being let in, alarming
+waitresses and children. Only a low whine and gurgle of delight, a rubbing
+of his cold nose against his master's hand, a low, earnest look up into
+his face, so frank, so trustful, a look that carried no reproach for being
+shut out, and only gratitude for being let in.</p>
+
+<p>A moment more, and he was outside again, head in air, looking for his
+friend. Then a dash, and he was around by the archway, licking the
+concierge in the face, biting his neck, rubbing his nose under his
+forelegs, saying over and over again how deeply he thanked him,&mdash;how glad
+and proud he was of his acquaintance, and how delighted he would be if he
+came down to Vienna, or Milan, or wherever he did come from, so that he
+<a name="Page_159" id="Page_159" />might return his courtesies in some way, and make his stay pleasant.</p>
+
+<p>Just here the landlord called out that the cutlets and coffee were ready,
+and, man-like, I went in to breakfast.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="BROCKWAYS_HULK" id="BROCKWAYS_HULK" /><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160" />BROCKWAY'S HULK</h2>
+
+
+<p>I first saw Brockway's towards the close of a cold October day. Since
+early morning I had been tramping and sketching about the northern suburbs
+of New York, and it was late in the afternoon when I reached the edge of
+that high ground overlooking the two rivers. I could see through an
+opening in the woods the outline of the great aqueduct,&mdash;a huge stone
+centipede stepping across on its sturdy legs; the broad Hudson, with its
+sheer walls of rock, and the busy Harlem crowded with boats and braced
+with bridges. A raw wind was blowing, and a gray mist blurred the edges of
+the Palisades where they cut against the sky.</p>
+
+<p>As the darkness fell the wind increased, and scattered drops of rain,
+piloting the coming storm, warned me to seek a shelter. Shouldering my
+trap and hurrying forward, I descended the hill, followed the road to the
+East River, and, finding no boat, walked along the shore hoping to hail a
+fisherman or some <a name="Page_161" id="Page_161" />belated oarsman, and reach the station opposite.</p>
+
+<p>My search led me around a secluded cove edged with white sand and yellow
+marsh grass, ending in a low, jutting point. Here I came upon a curious
+sort of dwelling,&mdash;half house, half boat. It might have passed for an
+abandoned barge, or wharf boat, too rotten to float and too worthless to
+break up,&mdash;the relic and record of some by-gone tide of phenomenal height.
+When I approached nearer it proved to be an old-fashioned canal-boat, sunk
+to the water line in the grass, its deck covered by a low-hipped roof.
+Midway its length was cut a small door, opening upon a short staging or
+portico which supported one end of a narrow, rambling bridge leading to
+the shore. This bridge was built of driftwood propped up on shad poles.
+Over the door itself flapped a scrap of a tattered sail which served as an
+awning. Some pots of belated flowers bloomed on the sills of the
+ill-shaped windows, and a wind-beaten vine, rooted in a fish basket,
+crowded into the door, as if to escape the coming winter. Nothing could
+have been more dilapidated or more picturesque.</p>
+
+<p>The only outward sign of life about the dwelling was a curl of blue
+smoke.<a name="Page_162" id="Page_162" /> Without this signal of good cheer it had a menacing look, as it
+lay in its bed of mud glaring at me from under its eaves of eyebrows,
+shading eyes of windows a-glint in the fading light.</p>
+
+<p>I crossed the small beach strewn with oyster shells, ascended the
+tottering bridge, and knocked. The door was opened by a gray-bearded old
+man in a rough jacket. He was bare-footed, his trousers rolled up above
+his ankles, like a boy's.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Can you help me across the river?&quot; I asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, perhaps I can. Come into the Hulk,&quot; he replied, holding the door
+against the gusts of wind.</p>
+
+<p>The room was small and low, with doors leading into two others. In its
+centre, before a square stove, stood a young child cooking the evening
+meal. I saw no other inmates.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are wet,&quot; said the old man, laying his hand on my shoulder, feeling
+me over carefully; &quot;come nearer the stove.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The child brought a chair. As I dropped into it I caught his eye fixed
+upon me intently.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What are you?&quot; he said abruptly, noting my glance,&mdash;&quot;a peddler.&quot; He said
+this standing over me,&mdash;his arms akimbo, his bare feet spread apart.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<a name="Page_163" id="Page_163" />No, a painter,&quot; I answered smiling; my trap had evidently misled him.</p>
+
+<p>He mused a little, rubbing his beard with his thumb and forefinger; then,
+making a mental inventory of my exterior, beginning with my slouch hat and
+taking in each article down to my tramping shoes, he said slowly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And poor?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, we all are.&quot; And I laughed; his manner made me a little
+uncomfortable.</p>
+
+<p>My reply, however, seemed to reassure him. His features relaxed and a more
+kindly expression overspread his countenance.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And now, what are <i>you</i>?&quot; I asked, offering him a cigarette as I spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Me? Nothing,&quot; he replied curtly, refusing it with a wave of his hand.
+&quot;Only Brockway,&mdash;just Brockway,&mdash;that's all,&mdash;just Brockway.&quot; He kept
+repeating this in an abstracted way, as if the remark was addressed to
+himself, the words dying in his throat.</p>
+
+<p>Then he moved to the door, took down an oilskin from a peg, and saying
+that he would get the boat ready, went out into the night, shutting the
+door behind him, his bare feet flapping like wet fish as he walked.</p>
+
+<p>I was not sorry I was going away so <a name="Page_164" id="Page_164" />soon. The man and the place seemed
+uncanny.</p>
+
+<p>I roused myself and crossed the room, attracted by the contents of a
+cupboard filled with cheap pottery and some bits of fine old English
+lustre. Then I examined the furniture of the curious interior,&mdash;the
+high-backed chairs, mahogany table,&mdash;one leg replaced with pine,&mdash;the hair
+sofa and tall clock in the corner by the door. They were all old and once
+costly, and all of a pattern of by-gone days. Everything was scrupulously
+clean, even to the strip of unbleached muslin hung at the small windows.</p>
+
+<p>The door blew in with a whirl of wind, and Brockway entered shaking the
+wet from his sou'wester.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You must wait,&quot; he said. &quot;Dan the brakeman has taken my boat to the
+Railroad Dock. He will return in an hour. If you are hungry, you can sup
+with us. Emily, set a place for the painter.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>His manner was more frank. He seemed less uncanny too. Perhaps he had been
+in some special ill humor when I entered. Perhaps, too, he had been
+suspicious of me; I had not thought of that before.</p>
+
+<p>The child spread the cloth and busied <a name="Page_165" id="Page_165" />herself with the dishes and plates.
+She was about twelve years old, slightly built and neatly dressed. Her
+eyes were singularly large and expressive. The light brown hair about her
+shoulders held a tinge of gold when the lamplight shone upon it.</p>
+
+<p>Despite the evident poverty of the interior, a certain air of refinement
+pervaded everything. Even the old man's bare feet did not detract from it.
+These, by the way, he never referred to; it was evidently a habit with
+him. I felt this refinement not only in the relics of what seemed to
+denote better days, but in the arrangement of the table, the placing of
+the tea tray and the providing of a separate pot for the hot water. Their
+voices, too, were low, characteristic of people who live alone and in
+peace,&mdash;especially the old man's.</p>
+
+<p>Brockway resumed his seat and continued talking, asking about the city as
+if it were a thousand miles away instead of being almost at his door; of
+the artists,&mdash;their mode of life, their successes, etc. As he talked his
+eye brightened and his manner became more gentle. It was only his outside
+that seemed to belong to an old boatman, roughened by the open air, with
+hands hard and brown. Yet these were <a name="Page_166" id="Page_166" />well shaped, with tapering fingers.
+One bore a gold ring curiously marked and worn to a thread.</p>
+
+<p>I asked about the fishing, hoping the subject would lead him to talk of
+his own life, and so solve the doubt in my mind as to his class and
+antecedents. His replies showed his thorough knowledge of his trade. He
+deplored the scarcity of bass, now that the steamboats and factories
+fouled the river; the decrease of the oysters, of which he had several
+beds, all being injured by the same cause. Then he broke out against the
+encroachments of the real estate pirates, as he called them, staking out
+lots behind the Hulk and destroying his privacy.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you own the marsh?&quot; I asked carelessly. I saw instantly in his face
+the change working in his mind. He looked at me searchingly, almost
+fiercely, and said, weighing each word,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not one foot, young man,&mdash;do you hear?&mdash;not one foot! Own nothing but
+what you see. But this hulk is mine,&mdash;mine from the mud to the ridgepole,
+with every rotten timber in it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The outburst was so sudden that I rose from my chair. For a moment he
+seemed consumed with an inward rage,&mdash;not<a name="Page_167" id="Page_167" /> directed to me in any
+way,&mdash;more as if the memory of some past wrong had angered him.</p>
+
+<p>Here the child, with an anxious face, rose quickly from her seat by the
+window, and laid her hand on his.</p>
+
+<p>The old man looked into her face for a moment, and then, as if her touch
+had softened him, rose courteously, took her arm, seated her at the table
+and then me. In a moment more he had regained his gentle manner.</p>
+
+<p>The meal was a frugal one, broiled fish and potatoes, a loaf of bread, and
+stewed apples served in a cut glass dish with broken handles.</p>
+
+<p>The meal over, the girl replaced the cotton cloth with a red one,
+retrimmed the lamps, and disappeared into an adjoining room, carrying the
+dishes. The old man lighted his pipe and seated himself in a large chair,
+smoking on in silence. I opened my portfolio and began retouching the
+sketches of the morning.</p>
+
+<p>Outside the weather grew more boisterous. The wind increased; the rain
+thrashed against the small windows, the leakage dropping on the floor like
+the slow ticking of a clock.</p>
+
+<p>As the evening wore on I began to be uneasy, speculating as to the
+possi<a name="Page_168" id="Page_168" />bility of my reaching home that night. To be entirely frank, I did
+not altogether like my surroundings or my host. One moment he was like a
+child; the next there came into his face an expression of uncontrollable
+hate that sent a shiver through me. But for the clear, steady gaze of his
+eye I should have doubted his sanity.</p>
+
+<p>There was no sign of the return of the boat. The old man became restless
+himself. He said nothing, but every now and then he would peer through the
+window and raise his hand to his ear as if listening. It was evident that
+he did not want me over night if he could help it. This partly reassured
+me.</p>
+
+<p>Finally, he laid down his pipe, put on his oilskin again, lighted a
+lantern, and pulled the door behind him, the wind struggling to force an
+entrance.</p>
+
+<p>In a few minutes he returned with lantern out, the rain glistening on his
+white, bushy beard. Without a word, he hung up his dripping garments,
+placed the lantern on the floor, and called the child into the adjoining
+room. When he came back, he laid his hand on my shoulder and said, with a
+tone in his voice that was unmistakable in its sincerity:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am sorry, friend, but the boat cannot get back to-night. You seem like
+<a name="Page_169" id="Page_169" />a decent man, and I believe you are. I knew some of your kind once, and I
+always liked them. You must stay where you are to-night, and have Emily's
+room.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I thanked him, but hoped the weather would clear. As to taking Emily's
+room, this I could not do. I would not, of course, disturb the child. If
+there was no chance of my getting away, I said, I preferred taking the
+floor, with my trap for a pillow. But he would not hear of it. He was not
+accustomed, he said, to have people stay with him, especially of late
+years; but when they did, they could not sleep on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>The child's room proved to be the old cabin of the canal-boat, with the
+three steps leading down from the decks. The little slanting windows were
+still there, and so were the bunks,&mdash;or, rather, the lower one. The upper
+one had been altered into a sort of closet. On one side hung a row of
+shelves on which were such small knickknacks as a child always loves,&mdash;a
+Christmas card or two, some books, a pin-cushion backed with shells, a
+doll's bonnet, besides some trinkets and strings of beads. Next to this
+ran a row of hooks covered by a curtain of cheap calico, half concealing
+her few simple dresses, with her muddy little <a name="Page_170" id="Page_170" />shoes and frayed straw hat
+in the farther corner.</p>
+
+<p>Above the head-board hung the likeness of a woman with large eyes, her
+hair pushed back from a wide, high forehead. It was framed in an
+old-fashioned black frame with a gold mat. Not a beautiful face, but so
+interesting and so expressive that I looked at it half a dozen times
+before I could return it to its place.</p>
+
+<p>Everything was as clean and fresh as care could make it. When I dropped to
+sleep, the tide was swashing the floor beneath me, the rain still sousing
+and drenching the little windows and the roof.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The following week, one crisp, fresh morning, I was again at the Hulk. My
+experience the night of the storm had given me more confidence in
+Brockway, although the mystery of his life was still impenetrable. As I
+rounded the point, the old man and little Emily were just pushing off in
+the boat. He was on his way to his oyster beds a short distance off, his
+grappling-tongs and basket beside him. In his quick, almost gruff way, he
+welcomed me heartily and insisted on my staying to dinner. He would be
+back in an hour with a mess of oysters to help out. &quot;Somebody has been
+raking my <a name="Page_171" id="Page_171" />beds and I must look after them,&quot; he called to me as he rowed
+away.</p>
+
+<p>I drew my own boat well up on the gravel, out of reach of the making tide,
+and put my easel close to the water's edge. I wanted to paint the Hulk and
+the river with the bluffs beyond. Before I had blocked in my sky, I caught
+sight of Brockway rowing hurriedly back, followed by a shell holding half
+a dozen oarsmen from one of the boating clubs down the river. The crew
+were out for a spin in their striped shirts and caps; the coxswain was
+calling to him, but he made no reply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Say, Mr. Brockway! will you please fill our water-keg? We have come off
+from the boat-house without a drop,&quot; I heard one call out.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No; not to save your lives, I wouldn't!&quot; he shouted back, his boat
+striking the beach. Springing out and catching Emily by the shoulder,
+pushing her before him,&mdash;&quot;Go into the Hulk, child.&quot; Then, lowering his
+voice to me, &quot;They are all alike, d&mdash;- them, all alike. Just such a gang!
+I know 'em, I know 'em. Get you a drink? I'll see you dead first, d&mdash;-
+you. See you dead first; do you hear?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>His face was livid, his eyes blazing with anger. The crew turned and shot
+<a name="Page_172" id="Page_172" />up the river, grumbling as they went. Brockway unloaded his boat,
+clutching the tongs as if they were weapons; then, tying the painter to a
+stake, sat down and watched me at work. Soon Emily crept back and slipped
+one hand around her grandfather's neck.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you think you can ever do that, little Frowsy-head?&quot; he said, pointing
+to my sketch. I looked up. His face was as serene and sunny as that of the
+child beside him.</p>
+
+<p>Gradually I came to know these people better. I never could tell why, our
+tastes being so dissimilar. I fancied, sometimes, from a remark the old
+man once made, that he had perhaps known some one who had been a painter,
+and that I reminded him of his friend, and on that account he trusted me;
+for I often detected him examining my brushes, spreading the bristles on
+his palm, or holding them to the light with a critical air. I could see,
+too, that their touch was not new to him.</p>
+
+<p>As for me, the picturesqueness of the Hulk, the simple mode of life of the
+inmates, their innate refinement, the unselfish devotion of little Emily
+to the old man, the conflicting elements in his character, his
+fierceness&mdash;almost brutality&mdash;at times, his extreme gentleness at <a name="Page_173" id="Page_173" />others,
+his rough treatment of every stranger who attempted to land on his shore,
+his tenderness over the child, all combined to pique my curiosity to know
+something of his earlier life.</p>
+
+<p>Moreover, I constantly saw new beauties in the old Hulk. It always seemed
+to adapt itself to the changing moods of the weather,&mdash;being grave or gay
+as the skies lowered or smiled. In the dull November days, when the clouds
+drifted in straight lines of slaty gray, it assumed a weird, forbidding
+look. When the wind blew a gale from the northeast, and the back water of
+the river overflowed the marsh,&mdash;submerging the withered grass and
+breaking high upon the foot-bridge,&mdash;it seemed for all the world like the
+original tenement of old Noah himself, derelict ever since his
+disembarkation, and stranded here after centuries of buffetings. On other
+days it had a sullen air, settling back in its bed of mud as if tired out
+with all these miseries, glaring at you with its one eye of a window
+aflame with the setting sun.</p>
+
+<p>As the autumn lost itself in the winter, I continued my excursions to the
+Hulk, sketching in the neighborhood, gathering nuts with little Emily, or
+helping the old man with his nets.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174" />On one of these days a woman, plainly but neatly dressed, met me at the
+edge of the wood, inquired if I had seen a child pass my way, and quickly
+disappeared in the bushes. I noticed her anxious face and the pathos of
+her eyes when I answered. Then the incident passed out of my mind. A few
+days later I saw her again, sitting on a pile of stones as if waiting for
+some one. Little Emily had seen her too, and stopped to talk to her. I
+could follow their movements over my easel. As soon as the child caught my
+eye she started up and ran towards the Hulk, the woman darting again into
+the bushes. When I questioned Emily about it she hesitated, and said it
+was a poor woman who had lost her little girl and who was very sad.</p>
+
+<p>Brockway himself became more and more a mystery. I sought every
+opportunity to coax from him something of his earlier life, but he never
+referred to it but once, and then in a way that left the subject more
+impenetrable than ever.</p>
+
+<p>I was speaking of a recent trip abroad, when he turned abruptly and
+said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is the Milo still in that little room in the Louvre?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; I answered, surprised.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am glad of that. Against that red <a name="Page_175" id="Page_175" />curtain she is the most beautiful
+thing I know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;When did you see the Venus?&quot; I asked, as quietly as my astonishment would
+allow.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, some years ago, when I was abroad.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He was bending over and putting some new teeth in his oyster tongs at the
+time, riveting them on a flat-iron with a small hammer.</p>
+
+<p>I agreed with him and asked carelessly what year that was and what he was
+doing in Paris, but he affected not to hear me and went on with his
+hammering, remarking that the oysters were running so small that some
+slipped through his tongs and he was getting too old to rake for them
+twice. It was only a glimpse of some part of his past, but it was all I
+could get. He never referred to it again.</p>
+
+<p>December of that year was unusually severe. The snow fell early and the
+river was closed before Christmas. This shut off all communication with
+the Brockways except by the roundabout way I had first followed, over the
+hills from the west. So my weekly tramps ceased.</p>
+
+<p>Late in the following February I heard, through Dan the brakeman, that the
+old man was greatly broken and had not been <a name="Page_176" id="Page_176" />out of the Hulk for weeks. I
+started at once to see him. The ice was adrift and running with the tide,
+and the passage across was made doubly difficult by the floating cakes
+shelved one upon the other. When I reached the Hulk, the only sign of life
+was the thin curl of smoke from the rusty pipe. Even the snow of the night
+before lay unbroken on the bridge, showing that no foot had crossed it
+that morning. I knocked, and Emily opened the door.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, it's the painter, grandpa! We thought it might be the doctor.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He was sitting in an armchair by the fire, wrapped in a blanket. Holding
+out his hand, he motioned to a chair and said feebly:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How did you hear?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The brakeman told me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, Dan knows. He comes over Sundays.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He was greatly changed,&mdash;his skin drawn and shrunken,&mdash;his grizzled beard,
+once so great a contrast to his ruddy skin, only added to the pallor of
+his face. He had had a slight &quot;stroke,&quot; he thought. It had passed off, but
+left him very weak.</p>
+
+<p>I sat down and, to change the current of his thoughts, told him of the
+river outside, and the shelving ice, of my life <a name="Page_177" id="Page_177" />since I had seen him, and
+whatever I thought would interest him. He made no reply, except in
+monosyllables, his head buried in his hands. Soon the afternoon light
+faded, and I rose to go. Then he roused himself, threw the blanket from
+his shoulders and said in something of his old voice:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Don't leave me. Do you hear? Don't leave me!&quot; this was with an
+authoritative gesture. Then, his voice faltering and with almost a tender
+tone, &quot;Please help me through this. My strength is almost gone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Later, when the night closed in, he called Emily to him, pushed her hair
+back and, kissing her forehead, said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now go to bed, little Frowsy-head. The painter will stay with me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I filled his pipe, threw some dry driftwood in the stove, and drew my
+chair nearer. He tried to smoke for a moment, but laid his pipe down. For
+some minutes he kept his eyes on the crackling wood; then, reaching his
+hand out, laid it on my arm and said slowly:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If it were not for the child, I would be glad that the end was near.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Has she no one to care for her?&quot; I asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Only her mother. When I am gone, she will come.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<a name="Page_178" id="Page_178" />Her mother? Why, Brockway! I did not know Emily's mother was alive. Why
+not send for her now,&quot; I said, looking into his shrunken face. &quot;You need a
+woman's care at once.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>His grasp tightened on my arm as he half rose from the chair, his eyes
+blazing as I had seen them that morning when he cursed the boat's crew.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But not that woman! Never, while I live!&quot; and he bent down his eyes on
+mine. &quot;Look at me. Men sometimes cut you to the quick, and now and then a
+woman can leave a scar that never heals; but your own child,&mdash;do you
+hear?&mdash;your little girl, the only one you ever had, the one you laid store
+by and loved and dreamed dreams of,&mdash;<i>she can tear your heart out</i>. That's
+what Emily's mother did for me. Oh, a fine gentleman, with his yachts, and
+boats, and horses,&mdash;a fine young aristocrat! He was a thief, I tell you, a
+blackguard, a beast, to steal my girl. Damn him! Damn him! Damn him!&quot; and
+he fell back in his chair exhausted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Where is she now?&quot; I asked cautiously, trying to change his thoughts. I
+was afraid of the result if the outburst continued.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;God knows! Somewhere in the city. She comes here every now and then,&quot; in
+<a name="Page_179" id="Page_179" />a weaker voice. &quot;Emily meets her and they go off together when I am out
+raking my beds. Not long ago I met her outside on the foot-bridge; she did
+not look up; her hair is gray now, and her face is thin and old, and so
+sad,&mdash;not as it once was. God forgive me,&mdash;not as it once was!&quot; He leaned
+forward, his face buried in his hands.</p>
+
+<p>Then he staggered to his feet, took the lamp from the table, and brought
+me the picture I had seen in Emily's room the night of the storm.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You can see what she was like. It was taken the year before his death and
+came with Emily's clothes. She found it in her box.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I held it to the light. The large, dreamy eyes seemed even more pleading
+than when I first had seen the picture; and the smooth hair pushed back
+from the high forehead, I now saw, marked all the more clearly the lines
+of anxious care which were then beginning to creep over the sweet young
+face. It seemed to speak to me in an earnest, pleading way, as if for
+help.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She is your daughter, Brockway, don't forget that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He made no reply. After a pause, I went on, &quot;And a girl's heart is not her
+own. Was it all her fault?&quot;</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180" />He pushed his chair back and stood erect, one hand raised above the
+other, clutching the blanket around his throat, the end trailing on the
+floor. By the flickering light of the dying fire he looked like some gaunt
+spectre towering above me, the blackness of the shadows only intensifying
+the whiteness of his face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Go on, go on. I know what you would say. You would have me wipe out the
+past and forget. Forget the home she ruined and the dead mother's heart
+she broke. Forget the weary months abroad, the tramping of London's
+streets looking into every woman's face, afraid it was she. Forget these
+years of exile and poverty, living here in this hulk like a dog, my very
+name unknown. When I am dead, they will say I have been cruel to her. God
+knows, perhaps I have; listen!&quot; Then, glancing cautiously towards Emily's
+room and lowering his voice, he stooped down, his white sunken face close
+to mine, his eyes burning, gazed long and steadily into my face as if
+reading my very thoughts, and then, gathering himself up, said slowly:
+&quot;No, no. I will not Let it all be buried with me. I cannot,&mdash;cannot!&quot; and
+sank into his chair.</p>
+
+<p>After a while he raised his head, picked up the portrait from the table
+<a name="Page_181" id="Page_181" />and looked into its eyes eagerly, holding it in both hands; and muttering
+to himself, crossed the room, and threw himself on his bed. I stirred the
+fire, wrapped my coat about me and fell asleep on the lounge. Later, I
+awoke and crept into his room. He was lying on his back, the picture still
+clasped in his hands.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>A week later, I reached the landing opposite the Hulk. There I met Dan's
+wife. Dan himself had been away for several days. She told me that two
+nights before she had been roused by a woman who had come up on the night
+express and wanted to be rowed over to the Hulk at once. She was in great
+distress, and did not mind the danger. Dan was against taking her, the ice
+being heavy and the night dark; but she begged so hard he had not the
+heart to refuse her. She seemed to be expected, for Emily was waiting with
+a lantern on the bridge and put her arms around her and led her into the
+Hulk.</p>
+
+<p>Dan being away, I found another boatman, and we pushed out into the river.
+I stood up in the boat and looked over the waste of ice and snow. Under
+the leaden sky lay the lifeless Hulk. About the entrance and on the bridge
+were black dots of figures, standing out in <a name="Page_182" id="Page_182" />clear relief like crows on
+the unbroken snow.</p>
+
+<p>As I drew nearer, the dots increased in size and fell into line, the
+procession slowly creeping along the tottering bridge, crunching the snow
+under foot. Then I made out little Emily and a neatly-dressed woman
+heavily veiled.</p>
+
+<p>When the shore was reached, I joined some fishermen who stood about on the
+beach, uncovering their heads as the coffin passed. An open wagon waited
+near the propped-up foot-bridge of the Hulk, the horse covered with a
+black blanket. Two men, carrying the body, crouched down and pushed the
+box into the wagon. The blanket was then taken from the horse and wrapped
+over the pine casket.</p>
+
+<p>The woman drew nearer and tenderly smoothed its folds. Then she turned,
+lifted her veil, and in a low voice thanked the few bystanders for their
+kindness.</p>
+
+<p>It was the same face I had seen with Emily in the woods,&mdash;the same that
+lay upon his heart the last night I saw him alive.</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Gentleman Vagabond and Some Others
+by F. Hopkinson Smith
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Gentleman Vagabond and Some Others
+by F. Hopkinson Smith
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Gentleman Vagabond and Some Others
+
+Author: F. Hopkinson Smith
+
+Release Date: February 7, 2005 [EBook #14967]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GENTLEMAN VAGABOND ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Melissa Er-Raqabi, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A GENTLEMAN VAGABOND
+AND SOME OTHERS
+
+BY
+
+F. HOPKINSON SMITH
+
+
+
+NEW YORK
+GROSSET & DUNLAP
+PUBLISHERS
+
+
+
+
+1895
+
+
+
+
+_INTRODUCTORY NOTE_
+
+
+_There are gentlemen vagabonds and vagabond gentlemen. Here and there one
+finds a vagabond pure and simple, and once in a lifetime one meets a
+gentleman simple and pure._
+
+_Without premeditated intent or mental bias, I have unconsciously to
+myself selected some one of these several types,--entangling them in the
+threads of the stories between these covers._
+
+_Each of my readers can group them to suit his own experience._
+
+F.H.S. NEW YORK, 150 E. 34TH ST.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                   PAGE
+A GENTLEMAN VAGABOND                  1
+A KNIGHT OF THE LEGION OF HONOR      36
+JOHN SANDERS, LABORER                67
+BAeADER                               82
+THE LADY OF LUCERNE                 102
+JONATHAN                            126
+ALONG THE BRONX                     141
+ANOTHER DOG                         147
+BROCKWAY'S HULK                     160
+
+
+
+
+A GENTLEMAN VAGABOND
+
+I
+
+I found the major standing in front of Delmonico's, interviewing a large,
+bare-headed personage in brown cloth spotted with brass buttons. The major
+was in search of his very particular friend, Mr. John Hardy of Madison
+Square, and the personage in brown and brass was rather languidly
+indicating, by a limp and indecisive forefinger, a route through a section
+of the city which, correctly followed, would have landed the major in the
+East River.
