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diff --git a/old/24131-h.htm.2021-01-25 b/old/24131-h.htm.2021-01-25 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7328558 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/24131-h.htm.2021-01-25 @@ -0,0 +1,1847 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Xingu, by Edith Wharton + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Xingu, by Edith Wharton + +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: Xingu + 1916 + +Author: Edith Wharton + +Release Date: January 3, 2008 [EBook #24131] +Last Updated: October 3, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK XINGU *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + XINGU + </h1> + <h2> + By Edith Wharton <br /><br /> Copyright, 1916, By Charles Scribner’s Sons + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <p> + Mrs. Ballinger is one of the ladies who pursue Culture in bands, as though + it were dangerous to meet alone. To this end she had founded the Lunch + Club, an association composed of herself and several other indomitable + huntresses of erudition. The Lunch Club, after three or four winters of + lunching and debate, had acquired such local distinction that the + entertainment of distinguished strangers became one of its accepted + functions; in recognition of which it duly extended to the celebrated + “Osric Dane,” on the day of her arrival in Hillbridge, an invitation to be + present at the next meeting. + </p> + <p> + The club was to meet at Mrs. Bellinger’s. The other members, behind her + back, were of one voice in deploring her unwillingness to cede her rights + in favor of Mrs. Plinth, whose house made a more impressive setting for + the entertainment of celebrities; while, as Mrs. Leveret observed, there + was always the picture-gallery to fall back on. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Plinth made no secret of sharing this view. She had always regarded + it as one of her obligations to entertain the Lunch Club’s distinguished + guests. Mrs. Plinth was almost as proud of her obligations as she was of + her picture-gallery; she was in fact fond of implying that the one + possession implied the other, and that only a woman of her wealth could + afford to live up to a standard as high as that which she had set herself. + An all-round sense of duty, roughly adaptable to various ends, was, in her + opinion, all that Providence exacted of the more humbly stationed; but the + power which had predestined Mrs. Plinth to keep a footman clearly intended + her to maintain an equally specialized staff of responsibilities. It was + the more to be regretted that Mrs. Ballinger, whose obligations to society + were bounded by the narrow scope of two parlour-maids, should have been so + tenacious of the right to entertain Osric Dane. + </p> + <p> + The question of that lady’s reception had for a month past profoundly + moved the members of the Lunch Club. It was not that they felt themselves + unequal to the task, but that their sense of the opportunity plunged them + into the agreeable uncertainty of the lady who weighs the alternatives of + a well-stocked wardrobe. If such subsidiary members as Mrs. Leveret were + fluttered by the thought of exchanging ideas with the author of “The Wings + of Death,” no forebodings disturbed the conscious adequacy of Mrs. Plinth, + Mrs. Ballinger and Miss Van Vluyck. “The Wings of Death” had, in fact, at + Miss Van Vluyck’s suggestion, been chosen as the subject of discussion at + the last club meeting, and each member had thus been enabled to express + her own opinion or to appropriate whatever sounded well in the comments of + the others. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Roby alone had abstained from profiting by the opportunity; but it + was now openly recognised that, as a member of the Lunch Club, Mrs. Roby + was a failure. “It all comes,” as Miss Van Vluyck put it, “of accepting a + woman on a man’s estimation.” Mrs. Roby, returning to Hillbridge from a + prolonged sojourn in exotic lands—the other ladies no longer took + the trouble to remember where—had been heralded by the distinguished + biologist, Professor Foreland, as the most agreeable woman he had ever + met; and the members of the Lunch Club, impressed by an encomium that + carried the weight of a diploma, and rashly assuming that the Professor’s + social sympathies would follow the line of his professional bent, had + seized the chance of annexing a biological member. Their disillusionment + was complete. At Miss Van Vluyck’s first off-hand mention of the + pterodactyl Mrs. Roby had confusedly murmured: “I know so little about + metres—” and after that painful betrayal of incompetence she had + prudently withdrawn from farther participation in the mental gymnastics of + the club. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose she flattered him,” Miss Van Vluyck summed up—“or else + it’s the way she does her hair.” + </p> + <p> + The dimensions of Miss Van Vluyck’s dining-room having restricted the + membership of the club to six, the nonconductiveness of one member was a + serious obstacle to the exchange of ideas, and some wonder had already + been expressed that Mrs. Roby should care to live, as it were, on the + intellectual bounty of the others. This feeling was increased by the + discovery that she had not yet read “The Wings of Death.” She owned to + having heard the name of Osric Dane; but that—incredible as it + appeared—was the extent of her acquaintance with the celebrated + novelist. The ladies could not conceal their surprise; but Mrs. Ballinger, + whose pride in the club made her wish to put even Mrs. Roby in the best + possible light, gently insinuated that, though she had not had time to + acquaint herself with “The Wings of Death,” she must at least be familiar + with its equally remarkable predecessor, “The Supreme Instant.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Roby wrinkled her sunny brows in a conscientious effort of memory, as + a result of which she recalled that, oh, yes, she <i>had</i> seen the book + at her brother’s, when she was staying with him in Brazil, and had even + carried it off to read one day on a boating party; but they had all got to + shying things at each other in the boat, and the book had gone overboard, + so she had never had the chance— + </p> + <p> + The picture evoked by this anecdote did not increase Mrs. Roby’s credit + with the club, and there was a painful pause, which was broken by Mrs. + Plinth’s remarking: + </p> + <p> + “I can understand that, with all your other pursuits, you should not find + much time for reading; but I should have thought you might at least have + <i>got up</i> ‘The Wings of Death’ before Osric Dane’s arrival.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Roby took this rebuke good-humouredly. She had meant, she owned, to + glance through the book; but she had been so absorbed in a novel of + Trollope’s that— + </p> + <p> + “No one reads Trollope now,” Mrs. Ballinger interrupted. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Roby looked pained. “I’m only just beginning,” she confessed. + </p> + <p> + “And does he interest you?” Mrs. Plinth enquired. + </p> + <p> + “He amuses me.” + </p> + <p> + “Amusement,” said Mrs. Plinth, “is hardly what I look for in my choice of + books.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, certainly, ‘The Wings of Death’ is not amusing,” ventured Mrs. + Leveret, whose manner of putting forth an opinion was like that of an + obliging salesman with a variety of other styles to submit if his first + selection does not suit. + </p> + <p> + “Was it <i>meant</i> to be?” enquired Mrs. Plinth, who was fond of asking + questions that she permitted no one but herself to answer. “Assuredly + not.” + </p> + <p> + “Assuredly not—that is what I was going to say,” assented Mrs. + Leveret, hastily rolling up her opinion and reaching for another. “It was + meant to—to elevate.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Van Vluyck adjusted her spectacles as though they were the black cap + of condemnation. “I hardly see,” she interposed, “how a book steeped in + the bitterest pessimism can be said to elevate however much it may + instruct.” + </p> + <p> + “I meant, of course, to instruct,” said Mrs. Leveret, flurried by the + unexpected distinction between two terms which she had supposed to be + synonymous. Mrs. Leveret’s enjoyment of the Lunch Club was frequently + marred by such surprises; and not knowing her own value to the other + ladies as a mirror for their mental complacency she was sometimes troubled + by a doubt of her worthiness to join in their debates. It was only the + fact of having a dull sister who thought her clever that saved her, from a + sense of hopeless inferiority. + </p> + <p> + “Do they get married in the end?” Mrs. Roby interposed. + </p> + <p> + “They—who?” the Lunch Club collectively exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Why, the girl and man. It’s a novel, isn’t it? I always think that’s the + one thing that matters. If they’re parted it spoils my dinner.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Plinth and Mrs. Ballinger exchanged scandalised glances, and the + latter said: “I should hardly advise you to read ‘The Wings of Death’ in + that spirit. For my part, when there are so many books one <i>has</i> to + read; I wonder how any one can find time for those that are merely + amusing.” + </p> + <p> + “The beautiful part of it,” Laura Glyde murmured, “is surely just this—that + no one can tell how ‘The Wings of Death’ ends. Osric Dane, overcome by the + awful significance of her own meaning, has mercifully veiled it—perhaps + even from herself—as Apelles, in representing the sacrifice of + Iphigenia, veiled the face of Agamemnon.