+
+I knew him by the peculiar slant of his slouch hat, the rosy glow of his
+face, and the way in which his trousers clung to the curves of his
+well-developed legs, and ended in a sprawl that half covered his shoes. I
+recognized, too, a carpet-bag, a ninety-nine-cent affair, an "occasion,"
+with galvanized iron clasps and paper-leather sides,--the kind opened with
+your thumb.
+
+The major--or, to be more definite, Major Tom Slocomb of Pocomoke--was
+from one of the lower counties of the Chesapeake. He was supposed to own,
+as a gift from his dead wife, all that remained unmortgaged of a vast
+colonial estate on Crab Island in the bay, consisting of several thousand
+acres of land and water,--mostly water,--a manor house, once painted
+white, and a number of outbuildings in various stages of dilapidation and
+decay.
+
+In his early penniless life he had migrated from his more northern native
+State, settled in the county, and, shortly after his arrival, had married
+the relict of the late lamented Major John Talbot of Pocomoke. This had
+been greatly to the surprise of many eminent Pocomokians, who boasted of
+the purity and antiquity of the Talbot blood, and who could not look on in
+silence, and see it degraded and diluted by an alliance with a "harf
+strainer or worse." As one possible Talbot heir put it, "a picayune,
+low-down corncracker, suh, without blood or breedin'."
+
+The objections were well taken. So far as the ancestry of the Slocomb
+family was concerned, it was a trifle indefinite. It really could not be
+traced back farther than the day of the major's arrival at Pocomoke,
+notwithstanding the major's several claims that his ancestors came over
+in the Mayflower, that his grandfather fought with General Washington, and
+that his own early life had been spent on the James River. These
+statements, to thoughtful Pocomokians, seemed so conflicting and
+improbable, that his neighbors and acquaintances ascribed them either to
+that total disregard for salient facts which characterized the major's
+speech, or to the vagaries of that rich and vivid imagination which had
+made his conquest of the widow so easy and complete.
+
+Gradually, however, through the influence of his wife, and because of his
+own unruffled good-humor, the antipathy had worn away. As years sped on,
+no one, except the proudest and loftiest Pocomokian, would have cared to
+trace the Slocomb blood farther back than its graft upon the Talbot tree.
+Neither would the major. In fact, the brief honeymoon of five years left
+so profound an impression upon his after life, that, to use his own words,
+his birth and marriage had occurred at the identical moment,--he had never
+lived until then.
+
+There was no question in the minds of his neighbors as to whether the
+major maintained his new social position on Crab Island with more than
+ordinary liberality. Like all new vigorous grafts on an old stock, he not
+only blossomed out with extraordinary richness, but sucked the sap of the
+primeval family tree quite dry in the process. In fact, it was universally
+admitted that could the constant drain of his hospitality have been
+brought clearly to the attention of the original proprietor of the estate,
+its draft-power would have raised that distinguished military gentleman
+out of his grave. "My dear friends," Major Slocomb would say, when, after
+his wife's death, some new extravagance was commented upon, "I felt I owed
+the additional slight expenditure to the memory of that queen among women,
+suh--Major Talbot's widow."
+
+He had espoused, too, with all the ardor of the new settler, the several
+articles of political faith of his neighbors,--loyalty to the State,
+belief in the justice and humanity of slavery and the omnipotent rights of
+man,--white, of course,--and he had, strange to say, fallen into the
+peculiar pronunciation of his Southern friends, dropping his final _g_'s,
+and slurring his _r_'s, thus acquiring that soft cadence of speech which
+makes their dialect so delicious.
+
+As to his title of "Major," no one in or out of the county could tell
+where it originated. He had belonged to no company of militia, neither
+had he won his laurels on either side during the war; nor yet had the
+shifting politics of his State ever honored him with a staff appointment
+of like grade. When pressed, he would tell you confidentially that he had
+really inherited the title from his wife, whose first husband, as was well
+known, had earned and borne that military distinction; adding tenderly,
+that she had been so long accustomed to the honor that he had continued it
+after her death simply out of respect to her memory.
+
+But the major was still interviewing Delmonico's flunky, oblivious of
+everything but the purpose in view, when I touched his shoulder, and
+extended my hand.
+
+"God bless me! Not you? Well, by gravy! Here, now, colonel, you can tell
+me where Jack Hardy lives. I've been for half an hour walkin' round this
+garden lookin' for him. I lost the letter with the number in it, so I came
+over here to Delmonico's--Jack dines here often, I know, 'cause he told me
+so. I was at his quarters once myself, but 't was in the night. I am
+completely bamboozled. Left home yesterday--brought up a couple of
+thoroughbred dogs that the owner wouldn't trust with anybody but me, and
+then, too, I wanted to see Jack."
+
+I am not a colonel, of course, but promotions are easy with the major.
+
+"Certainly; Jack lives right opposite. Give me your bag."
+
+He refused, and rattled on, upbraiding me for not coming down to Crab
+Island last spring with the "boys" when the ducks were flying, punctuating
+his remarks here and there with his delight at seeing me looking so well,
+his joy at being near enough to Jack to shake the dear fellow by the hand,
+and the inexpressible ecstasy of being once more in New York, the centre
+of fashion and wealth, "with mo' comfo't to the square inch than any other
+spot on this terrestrial ball."
+
+The "boys" referred to were members of a certain "Ducking Club" situated
+within rifle-shot of the major's house on the island, of which club Jack
+Hardy was president. They all delighted in the major's society, really
+loving him for many qualities known only to his intimates.
+
+Hardy, I knew, was not at home. This, however, never prevented his colored
+servant, Jefferson, from being always ready at a moment's notice to
+welcome the unexpected friend. In another instant I had rung Hardy's
+bell,--third on right,--and Jefferson, in faultless evening attire, was
+carrying the major's "carpet-bag" to the suite of apartments on the third
+floor front.
+
+Jefferson needs a word of comment. Although born and bred a slave, he is
+the product of a newer and higher civilization. There is hardly a trace of
+the old South left in him,--hardly a mark of the pit of slavery from which
+he was digged. His speech is as faultless as his dress. He is clean,
+close-shaven, immaculate, well-groomed, silent,--reminding me always of a
+mahogany-colored Greek professor, even to his eye-glasses. He keeps his
+rooms in admirable order, and his household accounts with absolute
+accuracy; never spilled a drop of claret, mixed a warm cocktail, or served
+a cold plate in his life; is devoted to Hardy, and so punctiliously polite
+to his master's friends and guests that it is a pleasure to have him serve
+you.
+
+Strange to say, this punctilious politeness had never extended to the
+major, and since an occurrence connected with this very bag, to be related
+shortly, it had ceased altogether. Whether it was that Jefferson had
+always seen through the peculiar varnish that made bright the major's
+veneer, or whether in an unguarded moment, on a previous visit, the major
+gave way to some such outburst as he would have inflicted upon the
+domestics of his own establishment, forgetting for the time the superior
+position to which Jefferson's breeding and education entitled him, I
+cannot say, but certain it is that while to all outward appearances
+Jefferson served the major with every indication of attention and
+humility, I could see under it all a quiet reserve which marked the line
+of unqualified disapproval. This was evident even in the way he carried
+the major's bag,--holding it out by the straps, not as became the handling
+of a receptacle containing a gentleman's wardrobe, but by the neck, so to
+speak,--as a dog to be dropped in the gutter.
+
+It was this bag, or rather its contents, or to be more exact its lack of
+contents, that dulled the fine edge of Jefferson's politeness. He unpacked
+it, of course, with the same perfunctory care that he would have bestowed
+on the contents of a Bond Street Gladstone, indulging in a prolonged
+chuckle when he found no trace of a most important part of a gentleman's
+wardrobe,--none of any pattern. It was, therefore, with a certain grim
+humor that, when he showed the major to his room the night of his
+arrival, he led gradually up to a question which the unpacking a few hours
+before had rendered inevitable.
+
+"Mr. Hardy's orders are that I should inform every gentleman when he
+retires that there's plenty of whiskey and cigars on the sideboard, and
+that"--here Jefferson glanced at the bag--"and that if any gentleman came
+unprepared there was a night shirt and a pair of pajams in the closet."
+
+"I never wore one of 'em in my life, Jefferson; but you can put the
+whiskey and the cigars on the chair by my bed, in case I wake in the
+night."
+
+When Jefferson, in answer to my inquiries as to how the major had passed
+the night, related this incident to me the following morning, I could
+detect, under all his deference and respect toward his master's guest, a
+certain manner and air plainly implying that, so far as the major and
+himself were concerned, every other but the most diplomatic of relations
+had been suspended.
+
+The major, by this time, was in full possession of my friend's home. The
+only change in his dress was in the appearance of his shoes, polished by
+Jefferson to a point verging on patent leather, and the adoption of a
+black alpaca coat, which, although it wrinkled at the seams with a
+certain home-made air, still fitted his fat shoulders very well. To this
+were added a fresh shirt and collar, a white tie, nankeen vest, and the
+same tight-fitting, splay-footed trousers, enriched by a crease of
+Jefferson's own making.
+
+As he lay sprawled out on Hardy's divan, with his round, rosy,
+clean-shaven face, good-humored mouth, and white teeth, the whole
+enlivened by a pair of twinkling eyes, you forgot for the moment that he
+was not really the sole owner of the establishment. Further intercourse
+thoroughly convinced you of a similar lapse of memory on the major's part.
+
+"My dear colonel, let me welcome you to my New York home!" he exclaimed,
+without rising from the divan. "Draw up a chair; have a mouthful of mocha?
+Jefferson makes it delicious. Or shall I call him to broil another
+po'ter-house steak? No? Then let me ring for some cigars," and he touched
+the bell.
+
+To lie on a divan, reach out one arm, and, with the expenditure of less
+energy than would open a match-box, to press a button summoning an
+attendant with all the unlimited comforts of life,--juleps, cigars,
+coffee, cocktails, morning papers, fans, matches out of arm's reach,
+everything that soul could covet and heart long for; to see all these
+several commodities and luxuries develop, take shape, and materialize
+while he lay flat on his back,--this to the major was civilization.
+
+"But, colonel, befo' you sit down, fling yo' eye over that garden in the
+square. Nature in her springtime, suh!"
+
+I agreed with the major, and was about to take in the view over the
+treetops, when he tucked another cushion under his head, elongated his
+left leg until it reached the window-sill, thus completely monopolizing
+it,-and continued without drawing a breath:--
+
+"And I am so comfo'table here. I had a po'ter-house steak this
+mornin'--you're sure you won't have one?" I shook my head. "A po'ter-house
+steak, suh, that'll haunt my memory for days. We, of co'se, have at home
+every variety of fish, plenty of soft-shell crabs, and 'casionally a
+canvasback, when Hardy or some of my friends are lucky enough to hit one,
+but no meat that is wo'th the cookin'. By the bye, I've come to take Jack
+home with me; the early strawberries are in their prime, now. You will
+join us, of course?"
+
+Before I could reply, Jefferson entered the room, laid a tray of cigars
+and cigarettes with a small silver alcohol lamp at my elbow, and, with a
+certain inquiring and, I thought, slightly surprised glance at the major's
+sprawling attitude, noiselessly withdrew. The major must have caught the
+expression on Jefferson's face, for he dropped his telescope leg, and
+straightened up his back, with the sudden awkward movement of a similarly
+placed lounger surprised by a lady in a hotel parlor. The episode seemed
+to knock the enthusiasm out of him, for after a moment he exclaimed in
+rather a subdued tone:--
+
+"Rather remarkable nigger, this servant of Jack's. I s'pose it is the
+influence of yo' New York ways, but I am not accustomed to his kind."
+
+I began to defend Jefferson, but he raised both hands in protest.
+
+"Yes, I know--education and thirty dollars a month. All very fine, but
+give me the old house-servants of the South--the old Anthonys, and
+Keziahs, and Rachels. They never went about rigged up like a stick of
+black sealing-wax in a suit of black co't-plaster. They were easy-goin'
+and comfortable. Yo' interest was their interest; they bore yo' name,
+looked after yo' children, and could look after yo' house, too. Now see
+this nigger of Jack's; he's better dressed than I am, tips round as solemn
+on his toes as a marsh-crane, and yet I'll bet a dollar he's as slick and
+cold-hearted as a high-water clam. That's what education has done for
+_him_.
+
+"You never knew Anthony, my old butler? Well, I want to tell you, he _was_
+a servant, as _was_ a servant. During Mrs. Slocomb's life"--here the major
+assumed a reminiscent air, pinching his fat chin with his thumb and
+forefinger--"we had, of co'se, a lot of niggers; but this man Anthony! By
+gravy! when he filled yo' glass with some of the old madeira that had
+rusted away in my cellar for half a century,"--here the major now slipped
+his thumb into the armhole of his vest,--"it tasted like the nectar of the
+gods, just from the way Anthony poured it out.
+
+"But you ought to have seen him move round the table when dinner was over!
+He'd draw himself up like a drum-major, and throw back the mahogany doors
+for the ladies to retire, with an air that was captivatin'." The major was
+now on his feet--his reminiscent mood was one of his best. "That's been a
+good many years ago, colonel, but I can see him now just as plain as if he
+stood before me, with his white cotton gloves, white vest, and green coat
+with brass buttons, standin' behind Mrs. Slocomb's chair. I can see the
+old sidebo'd, suh, covered with George III. silver, heirlooms of a
+century,"--this with a trance-like movement of his hand across his eyes.
+"I can see the great Italian marble mantels suppo'ted on lions' heads, the
+inlaid floor and wainscotin'."--Here the major sank upon the divan again,
+shutting both eyes reverently, as if these memories of the past were a
+sort of religion with him.
+
+"And the way those niggers loved us! And the many holes they helped us out
+of. Sit down there, and let me tell you what Anthony did for me once." I
+obeyed cheerfully. "Some years ago I received a telegram from a very
+intimate friend of mine, a distinguished Baltimorean,--the Nestor of the
+Maryland bar, suh,--informin' me that he was on his way South, and that he
+would make my house his home on the followin' night." The major's eyes
+were still shut. He had passed out of his reverential mood, but the effort
+to be absolutely exact demanded concentration.
+
+"I immediately called up Anthony, and told him that Judge Spofford of the
+Supreme Co't of Maryland would arrive the next day, and that I wanted the
+best dinner that could be served in the county, and the best bottle of
+wine in my cellar." The facts having been correctly stated, the major
+assumed his normal facial expression and opened his eyes.
+
+"What I'm tellin' you occurred after the war, remember, when putty near
+everybody down our way was busted. Most of our niggers had run away,--all
+'cept our old house-servants, who never forgot our family pride and our
+noble struggle to keep up appearances. Well, suh, when Spofford arrived
+Anthony carried his bag to his room, and when dinner was announced, if it
+_was_ my own table, I must say that it cert'ly did fa'rly groan with the
+delicacies of the season. After the crabs had been taken off,--we were
+alone, Mrs. Slocomb havin' gone to Baltimo',--I said to the judge: 'Yo'
+Honor, I am now about to delight yo' palate with the very best bottle of
+old madeira that ever passed yo' lips. A wine that will warm yo' heart,
+and unbutton the top button of yo' vest. It is part of a special
+importation presented to Mrs. Slocomb's father by the captain of one of
+his ships.--Anthony, go down into the wine-cellar, the inner cellar,
+Anthony, and bring me a bottle of that old madeira of '37--stop, Anthony;
+make it '39. I think, judge, it is a little dryer.' Well, Anthony bowed,
+and left the room, and in a few moments he came back, set a lighted candle
+on the mantel, and, leanin' over my chair, said in a loud whisper: 'De
+cellar am locked, suh, and I'm 'feard Mis' Slocomb dun tuk de key.'
+
+"'Well, s'pose she has,' I said; 'put yo' knee against it, and fo'ce the
+do'.' I knew my man, suh. Anthony never moved a muscle.
+
+"Here the judge called out, 'Why, major, I couldn't think of'--
+
+"'Now, yo' Honor,' said I, 'please don't say a word. This is my affair.
+The lock is not of the slightest consequence.'
+
+"In a few minutes back comes Anthony, solemn as an owl. 'Major,' said he,
+'I done did all I c'u'd, an' dere ain't no way 'cept breakin' down de do'.
+Las' time I done dat, Mis' Slocomb neber forgib me fer a week.'
+
+"The judge jumped up. 'Major, I won't have you breakin' yo' locks and
+annoyin' Mrs. Slocomb.'
+
+"'Yo' Honor,' I said, 'please take yo' seat. I'm d----d if you shan't
+taste that wine, if I have to blow out the cellar walls.'
+
+"'I tell you, major,' replied the judge in a very emphatic tone and with
+some slight anger I thought, 'I ought not to drink yo' high-flavored
+madeira; my doctor told me only last week I must stop that kind of thing.
+If yo' servant will go upstairs and get a bottle of whiskey out of my bag,
+it's just what I ought to drink.'
+
+"Now I want to tell you, colonel, that at that time I hadn't had a bottle
+of any kind of wine in my cellar for five years." Here the major closed
+one eye, and laid his forefinger against his nose.
+
+"'Of co'se, yo' Honor,' I said, 'when you put it on a matter of yo' health
+I am helpless; that paralyzes my hospitality; I have not a word to say.
+Anthony, go upstairs and get the bottle.' And we drank the judge's
+whiskey! Now see the devotion and loyalty of that old negro servant, see
+his shrewdness! Do you think this marsh-crane of Jack's"--
+
+Here Jefferson threw open the door, ushering in half a dozen gentlemen,
+and among them the rightful host, just returned after a week's
+absence,--cutting off the major's outburst, and producing another equally
+explosive:--
+
+"Why, Jack!"
+
+Before the two men grasp hands I must, in all justice to the major, say
+that he not only had a sincere admiration for Jack's surroundings, but
+also for Jack himself, and that while he had not the slightest
+compunction in sharing or, for that matter, monopolizing his hospitality,
+he would have been equally generous in return had it been possible for him
+to revive the old days, and to afford a menage equally lavish.
+
+It is needless for me to make a like statement for Jack. One half the
+major's age, trained to practical business life from boyhood, frank,
+spontaneous, every inch a man, kindly natured, and, for one so young, a
+deep student, of men as well as of books, it was not to be wondered at
+that not only the major but that every one else who knew him loved him.
+The major really interested him enormously. He represented a type which
+was new to him, and which it delighted him to study. The major's
+heartiness, his magnificent disregard for _meum_ and _tuum_, his unique
+and picturesque mendacity, his grandiloquent manners at times, studied, as
+he knew, from some example of the old regime, whom he either consciously
+or unconsciously imitated, his peculiar devotion to the memory of his late
+wife,--all appealed to Jack's sense of humor, and to his enjoyment of
+anything out of the common. Under all this he saw, too, away down in the
+major's heart, beneath these several layers, a substratum of true
+kindness and tenderness.
+
+This kindness, I know, pleased Jack best of all.
+
+So when the major sprang up in delight, calling out, "Why, Jack!" it was
+with very genuine, although quite opposite individual, sympathies, that
+the two men shook hands. It was beautiful, too, to see the major welcome
+Jack to his own apartments, dragging up the most comfortable chair in the
+room, forcing him into it, and tucking a cushion under his head, or
+ringing up Jefferson every few moments for some new luxury. These he would
+catch away from that perfectly trained servant's tray, serving them
+himself, rattling on all the time as to how sorry he was that he did not
+know the exact hour at which Jack would arrive, that he might have had
+breakfast on the table--how hot had it been on the road--how well he was
+looking, etc.
+
+It was specially interesting, besides, after the proper introductions had
+been made, to note the way in which Jack's friends, inoculated with the
+contagion of the major's mood, and carried away by his breezy, buoyant
+enthusiasm, encouraged the major to flow on, interjecting little asides
+about his horses and farm stock, agreeing to a man that the two-year old
+colt--a pure creation on the moment of the major--would certainly beat the
+record and make the major's fortune, and inquiring with great solicitude
+whether the major felt quite sure that the addition to the stables which
+he contemplated would be large enough to accommodate his stud, with other
+similar inquiries which, while indefinite and tentative, were, so to
+speak, but flies thrown out on the stream of talk,--the major rising
+continuously, seizing the bait, and rushing headlong over sunken rocks and
+through tangled weeds of the improbable in a way that would have done
+credit to a Munchausen of older date. As for Jack, he let him run on. One
+plank in the platform of his hospitality was to give every guest a free
+rein.
+
+Before the men separated for the day, the major had invited each
+individual person to make Crab Island his home for the balance of his
+life, regretting that no woman now graced his table since Mrs. Slocomb's
+death,--"Major Talbot's widow--Major John Talbot of Pocomoke, suh," this
+impressively and with sudden gravity of tone,--placing his stables, his
+cellar, and his servants at their disposal, and arranging for everybody
+to meet everybody else the following day in Baltimore, the major starting
+that night, and Jack and his friends the next day. The whole party would
+then take passage on board one of the Chesapeake Bay boats, arriving off
+Crab Island at daylight the succeeding morning.
+
+This was said with a spring and joyousness of manner, and a certain
+quickness of movement, that would surprise those unfamiliar with some of
+the peculiarities of Widow Talbot's second husband. For with that true
+spirit of vagabondage which saturated him, next to the exquisite luxury of
+lying sprawled on a lounge with a noiseless servant attached to the other
+end of an electric wire, nothing delighted the major so much as an outing,
+and no member of any such junketing party, be it said, was more popular
+every hour of the journey. He could be host, servant, cook, chambermaid,
+errand-boy, and _grand seigneur_ again in the same hour, adapting himself
+to every emergency that arose. His good-humor was perennial, unceasing,
+one constant flow, and never checked. He took care of the dogs, unpacked
+the bags, laid out everybody's linen, saw that the sheets were dry,
+received all callers so that the boys might sleep in the afternoon, did
+all the disagreeable and uncomfortable things himself, and let everybody
+else have all the fun. He did all this unconsciously, graciously, and
+simply because he could not help it. When the outing ended, you parted
+from him with all the regret that you would from some chum of your college
+days. As for him, he never wanted it to end. There was no office, nor law
+case, nor sick patient, nor ugly partner, nor complication of any kind,
+commercial, social, or professional, which could affect the major. For him
+life was one prolonged drift: so long as the last man remained he could
+stay. When he left, if there was enough in the larder to last over, the
+major always made another day of it.
+
+
+II
+
+The major was standing on the steamboat wharf in Baltimore, nervously
+consulting his watch, when Jack and I stepped from a cab next day.
+
+"Well, by gravy! is this all? Where are the other gentlemen?"
+
+"They'll be down in the morning, major," said Jack. "Where shall we send
+this baggage?"
+
+"Here, just give it to me! Po'ter, _po'ter_!" in a stentorian voice. "Take
+these bags and guns, and put 'em on the upper deck alongside of my
+luggage. Now, gentlemen, just a sip of somethin' befo' they haul the
+gang-plank,--we've six minutes yet."
+
+The bar was across the street. On the way over, the major confided to Jack
+full information regarding the state-rooms, remarking that he had selected
+the "fo' best on the upper deck," and adding that he would have paid for
+them himself only a friend had disappointed him.
+
+It was evident that the barkeeper knew his peculiarities, for a tall,
+black bottle with a wabbly cork--consisting of a porcelain marble confined
+in a miniature bird-cage--was passed to the major before he had opened his
+mouth. When he did open it--the mouth--there was no audible protest as
+regards the selection. When he closed it again the flow line had fallen
+some three fingers. It is, however, fair to the major to say that only one
+third of this amount was tucked away under his own waistcoat.
+
+The trip down the bay was particularly enjoyable, brightened outside on
+the water by the most brilliant of sunsets, the afternoon sky a glory of
+purple and gold, and made gay and delightful inside the after-cabin by
+the charm of the major's talk,--the whole passenger-list entranced as he
+skipped from politics and the fine arts to literature, tarrying a moment
+in his flight to discuss a yellow-backed book that had just been
+published, and coming to a full stop with the remark:--
+
+"And you haven't read that book, Jack,--that scurrilous attack on the
+industries of the South? My dear fellow! I'm astounded that a man of yo'
+gifts should not--Here--just do me the favor to look through my baggage on
+the upper deck, and bring me a couple of books lyin' on top of my
+dressin'-case."
+
+"Which trunk, major?" asked Jack, a slight smile playing around his mouth.
+
+"Why, my sole-leather trunk, of co'se; or perhaps that English
+hat-box--no, stop, Jack, come to think, it is in the small valise. Here,
+take my keys," said the major, straightening his back, squeezing his fat
+hand into the pocket of his skin-tight trousers, and fishing up with his
+fore-finger a small bunch of keys. "Right on top, Jack; you can't miss
+it."
+
+"Isn't he just too lovely for anything?" said Jack to me, when we reached
+the upper deck,--I had followed him out. "He's wearing now the only
+decent suit of clothes he owns, and the rest of his wardrobe you could
+stuff into a bandbox. English sole-leather trunk! Here, put your thumb on
+that catch," and he drew out the major's bag,--the one, of course, that
+Jefferson unpacked, with the galvanized-iron clasps and paper-leather
+sides.
+
+The bag seemed more rotund, and heavier, and more important looking than
+when I handled it that afternoon in front of Delmonico's, presenting a
+well-fed, even a bloated, appearance. The clasps, too, appeared to have
+all they could do to keep its mouth shut, while the hinges bulged in an
+ominous way.
+
+I started one clasp, the other gave way with a burst, and the next
+instant, to my horror, the major's wardrobe littered the deck. First the
+books, then a package of tobacco, then the one shirt, porcelain-finished
+collars, and the other necessaries, including a pair of slippers and a
+comb. Next, three bundles loosely wrapped, one containing two wax dolls,
+the others some small toys, and a cheap Noah's ark, and last of all,
+wrapped up in coarse, yellow butcher's paper, stained and moist, a freshly
+cut porter-house steak.
+
+Jack roared with laughter as he replaced the contents. "Yes; toys for the
+little children--he never goes back without something for them if it takes
+his last dollar; tobacco for his old cook, Rachel; not a thing for
+himself, you see--and this steak! Who do you suppose he bought that for?"
+
+"Did you find it?" called out the major, as we reentered the cabin.
+
+"Yes; but it wasn't in the English trunk," said Jack, handing back the
+keys, grave as a judge, not a smile on his face.
+
+"Of co'se not; didn't I tell you it was in the small bag? Now, gentlemen,
+listen!" turning the leaves. "Here is a man who has the impertinence to
+say that our industries are paralyzed. It is not our industries; it is our
+people. Robbed of their patrimony, their fields laid waste, their estates
+confiscated by a system of foreclosure lackin' every vestige of decency
+and co'tesy,--Shylocks wantin' their pound of flesh on the very hour and
+day,--why shouldn't they be paralyzed?" He laughed heartily. "Jack, you
+know Colonel Dorsey Kent, don't you?"
+
+Jack did not, but the owners of several names on the passenger-list did,
+and hitched their camp-stools closer.
+
+"Well, Kent was the only man I ever knew who ever held out against the
+damnable oligarchy."
+
+Here an old fellow in a butternut suit, with a half-moon of white whiskers
+tied under his chin, leaned forward in rapt attention.
+
+The major braced himself, and continued: "Kent, gentlemen, as many of you
+know, lived with his maiden sister over on Tinker Neck, on the same piece
+of ground where he was bo'n. She had a life interest in the house and
+property, and it was so nominated in the bond. Well, when it got down to
+hog and hominy, and very little of that, she told Kent she was goin' to
+let the place to a strawberry-planter from Philadelphia, and go to
+Baltimo' to teach school. She was sorry to break up the home, but there
+was nothin' else to do. Well, it hurt Kent to think she had to leave home
+and work for her living, for he was a very tender-hearted man.
+
+"'You don't say so, Jane,' said he, 'and you raised here! Isn't that very
+sudden?' She told him it was, and asked him what he was going to do for a
+home when the place was rented?
+
+"'Me, Jane? I shan't do anythin'. I shall stay here. If your money affairs
+are so badly mixed up that you're obliged to leave yo' home, I am very
+deeply grieved, but I am powerless to help. I am not responsible for the
+way this war ended. I was born here, and here I am going to stay." And he
+did. Nothing could move him. She finally had to rent him with the
+house,--he to have three meals a day, and a room over the kitchen.
+
+"For two years after that Kent was so disgusted with life, and the turn of
+events, that he used to lie out on a rawhide, under a big sycamore tree in
+front of the po'ch, and get a farm nigger to pull him round into the shade
+by the tail of the hide, till the grass was wore as bare as yo' hand. Then
+he got a bias-cut rockin'-chair, and rocked himself round.
+
+"The strawberry man said, of co'se, that he was too lazy to live. But I
+look deeper than that. To me, gentlemen, it was a crushin', silent protest
+against the money power of our times. And it never broke his spirit,
+neither. Why, when the census man came down a year befo' the colonel's
+death, he found him sittin' in his rockin'-chair, bare-headed. Without
+havin' the decency to take off his own hat, or even ask Kent's permission
+to speak to him, the census man began askin' questions,--all kinds, as
+those damnable fellows do. Colonel Kent let him ramble on for a while,
+then he brought him up standin'.
+
+"'Who did you say you were, suh?'
+
+"'The United States census-taker.'
+
+"'Ah, a message from the enemy. Take a seat on the grass.'
+
+"'It's only a matter of form,' said the man.
+
+"'So I presume, and very bad form, suh,' looking at the hat still on the
+man's head. 'But go on.'
+
+"'Well, what's yo' business?' asked the agent, taking out his book and
+pencil.
+
+"'My business, suh?' said the colonel, risin' from his chair, mad clear
+through,--'I've no business, suh. I am a prisoner of war waitin' to be
+exchanged!' and he stomped into the house."
+
+Here the major burst into a laugh, straightened himself up to his full
+height, squeezed the keys back into his pocket, and said he must take a
+look into the state-rooms on the deck to see if they were all ready for
+his friends for the night.
+
+When I turned in for the night, he was on deck again, still talking, his
+hearty laugh ringing out every few moments. Only the white-whiskered man
+was left. The other camp-stools were empty.
+
+
+II
+
+At early dawn the steamboat slowed down, and a scow, manned by two
+bare-footed negroes with sweep oars, rounded to. In a few moments the
+major, two guns, two valises, Jack, and I were safely landed on its wet
+bottom, the major's bag with its precious contents stowed between his
+knees.
+
+To the left, a mile or more away, lay Crab Island, the landed estate of
+our host,--a delicate, green thread on the horizon line, broken by two
+knots, one evidently a large house with chimneys, and the other a clump of
+trees. The larger knot proved to be the manor house that sheltered the
+belongings of the major, with the wine-cellars of marvelous vintage, the
+table that groaned, the folding mahogany doors that swung back for bevies
+of beauties, and perhaps, for all I knew, the gray-haired, ebony butler in
+the green coat. The smaller knot, Jack said, screened from public view the
+little club-house belonging to his friends and himself.
+
+As the sun rose and we neared the shore, there came into view on the near
+end of the island the rickety outline of a palsied old dock, clutching
+with one arm a group of piles anchored in the marsh grass, and extending
+the other as if in welcome to the slow-moving scow. We accepted the
+invitation, threw a line over a thumb of a pile, and in five minutes were
+seated in a country stage. Ten more, and we backed up to an old-fashioned
+colonial porch, with sloping roof and dormer windows supported by high
+white columns. Leaning over the broken railing of the porch was a
+half-grown negro boy, hatless and bare-footed; inside the door, looking
+furtively out, half concealing her face with her apron, stood an old negro
+woman, her head bound with a bandana kerchief, while peeping from behind
+an outbuilding was a group of children in sun-bonnets and straw
+hats,--"the farmer's boys and girls," the major said, waving his hand, as
+we drove up, his eyes brightening. Then there was the usual collection of
+farm-yard fowl, beside two great hounds, who visited each one of us in
+turn, their noses rubbing our knees.
+
+If the major, now that he was on his native heath, realized in his own
+mind any difference between the Eldorado which his eloquence had conjured
+up in my own mind, the morning before in Jack's room, and the hard, cold
+facts before us, he gave no outward sign. To all appearances, judging
+from his perfect ease and good temper, the paint-scaled pillars were the
+finest of Carrara marble, the bare floors were carpeted with the softest
+fabrics of Turkish looms, and the big, sparsely furnished rooms were so
+many salons, where princes trod in pride, and fair ladies stepped a
+measure.
+
+The only remark he made was in answer to a look of surprise on my face
+when I peered curiously into the bare hall and made a cursory mental
+inventory of its contents.
+
+"Yes, colonel; you will find, I regret to say, some slight changes since
+the old days. Then, too, my home is in slight confusion owin' to the
+spring cleanin', and a good many things have been put away."
+
+I looked to Jack for explanation, but if that thoroughbred knew where the
+major had permanently put the last batch of his furniture, he, too, gave
+no outward sign.
+
+As for the servants, were there not old Rachel and Sam, chef and valet?
+What more could one want? The major's voice, too, had lost none of its
+persuasive powers.
+
+"Here, Sam, you black imp, carry yo' Marster Jack's gun and things to my
+room, and, Rachel, take the colonel's bag to the sea-room, next to the
+dinin'-hall. Breakfast in an hour, gentlemen, as Mrs. Slocomb used to
+say."
+
+I found only a bed covered with a quilt, an old table with small drawers,
+a wash-stand, two chairs, and a desk on three legs. The walls were bare
+except for a fly-stained map yellow with age. As I passed through the
+sitting-room, Rachel preceding me with my traps, I caught a glimpse of
+traces of better times. There was a plain wooden mantelpiece, a wide
+fireplace with big brass andirons, a sideboard with and without brass
+handles and a limited number of claw feet,--which if brought under the
+spell of the scraper and varnish-pot might once more regain its lost
+estate,--a corner-cupboard built into the wall, half full of fragments of
+old china, and, to do justice to the major's former statement, there was
+also a pair of dull old mahogany doors with glass knobs separating the
+room from some undiscovered unknown territory of bareness and emptiness
+beyond. These, no doubt, were the doors Anthony threw open for the bevies
+of beauties so picturesquely described by the major, but where were the
+Chippendale furniture, the George III. silver, the Italian marble mantels
+with carved lions' heads, the marquetry floors and cabinets?
+
+I determined to end my mental suspense. I would ask Rachel and get at the
+facts. The old woman was opening the windows, letting in the fresh breath
+of a honeysuckle, and framing a view of the sea beyond.
+
+"How long have you lived here, aunty?"
+
+"'Most fo'ty years, sah. Long 'fo' Massa John Talbot died."
+
+"Where's old Anthony?" I said.
+
+"What Anthony? De fust major's body-servant?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Go 'long, honey. He's daid dese twenty years. Daid two years 'fo' Massa
+Slocomb married Mis' Talbot."
+
+"And Anthony never waited at all on Major Slocomb?"
+
+"How could he wait on him, honey, when he daid 'fo' he see him?"
+
+I pondered for a moment over the picturesque quality of the major's
+mendacity.
+
+Was it, then, only another of the major's tributes to his wife,--this
+whole story of Anthony and the madeira of '39? How he must have loved this
+dear relict of his military predecessor!
+
+An hour later the major strolled into the sitting-room, his arm through
+Jack's.
+
+"Grand old place, is it not?" he said, turning to me. "Full of historic
+interest. Of co'se the damnable oligarchy has stripped us, but"--
+
+Here Aunt Rachel flopped in--her slippers, I mean; the sound was
+distinctly audible.
+
+"Bre'kfus', major."
+
+"All right, Rachel. Come, gentlemen!"
+
+When we were all seated, the major leaned back in his chair, toyed with
+his knife a moment, and said with an air of great deliberation:--
+
+"Gentlemen, when I was in New York I discovered that the fashionable dish
+of the day was a po'ter-house steak. So when I knew you were coming, I
+wired my agent in Baltimo' to go to Lexington market and to send me down
+on ice the best steak he could buy fo' money. It is now befo' you.
+
+"Jack, shall I cut you a piece of the tenderloin?"
+
+
+
+
+A KNIGHT OF THE LEGION OF HONOR
+
+
+It was in the smoking-room of a Cunarder two days out. The evening had
+been spent in telling stories, the fresh-air passengers crowding the
+doorways to listen, the habitual loungers and card-players abandoning
+their books and games.
+
+When my turn came,--mine was a story of Venice, a story of the old palace
+of the Barbarozzi,--I noticed in one corner of the room a man seated alone
+wrapped in a light shawl, who had listened intently as he smoked, but who
+took no part in the general talk. He attracted my attention from his
+likeness to my friend Vereschagin the painter; his broad, white forehead,
+finely wrought features, clear, honest, penetrating eye, flowing mustache
+and beard streaked with gray,--all strongly suggestive of that
+distinguished Russian. I love Vereschagin, and so, unconsciously, and by
+mental association, perhaps, I was drawn to this stranger. Seeing my eye
+fixed constantly upon him, he threw off his shawl, and crossed the room.
+
+"Pardon me, but your story about the Barbarozzi brought to my mind so many
+delightful recollections that I cannot help thanking you. I know that old
+palace,--knew it thirty years ago,--and I know that cortile, and although
+I have not had the good fortune to run across either your gondolier,
+Espero, or his sweetheart, Mariana, I have known a dozen others as
+romantic and delightful. The air is stifling here. Shall we have our
+coffee outside on the deck?"
+
+When we were seated, he continued, "And so you are going to Venice to
+paint?"
+
+"Yes; and you?"
+
+"Me? Oh, to the Engadine to rest. American life is so exhausting that I
+must have these three months of quiet to make the other nine possible."
+
+The talk drifted into the many curious adventures befalling a man in his
+journeyings up and down the world, most of them suggested by the queer
+stories of the night. When coffee had been served, he lighted another
+cigar, held the match until it burned itself out,--the yellow flame
+lighting up his handsome face,--looked out over the broad expanse of
+tranquil sea, with its great highway of silver leading up to the full
+moon dominating the night, and said as if in deep thought:--
+
+"And so you are going to Venice?" Then, after a long pause: "Will you mind
+if I tell you of an adventure of my own,--one still most vivid in my
+memory? It happened near there many years ago." He picked up his shawl,
+pushed our chairs close to the overhanging life-boat, and continued: "I
+had begun my professional career, and had gone abroad to study the
+hospital system in Europe. The revolution in Poland--the revolt of
+'62--had made traveling in northern Europe uncomfortable, if not
+dangerous, for foreigners, even with the most authentic of passports, and
+so I had spent the summer in Italy. One morning, early in the autumn, I
+bade good-by to my gondolier at the water-steps of the railroad station,
+and bought a ticket for Vienna. An important letter required my immediate
+presence in Berlin.
+
+"On entering the train I found the carriage occupied by two persons: a
+lady, richly dressed, but in deep mourning and heavily veiled; and a man,
+dark and smooth-faced, wearing a high silk hat. Raising my cap, I placed
+my umbrella and smaller traps under the seat, and hung my bundle of
+traveling shawls in the rack overhead. The lady returned my salutation
+gravely, lifting her veil and making room for my bundles. The dark man's
+only response was a formal touching of his hat-brim with his forefinger.
+
+"The lady interested me instantly. She was perhaps twenty-five years of
+age, graceful, and of distinguished bearing. Her hair was jet-black,
+brushed straight back from her temples, her complexion a rich olive, her
+teeth pure white. Her lashes were long, and opened and shut with a slow,
+fan-like movement, shading a pair of deep blue eyes, which shone with that
+peculiar light only seen when quick tears lie hidden under half-closed
+lids. Her figure was rounded and full, and her hands exquisitely modeled.
+Her dress, while of the richest material, was perfectly plain, with a
+broad white collar and cuffs like those of a nun. She wore no jewels of
+any kind. I judged her to be a woman of some distinction,--an Italian or
+Hungarian, perhaps.
+
+"When the train started, the dark man, who had remained standing, touched
+his hat to me, raised it to the lady, and disappeared. Her only
+acknowledgment was a slight inclination of the head. A polite stranger,
+no doubt, I thought, who prefers the smoker. When the train stopped for
+luncheon, I noticed that the lady did not leave the carriage, and on my
+return I found her still seated, looking listlessly out of the window, her
+head upon her hand.
+
+"'Pardon me, madame,' I said in French, 'but unless you travel some
+distance this is the last station where you can get anything to eat.'
+
+"She started, and looked about helplessly. 'I am not hungry. I cannot
+eat--but I suppose I should.'
+
+"'Permit me;' and I sprang from the carriage, and caught a waiter with a
+tray before the guard reclosed the doors. She drank the coffee, tasted the
+fruit, thanking me in a low, sweet voice, and said:--
+
+"'You are very considerate. It will help me to bear my journey. I am very
+tired, and weaker than I thought; for I have not slept for many nights.'
+
+"I expressed my sympathy, and ended by telling her I hoped we could keep
+the carriage to ourselves; she might then sleep undisturbed. She looked at
+me fixedly, a curious startled expression crossing her face, but made no
+reply.
+
+"Almost every man is drawn, I think, to a sad or tired woman. There is a
+look about the eyes that makes an instantaneous draft on the sympathies.
+So, when these slight confidences of my companion confirmed my misgivings
+as to her own weariness, I at once began diverting her as best I could
+with some account of my summer's experience in Venice, and with such of my
+plans for the future as at the moment filled my mind. I was younger
+then,--perhaps only a year or two her senior,--and you know one is not
+given to much secrecy at twenty-six: certainly not with a gentle lady
+whose good-will you are trying to gain, and whose sorrowful face, as I
+have said, enlists your sympathy at sight. Then, to establish some sort of
+footing for myself, I drifted into an account of my own home life; telling
+her of my mother and sisters, of the social customs of our country, of the
+freedom given the women,--so different from what I had seen abroad,--of
+their perfect safety everywhere.
+
+"We had been talking in this vein some time, she listening quietly until
+something I said reacted in a slight curl of her lips,--more incredulous
+than contemptuous, perhaps, but significant all the same; for, lifting her
+eyes, she answered slowly and meaningly:--
+
+"'It must be a paradise for women. I am glad to believe that there is one
+corner of the earth where they are treated with respect. My own
+experiences have been so different that I have begun to believe that none
+of us are safe after we leave our cradles.' Then, as if suddenly realizing
+the inference, the color mounting to her cheeks, she added: 'But please do
+not misunderstand me. I am quite willing to accept your statement; for I
+never met an American before.'
+
+"As we neared the foothills the air grew colder. She instinctively drew
+her cloak the closer, settling herself in one corner and closing her eyes
+wearily. I offered my rug, insisting that she was not properly clad for a
+journey over the mountains at night. She refused gently but firmly, and
+closed her eyes again, resting her head against the dividing cushion. For
+a moment I watched her; then arose from my seat, and, pulling down my
+bundle of shawls, begged that I might spread my heaviest rug over her lap.
+An angry color mounted to her cheeks. She turned upon me, and was about to
+refuse indignantly, when I interrupted:--
+
+"'Please allow me; don't you know you cannot sleep if you are cold? Let
+me put this wrap about you. I have two.'
+
+"With the unrolling, the leather tablet of the shawl-strap, bearing my
+name, fell in her lap.
+
+"'Your name is Bosk,' she said, with a quick start, 'and you an American?'
+
+"'Yes; why not?'
+
+"'My maiden name is Boski,' she replied, looking at me in astonishment,
+'and I am a Pole.'
+
+"Here were two mysteries solved. She was married, and neither Italian nor
+Slav.
+
+"'And your ancestry?' she continued with increased animation. 'Are you of
+Polish blood? You know our name is a great name in Poland. Your
+grandfather, of course, was a Pole.' Then, with deep interest, 'What are
+your armorial bearings?'
+
+"I answered that I had never heard that my grandfather was a Pole. It was
+quite possible, though, that we might be of Polish descent, for my father
+had once told me of an ancestor, an old colonel, who fell at Austerlitz.
+As to the armorial bearings, we Americans never cared for such things. The
+only thing I could remember was a certain seal which my father used to
+wear, and with which he sealed his letters. The tradition in the family
+was that it belonged to this old colonel. My sister used it sometimes. I
+had a letter from her in my pocket.
+
+"She examined the indented wax on the envelope, opened her cloak quickly,
+and took from the bag at her side a seal mounted in jewels, bearing a
+crest and coat of arms.
+
+"'See how slight the difference. The quarterings are almost the same, and
+the crest and motto identical. This side is mine, the other is my
+husband's. How very, very strange! And yet you are an American?'
+
+"'And your husband's crest?' I asked. 'Is he also a Pole?'
+
+"'Yes; I married a Pole,' with a slight trace of haughtiness, even
+resentment, at the inquiry.
+
+"'And his name, madame? Chance has given you mine--a fair exchange is
+never a robbery.'
+
+"She drew herself up, and said quickly, and with a certain bearing I had
+not noticed before:--
+
+"'Not now; it makes no difference.'
+
+"Then, as if uncertain of the effect of her refusal, and with a
+willingness to be gracious, she added:--
+
+"In a few minutes--at ten o'clock--we reach Trieste. The train stops
+twenty minutes. You were so kind about my luncheon; I am stronger now.
+Will you dine with me?'
+
+"I thanked her, and on arriving at Trieste followed her to the door. As we
+alighted from the carriage I noticed the same dark man standing by the
+steps, his fingers on his hat. During the meal my companion seemed
+brighter and less weary, more gracious and friendly, until I called the
+waiter and counted out the florins on his tray. Then she laid her hand
+quietly but firmly upon my arm.
+
+"'Please do not--you distress me; my servant Polaff has paid for
+everything.'
+
+"I looked up. The dark man was standing behind her chair, his hat in his
+hand.
+
+"I can hardly express to you my feelings as these several discoveries
+revealed to me little by little the conditions and character of my
+traveling companion. Brought up myself under a narrow home influence, with
+only a limited knowledge of the world, I had never yet been thrown in with
+a woman of her class. And yet I cannot say that it was altogether the
+charm of her person that moved me. It was more a certain hopeless sort of
+sorrow that seemed to envelop her, coupled with an indefinable distrust
+which I could not solve. Her reserve, however, was impenetrable, and her
+guarded silence on every subject bearing upon herself so pronounced that I
+dared not break through it. Yet, as she sat there in the carriage after
+dinner, during the earlier hours of the night, she and I the only
+occupants, her eyes heavy and red for want of sleep, her beautiful hair
+bound in a veil, the pallor of her skin intensified by the sombre hues of
+her dress, I would have given anything in the world to have known her well
+enough to have comforted her, even by a word.
+
+"As the night wore on the situation became intolerable. Every now and then
+she would start from her seat, jostled awake by the roughness of the
+road,--this section had just been completed,--turn her face the other way,
+only to be awakened again.
+
+"'You cannot sleep. May I make a pillow for your head of my other shawl? I
+do not need it. My coat is warm enough.'
+
+"'No; I am very comfortable.'
+
+"'Forgive me, you are not. You are very uncomfortable, and it pains me to
+see you so weary. These dividing-irons make it impossible for you to lie
+down. Perhaps I can make a cushion for your head so that you will rest
+easier.'
+
+"She looked at me coldly, her eyes riveted on mine.
+
+"'You are very kind, but why do you care? You have never seen me before,
+and may never again.'
+
+"'I care because you are a woman, alone and unprotected. I care most
+because you are suffering. Will you let me help you?'
+
+"She bent her head, and seemed wrapped in thought. Then straightening up,
+as if her mind had suddenly resolved,--
+
+"'No; leave me alone. I will sleep soon. Men never really care for a woman
+when she suffers.' She turned her face to the window.
+
+"'I pity you, then, from the bottom of my heart,' I replied, nettled at
+her remark. 'There is not a man the length and breadth of my land who
+would not feel for you now as I do, and there is not a woman who would
+misunderstand him.'
+
+"She raised her head, and in a softened voice, like a sorrowing child's,
+it was so pathetic, said: 'Please forgive me. I had no right to speak so.
+I shall be very grateful to you if you can help me; I am so tired.'
+
+"I folded the shawl, arranged the rug over her knees, and took the seat
+beside her. She thanked me, laid her cheek upon the impromptu pillow, and
+closed her eyes. The train sped on, the carriage swaying as we rounded the
+curves, the jolting increasing as we neared the great tunnel. Settling
+myself in my seat, I drew my traveling-cap well down so that its shadow
+from the overhead light would conceal my eyes, and watched her unobserved.
+For half an hour I followed every line in her face, with its delicate
+nostrils, finely cut nose, white temples with their blue veins, and the
+beautiful hair glistening in the half-shaded light, the long lashes
+resting, tired out, upon her cheek. Soon I noticed at irregular intervals
+a nervous twitching pass over her face; the brow would knit and relax
+wearily, the mouth droop. These indications of extreme exhaustion occurred
+constantly, and alarmed me. Unchecked, they would result in an alarming
+form of nervous prostration. A sudden lurch dislodged the pillow.
+
+"'Have you slept?' I asked.
+
+"'I do not know. A little, I think. The car shakes so.'
+
+"'My dear lady,' I said, laying my hand on hers,--she started, but did not
+move her own,--'it is absolutely necessary that you sleep, and at once.
+What your nervous strain has been, I know not; but my training tells me
+that it has been excessive, and still is. Its continuance is dangerous.
+This road gets rougher as the night passes. If you will rest your head
+upon my shoulder, I can hold you so that you will go to sleep.'
+
+"Her face flushed, and she recovered her hand quickly.
+
+"'You forget, sir, that'--
+
+"'No, no; I forget nothing. I remember everything; that I am a stranger,
+that you are ill, that you are rapidly growing worse, that, knowing as I
+do your condition, I cannot sit here and not help you. It would be
+brutal.'
+
+"Her lips quivered, and her eyes filled. 'I believe you,' she said. Then,
+turning quickly with an anxious look, 'But it will tire you.'
+
+"'No; I have held my mother that way for hours at a time.'
+
+"She put out her hand, laid it gently on my wrist, looked into my face
+long and steadily, scanning every feature, as if reassuring herself, then
+laid her cheek upon my shoulder, and fell asleep.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"When the rising sun burst behind a mountain-crag, and, at a turn in the
+road, fell full upon her face, she awoke with a start, and looked about
+bewildered. Then her mind cleared.
+
+"'How good you have been. You have not moved all night so I might rest. I
+awoke once frightened, but your hands were folded in your lap.'
+
+"With this her whole manner changed. All the haughty reserve was gone; all
+the cynicism, the distrust, and suspicion. She became as gentle and tender
+as an anxious mother, begging me to go to sleep at once. She would see
+that no one disturbed me. It was cruel that I was so exhausted.
+
+"When the guard entered, she sent for her servant, and bade him watch out
+for a pot of coffee at the next station. 'To think monsieur had not slept
+all night!' When Polaff handed in the tray, she filled the cups herself,
+adding the sugar, and insisting that I should also drink part of her
+own,--one cup was not enough. Upon Polaff's return she sent for her
+dressing-case. She must make her toilet at once, and not disturb me. It
+would be several hours before we reached Vienna; she felt sure I would
+sleep now.
+
+"I watched her as she spread a dainty towel over the seat in front, and
+began her preparations, laying out the powder-boxes, brushes, and comb,
+the bottles of perfume, and the little knickknacks that make up the
+fittings of a gentlewoman's boudoir. It was almost with a show of
+enthusiasm that she picked up one of the bottles, and pointed out to me
+again the crest in relief upon its silver top, saying over and over again
+how glad she was to know that some of her own blood ran in my veins. She
+was sure now that I belonged to her mother's people. When, at the next
+station, Polaff brought a basin of water, and I arose to leave the car,
+she begged me to remain,--the toilet was nothing; it would be over in a
+minute. Then she loosened her hair, letting it fall in rich masses about
+her shoulders, and bathed her face and hands, rearranging her veil, and
+adding a fresh bit of lace to her throat. I remember distinctly how
+profound an impression this strange scene made upon my mind, so different
+from any former experience of my life,--its freedom from conventionality,
+the lack of all false modesty, the absolute absence of any touch of
+coquetry or conscious allurement.
+
+"When it was all over, her beauty being all the more pronounced now that
+the tired, nervous look had gone out of her face, she still talked on,
+saying how much better and fresher she felt, and how much more rested than
+the night before. Suddenly her face saddened, and for many minutes she
+kept silence, gazing dreamily down into the abysses white with the rush of
+Alpine torrents, or hidden in the early morning fog. Then, finding I would
+not sleep, and with an expression as if she had finally resolved upon some
+definite action, and with a face in which every line showed the sincerest
+confidence and trust,--as unexpected as it was incomprehensible to
+me,--she said:--
+
+"'Last night you asked me for my name. I would not tell you then. Now you
+shall know. I am the Countess de Rescka Smolenski. I live in Cracow. My
+husband died in Venice four days ago. I took him there because he was
+ill,--so ill that he was carried in Polaff's arms from the gondola to his
+bed. The Russian government permitted me to take him to Italy to die. One
+Pole the less is of very little consequence. A week ago this permit was
+revoked, and we were ordered to report at Cracow without delay. Why, I do
+not know, except perhaps to add another cruelty to the long list of wrongs
+the government have heaped upon my family. My husband lingered three days
+with the order spread out on the table beside him. The fourth day they
+laid him in Campo Santo. That night my maid fell ill. Yesterday morning a
+second peremptory order was handed me. I am now on my way home to obey.'
+
+"Then followed in slow, measured sentences the story of her life: married
+at seventeen at her father's bidding to a man twice her age; surrounded by
+a court the most dissolute in eastern Europe; forced into a social
+environment that valued woman only as a chattel, and that ostracized or
+defamed every wife who, reverencing her womanhood, protested against its
+excesses. For five years past--ever since her marriage--her husband's
+career had been one long, unending dissipation. At last, broken down by a
+life he had not the moral courage to resist, he had succumbed and taken to
+his bed; thence, wavering between life and death, like a burnt-out candle
+flickering in its socket, he had been carried to Venice.
+
+"'Do you wonder, now, that my faith is gone, my heart broken?'
+
+"We were nearing Vienna; the stations were more frequent; our own carriage
+began filling up. For an hour we rode side by side, silent, she gazing
+fixedly from the window, I half stunned by this glimpse of a life the
+pathos of which wrung my very heart. When we entered the station she
+roused herself, and said to me half pleadingly:--
+
+"'I cannot bear to think I may never see you again. To-night I must stay
+in Vienna. Will you dine with me at my hotel? I go to the Metropole. And
+you? Where did you intend to go?'
+
+"'To the Metropole, also.'
+
+"'Not when you left Venice?'
+
+"'Yes; before I met you.'
+
+"'There is a fate that controls us,' she said reverently. 'Come at seven.'
+
+"When the hour arrived I sent my card to her apartment, and was ushered
+into a small room with a curtain-closed door opening out into a larger
+salon, through which I caught glimpses of a table spread with glass and
+silver. Polaff, rigid and perpendicular, received me with a stiff, formal
+recognition. I do not think he quite understood, nor altogether liked, his
+mistress's chance acquaintance. In a moment she entered from a door
+opposite, still in her black garments with the nun's cuffs and broad
+collar. Extending her hand graciously, she said:--
+
+"'You have slept since I left you this morning. I see it in your face. I
+am so glad. And I too. I have rested all day. It was so good of you to
+come.'
+
+"There was no change in her manner; the same frank, trustful look in her
+eyes, the same anxious concern about me. When dinner was announced she
+placed me beside her, Polaff standing behind her chair, and the other
+attendants serving.
+
+"The talk drifted again into my own life, she interrupting with pointed
+questions, and making me repeat again and again the stories I told her of
+our humble home. She must learn them herself to tell them to her own
+people, she said. It was all so strange and new to her, so simple and so
+genuine. With the coffee she fell to talking of her own home, the
+despotism of Russia, the death of her father, the forcing of her brothers
+into the army. Still holding her cup in her hands, she began pacing up and
+down, her eyes on the floor (we were alone, Polaff having retired). Then
+stopping in front of me, and with an earnestness that startled me:--
+
+"'Do not go to Berlin. Please come to Cracow with me. Think. I am alone,
+absolutely alone. My house is in order, and has been for months, expecting
+me every day. It is so terrible to go back; come with me, please.'
+
+"'I must not, madame. I have promised my friends to be in Berlin in two
+days. I would, you know, sacrifice anything of my own to serve you.'
+
+"'And you will not?' and a sigh of disappointment escaped her.
+
+"'I cannot.'
+
+"'No; I must not ask you. You are right. It is better that you keep your
+word.'
+
+"She continued walking, gazing still on the floor. Then she moved to the
+mantel, and touched a bell. Instantly the curtains of the door divided,
+and Polaff stood before her.
+
+"'Bring me my jewel-case.'
+
+"The man bowed gravely, looked at me furtively from the corner of his eye,
+and closed the curtains behind him. In a moment he returned, bearing a
+large, morocco-covered box, which he placed on the table. She pressed the
+spring, and the lid flew up, uncovering several velvet-lined trays filled
+with jewels that flashed under the lighted candles.
+
+"'You need not wait, Polaff. You can go to bed.'
+
+"The man stepped back a pace, stood by the wall, fixed his eye upon his
+mistress, as if about to speak, looked at me curiously, then, bowing low,
+drew the curtains aside, and closed the door behind him.
+
+"Another spring, and out came a great string of pearls, a necklace of
+sapphires, some rubies, and emeralds. These she heaped up upon the white
+cloth beside her. Carefully examining the contents of the case, she drew
+from a lower tray a bracelet set with costly diamonds, a rare and
+beautiful ornament, and before I was aware of her intent had clasped it
+upon my wrist.
+
+"'I want you to wear this for me. You see it is large enough to go quite
+up the arm."
+
+"For a moment my astonishment was so great I could not speak. Then I
+loosened it and laid it in her hand again. She looked up, her eyes
+filling, her face expressive of the deepest pain.
+
+"'And you will not?'
+
+"'I cannot, madame. In my country men do not accept such costly presents
+from women, and then we do not wear bracelets, as your men do here.'
+
+"'Then take this case, and choose for yourself.'
+
+"I poured the contents of a small tray into my hand, and picked out a
+plain locket, almond-shaped, simply wrought, with an opening on one side
+for hair.
+
+"'Give me this with your hair.'
+
+"She threw the bracelet into the case, and her eyes lighted up.
+
+"'Oh, I am so glad, so glad! It was mine when I was a child,--my mother
+gave it to me. The dear little locket--yes; you shall always wear it.'
+
+"Then, rising from her seat, she took my hands in hers, and, looking down
+into my face, said, her voice breaking:--
+
+"'It is eleven o'clock. Soon you must leave me. You cannot stay longer. I
+know that in a few hours I shall never see you again. Will you join me in
+my prayers before I go?'
+
+"A few minutes later she called to me. She was on her knees in the next
+room, two candles burning beside her, her rich dark hair loose about her
+shoulders, an open breviary bound with silver in her hands. I can see her
+now, with her eyes closed, her lips moving noiselessly, her great lashes
+wet with tears, and that Madonna-like look as she motioned me to kneel.
+For several minutes she prayed thus, the candles lighting her face, the
+room deathly still. Then she arose, and with her eyes half shut, and her
+lips moving as if with her unfinished prayer, she lifted her head and
+kissed me on the forehead, on the chin, and on each cheek, making with
+her finger the sign of the cross. Then, reaching for a pair of scissors,
+and cutting a small tress from her hair, she closed the locket upon it,
+and laid it in my hand.
+
+"Early the next morning I was at her door. She was dressed and waiting.
+She greeted me kindly, but mournfully, saying in a tone which denoted her
+belief in its impossibility:--
+
+"'And you will not go to Cracow?'
+
+"When we reached the station, and I halted at the small gate opening upon
+the train platform, she merely pressed my hand, covered her head with her
+veil, and entered the carriage followed by Polaff. I watched, hoping to
+see her face at the window, but she remained hidden.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I turned into the Ringstrasse, still filled with her presence, and
+tortured by the thought of the conditions that prevented my following her,
+called a cab, and drove to our minister's. Mr. Motley then held the
+portfolio; my passport had expired, and, as I was entering Germany, needed
+renewing. The attache agreed to the necessity, stamped it, and brought it
+back to me with the ink still wet.
+
+"'His excellency,' said he, 'advises extreme caution on your part while
+here. Be careful of your associates, and keep out of suspicious company.
+Vienna is full of spies watching escaped Polish refugees. Your
+name'--reading it carefully--'is apt to excite remark. We are powerless to
+help in these cases. Only last week an American who befriended a man in
+the street was arrested on the charge of giving aid and comfort to the
+enemy, and, despite our efforts, is still in prison.'
+
+"I thanked him, and regained my cab with my head whirling. What, after
+all, if the countess should have deceived me? My blood chilled as I
+remembered her words of the day before: recalled by the government she
+hated, her two brothers forced into the army, the cruelties and
+indignities Russia had heaped upon her family, and this last peremptory
+order to return. Had my sympathetic nature and inexperience gotten me into
+trouble? Then that Madonna-like head with angelic face, the lips moving in
+prayer, rose before me. No, no; not she. I would stake my life.
+
+"I entered my hotel, and walked across the corridor for the key of my
+room. Standing by the porter was an Austrian officer in full uniform, even
+to his white kid gloves. As I passed I heard the porter say in German:--
+
+"'Yes; that is the man.'
+
+"The Austrian looked at me searchingly, and, wheeling around sharply,
+said:--
+
+"'Monsieur, can I see you alone? I have something of importance to
+communicate.'
+
+"The remark and his abrupt manner indicated so plainly an arrest, that for
+the moment I hesitated, running over in my mind what might be my wisest
+course to pursue. Then, thinking I could best explain my business in
+Vienna in the privacy of my room, _I_ said stiffly:--
+
+"'Yes; I am now on my way to my apartment. I will see you there.'
+
+"He entered first, shut the door behind him, crossed the room; passed his
+hand behind the curtains, opened the closet, shut it, and said:--
+
+"'We are alone?'
+
+"'Quite.'
+
+"Then, confronting me, 'You are an American?'
+
+"'You are right.'
+
+"'And have your passport with you?'
+
+"I drew it from my pocket, and handed it to him. He glanced at the
+signature, refolded it, and said:--
+
+"'You took the Countess Smolensk! to the station this morning. Where did
+you meet her?'
+
+"'On the train yesterday leaving Venice.'
+
+"'Never before?'
+
+"'Never.'
+
+"'Why did she not leave Venice earlier?'
+
+"'The count was dying, and could not be moved. He was buried two days
+ago.'
+
+"A shade passed over his face, 'Poor De Rescka! I suspected as much.'
+
+"Then facing me again, his face losing its suspicious expression:--
+
+"'Monsieur, I am the brother of the countess,--Colonel Boski of the army.
+A week ago my letters were intercepted, and I left Cracow in the night.
+Since then I have been hunted like an animal. This uniform is my third
+disguise. As soon as my connection with the plot was discovered, my sister
+was ordered home. The death of the count explains her delay, and prevented
+my seeing her at the station. I had selected the first station out of
+Vienna. I tried for an opportunity this morning at the depot, but dared
+not. I saw you, and learned from the cabman your hotel.'
+
+"'But, colonel,' said I, the attache's warning in my ears, 'you will
+pardon me, but these are troublous times. I am alone here, on my way to
+Berlin to pursue my studies. I found the countess ill and suffering, and
+unable to sleep. She interested me profoundly, and I did what I could to
+relieve her. I would have done the same for any other woman in her
+condition the world over, no matter what the consequences. If you are her
+brother, you will appreciate this. If you are here for any other purpose,
+say so at once. I leave Vienna at noon.'
+
+"His color flushed, and his hand instinctively felt for his sword; then,
+relaxing, he said:--
+
+"'You are right. The times are troublous. Every other man is a spy. I do
+not blame you for suspecting me. I have nothing but my word. If you do not
+believe it, I cannot help it. I will go. You will at least permit me to
+thank you for your kindness to my sister,' drawing off his glove and
+holding out his hand.
+
+"'The hand of a soldier is never refused the world over,' and I shook it
+warmly. As it dropped to his side I caught sight of his seal-ring.
+
+"'Pardon me one moment. Give me your hand again.' The ring bore the crest
+and motto of the countess.
+
+"'It is enough, colonel. Your sister showed me her own on the train.
+Pardon my suspicions. What can I do for you?' He looked puzzled, hardly
+grasping my meaning.
+
+"'Nothing. You have told me all I wanted to know.'
+
+"'But you will breakfast with me before I take the train?' I said.
+
+"'No; that might get you into trouble--serious trouble, if I should be
+arrested. On the contrary, I must insist that you remain in this room
+until I leave the building.'
+
+"'But you perhaps need money; these disguises are expensive,' glancing at
+his perfect appointment.
+
+"'You are right. Perhaps twenty rubles--it will be enough. Give me your
+address in Berlin. If I am taken, you will lose your money. If I escape,
+it will be returned.'
+
+"I shook his hand, and the door closed. A week later a man wrapped in a
+cloak called at my lodgings and handed me an envelope. There was no
+address and no message, only twenty rubles."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I looked out over the sea wrinkling below me like a great sheet of gray
+satin. The huge life-boat swung above our heads, standing out in strong
+relief against the sky. After a long pause,--the story had strangely
+thrilled me,--I asked:--
+
+"Pardon me, have you ever seen or heard of the countess since?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"Nor her brother?"
+
+"Nor her brother."
+
+"And the locket?"
+
+"It is here where she placed it."
+
+At this instant the moon rolled out from behind a cloud, and shone full on
+his face. He drew out his watch-chain, touched it with his thumb-nail, and
+placed the trinket in my hand. It was such as a child might wear, an
+enameled thread encircling it. Through the glass I could see the tiny nest
+of jet-black hair.
+
+For some moments neither of us spoke. At last, with my heart aglow, my
+whole nature profoundly stirred by the unconscious nobility of the man, I
+said:--
+
+"My friend, do you know why she bound the bracelet to your wrist?"
+
+"No; that always puzzled me. I have often wondered."
+
+"She bound the bracelet to your wrist, as of old a maid would have wound
+her scarf about the shield of her victorious knight, as the queen would
+pin the iron cross to the breast of a hero. You were the first gentleman
+she had ever known in her life."
+
+
+
+
+JOHN SANDERS, LABORER
+
+[The outlines of this story were given me by my friend Augustus Thomas,
+whose plays are but an index to the tenderness of his own nature.]
+
+
+He came from up the railroad near the State line. Sanders was the name on
+the pay-roll,--John Sanders, laborer. There was nothing remarkable about
+him. He was like a hundred others up and down the track. If you paid him
+off on Saturday night you would have forgotten him the next week, unless,
+perhaps, he had spoken to you. He looked fifty years of age, and yet he
+might have been but thirty. He was stout and strong, his hair and beard
+cropped short. He wore a rough blue jumper, corduroy trousers, and a red
+flannel shirt, which showed at his throat and wrists. He wore, too, a
+leather strap buckled about his waist.
+
+If there was anything that distinguished him it was his mouth and eyes,
+especially when he smiled. The mouth was clean and fresh, the teeth
+snow-white and regular, as if only pure things came through them; the
+eyes were frank and true, and looked straight at you without wavering. If
+you gave him an order he said, "Yes, sir," never taking his gaze from
+yours until every detail was complete. When he asked a question it was to
+the point and short.
+
+The first week he shoveled coal on a siding, loading the yard engines.
+Then Burchard, the station-master, sent him down to the street crossing to
+flag the trains for the dump carts filling the scows at the long dock.
+
+This crossing right-angled a deep railroad cut half a mile long. On the
+level above, looking down upon its sloping sides, staggered a row of
+half-drunken shanties with blear-eyed windows, and ragged roofs patched
+and broken; some hung over on crutches caught under their floor timbers.
+Sanders lived in one of these cabins,--the one nearest the edge of the
+granite retaining-wall flanking the street crossing.
+
+Up the slopes of this railroad cut lay the refuse of the
+shanties,--bottomless buckets, bits of broken chairs, tomato cans, rusty
+hoops, fragments of straw matting, and other debris of the open lots. In
+the summer-time a few brave tufts of grass, coaxed into life by the warm
+sun, clung desperately to an accidental level, and now and then a gay
+dandelion flamed for a day or two and then disappeared, cut off by some
+bedouin goat. In the winter there were only patches of blackened snow,
+fouled by the endless smoke of passing trains, and seamed with the
+short-cut footpaths of the yard men.
+
+There were only two in Sanders's shanty,--Sanders and his crippled
+daughter, a girl of twelve, with a broken back. She barely reached the
+sill when she stood at the low window to watch her father waving his flag.
+Bent, hollow-eyed, shrunken; her red hair cropped short in her neck; her
+poor little white fingers clutching the window-frame. "The express is late
+this morning," or "No. 14 is on time," she would say, her restless, eager
+blue eyes glancing at the clock, or "What a lot of ashes they do be
+haulin' to-day!" Nothing else was to be seen from her window.
+
+When the whistle blew she took down the dinner-pail, filled it with
+potatoes and the piece of pork hot from the boiling pot, poured the coffee
+in the tin cup, put on the cover, and, limping to the edge of the
+retaining-wall, lowered it over by a string to her father. Sanders looked
+up and waved his hand, and the girl went back to her post at the window.
+
+When the night came he would light the kerosene lamp in their one room and
+read aloud the stories from the Sunday papers, she listening eagerly and
+asking him questions he could not answer, her eyes filling with tears or
+her face breaking into smiles. This summed up her life.
+
+Not much in the world, all this, for Sanders!--not much of rest, or
+comfort, or happy sunshine,--not much of song or laughter, the pipe of
+birds or smell of sweet blossoms,--not much room for gratitude or courage
+or human kindness or charity. Only the ceaseless engine-bell, the grime,
+the sulphurous hellish smoke, the driving rain, the ice and dust,--only
+the endless monotony of ill-smelling, steaming carts, the smoke-stained
+signal-flag and greasy lantern,--only the tottering shanty with the two
+beds, the stove, and the few chairs and table,--only the blue-eyed
+crippled girl who wound her thin arms about his neck.
+
+It was on Sundays in the summer that the dreary monotony ceased. Then
+Sanders would carry her to the edge of the woods, a mile or more back of
+the cut. There was a little hollow carpeted with violets, and a pond,
+where now and then a water-lily escaped the factory boys, and there were
+big trees and bushes and stretches of grass, ending in open lots squared
+all over by the sod gatherers.
+
+On these days Sanders would lie on his back and watch the treetops swaying
+in the sunlight against the sky, and the girl would sit by him and make
+mounds of fresh mosses and pebbles, and tie the wild flowers into bunches.
+Sometimes he would pretend that there were fish in the pond, and would cut
+a pole and bend a pin, tie on a bit of string, and sit for hours watching
+the cork, she laughing beside him in expectation. Sometimes they would
+both go to sleep, his arm across her. And so the summer passed.
+
+One day in the autumn, at twelve-o'clock whistle, a crowd of young
+ruffians from the bolt-works near the brewery swept down the crossing
+chasing a homeless dog. Sanders stood in the road with his flag. A passing
+freight train stopped the mob. The dog dashed between the wheels,
+doubling, and then bounding up the slope of the cut, sprang through the
+half-open door of the shanty. When he saw the girl he stopped short,
+hesitated, looked anxiously into her face, crouched flat, and pulling
+himself along by his paws, laid his head at her feet. When Sanders came
+home that night the dog was asleep in her lap. He was about to drive him
+out until he caught the look in her face, then he stopped, and laid his
+empty dinner-pail on the shelf.
+
+"I seen him a-comin'," he said; "them rats from the bolt-factory was
+a-humpin' him, too! Guess if the freight hadn't a-come along they'd
+a-ketched him."
+
+The dog looked wistfully into Sanders's face, scanning him curiously,
+timidly putting out his paw and dropping it, as if he had been too bold,
+and wanted to make some sort of a dumb apology, like a poor relation who
+has come to spend the day. He had never had any respectable
+ancestors,--none to speak of. You could see that in the coarse, shaggy
+hair, like a door mat; the awkward ungainly walk, the legs doubling under
+him; the drooping tail with bare spots down its length, suggesting past
+indignities. He was not a large dog--only about as high as a chair seat;
+he had mottled lips, too, and sharp, sawlike teeth. One ear was gone,
+perhaps in his puppyhood, when some one had tried to make a terrier of
+him and had stopped when half done. The other ear, however, was active
+enough for two. It would curl forward in attention like a deer's, or start
+up like a rabbit's in alarm, or lie back on his head when the girl stroked
+him to sleep. He was only a kickable, chasable kind of a dog,--a dog made
+for sounding tin pans tied to his tail and whooping boys behind.
+
+All but his eyes! These were brown as agates, and as deep and clear.
+Kindly eyes that looked and thought and trusted. It was these eyes that
+first made the girl love him; they reminded her, strange to say, of her
+father's. She saw, too, perhaps unconsciously to herself, down in their
+depths, something of the same hunger for sympathy that stirred her own
+heart--the longing for companionship. She wanted something nearer her own
+age to love, though she never told her father. This was a heartache she
+kept to herself, perhaps because she hardly understood it.
+
+The dog and the girl became inseparable. At night he slept under her bed,
+reaching his head up in the gray dawn, and licking her face until she
+covered him up warm beside her. When the trains passed he would stand up
+on his hind legs, his paws on the sill, his blunt little nose against the
+pane, whining at the clanging bells, or barking at the great rings of
+steam and smoke coughed up by the engines below.
+
+She taught him all manner of tricks. How to walk on his hind feet with a
+paper cap on his head, a plate in his mouth, begging. How to make believe
+he was dead, lying still a minute at a time, his odd ear furling nervously
+and his eyes snapping fun; how to carry a basket to the grocery on the
+corner, when she would limp out in the morning for a penny's worth of milk
+or a loaf of bread, he waiting until she crossed the street, and then
+marching on proudly before her.
+
+With the coming of the dog a new and happier light seemed to have
+brightened the shanty. Sanders himself began to feel the influence. He
+would play with him by the hour, holding his mouth tight, pushing back his
+lips so that his teeth glistened, twirling his ear. There was a third
+person now for him to consult and talk to. "It'll be turrible cold at the
+crossin' to-day, won't it, Dog?" or, "Thet's No. 23 puffin' up in the cut:
+don't yer know her bell? Wonder, Dog, what she's switched fur?" he would
+say to him. He noticed, too, that the girl's cheeks were not so white and
+pinched. She seemed taller and not so weary; and when he walked up the
+cut, tired out with the day's work, she always met him at the door, the
+dog springing half way down the slope, wagging his tail and bounding ahead
+to welcome him. And she would sing little snatches of songs that her
+mother had taught her years ago, before the great flood swept away the
+cabin and left only her father and herself clinging to a bridge, she with
+a broken back.
+
+After a while Sanders coaxed him down to the track, teaching him to bring
+back his empty dinner-pail, the dog spending the hour with him, sitting by
+his side demurely, or asleep in the sentry-box.
+
+All this time the dog never rose to the dignity of any particular name.
+The girl spoke of him as "Doggie," and Sanders always as "the Dog." The
+trainmen called him "Rags," in deference, no doubt, to his torn ear and
+threadbare tail. They threw coal at him as he passed, until it leaked out
+that he belonged to "Sanders's girl." Then they became his champions, and
+this name and pastime seemed out of place. Only once did he earn any
+distinguishing sobriquet. That was when he had saved the girl's basket,
+after a sharp fight with a larger and less honest dog. Sanders then spoke
+of him, with half-concealed pride, as "the Boss," but this only lasted a
+day or so. Publicly, in the neighborhood, he was known as "Sanders's dog."
+
+One morning the dog came limping up the cut with a broken leg. Some said a
+horse had kicked him; some that the factory boys had thrown stones at him.
+He made no outcry, only came sorrowfully in, his mouth dry and
+dust-covered, dragging his hind leg, that hung loose like a flail; then he
+laid his head in the girl's lap. She crooned and cried over him all day,
+binding up the bruised limb, washing his eyes and mouth, putting him in
+her own bed. There was no one to go for her father, and if there were, he
+could not leave the crossing. When Sanders came home he felt the leg over
+carefully, the girl watching eagerly. "No, Kate, child, yees can't do
+nothin'; it's broke at the jint. Don't cry, young one."
+
+Then he went outside and sat on a bench, looking across the cut and over
+the roofs of the factories, hazy in the breath of a hundred furnaces, and
+so across the blue river fringed with waving trees where the blessed sun
+was sinking to rest. He was not surprised. It was like everything else in
+his life. When he loved something, it was sure to be this way.
+
+That night, when the girl was asleep, he took the dog up in his arms, and
+wrapping his coat around him so the corner loafers could not see, rang the
+bell of the dispensary. The doctor was out, but a nurse looked at the
+wound. "No, there was nothing to be done; the socket had been crushed.
+Keep it bandaged, that was all." Then he brought him home and put him
+under the bed.
+
+In three or four weeks he was about again, dragging the leg when he
+walked. He could still get around the shanty and over to the grocer's, but
+he could not climb the hill, even with the pail empty. He tried one day,
+but he only climbed half way. Sanders found him in the path when he went
+home, lying down by the pail.
+
+Sanders worried over the dog. He missed the long talks at the crossing
+over the dinner, the poor fellow sitting by his side watching every
+spoonful, his eyes glistening, the old ear furling and unfurling like
+a toy flag. He missed, too, his scampering after the sparrows and pigeons
+that often braved the desolation and smoke of this inferno to pick up
+the droppings from the carts. He missed more than all the
+companionship,--somebody to sit beside him.
+
+As for the girl--there was now a double bond between her and the dog. He
+was not only poor and an outcast, but a cripple like herself. Before, she
+was his friend, now, she was his mother, whispering to him, her cheek to
+his; holding him up to the window to see the trains rush by, his nose
+touching the glass, his poor leg dangling.
+
+The train hands missed him too, vowing vengeance, and the fireman of No.
+6, Joe Connors, spent half a Sunday trying to find the boy that threw the
+stone. Bill Adams, who ran the yard engine, went all the way home the next
+day after the accident for a bottle of horse liniment, and left it at the
+shanty, and said he'd get the doctor at the next station if Sanders
+wanted.
+
+One broiling hot August day--a day when the grasshoppers sang among the
+weeds in the open lot, and the tar dripped down from the roofs, when the
+teams strained up the hill reeking with sweat, a wet sponge over their
+eyes, and the drivers walked beside their carts mopping their necks--on
+one of these steaming August days the dog limped down to the crossing just
+to rub his nose once against Sanders as he stood waving his flag, or to
+look wistfully up into his face as he sat in the little pepper-box of a
+house that sheltered his flags and lantern. He did not often come now.
+They were making up the local freight--the yard engine backing and
+shunting the cars into line. Bill Adams was at the throttle and Connors
+was firing. A few yards below Sanders's sentry-box stood an empty flat car
+on a siding. It threw a grateful shade over the hard cinder-covered
+tracks. The dog had crawled beneath its trucks and lay asleep, his
+stiffened leg over the switch frog. Adams's yard engine puffing by woke
+him with a start. There was a struggle, a yell of pain, and the dog fell
+over on his back, his useless leg fast in the frog. Sanders heard the cry
+of agony, threw down his flag, bounded over the cross-ties, and crawled
+beneath the trucks. The dog's cries stopped. But the leg was fast. In a
+moment more he had rushed back to his box, caught up a crowbar, and was
+forcing the joint. It did not give an inch. There was but one thing
+left--to throw the switch before the express, due in two minutes, whirled
+past. In another instant a man in a blue jumper was seen darting up the
+tracks. He sprang at a lever, bounded back, and threw himself under the
+flat car. Then the yelp of a dog in pain, drowned by the shriek of an
+engine dashing into the cut at full speed. Then a dog thrown clear of the
+track, a crash like a falling house, and a flat car smashed into kindling
+wood.
+
+When the conductor and passengers of the express walked back, Bill Adams
+was bending over a man in a blue jumper laid flat on the cinders. He was
+bleeding from a wound in his head. Lying beside him was a yellow dog
+licking his stiffened hand. A doctor among the passengers opened his red
+shirt and pressed his hand on the heart. He said he was breathing, and
+might live. Then they brought a stretcher from the office, and Connors and
+Bill Adams carried him up the hill, the dog following, limping.
+
+Here they laid him on a bed beside a sobbing, frightened girl; the dog at
+her feet.
+
+Adams bent over him, washing his head with a wad of cotton waste.
+
+Just before he died he opened his eyes, rested them on his daughter, half
+raised his head as if in search of the dog, and then fell back on his bed,
+that same sweet, clear smile about his mouth.
+
+"John Sanders," said Adams, "how in h--- could a sensible man like you
+throw his life away for a damned yellow dog?"
+
+"Don't, Billy," he said. "I couldn't help it. He was a cripple."
+
+
+
+
+BAeADER
+
+
+I was sitting in the shadow of Mme. Poulard's delightful inn at St. Michel
+when I first saw Baeader. Dinner had been served, and I had helped to pay
+for my portion by tacking a sketch on the wall behind the chair of the
+hostess. This high valuation was not intended as a special compliment to
+me, the wall being already covered with similar souvenirs from the
+sketch-books of half the painters in Europe.
+
+Baeader, he pronounced it Bayder, had at that moment arrived in answer to a
+telegram from the governor, who the night before, in a moment of
+desperation, had telegraphed the proprietor of his hotel in Paris, "Send
+me a courier at once who knows Normandy and speaks English." The
+bare-headed man who, hat in hand, was at this moment bowing so
+obsequiously to the governor, was the person who had arrived in response.
+He was short and thick-set, and perfectly bald on the top of his head in a
+small spot, friar-fashion. He glistened with perspiration that collected
+near the hat-line, and escaped in two streams, drowning locks of black
+hair covering each temple, stranding them like wet grass on his
+cheek-bones below. His full face was clean-shaven, smug, and persuasive,
+and framed two shoe-button eyes that, while sharp and alert, lacked
+neither humor nor tenderness.
+
+He wore a pair of new green kid gloves, was dressed in a brown cloth coat
+bound with a braid of several different shades, showing different dates of
+repair, and surmounted by a velvet collar of the same date as the coat.
+His trousers were of a nondescript gray, and flapped about a pair of
+brand-new gaiters, evidently purchased for the occasion, and, from the
+numerous positions assumed while he talked, evidently one size too small.
+
+His hat--the judicious use of which added such warmth, color, and
+picturesqueness to his style of delivery, now pressed to his chest, now
+raised aloft, now debased to the cobbles--had once had some dignity and
+proportions. Continual maltreatment had long since taken all the gay and
+frolicsome curl out of its brim, while the crown had so often collapsed
+that the scars of ill-usage were visible upon it. And yet at a distance
+this relic of a former fashion, as handled by Baeader,--it was so
+continually in his grasp and so seldom on his head, that you could never
+say it was worn,--this hat, brushed, polished, and finally slicked by its
+owner to a state slightly confusing as to whether it were made of polished
+iron or silk, was really a very gay and attractive affair.
+
+It was easy to see that the person before me had spared neither skill,
+time, nor expense to make as favorable an impression on his possible
+employers as lay in his power.
+
+"At the moment of the arrival of ze depeche telegraphique," Baeader
+continued, "I was in ze office of monsieur ze proprietaire. It was at ze
+conclusion of some arrangement commercial, when mon ami ze proprietaire
+say to me: 'Baeader, it is ze abandoned season in Paris. Why not arrange
+for ze gentlemen in Normandy? The number of francs a day will be at
+least'"--here Baeader scrutinized carefully the governor's face--'"at least
+to ze amount of ten'--is it not so, messieurs? Of course," noting a slight
+contraction of the eyebrows, "if ze service was of long time, and to ze
+most far-away point, some abatement could be posseeble. If, par exemple,
+it was to St. Malo, St. Servan, Parame, Cancale speciale, Dieppe petite,
+Dinard, and ze others, the sum of nine francs would be quite sufficient."
+
+The governor had never heard Dieppe called "petite" nor Cancale
+"speciale," and said so, lifting his eyebrows inquiringly. Baeader did not
+waver. "But if messieurs pretend a much smaller route and of few days, say
+to St. Michel, Parame, and Cancale,"--here the governor's brow relaxed
+again,--"then it was imposseeble,--if messieurs will pardon,--quite
+imposseeble for less zan ten francs."
+
+So the price was agreed upon, and the hat, now with a decided metallic
+sheen, once more swept the cobblestones of the courtyard. The ceremony
+being over, its owner then drew off the green kid gloves, folded them flat
+on his knee, guided them into the inside pocket of the brown coat with the
+assorted bindings as carefully as if they had been his letter of credit,
+and declared himself at our service.
+
+It was when he had been installed as custodian not only of our hand
+luggage, but to a certain extent of our bank accounts and persons for some
+days, that he urged upon the governor the advisability of our at once
+proceeding to Cancale, or Cancale speciale, as he insisted on calling it.
+I immediately added my own voice to his pleadings, arguing that Cancale
+must certainly be on the sea. That, from my recollection of numerous
+water-colors and black-and-whites labeled in the catalogue, "Coast near
+Cancale," and the like, I was sure there must be the customary fish-girls,
+with shrimp-nets carried gracefully over one shoulder, to say nothing of
+brawny-chested fishermen with flat, rimless caps, having the usual little
+round button on top.
+
+The governor, however, was obdurate. He had a way of being obdurate when
+anything irritated him, and Baeader began to be one of these things.
+Cancale might be all very well for me, but how about the hotel for him,
+who had nothing to do, no pictures to paint? He had passed that time in
+his life when he could sleep under a boat with water pouring down the back
+of his neck through a tarpaulin full of holes.
+
+"The hotel, messieurs! Imagine! Is it posseeble that monsieur imagine for
+one moment that Baeader would arrange such annoyances? I remember ze hotel
+quite easily. It is not like, of course, ze Grand Hotel of Paris, but it
+is simple, clean, ze cuisine superb, and ze apartment fine and hospitable.
+Remembare it is Baeader."
+
+"And the baths?" broke out the governor savagely.
+
+Baeader's face was a study; a pained, deprecating expression passed over it
+as he uncovered his head, his glazed headpiece glistening in the sun.
+
+"Baths, monsieur--and ze water of ze sea everywhere?"
+
+These assurances of future comfort were not overburdened with details, but
+they served to satisfy and calm the governor, I pleading, meanwhile, that
+Baeader had always proved himself a man of resource, quite ready when
+required with either a meal or an answer.
+
+So we started for Cancale.
+
+On the way our courier grew more and more enthusiastic. We were traveling
+in a four-seated carriage, Baeader on the box, pointing out to us in
+English, after furtive conversations with the driver in French, the
+principal points of interest. With many flourishes he led us to Parame,
+one of those Normandy cities which consist of a huge hotel with enormous
+piazzas, a beach ten miles from the sea, and a small so-called
+fishing-village as a sort of marine attachment. To give a realistic touch,
+a lone boat is always being tarred somewhere down at the end of one of its
+toy streets, two or three donkey-carts and donkeys add an air of
+picturesqueness, and the usual number of children with red pails and
+shovels dig in the sand of the roadside. All the fish that are sold come
+from the next town. It was too early in the season when we reached there
+for girls in sabots and white caps, the tide from Paris not having set in.
+The governor hailed it with delight. "Why the devil didn't you tell me
+about this place before? Here we have been fooling away our time."
+
+"But it is only Parame, monsieur," with an accent on the "only" and a
+lifting of the hands. "Cancale speciale will charm you; ze coast it is so
+immediately flat, and ze life of ze sea charmante. Nevare at Parame,
+always at Cancale." So we drove on. The governor pacified but
+anxious--only succumbing at my argument that Baeader knew all Normandy
+thoroughly, and that an old courier like him certainly could be trusted to
+select a hotel.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+You all know the sudden dip from the rich, flat country of Normandy down
+the steep cliffs to the sea. Cancale is like the rest of it. The town
+itself stands on the brink of a swoop to the sands; the fishing-village
+proper, where the sea packs it solid in a great half-moon, with a light
+burning on one end that on clear nights can be seen as far as Mme.
+Poulard's cozy dining-room at St. Michel.
+
+One glimpse of this sea-burst tumbled me out of the carriage, sketch-trap
+in hand. Baeader and the governor kept on. If the latter noticed the
+discrepancy between Baeader's description of the country and the actual
+topography, no word fell from him at the moment of departure.
+
+From my aerie, as I worked under my white umbrella below the cliff, I
+could distinctly make out our traveling-carriage several hundred feet
+below and a mile away, crawling along a road of white tape with a green
+selvage of trees, the governor's glazed trunk flashing behind, Baeader's
+silk hat burning in front. Then the little insect stopped at a white spot
+backed by dots of green; a small speck broke away, and was swallowed up
+for a few minutes in the white dot,--doubtless Baeader to parley for
+rooms,--and then to my astonishment the whole insect turned and began
+crawling back again, growing larger every minute. All this occurred before
+I had half finished my outline or opened my color-box. Instantly the truth
+dawned upon me,--the governor was going back to Parame. An hour, perhaps,
+had elapsed when Baeader, with uncovered head and beaded with perspiration,
+the two locks of hair hanging limp and straight, stood before me.
+
+"What was the matter with the governor, Baeader? No hotel after all?"
+
+"On the contraire, pardonnez-moi, monsieur, a most excellent hotel, simple
+and quite of ze people, and with many patrons. Even at ze moment of
+arrival a most distinguished artist, a painter of ze Salon, was with his
+cognac upon a table at ze entrance."
+
+"No bath, perhaps," I remarked casually, still absorbed in my work, and
+with my mind at rest, now that Baeader remained with me.
+
+"On the contraire, monsieur, les bains are most excellent--primitive, of
+course, simple, and quite of ze people. But, monsieur le gouverneur is no
+more young. When one is no more young,"--with a deprecating
+shrug,--"parbleu, it is imposseeble to enjoy everything. Monsieur le
+gouverneur, I do assure you, make ze conclusion most regretfully to return
+to Parame."
+
+I learned the next morning that he evinced every desire to drown Baeader in
+the surf for bringing him to such an inn, and was restrained only by the
+knowledge that I should miss his protection during my one night in
+Cancale.
+
+"Moreover, it is ze grande fete to-night--ze fete of ze Republique. Zare
+are fireworks and illumination and music by ze municipality. It is simple,
+but quite of ze people. It is for zis reason that I made ze effort special
+with monsieur le gouverneur to remain with you. Ah! it is you, monsieur,
+who are so robust, so enthusiastic, so appreciative."
+
+Here Baeader put on his hat, and I closed my sketch-trap.
+
+"But monsieur has not yet dined," he said as we walked, "nor even at his
+hotel arrived. Ze inn of Mme. Flamand is so very far away, and ze ascent
+up ze cliffs difficile. If monsieur will be so good, zare is a cafe near
+by where it is quite posseeble to dine."
+
+Relieved of the governor's constant watchfulness Baeader became himself. He
+bustled about the restaurant, called for "Cancale speciale," a variety of
+oysters apparently entirely unknown to the landlord, and interviewed the
+_chef_ himself. In a few moments a table was spread in a corner of the
+porch overlooking a garden gay with hollyhocks, and a dinner was ordered
+of broiled chicken, French rolls, some radishes, half a dozen apricots,
+and a fragment of cheese. When it was over,--Baeader had been served in an
+adjoining apartment,--there remained not the amount mentioned in a former
+out-of-door feast, but sufficient to pack at least one basket,--in this
+case a paper box,--the drumsticks being stowed below, dunnaged by two
+rolls, and battened down with fragments of cheese and three apricots.
+
+"What's this for, Baeader? Have you not had enough to eat?"
+
+Baeader's face wore its blandest smile. "On ze contraire, I have made for
+myself a most excellent repast; but if monsieur will consider--ze dinner
+is a prix fixe, and monsieur can eat it all, or it shall remain for ze
+proprietaire. Zis, if monsieur will for one moment attend, will be stupid
+extraordinaire. I have made ze investigation, and discover zat ze post
+depart from Cancale in one hour. How simple zen to affeex ze stamps,--only
+five sous,--and in ze morning, even before Mme. Baeader is out of ze bed,
+it is in Paris--a souvenir from Cancale. How charmante ze surprise!"
+
+I discovered afterward that since he had joined us Baeader's own domestic
+larder had been almost daily enriched with crumbs like these from Dives's
+table.
+
+The _fete,_ despite Baeader's assurances, lacked one necessary feature.
+There was no music. The band was away with the boats, the triangle
+probably cooking, the French horn and clarinet hauling seines.
+
+But Baeader, not to be outdone by any _contretemps_, started off to find an
+old blind fellow who played an accordeon, collecting five francs of me in
+advance for his pay, under the plea that it was quite horrible that the
+young people could not dance. "While one is young, monsieur, music is ze
+life of ze heart."
+
+He brought the old man back, and with a certain care and tenderness set
+him down on a stone bench, the sightless eyes of the poor peasant turning
+up to the stars as he swayed the primitive instrument back and forth. The
+young girls clung to Baeader's arm, and blessed him for his goodness. I
+forgave him his duplicity, his delight in their happiness was so genuine.
+Perhaps it was even better than a _fete_.
+
+When, later in the evening, we arrived at Mme. Flamand's, we found her in
+the doorway, her brown face smiling, her white cap and apron in full
+relief under the glare of an old-fashioned ship's light, which hung from a
+rafter of the porch. Baeader inscribed my name in a much-thumbed,
+ink--stained register, which looked like a neglected ship's log, and then
+added his own. This, by the by, Baeader never neglected. Neither did he
+neglect a certain little ceremony always connected with it.
+
+After it was all over and "Moritz Baeader Courrier et Interprete" was duly
+inscribed,--and in justice it must be confessed it was always clearly
+written with a flourish at the end that lent it additional
+dignity,--Baeader would pause for a moment, carefully balance the pen,
+trying it first on his thumb-nail, and then place two little dots of ink
+over the first _a_, saying, with a certain wave of his hand, as he did so,
+"For ze honor of my families, monsieur." This peculiarity gained for him
+from the governor the sobriquet of "old fly-specks."
+
+The inn of Mme. Flamand, although less pretentious than many others that
+had sheltered us, was clean and comfortable, the lower deck and
+companionway were freshly sanded,--the whole house had a decidedly
+nautical air about it,--and the captain's state-room on the upper deck, a
+second-floor room, was large and well-lighted, although the ceiling might
+have been a trifle too low for the governor, and the bed a few inches too
+short.
+
+I ascended to the upper deck, preceded by the hostess carrying the ship's
+lantern, now that the last guest had been housed for the night. Baeader
+followed with a brass candlestick and a tallow dip about the size of a
+lead pencil. With the swinging open of the bedroom door, I made a mental
+inventory of all the conveniences: bed, two pillows, plenty of windows,
+washstand, towels. Then the all-important question recurred to me, Where
+had they hidden the portable tub?
+
+I opened the door of the locker, looked behind a sea-chest, then out of
+one window, expecting to see the green-painted luxury hanging by a hook or
+drying on a convenient roof. In some surprise I said:--
+
+"And the bath, Baeader?"
+
+"Does monsieur expect to bathe at ze night?" inquired Baeader with a
+lifting of his eyebrows, his face expressing a certain alarm for my
+safety.
+
+"No, certainly not; but to-morrow, when I get up."
+
+"Ah, to-morrow!" with a sigh of relief. "I do assure you, monsieur, zat it
+will be complete. At ze moment of ze deflexion of monsieur le gouverneur
+zare was not ze time. Of course it is imposseeble in Cancale to have ze
+grand bain of Paris, but then zare is still something,--a bath quite
+special, simple, and of ze people. Remember, monsieur, it is Baeader."
+
+And so, with a cheery "Bon soir" from madame, and a profound bow from
+Baeader, I fell asleep.
+
+The next morning I was awakened by a rumbling in the lower hold, as if the
+cargo was being shifted. Then came a noise like the moving of heavy
+barrels on the upper deck forward of the companionway. The next instant my
+door was burst open, and in stalked two brawny, big-armed fish-girls,
+yarn-stockinged to their knees, and with white sabots and caps. They were
+trundling the lower half of a huge hogshead.
+
+"Pour le bain, monsieur," they both called out, bursting into laughter, as
+they rolled the mammoth tub behind my bed, grounded it with a revolving
+whirl, as a juggler would spin a plate, and disappeared, slamming the door
+behind them, their merriment growing fainter as they dropped down the
+companionway.
+
+I peered over the head-board, and discovered the larger half of an
+enormous storage-barrel used for packing fish, with fresh saw-marks
+indenting its upper rim. Then I shouted for Baeader.
+
+Before anybody answered, there came another onslaught, and in burst the
+same girls, carrying a great iron beach-kettle filled with water. This,
+with renewed fits of laughter, they dashed into the tub, and in a flash
+were off again, their wooden sabots clattering down the steps.
+
+There was no mistaking the indications; Baeader's bath had arrived.
+
+I climbed up, and, dropping in with both feet, avoiding the splinters and
+the nails, sat on the sawed edge, ready for total immersion. Before I
+could adjust myself to its conditions there came another rush along the
+companionway, accompanied by the same clatter of sabots and splashing of
+water. There was no time to reach the bed, and it was equally evident that
+I could not vault out and throw myself against the door. So I simply
+ducked down, held on, and shouted, in French, Normandy patois, English:--
+
+"Don't come in! Don't open the door! Leave the water outside!" and the
+like. I might as well have ruined my throat on a Cancale lugger driving
+before a gale. In burst the door, and in swept the Amazons, letting go
+another kettleful, this time over my upper half, my lower half being
+squeezed down into the tub.
+
+When the girls had emptied the contents of this last kettle over the
+edge, and caught sight of my face,--they evidently thought I was still
+behind the head-board,--both gave one prolonged shriek that literally
+roused the house. The brawnier of the two,--a magnificent creature, with
+her corsets outside of her dress,--after holding her sides with laughter
+until I thought she would suffocate, sank upon the sea-chest, from which
+her companion rescued her just as Mme. Flamand and Baeader opened the door.
+All this time my chin was resting on the jagged rim of the tub, and my
+teeth were chattering.
+
+"Baeader, where in thunder have you been? Drag that chest against that door
+quick, and come in. Is this what you call a bath?"
+
+"Monsieur, if you will pardon. I arouse myself at ze daylight; I rely upon
+Mme. Flamand that ze Englishman who is dead had left one behind; I search
+everywhere. Zen I make inquiry of ze mother of ze two demoiselles who have
+just gone. She was much insulted; she make ze bad face. She say with much
+indignation: 'Monsieur, since I was a baby ze water has not touched my
+body.' At ze supreme moment, when all hope was gone, I discover near ze
+house of ze same madame this grand arrangement. Immediately I am on fire,
+and say to myself, 'Baeader, all is not lost. Even if zare was still ze
+bath of ze Englishman, it would not compare.' In ze quickness of an eye I
+bring a saw, and ze demoiselles are on zare knees making ze arrangement,
+one part big, one small. I say to myself, 'Baeader, monsieur is an artist,
+and of enthusiasm, and will appreciate zis utensile agreable of ze
+fisherman.' If monsieur will consider, it is, of course, not ze grand bain
+of Paris, but it is simple, and quite of ze people."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Some two months later, the governor and I happened to be strolling through
+the flower-market of the Madeleine. He had been selecting plants for the
+windows of his apartment, and needed a reliable man to arrange them in
+suitable boxes.
+
+"That fellow Baeader lives down here somewhere; perhaps he might know of
+some one," he said, consulting his notebook. "Yes; No. 21 Rue Chambord.
+Let us look him up."
+
+In five minutes we stood before a small, two-story house, with its door
+and wide basement-window protected by an awning. Beneath this, upon low
+shelves, was arranged a collection of wicker baskets, containing the
+several varieties of oysters from Normandy and Brittany coasts greatly
+beloved by Parisian epicures of Paris. On the top of each lid lay a tin
+sign bearing the name of the exact locality from which each toothsome
+bivalve was supposed to be shipped. These signs were all of one size.
+
+The governor is a great lover of oysters, especially his own Chesapeakes,
+and his eye ran rapidly over the tempting exhibit as he read aloud,
+perhaps, unconsciously, to himself, the several labels: "Dinard, Parame,
+Dieppe petite, Cancale speciale." Then a new light seemed to break in upon
+him.
+
+"Dieppe petite, Cancale speciale,"--here his face was a study,--"why,
+that's what Baeader always called Cancale. By thunder! I believe that's
+where that fellow got his names. I don't believe the rascal was ever in
+Normandy in his life until I took him. Here, landlord!" A small
+shop-keeper, wearing an apron, ran out smiling, uncovering the baskets as
+he approached. "Do you happen to know a courier by the name of Baeader?"
+
+"Never as courier, messieurs--always as commissionaire; he sells wood and
+charcoal to ze hotels. See! zare is his sign."
+
+"Where does he live?"
+
+"Upstairs."
+
+
+
+
+THE LADY OF LUCERNE
+
+I
+
+Above the Schweizerhof Hotel, and at the end of the long walk fronting the
+lake at Lucerne,--the walk studded with the round, dumpy, Noah's-ark
+trees,--stands a great building surrounded by flowers and palms, and at
+night ablaze with hundreds of lamps hung in festoons of blue, yellow, and
+red. This is the Casino. On each side of the wide entrance is a
+bill-board, announcing that some world-renowned Tyrolean warbler, famous
+acrobat, or marvelous juggler will sing or tumble or bewilder, the price
+of admission remaining the same, despite the enormous sum paid for the
+appearance of the performer.
+
+Inside this everybody's club is a cafe, with hurrying waiters and a solid
+brass band, and opening from its smoke and absinthe laden interior blazes
+a small theatre, with stage footlights and scenery, where the several
+world-renowned artists redeem at a very considerable discount the
+promissory notes of the bill-boards outside.
+
+During the performance the audience smoke and sip. Between the acts most
+of them swarm out into the adjacent corridors leading to the
+gaming-rooms,--licensed rooms these, with toy-horses ridden by tin
+jockeys, and another equally delusive and tempting device of the devil--a
+game of tipsy marbles, rolling about in search of sunken saucers
+emblazoned with the arms of the nations of the earth. These whirligigs of
+amateur crime are constantly surrounded by eager-eyed men and women, who
+try their luck for the amusement of the moment, or by broken-down, seedy
+gamblers, hazarding their last coin for a turn of fortune. Now and then,
+too, some sweet-faced girl, her arm in her father's, wins a louis with a
+franc, her childish laughter ringing out in the stifling atmosphere.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Tyrolean warbler had just finished her high-keyed falsetto, bowing
+backward in her short skirts and stout shoes with silver buckles, and I
+had just reached the long corridor on my way to the garden, to escape the
+blare and pound of the band, when a man leaned out of a half-opened door
+and touched my shoulder.
+
+"Pardon, monsieur. May I speak to you a moment?"
+
+He was a short, thick-set, smooth-shaven, greasy man, dressed plainly in
+black, with a huge emerald pin in his shirt front. I have never had any
+particular use for a man with an emerald pin in his shirt front.
+
+"There will be a game of baccarat," he continued in a low voice, his eyes
+glancing about furtively, "at eleven o'clock precisely. Knock twice at
+this door."
+
+Old habitues of Lucerne--habitues of years, men who never cross the Alps
+without at least a day's stroll under the Noah's-ark trees,--will tell you
+over their coffee that since the opening of the St. Gotthard Tunnel this
+half-way house of Lucerne--this oasis between Paris and Rome--has
+sheltered most of the adventurers of Europe; that under these same trees,
+and on these very benches, nihilists have sat and plotted, refugees and
+outlaws have talked in whispers, and adventuresses, with jeweled stilettos
+tucked in their bosoms, have lain in wait for fresher victims.
+
+I had never in my wanderings met any of these mysterious and delightful
+people. And, strange to say, I had never seen a game of baccarat. This
+might be my opportunity. I would see the game and perhaps run across some
+of these curious individuals. I consulted my watch; there was half an hour
+yet. The man was a runner, of course, for this underground, unlicensed
+gaming-house, who had picked me out as a possible victim.
+
+When the moment arrived I knocked at the door.
+
+It was opened, not by the greasy Jack-in-the-box with the emerald pin, but
+by a deferential old man, who looked at me for a moment, holding the door
+with his foot. Then gently closing it, he preceded me across a hall and up
+a long staircase. At the top was a passageway and another door, and behind
+this a large room paneled in dark wood. On one side of this apartment was
+a high desk. Here sat the cashier counting money, and arranging little
+piles of chips of various colors. In the centre stood a table covered with
+black cloth: I had always supposed such tables to be green. About it were
+seated ten people, the croupier in the middle. The game had already begun.
+I moved up a chair, saying that I would look on, but not play.
+
+Had the occasion been a clinic, the game a corpse, and the croupier the
+operating surgeon, the group about the table could not have been more
+absorbed or more silent; a cold, death-like, ominous stillness that seemed
+to saturate the very air. The only sounds were the occasional clickings of
+the ivory chips, like the chattering of teeth, and the monotones of the
+croupier announcing the results of the play:--
+
+"Faites vos jeux. Le jeu est fait; rien ne va plus."
+
+I began to study the _personnel_ of this clinic of chance.
+
+Two Englishmen in evening dress sat side by side, never speaking, scarcely
+moving, their eyes riveted on the falling cards flipped from the
+croupier's hands. A coarse-featured, oily-skinned woman--a Russian, I
+thought--looked on calmly, resting her head on her palm. A man in a gray
+suit, with waxy face and watery, yellow eyes, made paper pills, rolling
+them slowly between thumb and forefinger--his features as immobile as a
+death-mask. A blue-eyed, blond German officer, with a decoration on the
+lapel of his coat, nonchalantly twirled his mustache, his shoulders
+straining in tension. A Parisienne, with bleached hair and penciled
+eyebrows, leaned over her companion's arm. There was also a flashily
+dressed negro, evidently a Haytian, who sat motionless at the far end, as
+stolid as a boiler, only the steam-gauge of his eyes denoting the pressure
+beneath.
+
+No one spoke, no one laughed.
+
+Two of the group interested me at once,--the croupier and a woman who sat
+within three feet of me.
+
+The croupier, who was in evening dress, might have been of any age from
+thirty to fifty. His eyes were deep-set and glassy, like those of a
+consumptive. His hair was jet-black, his face clean-shaven; the skin, not
+ivory, but a dirty white, and flabby, like the belly of a toad. His thin
+and bloodless lips were flattened over a row of pure white teeth with
+glistening specks of gold that opened when he smiled; closing again slowly
+like an automaton's. His shrunken, colorless hands lay on the black cloth
+like huge white spiders; their long, thin legs of fingers turned up at the
+tips--stealthy, creeping fingers. Sometimes, too, in their nervous
+workings, they drooped together like a bunch of skeleton keys. On one of
+these lock picks he wore a ring studded alternately with diamonds and
+rubies.
+
+The cards seemed to know these fingers, fluttering about them, or
+lighting noiselessly at their bidding on the cloth.
+
+When the bank won, the croupier permitted a slight shade of disappointment
+to flash over his face, fading into an expression of apology for taking
+the stakes. When the bank lost, the lips parted slowly, showing the teeth,
+in a half smile. Such delicate outward consideration for the feelings of
+his victims seemed a part of his education, an index to his natural
+refinement.
+
+The woman was of another type. Although she sat with her back to me, I
+could catch her profile when she pushed her long veil from her face. She
+was dressed entirely in black. She had been, and was still, a woman of
+marked beauty, with an air of high breeding which was unmistakable. Her
+features were clean-cut and refined, her mouth and nose delicately shaped.
+Her forehead was shaded by waves of brown hair which half covered her
+ears. The eyes were large and softened by long lashes, the lids red as if
+with recent weeping. Her only ornament was a plain gold ring, worn on her
+left hand. Outwardly, she was the only person in the room who betrayed by
+her manner any vital interest in the game.
+
+There are some faces that once seen haunt you forever afterward--faces
+with masks so thinly worn that you look through into the heart below. Hers
+was one of these. Every light and shadow of hope and disappointment that
+crossed it showed only the clearer the intensity of her mental strain, and
+the bitterness of her anxiety.
+
+Once when she lost she bit her lips so deeply that a speck of blood tinged
+her handkerchief. The next instant she was clutching her winnings with
+almost the ferocity of a hungry animal. Then she leaned back a moment
+later exhausted in her chair, her face thrown up, her eyes closing
+wearily.
+
+In her hand she held a small chamois bag filled with gold; when her chips
+were exhausted she would rise silently, float like a shadow to the desk,
+lay a handful of gold from the bag upon the counter, sweep the ivories
+into her hand, and noiselessly regain her seat. She seemed to know no one,
+and no one to know her, unless it might have been the croupier, who, I
+thought, watched her closely when he pushed over her winnings, parting his
+lips a little wider, his smile a trifle more cringing and devilish.
+
+At twelve o'clock she was still playing, her face like chalk, her eyes
+bloodshot, her teeth clenched fast, her hair disheveled across her face.
+
+The game went on.
+
+When the clock reached the half-hour the man in gray pushed back his
+chair, gathered up his winnings, and moved to the door, an attendant
+handing him his hat. With the exception of the Parisienne, who had gone
+some time before, taking her companion with her, the devotees were the
+same,--the two Englishmen still exchanging clean, white Bank of England
+notes, the German and Haytian losing, but calm as mummies, the fat, oily
+woman, melting like a red candle, the perspiration streaming down her
+face.
+
+Suddenly I heard a convulsive gasp. The woman in black was on her feet
+leaning over the table. Her eyes blazed in a frenzy of delight. She was
+sweeping into her open hands the piles of gold before her. By some
+marvelous stroke of luck, and with almost her last louis, she had won
+every franc on the cloth!
+
+Then she drew herself up defiantly, covered her face with her veil, hugged
+the money to her breast, and staggered from the room.
+
+
+II
+
+So deep an impression had the gambling scene of the night before made upon
+me that the next morning I loitered under the Noah's-ark trees, hoping I
+might identify the woman, and in some impossible, improbable way know more
+of her history. I even lounged into the Casino, tried the door at which I
+had knocked the night before, and, finding it locked and the scrubwoman
+suspicious, strolled out carelessly into the garden, and, sitting down
+under the palms, tried to pick out the windows that opened into the
+gaming-room. But they were all alike, with pots of flowers blooming in
+each.
+
+Still burdened with these memories, I entered the church,--the old church
+with square towers and deep-receding entrance, that stands on the crest of
+a steep hill overlooking the Casino, and within a short distance of the
+Noah's-ark trees. Every afternoon, near the hour of twilight, when the
+shadows reach down Mount Pilatus, and the mists gather in the valley, a
+broken procession of strollers, in twos and threes and larger groups,
+slowly climb its path. They are on their way to hear the great organ
+played.
+
+The audience was already seated. It was at the moment of that profound
+hush which precedes the recital. Even my footfall, light as it was,
+reechoed to the groined arches. The church was ghostly dark,--so dark that
+the hundreds of heads melted into the mass of pews, and they into the
+gloom of column and wall. The only distinguishable gleam was the soft glow
+of the dying day struggling through the lower panes of the dust-begrimed
+windows. Against these hung long chains holding unlighted lamps.
+
+I felt my way to an empty pew on a side aisle, and sat down. The silence
+continued. Now and again there was a slight cough, instantly checked. Once
+a child dropped a book, the echoes lasting apparently for minutes. The
+darkness became almost black night. Only the clean, new panes of glass
+used in repairing some break in the begrimed windows showed clear. These
+seemed to hang out like small square lanterns.
+
+Suddenly I was aware that the stillness was broken by a sound faint as a
+sigh, delicate as the first breath of a storm. Then came a great sweep
+growing louder, the sweep of deep thunder tones with the roar of the
+tempest, the rush of the mighty rain, the fury of the avalanche, the
+voices of the birds singing in the sunlight, the gurgle of the brooks,
+and the soft cadence of the angelus calling the peasants to prayers.
+Then, a pause and another burst of melody, ending in profound silence,
+as if the door of heaven had been opened and as quickly shut. Then a
+clear voice springing into life, singing like a lark, rising,
+swelling--up--up--filling the church--the roof--the sky! Then the heavenly
+door thrown wide, and the melody pouring out in a torrent, drowning the
+voice. Then above it all, while I sat quivering, there soared like a bird
+in the air, singing as it flew, one great, superb, vibrating, resolute
+note, pure, clear, full, sensuous, untrammeled, dominating the heavens:
+not human, not divine; like no woman's, like no man's, like no angel's
+ever dreamed of,--the vox humana.
+
+It did not awaken in me any feeling of reverence or religious ecstasy. I
+only remember that the music took possession of my soul. That beneath and
+through it all I felt the vibrations of all the tragic things that come to
+men and women in their lives. Scenes from out an irrelevant past swept
+across my mind. I heard again the long winding note of the bugle echoing
+through the pines, the dead in uneven rows, the moon lighting their faces.
+I caught once more the cry of the girl my friend loved, he who died and
+never knew. I saw the quick plunge of the strong swimmer, white arms
+clinging to his neck, and heard once more that joyous shout from a hundred
+throats. And I could still hear the hoarse voice of the captain with
+drenched book and flickering lantern, and shivered again as I caught the
+dull splash of the sheeted body dropping into the sea.
+
+The vox humana stopped, not gradually, but abruptly, as if the heart had
+broken and its life had gone out in the one supreme effort. Then
+silence,--a silence so profound that a low sob from the pew across the
+aisle startled me. I strained my eyes, and caught the outlines of a woman
+heavily veiled. I could see, too, a child beside her, his head on her
+shoulder. The boy was bare-headed, his curls splashed over her black
+dress. Then another sob, half smothered, as if the woman were strangling.
+
+No other sound broke the stillness; only the feeling everywhere of
+pent-up, smothered sighs.
+
+In this intense moment a faint footfall was heard approaching from the
+church door, walking in the gloom. It proved to be that of an old man,
+bent and trembling. He came slowly down the sombre church, with unsteady,
+shambling gait, holding in one hand a burning taper,--a mere speck. In the
+other he carried a rude lantern, its wavering light hovering about his
+feet. As he passed in his long brown cloak, the swaying light encircled
+his white beard and hair with a fluffy halo. He moved slowly, the spark he
+carried no larger than a firefly. The sacristan had come to light the
+candles.
+
+He stopped half way down the middle aisle, opposite a pew, the faint flush
+of his lantern falling on the nearest upturned face. A long thin candle
+was fastened to this pew. The firefly of a taper, held aloft in his
+trembling hand, flickered uncertainly like a moth, and rested on the top
+of this candle. Then the wick kindled and burned. As its rays felt their
+way over the vast interior, struggling up into the dark roof, reaching the
+gilded ornaments on the side altar enshrouded in gloom, glinting on the
+silver of the hanging lamps, a plaintive note fluttered softly, swelled
+into an ecstasy of sound, and was lost in a chorus of angel voices.
+
+The sacristan moved down the aisle, kindled two other candles on the
+distant altar, and was lost in the shadows.
+
+The woman in the pew across the aisle bent forward, resting her head on
+the back of the seat in front, drawing the child to her. The boy cuddled
+closer. As she turned, a spark of light trickled down her cheek. I caught
+sight of the falling tear, but could not see the face.
+
+The music ceased; the last anthem had been played; a gas-jet flared in the
+organ-loft; the people began to rise from their seats. The sacristan
+appeared again from behind the altar, and walked slowly down the side
+aisle, carrying only his lantern. As he neared my seat the woman stood
+erect, and passed out of the pew, her hand caressing the child. Surely I
+could not be mistaken about that movement, the slow, undulating, rhythmic
+walk, the floating shadow of the night before. Certainly not with the
+light of the sacristan's lantern now full on her face. Yes: the same
+finely chiseled features, the same waves of brown hair, the same eyes, the
+same drooping eyelids, like blossoms wet with dew! At last I had found
+her.
+
+I walked behind,--so close that I could have laid my hand on her boy's
+head, or touched her hand as it lay buried in his curls. The old, bent
+sacristan stepped in front, swinging his lantern, the ghostly shadows
+wavering about his feet. Then he halted to let the crowd clear the main
+aisle.
+
+As he stood still, the woman drew suddenly back as if stunned by a blow,
+clutched the boy to her side, and fixed her eyes on the lantern's ghostly
+shadows. I leaned over quickly. The glow of the rude lamp, with its
+squares of waving light flecking the stone flagging, traced in
+unmistakable outlines the form of a cross!
+
+For some minutes she stood as if in a trance, her eyes fastened upon the
+floating shadow, her whole form trembling, bent, her body swaying. Only
+when the sacristan moved a few paces ahead to hold open the swinging door,
+and the shadow of the cross faded, did she awake from the spell.
+
+Then, recovering herself slowly, she bowed reverently, crossed herself,
+drew the boy closer, and, with his hand in hers, passed out into the cool
+starlit night.
+
+
+III
+
+The following morning I was sitting under the Noah's-ark trees, watching
+the people pass and repass, when a man in a suit of white flannel,
+carrying a light cane, and wearing a straw hat with a red band, and a
+necktie to match, stopped a flower-girl immediately in front of me, and
+affixed an additional dot of blood-color to his buttonhole.
+
+In the glare of the daylight he was even more yellow than when under the
+blaze of the gas-jets. His eyes were still glassy and brilliant, but the
+rims showed red, as if for want of sleep, and beneath the lower lids lay
+sunken half-circles of black. He moved with his wonted precision, but
+without that extreme gravity of manner which had characterized him the
+night of the game. Looked at as a mere passer-by, he would have impressed
+you as a rather debonair, overdressed habitue, who was enjoying his
+morning stroll under the trees, without other purpose in life than the
+breathing of the cool air and enjoyment of the attendant exercise. His
+spider-ship had doubtless seen me when he entered the walk,--I was still
+an untrapped fly,--and had picked out this particular flower-girl beside
+me as a safe anchorage for one end of his web. I turned away my head; but
+it was too late.
+
+"Monsieur did not play last night?" the croupier asked deferentially.
+
+"No; I did not know the game." Then an idea struck me. "Sit down; I want
+to talk to you." He touched the edge of his hat with one finger, opened a
+gold cigarette-case studded with jewels, offered me its contents, and took
+the seat beside me.
+
+"Pardon the abruptness of the inquiry, but who was the woman in black?" I
+asked.
+
+He looked at me curiously.
+
+"Ah, you mean madame with the bag?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"She was once the Baroness Frontignac."
+
+"Was once! What is she now?"
+
+"Now? Ah, that is quite a story." He stopped, shut the gold case with a
+click, and leaned forward, flicking the pebbles with the point of his
+cane. "If madame had had a larger bag she might have broken the bank. Is
+it not so?"
+
+"You know her, then?" I persisted.
+
+"Monsieur, men of my profession know everybody. Sooner or later they all
+come to us--when they are young, and their francs have wings; when they
+are gray-haired and cautious; when they are old and foolish."
+
+"But she did not look like a gambler," I replied stiffly.
+
+He smiled his old cynical, treacherous smile.
+
+"Monsieur is pleased to be very pronounced in his language. A gambler!
+Monsieur no doubt means to say that madame has not the appearance of being
+under the intoxication of the play." Then with a positive tone, still
+flicking the pebbles, "The baroness played for love."
+
+"Of the cards?" I asked persistently. I was determined to drive the nail
+to the head.
+
+The croupier looked at me fixedly, shrugged his shoulders, laughed between
+his teeth, a little, hissing laugh that sounded like escaping steam, and
+said slowly:--
+
+"No; of a man."
+
+Then, noticing my increasing interest, "Monsieur would know something of
+madame?"
+
+He held up his hand, and began crooking one finger after another as he
+recounted her history. These bent keys, it seemed, unlocked secrets as
+well.
+
+"Le voila! the drama of Madame la Baronne! The play opens when she is
+first a novice in the convent of Saint Ursula, devoted to good works and
+the church. Next you find her a grand dame and rich, the wife of Baron
+Alphonse de Frontignac, first secretary of legation at Vienna. Then a
+mother with one child,--a boy, now six or seven years old, who is hardly
+ever out of her arms." He stopped, toyed for a moment with his match-safe,
+slipped it into his pocket, and said carelessly, "So much for Act I."
+
+Then, after a pause during which he traced again little diagrams in the
+gravel, he said suddenly:--
+
+"Does this really interest you, monsieur?"
+
+"Unquestionably."
+
+"You know her, then?" This with a glance of suspicion as keen as it was
+unexpected by me.
+
+"Never saw her in my life before," I answered frankly, "and never shall
+again. I leave for Paris to-day, and sail from Havre on Saturday."
+
+He drew in the point of his cane, looked me all over with one of those
+comprehensive sweeps of the eye, as if he would read my inmost thought,
+and then, with an expression of confidence born doubtless of my evident
+sincerity, continued:--
+
+"In the next act Frontignac gets mixed up in some banking scandals,--he
+would, like a fool, play roulette--baccarat was always his strong
+game,--disappears from Vienna, is arrested at the frontier, escapes, and
+is found the next morning under a brush-heap with a bullet through his
+head. This ends the search. Two years later--this is now Act III.--Madame
+la Baronne, without a sou to her name, is hard at work in the hospitals of
+Metz. The child is pensioned out near by.
+
+"Now comes the grand romance. An officer attached to the 13th
+Cuirassiers--a regiment with not men enough left after Metz to muster a
+company--is picked up for dead, with one arm torn off, and a sabre-slash
+over his head, and brought to her ward. She nurses him back to life, inch
+by inch, and in six months he joins his regiment. Now please follow the
+plot. It is quite interesting. Is it not easy to see what will happen?
+Tender and beautiful, young and brave! Vive le bel amour! It is the old
+story, but it is also une affaire de coeur--la grande passion. In a few
+months they are married, and he takes her to his home in Rouen. There he
+listens to her entreaties, and resigns his commission.
+
+"This was five years ago. To-day he is a broken-down man, starving on his
+pension; a poor devil about the streets, instead of a general commanding a
+department; and all for love of her. Some, of course, said it was the
+sabre-cut; some that he could no longer hold his command, he was so badly
+slashed. But it is as I tell you. You can see him here any day, sitting
+under the trees, playing with the child, or along the lake front, leaning
+on her arm."
+
+Here the croupier rose from the bench, looked critically over his case of
+cigarettes, selected one carefully, and began buttoning his coat as if to
+go.
+
+By this time I had determined to know the end. I felt that he had told me
+the truth as far as he had gone; but I felt, also, that he had stopped at
+the most critical point of her career. I saw, too, that he was familiar
+with its details.
+
+"Go on, please. Here, try a cigar." My interest in my heroine had even
+made me courteous. My aversion to him, too, was wearing off. Perhaps,
+after all, croupiers were no worse than other people. "Now, one thing
+more. Why was she in your gambling-house?"
+
+He lighted the cigar, touched his hat with his forefinger, and again
+seated himself.
+
+"Well, then, monsieur, as you will. I always trust you Americans. When you
+lose, you pay; when you win, you keep your mouths shut. Besides,"--this
+was spoken more to himself,--"you have never seen him, and never will. Le
+voila. One night,--this only a year ago, remember,--in one of the gardens
+at Baden, a hand touched the baroness's shoulder.
+
+"It was _Frontignac's_.
+
+"The body under the brush-heap had been that of another man dressed in
+Frontignac's clothes. The bullet-hole in his head was made by a ball from
+Frontignac's pistol. Since then he had been hiding in exile.
+
+"He threatened exposure. She pleaded for her boy and her crippled husband.
+She could, of course, have handed him over to the nearest gendarme; but
+that meant arrest, and arrest meant exposure. At their home in Vienna, let
+me tell you, baccarat had been played nightly as a pastime for their
+guests. So great was her luck that 'As lucky as the Baronne Frontignac'
+was a byword. Frontignac's price was this: she must take his fifty louis
+and play that stake at the Casino that night; when she brought him ten
+thousand francs he would vanish.
+
+"That night at Baden--I was dealing, and know--she won twelve thousand
+francs in as many minutes. Here her slavery began. It will continue until
+Frontignac is discovered and captured; then he will put a second bullet
+into his own head. When I saw her enter my room I knew he had turned up
+again. As she staggered out, one of my men shadowed her. I was right;
+Frontignac was skulking in the garden."
+
+All my disgust for the croupier returned in an instant. He was still the
+same bloodless spider of the night before. I could hardly keep my hands
+off him.
+
+"And you permit this, and let this woman suffer these tortures, her life
+made miserable by this scoundrel, when a word, even a look, from you would
+send him out of the country and"--
+
+"Softly, monsieur, softly. Why blame me? What business is it of mine. Do I
+love the cripple? Have I robbed the bank and murdered my double? This is
+not my game; it is Frontignac's. Would you have me kick over his chess
+board?"
+
+
+
+
+JONATHAN
+
+
+He was so ugly,--outside, I mean: long and lank, flat-chested, shrunken,
+round-shouldered, stooping when he walked; body like a plank, arms and
+legs like split rails, feet immense, hands like paddles, head set on a
+neck scrawny as a picked chicken's, hair badly put on and in patches, some
+about his head, some around his jaws, some under his chin in a half
+moon,--a good deal on the back of his hands and on his chest. Nature had
+hewn him in the rough and had left him with every axe mark showing.
+
+He wore big shoes tied with deer hide strings and nondescript breeches
+that wrinkled along his knotted legs like old gun covers. These were
+patched and repatched with various hues and textures,--parts of another
+pair,--bits of a coat and fragments of tailor's cuttings. Sewed in their
+seat was half of a cobbler's apron,--for greater safety in sliding over
+ledges and logs, he would tell you. Next came a leather belt polished
+with use, and then a woolen shirt,--any kind of a shirt,--cross-barred or
+striped,--whatever the store had cheapest, and over that a waistcoat with
+a cotton back and some kind of a front, looking like a state map, it had
+so many colored patches. There was never any coat,--none that I remember.
+When he wore a coat he was another kind of a Jonathan,--a store-dealing
+Jonathan, or a church-going Jonathan, or a town-meeting Jonathan,--not the
+"go-a-fishin'," or "bee-huntin'," or "deer-stalkin'" Jonathan whom I knew.
+
+There was a wide straw hat, too, that crowned his head and canted with the
+wind and flopped about his neck, and would have sailed away down many a
+mountain brook but for a faithful leather strap that lay buried in the
+half-moon whiskers and held on for dear life. And from under the rim of
+this thatch, and half hidden in the matted masses of badly adjusted hair,
+was a thin, peaked nose, bridged by a pair of big spectacles, and
+somewhere below these, again, a pitfall of a mouth covered with twigs of
+hair and an underbrush of beard, while deep-set in the whole tangle, like
+still pools reflecting the blue and white of the sweet heavens above, lay
+his eyes,--eyes that won you, kindly, twinkling, merry, trustful, and
+trusting eyes. Beneath these pools of light, way down below, way down
+where his heart beat warm, lived Jonathan.
+
+I know a fruit in Mexico, delicious in flavor, called Timburici, covered
+by a skin as rough and hairy as a cocoanut; and a flower that bristles
+with thorns before it blooms into waxen beauty; and there are agates
+encrusted with clay and pearls that lie hidden in oysters. All these
+things, somehow, remind me of Jonathan.
+
+His cabin was the last bit of shingle and brick chimney on that side of
+the Franconia Notch. There were others, farther on in the forest, with
+bark slants for shelter, and forked sticks for swinging kettles; but
+civilization ended with Jonathan's store-stove and the square of oil-cloth
+that covered his sitting-room floor. Upstairs, under the rafters, there
+was a guest-chamber smelling of pine boards and drying herbs, and
+sheltering a bed gridironed with bed-cord and softened by a thin layer of
+feathers encased in a ticking and covered with a cotton quilt. This bed
+always made a deep impression upon me mentally and bodily. Mentally,
+because I always slept so soundly in it whenever I visited
+Jonathan,--even with the rain pattering on the roof and the wind soughing
+through the big pine-trees; and bodily, because--well, because of the
+cords. Beside this bed was a chair for my candle, and on the floor a small
+square plank, laid loosely over the stovepipe hole which, in winter, held
+the pipe.
+
+In summer mornings Jonathan made an alarm clock of this plank, flopping it
+about with the end of a fishing-rod poked up from below, never stopping
+until he saw my sleepy face peering down into his own. There was no
+bureau, only a nail or so in the scantling, and no washstand, of course;
+the tin basin at the well outside was better.
+
+Then there was an old wife that lived in the cabin,--an old wife made of
+sole leather, with yellow-white hair and a thin, pinched face and a body
+all angles,--chest, arms, everywhere,--outlined through her straight up
+and down calico dress. When she spoke, however, you stopped to listen,--it
+was like a wood sound, low and far away,--soft as a bird call. People
+living alone in the forests often have these voices.
+
+Last there was a dog,--a mean, sniveling, stump-tailed dog, of no
+particular breed or kidney. One of those dogs whose ancestry went to the
+bad many generations before he was born. A dog part fox,--he got all his
+slyness here; and part wolf, this made him ravenous; and part
+bull-terrier, this made him ill-tempered; and all the rest poodle, that
+made him too lazy to move.
+
+The wife knew this dog, and hung the bacon on a high nail out of his
+reach, and covered with a big dish the pies cooling on the bench; and the
+neighbors down the road knew him and chased him out of their dairy-cellars
+when he nosed into the milk-pans and cheese-pots; and even the little
+children found out what a coward he was, and sent him howling home to his
+hole under the porch, where he grumbled and pouted all day like a spoiled
+child that had been half whipped. Everybody knew him, and everybody
+despised him for a low-down, thieving, lazy cur,--everybody except
+Jonathan. Jonathan loved him,--loved his weepy, smeary eyes, and his
+rough, black hair, and his fat round body, short stumpy legs, and shorter
+stumpy tail,--especially the tail. Everything else that the dog lacked
+could be traced back to the peccadillos of his ancestors,--Jonathan was
+responsible for the tail.
+
+"Ketched in a b'ar-trap I hed sot up back in thet green timber on Loon
+Pond Maountin' six year ago last fall, when he wuz a pup," he would say,
+holding the dog in his lap,--his favorite seat. "I swan, ef it warn't too
+bad! Thinks I, when I sot it, I'll tell the leetle cuss whar it wuz;
+then--I must hev forgot it. It warn't a week afore he wuz runnin' a rabbet
+and run right into it. Wall, sir, them iron jaws took thet tail er his'n
+off julluk a knife. He's allus been kinder sore ag'in me sence, and I
+dunno but he's right, fur it wuz mighty keerless in me. Wall, sir, he come
+yowlin' hum, and when he see me he did look saour,--no use talkin',--jest
+ez ef he wuz a-sayin', 'Yer think you're paowerful cunnin' with yer
+b'ar-traps, don't ye? Jest see what it's done to my tail. It's kinder
+sp'ilt me for a dog.' All my fault, warn't it, George?" patting his head.
+(Only Jonathan would call a dog George.)
+
+Here the dog would look up out of one eye as he spoke,--he hadn't
+forgotten the bear-trap, and never intended to let Jonathan forget it
+either. Then Jonathan would admire ruefully the end of the stump, stroking
+the dog all the while with his big, hairy, paddle-like hands, George
+rooting his head under the flap of the party-colored waistcoat.
+
+One night, I remember, we had waited supper,--the wife and I,--we were
+obliged to wait, the trout being in Jonathan's creel,--when Jonathan
+walked in, looking tired and worried.
+
+"Hez George come home, Marthy?" he asked, resting his long bamboo rod
+against the porch rail and handing the creel of trout to the wife. "No?
+Wall, I'm beat ef thet ain't cur'us. Guess I got ter look him up." And he
+disappeared hurriedly into the darkening forest, his anxious, whistling
+call growing fainter and fainter as he was lost in its depths. Marthy was
+not uneasy,--not about the dog; it was the supper that troubled her. She
+knew Jonathan's ways, and she knew George. This was a favorite trick of
+the dog's,--this of losing Jonathan.
+
+The trout were about burnt to a crisp and the corn-bread stone cold when
+Jonathan came trudging back, George in his arms,--a limp, soggy, half-dead
+dog, apparently. Marthy said nothing. It was an old story. Half the time
+Jonathan carried him home.
+
+"Supper's ready," she said quietly, and we went in.
+
+George slid out of Jonathan's arms, smelt about for a soft plank, and fell
+in a heap on the porch, his chin on his paws, his mean little eyes
+watching lazily,--speaking to nobody, noticing nobody, sulking all to
+himself. There he stayed until he caught a whiff of the fragrant, pungent
+odor of fried trout. Then he cocked one eye and lifted an ear. He must not
+carry things too far. Next, I heard a single thump of his six-inch tail.
+George was beginning to get pleased; he always did when there were things
+to eat.
+
+All this time Jonathan, tired out, sat in his big splint chair at the
+supper-table. He had been thrashing the brook since daylight,--over his
+knees sometimes. I could still see the high-water mark on his patched
+trousers. Another whiff of the frying-pan, and George got up. He dared not
+poke his nose into Marthy's lap,--there were too many chunks of wood
+within easy reach of her hand. So he sidled up to Jonathan, rubbing his
+nose against his big knees, whining hungrily, looking up into his face.
+
+"I tell ye," said Jonathan, smiling at me, patting the dog as he spoke,
+"this yere George hez got more sense'n most men. He knows what's become of
+them trout we ketched. I guess he's gittin' over the way I treated him
+to-day. Ye see, we wuz up the East Branch when he run a fox south. Thinks
+I, the fox'll take a whirl back and cross the big runway; and, sure
+enough, it warn't long afore I heard George a-comin' back, yippin' along
+up through Hank Simons' holler. So I whistled to him and steered off up
+onto the maountin' to take a look at Bog-eddy and try and git a pickerel.
+When I come daown ag'in, I see George warn't whar I left him, so I
+hollered and whistled ag'in. Then, thinks I, you're mad 'cause I left ye,
+an' won't let on ye _kin_ hear; so I come along hum without him. When I
+went back a while ago a-lookin' for him, would yer believe it, thar he wuz
+a-layin' in the road, about forty rod this side of Hank Simons' sugar
+maples, flat onto his stummick an' disgusted an' put out awful. It wuz
+about all I could do ter git him hum. I knowed the minute I come in fust
+time an' see he warn't here thet his feelin's wuz hurt 'cause I left him.
+I presaume mebbe I oughter hollered ag'in afore I got so fer off. Then I
+thought, of course, he knowed I'd gone to Bog-eddy. Beats all, what sense
+some dogs hez."
+
+I never knew Jonathan to lose patience with George but once: that was when
+the dog tried to burrow into the hole of a pair of chipmunks whom Jonathan
+loved. They lived in a tree blanketed with moss and lying across the wood
+road. George had tried to scrape an acquaintance by crawling in
+uninvited, nearly scaring the little fellows to death, and Jonathan had
+flattened him into the dry leaves with his big, paddle-like hands. That
+was before the bear-trap had nipped his tail, but George never forgot it.
+
+He was particularly polite to chipmunks after that. He would lie still by
+the hour and hear Jonathan talk to them without even a whine of
+discontent. I watched the old man one morning up beneath the ledges,
+groping, on his hands and knees, filling his pockets with nuts, and when
+he reached the wood road, emptying them in a pile near the chipmunk's
+tree, George looking on good-naturedly.
+
+"Guess you leetle cunnin's better hurry up," he said, while he poured out
+the nuts on the ground, his knees sticking up as he sat, like some huge
+grasshopper's. "Guess ye ain't got more 'n time to fill yer
+cubbud,--winter's a-comin'! Them leetle birches on Bog-eddy is turnin'
+yeller,--that's the fust sign. 'Fore ye knows it snow'll be flyin'. Then
+whar'll ye be with everything froze tighter'n Sampson bound the heathen,
+you cunnin' leetle skitterin' pups. Then I presaume likely ye'll come
+a-drulin' raound an' want me an' George should gin ye suthin to git
+through th' winter on,--won't they, George?"
+
+"Beats all," he said to me that night, "how thoughtful some dogs is.
+Hadn't been fer George to-day, I'd clean forgot them leetle folks. I see
+him scratching raound in the leaves an' I knowed right away what he wuz
+thinkin' of."
+
+Often when I was sketching in the dense forest, Jonathan would lie down
+beside me, the old flop of a hat under his head, his talk rambling on.
+
+"I don't wonder ye like to paint 'em. Thar hain't nothin' so human as
+trees. Take thet big hemlock right in front er yer. Hain't he led a pretty
+decent life? See how praoud an' tall he's growed, with them arms of his'n
+straight aout an' them leetle chillen of his'n spraouting up raound him. I
+tell ye them hemlocks is pretty decent people. Now take a look at them two
+white birches down by thet big rock. Ain't it a shame the way them fellers
+hez been goin' on sence they wuz leetle saplin's, makin' it so nothin'
+could grow raound 'em,--with their jackets all ragged an' tore like
+tramps, an' their toes all out of their shoes whar ther roots is stickin'
+clear of the bark,--ain't they a-ketchin' it in their ole age? An' then
+foller on daown whar thet leetle bunch er silver maples is dancin' in the
+sunlight, so slender an' cunnin',--all aout in their summer dresses,
+julluk a bevy er young gals,--ain't they human like? I tell ye, trees is
+the humanest things thet is."
+
+These talks with me made George restless. He was never happy unless
+Jonathan had _him_ on his mind.
+
+But it was a cluster of daisies that first lifted the inner lid of
+Jonathan's heart for me. I was away up the side of the Notch overlooking
+the valley, my easel and canvas lashed to a tree, the wind blew so, when
+Jonathan came toiling up the slope, a precipice in fact, with a tin can
+strapped to his back, filled with hot corn and some doughnuts, and threw
+himself beside me, the sweat running down his weather-tanned neck.
+
+"So long ez we know whar you're settin' at work it ain't nat'ral to let ye
+starve, be it?" throwing himself beside me. George had started ahead of
+him and had been picked up and carried as usual.
+
+When Jonathan sat upright, after a breathing spell, his eye fell on a tuft
+of limp, bruised daisies, flattened to the earth by the heel of his clumsy
+shoe. There were acres of others in sight.
+
+"Gosh hang!" he said, catching his breath suddenly, as if something had
+stung him, and reaching down with his horny, bent fingers, "ef thet ain't
+too bad." Then to himself in a tone barely audible,--he had entirely
+forgotten my presence,--"You never had no sense, Jonathan, nohow,
+stumblin' raound like er bull calf tramplin' everything. Jes' see what
+ye've gone an' done with them big feet er yourn," bending over the bruised
+plant and tenderly adjusting the leaves. "Them daisies hez got jest ez
+good a right ter live ez you hev."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I was almost sure when I began that I had a story to tell. I had thought
+of that one about Luke Pollard,--the day Luke broke his leg behind Loon
+Mountain, and Jonathan carried him down the gorge on his back, crossing
+ledges that would have scared a goat. It was snowing at the time, they
+said, and blowing a gale. When they got half way down White Face,
+Jonathan's foot slipped and he fell into the ravine, breaking his wrist.
+Only the drifts saved his life. Luke caught a sapling and held on. The
+doctor set Jonathan's wrist last, and Luke never knew it had been broken
+until the next day. It is one of the stories they tell you around the
+stove winter evenings.
+
+"Julluk the night Jonathan carried aout Luke," they say, listening to the
+wind howling over the ledges.
+
+And then I thought of that other story that Hank Simons told me,--the one
+about the mill back of Woodstock caving in from the freshet and burying
+the miller's girl. No one dared lift the timbers until Jonathan crawled
+in. The child was pinned down between the beams, and the water rose so
+fast they feared the wreckage would sweep the mill. Jonathan clung to the
+sills waist-deep in the torrent, crept under the floor timbers, and then
+bracing his back held the beam until he dragged her clear. It happened a
+good many years ago, but Hank always claimed it had bent Jonathan's back.
+
+But, after all, they are not the things I love best to remember of
+Jonathan.
+
+It is always the old man's voice, crooning his tuneless song as he trudges
+home in the twilight, his well-filled creel at his side,--the
+good-for-nothing dog in his arms; or it is that look of sweet contentment
+on his face,--the deep and thoughtful eyes, filled with the calm serenity
+of his soul. And then the ease and freedom of his life! Plenty of air and
+space, and plenty of time to breathe and move! Having nothing, possessing
+all things! No bonds to guard,--no cares to stifle,--no trains to
+catch,--no appointments to keep,--no fashions to follow,--no follies to
+shun! Only the old wife and worthless, lazy dog, and the rod and the
+creel! Only the blessed sunshine and fresh, sweet air, and the cool touch
+of deep woods.
+
+No, there is no story--only Jonathan.
+
+
+
+
+ALONG THE BRONX
+
+
+Hidden in our memories there are quaint, quiet nooks tucked away at the
+end of leafy lanes; still streams overhung with feathery foliage; gray
+rocks lichen-covered; low-ground meadows, knee-deep in lush grass;
+restful, lazy lakes dotted with pond-lilies; great, wide-spreading trees,
+their arms uplifted in song, their leaves quivering with the melody.
+
+I say there are all these delights of leaf, moss, ripple, and shade stored
+away somewhere in our memories,--dry bulbs of a preceding summer's bloom,
+that need only the first touch of spring, the first glorious day in June,
+to break out into flower. When they do break out, they are generally
+chilled in the blooming by the thousand and one difficulties of prolonged
+travel, time of getting there and time of getting back again, expense, and
+lack of accommodations.
+
+If you live in New York--and really you should not live anywhere
+else!--there are a few buttons a tired man can touch that will revive for
+him all these delights in half an hour's walk, costing but a car-fare, and
+robbing no man or woman of time, even without the benefits of the
+eight-hour law.
+
+You touch one of these buttons when you plan to spend an afternoon along
+the Bronx.
+
+There are other buttons, of course. You can call up the edges of the
+Palisades, with their great sweep of river below, the seething, steaming
+city beyond; or, you can say "Hello!" to the Upper Harlem, with its
+house-boats and floating restaurants; or you can ring up Westchester and
+its picturesque waterline. But you cannot get them all together in half an
+hour except in one place, and that is along the Bronx.
+
+The Bronx is the forgotten, the overlooked, the "disremembered," as the
+provincial puts it. Somebody may know where it begins--I do not. I only
+know where it ends. What its early life may be, away up near White Plains,
+what farms it waters, what dairies it cools, what herds it refreshes, I
+know not. I only know that when I get off at Woodlawn--that City of the
+Silent--it comes down from somewhere up above the railroad station, and
+that it "takes a header," as the boys say, under an old mill, abandoned
+long since, and then, like another idler, goes singing along through open
+meadows, and around big trees in clumps, their roots washed bare, and then
+over sandy stretches reflecting the flurries of yellow butterflies, and
+then around a great hill, and so on down to Laguerre's.
+
+Of course, when it gets to Laguerre's I know all about it. I know the old
+rotting landing-wharf where Monsieur moors his boats,--the one with the
+little seat is still there; and Lucette's big eyes are just as brown, and
+her hair just as black, and her stockings and slippers just as dainty on
+Sundays as when first I knew her. And the wooden bench is still there,
+where the lovers used to sit; only Monsieur, her father, tells me that
+Francois works very late in the big city,--three mouths to feed now, you
+see,--and only when le petit Francois is tucked away in his crib in the
+long summer nights, and Lucette has washed the dishes and put on her best
+apron, and the Bronx stops still in a quiet pool to listen, is the bench
+used as in the old time when Monsieur discovered the lovers by the flash
+of his lantern.
+
+Then I know where it floats along below Laguerre's, and pulls itself
+together in a very dignified way as it sails under the brand-new
+bridge,--the old one, propped up on poles, has long since paid tribute to
+a spring freshet,--and quickens its pace below the old Dye-house,--also a
+wreck now (they say it is haunted),--and then goes slopping along in and
+out of the marshes, sousing the sunken willow roots, oozing through beds
+of weeds and tangled vines.
+
+But only a very little while ago did I know where it began to leave off
+all its idle ways and took really to the serious side of life; when it
+began rushing down long, stony ravines, plunging over respectable,
+well-to-do masonry dams, skirting once costly villas, whispering between
+dark defiles of rock, and otherwise disporting itself as becomes a
+well-ordered, conventional, self-respecting mountain stream,
+uncontaminated by the encroachments and frivolities of civilized life.
+
+All this begins at Fordham. Not exactly at Fordham, for you must walk due
+east from the station for half a mile, climb a fence, and strike through
+the woods before you hear its voice and catch the gleam of its tumbling
+current.
+
+They will all be there when you go--all the quaint nooks, all the delights
+of leaf, moss, ripple, and shade, of your early memories. And in the
+half-hour, too,--less if you are quick-footed,--from your desk or shop in
+the great city.
+
+No, you never heard of it. I knew that before you said a word. You thought
+it was the dumping-ground of half the cast-off tinware of the earth; that
+only the shanty, the hen-coop, and the stable overhung its sluggish
+waters, and only the carpet shaker, the sod gatherer, and the tramp
+infested its banks.
+
+I tell you that in all my wanderings in search of the picturesque, nothing
+within a day's journey is half as charming. That its stretches of meadow,
+willow clumps, and tangled densities are as lovely, fresh, and enticing as
+can be found--yes, within a thousand miles of your door. That the rocks
+are encrusted with the thickest of moss and lichen, gray, green, black,
+and brilliant emerald. That the trees are superb, the solitude and rest
+complete. That it is finer, more subtle, more exquisite than its sister
+brooks in the denser forest, because that here and there it shows the
+trace of some human touch,--and nature is never truly picturesque without
+it,--the broken-down fence, the sagging bridge, and vine-covered roof.
+
+But you must go _now_.
+
+Now, before the grip of the great city has been fastened upon it; before
+the axe of the "dago" clears out the wilderness of underbrush; before the
+landscape gardener, the sanitary engineer, and the contractor pounce upon
+it and strangle it; before the crimes of the cast-iron fountain, the
+varnished grapevine arbor, with seats to match, the bronze statues
+presented by admiring groups of citizens, the rambles, malls, and
+cement-lined caverns, are consummated; before the gravel walk confines
+your steps, and the granite curbing imprisons the flowers, as if they,
+too, would escape.
+
+Now, when the tree lies as it falls; when the violets bloom and are there
+for the picking; when the dogwood sprinkles the bare branches with white
+stars, and the scent of the laurel fills the air.
+
+Touch the button some day soon for an hour along the Bronx.
+
+
+
+
+ANOTHER DOG
+
+
+Do not tell me dogs cannot talk. I know better. I saw it all myself. It
+was at Sterzing, that most picturesque of all the Tyrolean villages on the
+Italian slope of the Brenner, with its long, single street, zigzagged like
+a straggling path in the snow,--perhaps it was laid out in that way,--and
+its little open square, with shrine and rude stone fountain, surrounded by
+women in short skirts and hobnailed shoes, dipping their buckets. On both
+sides of this street ran queer arcades sheltering shops, their doorways
+piled with cheap stuffs, fruit, farm implements, and the like, and at the
+far end, it was almost the last house in the town, stood the old inn,
+where you breakfast. Such an old, old inn! with swinging sign framed by
+fantastic iron work, and decorated with overflows of foaming ale in green
+mugs, crossed clay pipes, and little round dabs of yellow-brown cakes.
+There was a great archway, too, wide and high, with enormous, barn-like
+doors fronting on this straggling, zigzag, sabot-trodden street. Under
+this a cobble-stone pavement led to the door of the coffee-room and out to
+the stable beyond. These barn-like doors keep out the driving snows and
+the whirls of sleet and rain, and are slammed to behind horse, sleigh, and
+all, if not in the face, certainly in the very teeth of the winter gale,
+while the traveler disentangles his half-frozen legs at his leisure,
+almost within sight of the blazing fire of the coffee-room within.
+
+Under this great archway, then, against one of these doors, his big paws
+just inside the shadow line,--for it was not winter, but a brilliant
+summer morning, the grass all dusted with powdered diamonds, the sky a
+turquoise, the air a joy,--under this archway, I say, sat a big St.
+Bernard dog, squat on his haunches, his head well up, like a grenadier on
+guard. His eyes commanded the approaches down the road, up the road, and
+across the street; taking in the passing peddler with the tinware, and the
+girl with a basket strapped to her back, her fingers knitting for dear
+life, not to mention so unimportant an object as myself swinging down the
+road, my iron-shod alpenstock hammering the cobbles.
+
+He made no objection to my entering, neither did he receive me with any
+show of welcome. There was no bounding forward, no wagging of the tail, no
+aimless walking around for a moment, and settling down in another spot;
+nor was there any sudden growl or forbidding look in the eye. None of
+these things occurred to him, for none of these things was part of his
+duty. The landlord would do the welcoming, the blue-shirted porter take my
+knapsack and show me the way to the coffee-room. His business was to sit
+still and guard that archway. Paying guests, and those known to the
+family,--yes! But stray mountain goats, chickens, inquisitive, pushing
+peddlers, pigs, and wandering dogs,--well, he would look out for these.
+
+While the cutlets and coffee were being fried and boiled, I dragged a
+chair across the road and tilted it back out of the sun against the wall
+of a house. I, too, commanded a view down past the blacksmith shop, where
+they were heating a huge iron tire to clap on the hind wheel of a
+diligence, and up the street as far as the little square where the women
+were still clattering about on the cobbles, their buckets on their
+shoulders. This is how I happened to be watching the dog.
+
+The more I looked at him, the more strongly did his personality impress
+me. The exceeding gravity of his demeanor! The dignified attitude! The
+quiet, silent reserve! The way he looked at you from under his eyebrows,
+not eagerly, nor furtively, but with a self-possessed, competent air,
+quite like a captain of a Cunarder scanning a horizon from the bridge, or
+a French gendarme, watching the shifting crowds from one of the little
+stone circles anchored out in the rush of the boulevards,--a look of
+authority backed by a sense of unlimited power. Then, too, there was such
+a dignified cut to his hairy chops as they drooped over his teeth beneath
+his black, stubby nose. His ears rose and fell easily, without undue haste
+or excitement when the sound of horses' hoofs put him on his guard, or a
+goat wandered too near. Yet one could see that he was not a meddlesome
+dog, nor a snarler, no running out and giving tongue at each passing
+object, not that kind of a dog at all! He was just a plain, substantial,
+well-mannered, dignified, self-respecting St. Bernard dog, who knew his
+place and kept it, who knew his duty and did it, and who would no more
+chase a cat than he would bite your legs in the dark. Put a cap with a
+gold band on his head and he would really have made an ideal concierge.
+Even without the band, he concentrated in his person all the superiority,
+the repose, and exasperating reticence of that necessary concomitant of
+Continental hotel life.
+
+Suddenly I noticed a more eager expression on his face. One ear was
+unfurled, like a flag, and almost run to the masthead; the head was turned
+quickly down the road. A sound of wheels was heard below the shop. His
+dogship straightened himself and stood on four legs, his tail wagging
+slowly.
+
+Another dog was coming.
+
+A great Danish hound, with white eyes, black-and-tan ears, and tail as
+long and smooth as a policeman's night-club;--one of those sleek and
+shining dogs with powerful chest and knotted legs, a little bowed in
+front, black lips, and dazzling, fang-like teeth. He was spattered with
+brown spots, and sported a single white foot. Altogether, he was a dog of
+quality, of ancestry, of a certain position in his own land,--one who had
+clearly followed his master's mountain wagon to-day as much for love of
+adventure as anything else. A dog of parts, too, who could perhaps, hunt
+the wild boar, or give chase to the agile deer. He was certainly not an
+inn dog. He was rather a palace dog, a chateau, or a shooting-box dog,
+who, in his off moments, trotted behind hunting carts filled with guns,
+sportsmen in knee-breeches, or in front of landaus when my lady went
+an-airing.
+
+And with all this, and quite naturally, he was a dog of breeding, who,
+while he insisted on his own rights, respected those of others. I saw this
+before he had spoken ten words to the concierge,--the St. Bernard dog, I
+mean. For he did talk to him, and the conversation was just as plain to
+me, tilted back against the wall, out of the sun, waiting for my cutlets
+and coffee, as if I had been a dog myself, and understood each word of it.
+
+First, he walked up sideways, his tail wagging and straight out, like a
+patent towel-rack. Then he walked round the concierge, who followed his
+movements with becoming interest, wagging his own tail, straightening his
+forelegs, and sidling around him kindly, as befitted the stranger's rank
+and quality, but with a certain dog-independence of manner, preserving his
+own dignities while courteously passing the time of day, and intimating,
+by certain twists of his tail, that he felt quite sure his excellency
+would like the air and scenery the farther he got up the pass,--all
+strange dogs did.
+
+During this interchange of canine civilities, the landlord was helping out
+the two men, the companions of the dog. One was round and pudgy, the other
+lank and scrawny. Both were in knickerbockers, with green hats decorated
+with cock feathers and edelweiss. The blue-shirted porter carried in the
+bags and alpenstocks, closing the coffee-room door behind them.
+
+Suddenly the strange dog, who had been beguiled by the courteous manner of
+the concierge, realized that his master had disappeared. The man had been
+hungry, no doubt, and half blinded by the glare of the sun. After the
+manner of his kind, he had dived into this shelter without a word to the
+dumb beast who had tramped behind his wheels, swallowing the dust his
+horses kicked up.
+
+When the strange dog realized this,--I saw the instant the idea entered
+his mind, as I caught the sudden toss of the head,--he glanced quickly
+about with that uneasy, anxious look that comes into the face of a dog
+when he discovers that he is adrift in a strange place without his master.
+What other face is so utterly miserable, and what eyes so pleading, the
+tears just under the lids, as the lost dog's?
+
+Then it was beautiful to see the St. Bernard. With a sudden twist of the
+head he reassured the strange dog,--telling him, as plainly as could be,
+not to worry, the gentlemen were only inside, and would be out after
+breakfast. There was no mistaking what he said. It was done with a
+peculiar curving of the neck, a reassuring wag of the tail, a glance
+toward the coffee-room, and a few frolicsome, kittenish jumps, these last
+plainly indicating that as for himself the occasion was one of great
+hilarity, with absolutely no cause in it for anxiety. Then, if you could
+have seen that anxious look fade away from the face of the strange dog,
+the responsive, reciprocal wag of the night-club of a tail. If you could
+have caught the sudden peace that came into his eyes, and have seen him as
+he followed the concierge to the doorway, dropping his ears, and throwing
+himself beside him, looking up into his face, his tongue out, panting
+after the habit of his race, the white saliva dropping upon his paws.
+
+Then followed a long talk, conducted in side glances, and punctuated with
+the quiet laughs of more slappings of tails on the cobbles, as the
+concierge listened to the adventures of the stranger, or matched them with
+funny experiences of his own.
+
+Here a whistle from the coffee-room window startled them. Even so rude a
+being as a man is sometimes mindful of his dog. In an instant both
+concierge and stranger were on their feet, the concierge ready for
+whatever would turn up, the stranger trying to locate the sound and his
+master. Another whistle, and he was off, bounding down the road, looking
+wistfully at the windows, and rushing back bewildered. Suddenly it came to
+him that the short cut to his master lay through the archway.
+
+Just here there was a change in the manner of the concierge. It was not
+gruff, nor savage, nor severe,--it was only firm and decided. With his
+tail still wagging, showing his kindness and willingness to oblige, but
+with spine rigid and hair bristling, he explained clearly and succinctly
+to that strange dog how absolutely impossible it would be for him to
+permit his crossing the archway. Up went the spine of the stranger, and
+out went his tail like a bar of steel, the feet braced, and the whole body
+taut as standing rigging. But the concierge kept on wagging his tail,
+though his hair still bristled,--saying as plainly as he could:--
+
+"My dear sir, do not blame me. I assure you that nothing in the world
+would give me more pleasure than to throw the whole house open to you; but
+consider for a moment. My master puts me here to see that nobody enters
+the inn but those whom he wishes to see, and that all other live-stock,
+especially dogs, shall on no account be admitted." (This with head bent on
+one side and neck arched.) "Now, while I have the most distinguished
+consideration for your dogship" (tail wagging violently), "and would
+gladly oblige you, you must see that my honor is at stake" (spine more
+rigid), "and I feel assured that under the circumstances you will not
+press a request (low growl) which you must know would be impossible for me
+to grant."
+
+And the strange dog, gentleman as he was, expressed himself as entirely
+satisfied with the very free and generous explanation. With tail wagging
+more violently than ever, he assured the concierge that he understood his
+position exactly. Then wheeling suddenly, he bounded down the road. Though
+convinced, he was still anxious.
+
+Then the concierge gravely settled himself once more on his haunches in
+his customary place, his eyes commanding the view up and down and across
+the road, where I sat still tilted back in my chair waiting for my
+cutlets, his whole body at rest, his face expressive of that quiet content
+which comes from a sense of duties performed and honor untarnished.
+
+But the stranger had duties, too; he must answer the whistle, and find his
+master. His search down the road being fruitless, he rushed back to the
+concierge, looking up into his face, his eyes restless and anxious.
+
+"If it were inconsistent with his honor to permit him to cross the
+threshold, was there any other way he could get into the coffee-room?"
+This last with a low whine of uneasiness, and a toss of head.
+
+"Yes, certainly," jumping to his feet, "why had he not mentioned it
+before? It would give him very great pleasure to show him the way to the
+side entrance." And the St. Bernard, everything wagging now, walked with
+the stranger to the corner, stopping stock still to point with his nose to
+the closed door.
+
+Then the stranger bounded down with a scurry and plunge, nervously edging
+up to the door, wagging his tail, and with a low, anxious whine springing
+one side and another, his paws now on the sill, his nose at the crack,
+until the door was finally opened, and he dashed inside.
+
+What happened in the coffee-room I do not know, for I could not see. I am
+willing, however, to wager that a dog of his loyalty, dignity, and sense
+of duty did just what a dog of quality would do. No awkward springing at
+his master's chest with his dusty paws leaving marks on his vest front; no
+rushing around chairs and tables in mad joy at being let in, alarming
+waitresses and children. Only a low whine and gurgle of delight, a rubbing
+of his cold nose against his master's hand, a low, earnest look up into
+his face, so frank, so trustful, a look that carried no reproach for being
+shut out, and only gratitude for being let in.
+
+A moment more, and he was outside again, head in air, looking for his
+friend. Then a dash, and he was around by the archway, licking the
+concierge in the face, biting his neck, rubbing his nose under his
+forelegs, saying over and over again how deeply he thanked him,--how glad
+and proud he was of his acquaintance, and how delighted he would be if he
+came down to Vienna, or Milan, or wherever he did come from, so that he
+might return his courtesies in some way, and make his stay pleasant.
+
+Just here the landlord called out that the cutlets and coffee were ready,
+and, man-like, I went in to breakfast.
+
+
+
+
+BROCKWAY'S HULK
+
+
+I first saw Brockway's towards the close of a cold October day. Since
+early morning I had been tramping and sketching about the northern suburbs
+of New York, and it was late in the afternoon when I reached the edge of
+that high ground overlooking the two rivers. I could see through an
+opening in the woods the outline of the great aqueduct,--a huge stone
+centipede stepping across on its sturdy legs; the broad Hudson, with its
+sheer walls of rock, and the busy Harlem crowded with boats and braced
+with bridges. A raw wind was blowing, and a gray mist blurred the edges of
+the Palisades where they cut against the sky.
+
+As the darkness fell the wind increased, and scattered drops of rain,
+piloting the coming storm, warned me to seek a shelter. Shouldering my
+trap and hurrying forward, I descended the hill, followed the road to the
+East River, and, finding no boat, walked along the shore hoping to hail a
+fisherman or some belated oarsman, and reach the station opposite.
+
+My search led me around a secluded cove edged with white sand and yellow
+marsh grass, ending in a low, jutting point. Here I came upon a curious
+sort of dwelling,--half house, half boat. It might have passed for an
+abandoned barge, or wharf boat, too rotten to float and too worthless to
+break up,--the relic and record of some by-gone tide of phenomenal height.
+When I approached nearer it proved to be an old-fashioned canal-boat, sunk
+to the water line in the grass, its deck covered by a low-hipped roof.
+Midway its length was cut a small door, opening upon a short staging or
+portico which supported one end of a narrow, rambling bridge leading to
+the shore. This bridge was built of driftwood propped up on shad poles.
+Over the door itself flapped a scrap of a tattered sail which served as an
+awning. Some pots of belated flowers bloomed on the sills of the
+ill-shaped windows, and a wind-beaten vine, rooted in a fish basket,
+crowded into the door, as if to escape the coming winter. Nothing could
+have been more dilapidated or more picturesque.
+
+The only outward sign of life about the dwelling was a curl of blue
+smoke. Without this signal of good cheer it had a menacing look, as it
+lay in its bed of mud glaring at me from under its eaves of eyebrows,
+shading eyes of windows a-glint in the fading light.
+
+I crossed the small beach strewn with oyster shells, ascended the
+tottering bridge, and knocked. The door was opened by a gray-bearded old
+man in a rough jacket. He was bare-footed, his trousers rolled up above
+his ankles, like a boy's.
+
+"Can you help me across the river?" I asked.
+
+"Yes, perhaps I can. Come into the Hulk," he replied, holding the door
+against the gusts of wind.
+
+The room was small and low, with doors leading into two others. In its
+centre, before a square stove, stood a young child cooking the evening
+meal. I saw no other inmates.
+
+"You are wet," said the old man, laying his hand on my shoulder, feeling
+me over carefully; "come nearer the stove."
+
+The child brought a chair. As I dropped into it I caught his eye fixed
+upon me intently.
+
+"What are you?" he said abruptly, noting my glance,--"a peddler." He said
+this standing over me,--his arms akimbo, his bare feet spread apart.
+
+"No, a painter," I answered smiling; my trap had evidently misled him.
+
+He mused a little, rubbing his beard with his thumb and forefinger; then,
+making a mental inventory of my exterior, beginning with my slouch hat and
+taking in each article down to my tramping shoes, he said slowly,--
+
+"And poor?"
+
+"Yes, we all are." And I laughed; his manner made me a little
+uncomfortable.
+
+My reply, however, seemed to reassure him. His features relaxed and a more
+kindly expression overspread his countenance.
+
+"And now, what are _you_?" I asked, offering him a cigarette as I spoke.
+
+"Me? Nothing," he replied curtly, refusing it with a wave of his hand.
+"Only Brockway,--just Brockway,--that's all,--just Brockway." He kept
+repeating this in an abstracted way, as if the remark was addressed to
+himself, the words dying in his throat.
+
+Then he moved to the door, took down an oilskin from a peg, and saying
+that he would get the boat ready, went out into the night, shutting the
+door behind him, his bare feet flapping like wet fish as he walked.
+
+I was not sorry I was going away so soon. The man and the place seemed
+uncanny.
+
+I roused myself and crossed the room, attracted by the contents of a
+cupboard filled with cheap pottery and some bits of fine old English
+lustre. Then I examined the furniture of the curious interior,--the
+high-backed chairs, mahogany table,--one leg replaced with pine,--the hair
+sofa and tall clock in the corner by the door. They were all old and once
+costly, and all of a pattern of by-gone days. Everything was scrupulously
+clean, even to the strip of unbleached muslin hung at the small windows.
+
+The door blew in with a whirl of wind, and Brockway entered shaking the
+wet from his sou'wester.
+
+"You must wait," he said. "Dan the brakeman has taken my boat to the
+Railroad Dock. He will return in an hour. If you are hungry, you can sup
+with us. Emily, set a place for the painter."
+
+His manner was more frank. He seemed less uncanny too. Perhaps he had been
+in some special ill humor when I entered. Perhaps, too, he had been
+suspicious of me; I had not thought of that before.
+
+The child spread the cloth and busied herself with the dishes and plates.
+She was about twelve years old, slightly built and neatly dressed. Her
+eyes were singularly large and expressive. The light brown hair about her
+shoulders held a tinge of gold when the lamplight shone upon it.
+
+Despite the evident poverty of the interior, a certain air of refinement
+pervaded everything. Even the old man's bare feet did not detract from it.
+These, by the way, he never referred to; it was evidently a habit with
+him. I felt this refinement not only in the relics of what seemed to
+denote better days, but in the arrangement of the table, the placing of
+the tea tray and the providing of a separate pot for the hot water. Their
+voices, too, were low, characteristic of people who live alone and in
+peace,--especially the old man's.
+
+Brockway resumed his seat and continued talking, asking about the city as
+if it were a thousand miles away instead of being almost at his door; of
+the artists,--their mode of life, their successes, etc. As he talked his
+eye brightened and his manner became more gentle. It was only his outside
+that seemed to belong to an old boatman, roughened by the open air, with
+hands hard and brown. Yet these were well shaped, with tapering fingers.
+One bore a gold ring curiously marked and worn to a thread.
+
+I asked about the fishing, hoping the subject would lead him to talk of
+his own life, and so solve the doubt in my mind as to his class and
+antecedents. His replies showed his thorough knowledge of his trade. He
+deplored the scarcity of bass, now that the steamboats and factories
+fouled the river; the decrease of the oysters, of which he had several
+beds, all being injured by the same cause. Then he broke out against the
+encroachments of the real estate pirates, as he called them, staking out
+lots behind the Hulk and destroying his privacy.
+
+"But you own the marsh?" I asked carelessly. I saw instantly in his face
+the change working in his mind. He looked at me searchingly, almost
+fiercely, and said, weighing each word,--
+
+"Not one foot, young man,--do you hear?--not one foot! Own nothing but
+what you see. But this hulk is mine,--mine from the mud to the ridgepole,
+with every rotten timber in it."
+
+The outburst was so sudden that I rose from my chair. For a moment he
+seemed consumed with an inward rage,--not directed to me in any
+way,--more as if the memory of some past wrong had angered him.
+
+Here the child, with an anxious face, rose quickly from her seat by the
+window, and laid her hand on his.
+
+The old man looked into her face for a moment, and then, as if her touch
+had softened him, rose courteously, took her arm, seated her at the table
+and then me. In a moment more he had regained his gentle manner.
+
+The meal was a frugal one, broiled fish and potatoes, a loaf of bread, and
+stewed apples served in a cut glass dish with broken handles.
+
+The meal over, the girl replaced the cotton cloth with a red one,
+retrimmed the lamps, and disappeared into an adjoining room, carrying the
+dishes. The old man lighted his pipe and seated himself in a large chair,
+smoking on in silence. I opened my portfolio and began retouching the
+sketches of the morning.
+
+Outside the weather grew more boisterous. The wind increased; the rain
+thrashed against the small windows, the leakage dropping on the floor like
+the slow ticking of a clock.
+
+As the evening wore on I began to be uneasy, speculating as to the
+possibility of my reaching home that night. To be entirely frank, I did
+not altogether like my surroundings or my host. One moment he was like a
+child; the next there came into his face an expression of uncontrollable
+hate that sent a shiver through me. But for the clear, steady gaze of his
+eye I should have doubted his sanity.
+
+There was no sign of the return of the boat. The old man became restless
+himself. He said nothing, but every now and then he would peer through the
+window and raise his hand to his ear as if listening. It was evident that
+he did not want me over night if he could help it. This partly reassured
+me.
+
+Finally, he laid down his pipe, put on his oilskin again, lighted a
+lantern, and pulled the door behind him, the wind struggling to force an
+entrance.
+
+In a few minutes he returned with lantern out, the rain glistening on his
+white, bushy beard. Without a word, he hung up his dripping garments,
+placed the lantern on the floor, and called the child into the adjoining
+room. When he came back, he laid his hand on my shoulder and said, with a
+tone in his voice that was unmistakable in its sincerity:--
+
+"I am sorry, friend, but the boat cannot get back to-night. You seem like
+a decent man, and I believe you are. I knew some of your kind once, and I
+always liked them. You must stay where you are to-night, and have Emily's
+room."
+
+I thanked him, but hoped the weather would clear. As to taking Emily's
+room, this I could not do. I would not, of course, disturb the child. If
+there was no chance of my getting away, I said, I preferred taking the
+floor, with my trap for a pillow. But he would not hear of it. He was not
+accustomed, he said, to have people stay with him, especially of late
+years; but when they did, they could not sleep on the floor.
+
+The child's room proved to be the old cabin of the canal-boat, with the
+three steps leading down from the decks. The little slanting windows were
+still there, and so were the bunks,--or, rather, the lower one. The upper
+one had been altered into a sort of closet. On one side hung a row of
+shelves on which were such small knickknacks as a child always loves,--a
+Christmas card or two, some books, a pin-cushion backed with shells, a
+doll's bonnet, besides some trinkets and strings of beads. Next to this
+ran a row of hooks covered by a curtain of cheap calico, half concealing
+her few simple dresses, with her muddy little shoes and frayed straw hat
+in the farther corner.
+
+Above the head-board hung the likeness of a woman with large eyes, her
+hair pushed back from a wide, high forehead. It was framed in an
+old-fashioned black frame with a gold mat. Not a beautiful face, but so
+interesting and so expressive that I looked at it half a dozen times
+before I could return it to its place.
+
+Everything was as clean and fresh as care could make it. When I dropped to
+sleep, the tide was swashing the floor beneath me, the rain still sousing
+and drenching the little windows and the roof.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The following week, one crisp, fresh morning, I was again at the Hulk. My
+experience the night of the storm had given me more confidence in
+Brockway, although the mystery of his life was still impenetrable. As I
+rounded the point, the old man and little Emily were just pushing off in
+the boat. He was on his way to his oyster beds a short distance off, his
+grappling-tongs and basket beside him. In his quick, almost gruff way, he
+welcomed me heartily and insisted on my staying to dinner. He would be
+back in an hour with a mess of oysters to help out. "Somebody has been
+raking my beds and I must look after them," he called to me as he rowed
+away.
+
+I drew my own boat well up on the gravel, out of reach of the making tide,
+and put my easel close to the water's edge. I wanted to paint the Hulk and
+the river with the bluffs beyond. Before I had blocked in my sky, I caught
+sight of Brockway rowing hurriedly back, followed by a shell holding half
+a dozen oarsmen from one of the boating clubs down the river. The crew
+were out for a spin in their striped shirts and caps; the coxswain was
+calling to him, but he made no reply.
+
+"Say, Mr. Brockway! will you please fill our water-keg? We have come off
+from the boat-house without a drop," I heard one call out.
+
+"No; not to save your lives, I wouldn't!" he shouted back, his boat
+striking the beach. Springing out and catching Emily by the shoulder,
+pushing her before him,--"Go into the Hulk, child." Then, lowering his
+voice to me, "They are all alike, d--- them, all alike. Just such a gang!
+I know 'em, I know 'em. Get you a drink? I'll see you dead first, d---
+you. See you dead first; do you hear?"
+
+His face was livid, his eyes blazing with anger. The crew turned and shot
+up the river, grumbling as they went. Brockway unloaded his boat,
+clutching the tongs as if they were weapons; then, tying the painter to a
+stake, sat down and watched me at work. Soon Emily crept back and slipped
+one hand around her grandfather's neck.
+
+"Do you think you can ever do that, little Frowsy-head?" he said, pointing
+to my sketch. I looked up. His face was as serene and sunny as that of the
+child beside him.
+
+Gradually I came to know these people better. I never could tell why, our
+tastes being so dissimilar. I fancied, sometimes, from a remark the old
+man once made, that he had perhaps known some one who had been a painter,
+and that I reminded him of his friend, and on that account he trusted me;
+for I often detected him examining my brushes, spreading the bristles on
+his palm, or holding them to the light with a critical air. I could see,
+too, that their touch was not new to him.
+
+As for me, the picturesqueness of the Hulk, the simple mode of life of the
+inmates, their innate refinement, the unselfish devotion of little Emily
+to the old man, the conflicting elements in his character, his
+fierceness--almost brutality--at times, his extreme gentleness at others,
+his rough treatment of every stranger who attempted to land on his shore,
+his tenderness over the child, all combined to pique my curiosity to know
+something of his earlier life.
+
+Moreover, I constantly saw new beauties in the old Hulk. It always seemed
+to adapt itself to the changing moods of the weather,--being grave or gay
+as the skies lowered or smiled. In the dull November days, when the clouds
+drifted in straight lines of slaty gray, it assumed a weird, forbidding
+look. When the wind blew a gale from the northeast, and the back water of
+the river overflowed the marsh,--submerging the withered grass and
+breaking high upon the foot-bridge,--it seemed for all the world like the
+original tenement of old Noah himself, derelict ever since his
+disembarkation, and stranded here after centuries of buffetings. On other
+days it had a sullen air, settling back in its bed of mud as if tired out
+with all these miseries, glaring at you with its one eye of a window
+aflame with the setting sun.
+
+As the autumn lost itself in the winter, I continued my excursions to the
+Hulk, sketching in the neighborhood, gathering nuts with little Emily, or
+helping the old man with his nets.
+
+On one of these days a woman, plainly but neatly dressed, met me at the
+edge of the wood, inquired if I had seen a child pass my way, and quickly
+disappeared in the bushes. I noticed her anxious face and the pathos of
+her eyes when I answered. Then the incident passed out of my mind. A few
+days later I saw her again, sitting on a pile of stones as if waiting for
+some one. Little Emily had seen her too, and stopped to talk to her. I
+could follow their movements over my easel. As soon as the child caught my
+eye she started up and ran towards the Hulk, the woman darting again into
+the bushes. When I questioned Emily about it she hesitated, and said it
+was a poor woman who had lost her little girl and who was very sad.
+
+Brockway himself became more and more a mystery. I sought every
+opportunity to coax from him something of his earlier life, but he never
+referred to it but once, and then in a way that left the subject more
+impenetrable than ever.
+
+I was speaking of a recent trip abroad, when he turned abruptly and
+said:--
+
+"Is the Milo still in that little room in the Louvre?"
+
+"Yes," I answered, surprised.
+
+"I am glad of that. Against that red curtain she is the most beautiful
+thing I know."
+
+"When did you see the Venus?" I asked, as quietly as my astonishment would
+allow.
+
+"Oh, some years ago, when I was abroad."
+
+He was bending over and putting some new teeth in his oyster tongs at the
+time, riveting them on a flat-iron with a small hammer.
+
+I agreed with him and asked carelessly what year that was and what he was
+doing in Paris, but he affected not to hear me and went on with his
+hammering, remarking that the oysters were running so small that some
+slipped through his tongs and he was getting too old to rake for them
+twice. It was only a glimpse of some part of his past, but it was all I
+could get. He never referred to it again.
+
+December of that year was unusually severe. The snow fell early and the
+river was closed before Christmas. This shut off all communication with
+the Brockways except by the roundabout way I had first followed, over the
+hills from the west. So my weekly tramps ceased.
+
+Late in the following February I heard, through Dan the brakeman, that the
+old man was greatly broken and had not been out of the Hulk for weeks. I
+started at once to see him. The ice was adrift and running with the tide,
+and the passage across was made doubly difficult by the floating cakes
+shelved one upon the other. When I reached the Hulk, the only sign of life
+was the thin curl of smoke from the rusty pipe. Even the snow of the night
+before lay unbroken on the bridge, showing that no foot had crossed it
+that morning. I knocked, and Emily opened the door.
+
+"Oh, it's the painter, grandpa! We thought it might be the doctor."
+
+He was sitting in an armchair by the fire, wrapped in a blanket. Holding
+out his hand, he motioned to a chair and said feebly:--
+
+"How did you hear?"
+
+"The brakeman told me."
+
+"Yes, Dan knows. He comes over Sundays."
+
+He was greatly changed,--his skin drawn and shrunken,--his grizzled beard,
+once so great a contrast to his ruddy skin, only added to the pallor of
+his face. He had had a slight "stroke," he thought. It had passed off, but
+left him very weak.
+
+I sat down and, to change the current of his thoughts, told him of the
+river outside, and the shelving ice, of my life since I had seen him, and
+whatever I thought would interest him. He made no reply, except in
+monosyllables, his head buried in his hands. Soon the afternoon light
+faded, and I rose to go. Then he roused himself, threw the blanket from
+his shoulders and said in something of his old voice:--
+
+"Don't leave me. Do you hear? Don't leave me!" this was with an
+authoritative gesture. Then, his voice faltering and with almost a tender
+tone, "Please help me through this. My strength is almost gone."
+
+Later, when the night closed in, he called Emily to him, pushed her hair
+back and, kissing her forehead, said:--
+
+"Now go to bed, little Frowsy-head. The painter will stay with me."
+
+I filled his pipe, threw some dry driftwood in the stove, and drew my
+chair nearer. He tried to smoke for a moment, but laid his pipe down. For
+some minutes he kept his eyes on the crackling wood; then, reaching his
+hand out, laid it on my arm and said slowly:--
+
+"If it were not for the child, I would be glad that the end was near."
+
+"Has she no one to care for her?" I asked.
+
+"Only her mother. When I am gone, she will come."
+
+"Her mother? Why, Brockway! I did not know Emily's mother was alive. Why
+not send for her now," I said, looking into his shrunken face. "You need a
+woman's care at once."
+
+His grasp tightened on my arm as he half rose from the chair, his eyes
+blazing as I had seen them that morning when he cursed the boat's crew.
+
+"But not that woman! Never, while I live!" and he bent down his eyes on
+mine. "Look at me. Men sometimes cut you to the quick, and now and then a
+woman can leave a scar that never heals; but your own child,--do you
+hear?--your little girl, the only one you ever had, the one you laid store
+by and loved and dreamed dreams of,--_she can tear your heart out_. That's
+what Emily's mother did for me. Oh, a fine gentleman, with his yachts, and
+boats, and horses,--a fine young aristocrat! He was a thief, I tell you, a
+blackguard, a beast, to steal my girl. Damn him! Damn him! Damn him!" and
+he fell back in his chair exhausted.
+
+"Where is she now?" I asked cautiously, trying to change his thoughts. I
+was afraid of the result if the outburst continued.
+
+"God knows! Somewhere in the city. She comes here every now and then," in
+a weaker voice. "Emily meets her and they go off together when I am out
+raking my beds. Not long ago I met her outside on the foot-bridge; she did
+not look up; her hair is gray now, and her face is thin and old, and so
+sad,--not as it once was. God forgive me,--not as it once was!" He leaned
+forward, his face buried in his hands.
+
+Then he staggered to his feet, took the lamp from the table, and brought
+me the picture I had seen in Emily's room the night of the storm.
+
+"You can see what she was like. It was taken the year before his death and
+came with Emily's clothes. She found it in her box."
+
+I held it to the light. The large, dreamy eyes seemed even more pleading
+than when I first had seen the picture; and the smooth hair pushed back
+from the high forehead, I now saw, marked all the more clearly the lines
+of anxious care which were then beginning to creep over the sweet young
+face. It seemed to speak to me in an earnest, pleading way, as if for
+help.
+
+"She is your daughter, Brockway, don't forget that."
+
+He made no reply. After a pause, I went on, "And a girl's heart is not her
+own. Was it all her fault?"
+
+He pushed his chair back and stood erect, one hand raised above the
+other, clutching the blanket around his throat, the end trailing on the
+floor. By the flickering light of the dying fire he looked like some gaunt
+spectre towering above me, the blackness of the shadows only intensifying
+the whiteness of his face.
+
+"Go on, go on. I know what you would say. You would have me wipe out the
+past and forget. Forget the home she ruined and the dead mother's heart
+she broke. Forget the weary months abroad, the tramping of London's
+streets looking into every woman's face, afraid it was she. Forget these
+years of exile and poverty, living here in this hulk like a dog, my very
+name unknown. When I am dead, they will say I have been cruel to her. God
+knows, perhaps I have; listen!" Then, glancing cautiously towards Emily's
+room and lowering his voice, he stooped down, his white sunken face close
+to mine, his eyes burning, gazed long and steadily into my face as if
+reading my very thoughts, and then, gathering himself up, said slowly:
+"No, no. I will not Let it all be buried with me. I cannot,--cannot!" and
+sank into his chair.
+
+After a while he raised his head, picked up the portrait from the table
+and looked into its eyes eagerly, holding it in both hands; and muttering
+to himself, crossed the room, and threw himself on his bed. I stirred the
+fire, wrapped my coat about me and fell asleep on the lounge. Later, I
+awoke and crept into his room. He was lying on his back, the picture still
+clasped in his hands.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A week later, I reached the landing opposite the Hulk. There I met Dan's
+wife. Dan himself had been away for several days. She told me that two
+nights before she had been roused by a woman who had come up on the night
+express and wanted to be rowed over to the Hulk at once. She was in great
+distress, and did not mind the danger. Dan was against taking her, the ice
+being heavy and the night dark; but she begged so hard he had not the
+heart to refuse her. She seemed to be expected, for Emily was waiting with
+a lantern on the bridge and put her arms around her and led her into the
+Hulk.
+
+Dan being away, I found another boatman, and we pushed out into the river.
+I stood up in the boat and looked over the waste of ice and snow. Under
+the leaden sky lay the lifeless Hulk. About the entrance and on the bridge
+were black dots of figures, standing out in clear relief like crows on
+the unbroken snow.
+
+As I drew nearer, the dots increased in size and fell into line, the
+procession slowly creeping along the tottering bridge, crunching the snow
+under foot. Then I made out little Emily and a neatly-dressed woman
+heavily veiled.
+
+When the shore was reached, I joined some fishermen who stood about on the
+beach, uncovering their heads as the coffin passed. An open wagon waited
+near the propped-up foot-bridge of the Hulk, the horse covered with a
+black blanket. Two men, carrying the body, crouched down and pushed the
+box into the wagon. The blanket was then taken from the horse and wrapped
+over the pine casket.
+
+The woman drew nearer and tenderly smoothed its folds. Then she turned,
+lifted her veil, and in a low voice thanked the few bystanders for their
+kindness.
+
+It was the same face I had seen with Emily in the woods,--the same that
+lay upon his heart the last night I saw him alive.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Gentleman Vagabond and Some Others
+by F. Hopkinson Smith
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GENTLEMAN VAGABOND ***
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