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s that? Is it poetry?” whispered Mrs. Leveret to Mrs. Plinth, who, + disdaining a definite reply, said coldly: “You should look it up. I always + make it a point to look things up.” Her tone added—“though I might + easily have it done for me by the footman.” + </p> + <p> + “I was about to say,” Miss Van Vluyck resumed, “that it must always be a + question whether a book <i>can</i> instruct unless it elevates.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—” murmured Mrs. Leveret, now feeling herself hopelessly astray. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” said Mrs. Ballinger, scenting in Miss Van Vluyck’s tone a + tendency to depreciate the coveted distinction of entertaining Osric Dane; + “I don’t know that such a question can seriously be raised as to a book + which has attracted more attention among thoughtful people than any novel + since ‘Robert Elsmere.’” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but don’t you see,” exclaimed Laura Glyde, “that it’s just the dark + hopelessness of it all—the wonderful tone-scheme of black on black—that + makes it such an artistic achievement? It reminded me when I read it of + Prince Rupert’s <i>manière noire</i>...the book is etched, not painted, + yet one feels the colour-values so intensely....” + </p> + <p> + “Who is he?” Mrs. Leveret whispered to her neighbour. “Some one she’s met + abroad?” + </p> + <p> + “The wonderful part of the book,” Mrs. Bellinger conceded, “is that it may + be looked at from so many points of view. I hear that as a study of + determinism Professor Lupton ranks it with ‘The Data of Ethics.’” + </p> + <p> + “I’m told that Osric Dane spent ten years in preparatory studies before + beginning to write it,” said Mrs. Plinth. “She looks up everything—verifies + everything. It has always been my principle, as you know. Nothing would + induce me, now, to put aside a book before I’d finished it, just because I + can buy as many more as I want.” + </p> + <p> + “And what do <i>you</i> think of ‘The Wings of Death’?” Mrs. Roby abruptly + asked her. + </p> + <p> + It was the kind of question that might be termed out of order, and the + ladies glanced at each other as though disclaiming any share in such a + breach of discipline. They all knew there was nothing Mrs. Plinth so much + disliked as being asked her opinion of a book. Books were written to read; + if one read them what more could be expected? To be questioned in detail + regarding the contents of a volume seemed to her as great an outrage as + being searched for smuggled laces at the Custom House. The club had always + respected this idiosyncrasy of Mrs. Plinth’s. Such opinions as she had + were imposing and substantial: her mind, like her house, was furnished + with monumental “pieces” that were not meant to be disarranged; and it was + one of the unwritten rules of the Lunch Club that, within her own + province, each member’s habits of thought should be respected. The meeting + therefore closed with an increased sense, on the part of the other ladies, + of Mrs. Roby’s hopeless unfitness to be one of them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + Mrs. Leveret, on the eventful day, arrived early at Mrs. Ballinger’s, her + volume of Appropriate Allusions in her pocket. + </p> + <p> + It always flustered Mrs. Leveret to be late at the Lunch Club: she liked + to collect her thoughts and gather a hint, as the others assembled, of the + turn the conversation was likely to take. To-day, however, she felt + herself completely at a loss; and even the familiar contact of Appropriate + Allusions, which stuck into her as she sat down, failed to give her any + reassurance. It was an admirable little volume, compiled to meet all the + social emergencies; so that, whether on the occasion of Anniversaries, + joyful or melancholy (as the classification ran), of Banquets, social or + municipal, or of Baptisms, Church of England or sectarian, its student + need never be at a loss for a pertinent reference. Mrs. Leveret, though + she had for years devoutly conned its pages, valued it, however, rather + for its moral support than for its practical services; for though in the + privacy of her own room she commanded an army of quotations, these + invariably deserted her at the critical moment, and the only phrase she + retained—<i>Canst thou draw out leviathan with a hook</i>?—was + one she had never yet found occasion to apply. + </p> + <p> + To-day she felt that even the complete mastery of the volume would hardly + have insured her self-possession; for she thought it probable that, even + if she <i>did</i>, in some miraculous way, remember an Allusion, it would + be only to find that Osric Dane used a different volume (Mrs. Leveret was + convinced that literary people always carried them), and would + consequently not recognise her quotations. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Leveret’s sense of being adrift was intensified by the appearance of + Mrs. Ballinger’s drawing-room. To a careless eye its aspect was unchanged; + but those acquainted with Mrs. Ballinger’s way of arranging her books + would instantly have detected the marks of recent perturbation. Mrs. + Ballinger’s province, as a member of the Lunch Club, was the Book of the + Day. On that, whatever it was, from a novel to a treatise on experimental + psychology, she was confidently, authoritatively “up.” What became of last + year’s books, or last week’s even; what she did with the “subjects” she + had previously professed with equal authority; no one had ever yet + discovered. ‘Her mind was an hotel where facts came and went like + transient lodgers, without leaving their address behind, and frequently + without paying for their board. It was Mrs. Ballinger’s boast that she was + “abreast with the Thought of the Day,” and her pride that this advanced + position should be expressed by the books on her table. These volumes, + frequently renewed, and almost always damp from the press, bore names + generally unfamiliar to Mrs. Leveret, and giving her, as she furtively + scanned them, a disheartening glimpse of new fields of knowledge to be + breathlessly traversed in Mrs. Ballinger’s wake. But to-day a number of + maturer-looking volumes were adroitly mingled with the <i>primeurs</i> of + the press—Karl Marx jostled Professor Bergson, and the “Confessions + of St. Augustine” lay beside the last work on “Mendelism”; so that even to + Mrs. Leveret’s fluttered perceptions it was clear that Mrs. Ballinger + didn’t in the least know what Osric Dane was likely to talk about, and had + taken measures to be prepared for anything. Mrs. Leveret felt like a + passenger on an ocean steamer who is told that there is no immediate + danger, but that she had better put on her life-belt. + </p> + <p> + It was a relief to be roused from these forebodings by Miss Van Vluyck’s + arrival. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear,” the new-comer briskly asked her hostess, “what subjects + are we to discuss to-day?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ballinger was furtively replacing a volume of Wordsworth by a copy of + Verlaine. “I hardly know,” she said, somewhat nervously. “Perhaps we had + better leave that to circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + “Circumstances?” said Miss Van Vluyck drily. “That means, I suppose, that + Laura Glyde will take the floor as usual, and we shall be deluged with + literature.” + </p> + <p> + Philanthropy and statistics were Miss Van Vluyck’s province, and she + resented any tendency to divert their guest’s attention from these topics. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Plinth at this moment appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Literature?” she protested in a tone of remonstrance. “But this is + perfectly unexpected. I understood we were to talk of Osric Dane’s novel.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ballinger winced at the discrimination, but let it pass. “We can + hardly make that our chief subject—at least not <i>too</i> + intentionally,” she suggested. “Of course we can let our talk <i>drift</i> + in that direction; but we ought to have some other topic as an + introduction, and that is what I wanted to consult you about. The fact is, + we know so little of Osric Dane’s tastes and interests that it is + difficult to make any special preparation.” + </p> + <p> + “It may be difficult,” said Mrs. Plinth with decision, “but it is + necessary. I know what that happy-go-lucky principle leads to. As I told + one of my nieces the other day, there are certain emergencies for which a + lady should always be prepared. It’s in shocking taste to wear colours + when one pays a visit of condolence, or a last year’s dress when there are + reports that one’s husband is on the wrong side of the market; and so it + is with conversation. All I ask is that I should know beforehand what is + to be talked about; then I feel sure of being able to say the proper + thing.” + </p> + <p> + “I quite agree with you,” Mrs. Ballinger assented; “but—” + </p> + <p> + And at that instant, heralded by the fluttered parlourmaid, Osric Dane + appeared upon the threshold. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Leveret told her sister afterward that she had known at a glance what + was coming. She saw that Osric Dane was not going to meet them half way. + That distinguished personage had indeed entered with an air of compulsion + not calculated to promote the easy exercise of hospitality. She looked as + though she were about to be photographed for a new edition of her books. + </p> + <p> + The desire to propitiate a divinity is generally in inverse ratio to its + responsiveness, and the sense of discouragement produced by Osric Dane’s + entrance visibly increased the Lunch Club’s eagerness to please her. Any + lingering idea that she might consider herself under an obligation to her + entertainers was at once dispelled by her manner: as Mrs. Leveret said + afterward to her sister, she had a way of looking at you that made you + feel as if there was something wrong with your hat. This evidence of + greatness produced such an immediate impression on the ladies that a + shudder of awe ran through them when Mrs. Roby, as their hostess led the + great personage into the dining-room, turned back to whisper to the + others: “What a brute she is!” + </p> + <p> + The hour about the table did not tend to revise this verdict. It was + passed by Osric Dane in the silent deglutition of Mrs. Bollinger’s menu, + and by the members of the club in the emission of tentative platitudes + which their guest seemed to swallow as perfunctorily as the successive + courses of the luncheon. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ballinger’s reluctance to fix a topic had thrown the club into a + mental disarray which increased with the return to the drawing-room, where + the actual business of discussion was to open. Each lady waited for the + other to speak; and there was a general shock of disappointment when their + hostess opened the conversation by the painfully commonplace enquiry. “Is + this your first visit to Hillbridge?” + </p> + <p> + Even Mrs. Leveret was conscious that this was a bad beginning; and a vague + impulse of deprecation made Miss Glyde interject: “It is a very small + place indeed.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Plinth bristled. “We have a great many representative people,” she + said, in the tone of one who speaks for her order. + </p> + <p> + Osric Dane turned to her. “What do they represent?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Plinth’s constitutional dislike to being questioned was intensified + by her sense of unpreparedness; and her reproachful glance passed the + question on to Mrs. Ballinger. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said that lady, glancing in turn at the other members, “as a + community I hope it is not too much to say that we stand for culture.” + </p> + <p> + “For art—” Miss Glyde interjected. + </p> + <p> + “For art and literature,” Mrs. Ballinger emended. + </p> + <p> + “And for sociology, I trust,” snapped Miss Van Vluyck. + </p> + <p> + “We have a standard,” said Mrs. Plinth, feeling herself suddenly secure on + the vast expanse of a generalisation; and Mrs. Leveret, thinking there + must be room for more than one on so broad a statement, took courage to + murmur: “Oh, certainly; we have a standard.” + </p> + <p> + “The object of our little club,” Mrs. Ballinger continued, “is to + concentrate the highest tendencies of Hillbridge—to centralise and + focus its intellectual effort.” + </p> + <p> + This was felt to be so happy that the ladies drew an almost audible breath + of relief. + </p> + <p> + “We aspire,” the President went on, “to be in touch with whatever is + highest in art, literature and ethics.” + </p> + <p> + Osric Dane again turned to her. “What ethics?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + A tremor of apprehension encircled the room. None of the ladies required + any preparation to pronounce on a question of morals; but when they were + called ethics it was different. The club, when fresh from the + “Encyclopaedia Britannica,” the “Reader’s Handbook” or Smith’s “Classical + Dictionary,” could deal confidently with any subject; but when taken + unawares it had been known to define agnosticism as a heresy of the Early + Church and Professor Froude as a distinguished histologist; and such minor + members as Mrs. Leveret still secretly regarded ethics as something + vaguely pagan. + </p> + <p> + Even to Mrs. Ballinger, Osric Dane’s question was unsettling, and there + was a general sense of gratitude when Laura Glyde leaned forward to say, + with her most sympathetic accent: “You must excuse us, Mrs. Dane, for not + being able, just at present, to talk of anything but ‘The Wings of + Death.”’ + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Miss Van Vluyck, with a sudden resolve to carry the war into + the enemy’s camp. “We are so anxious to know the exact purpose you had in + mind in writing your wonderful book.” + </p> + <p> + “You will find,” Mrs. Plinth interposed, “that we are not superficial + readers.” + </p> + <p> + “We are eager to hear from you,” Miss Van Vluyck continued, “if the + pessimistic tendency of the book is an expression of your own convictions + or—” + </p> + <p> + “Or merely,” Miss Glyde thrust in, “a sombre background brushed in to + throw your figures into more vivid relief. <i>Are</i> you not primarily + plastic?” + </p> + <p> + “I have always maintained,” Mrs. Ballinger interposed, “that you represent + the purely objective method—” + </p> + <p> + Osric Dane helped herself critically to coffee. “How do you define + objective?” she then enquired. + </p> + <p> + There was a flurried pause before Laura Glyde intensely murmured: “In + reading <i>you</i> we don’t define, we feel.” + </p> + <p> + Otsric Dane smiled. “The cerebellum,” she remarked, “is not infrequently + the seat of the literary emotions.” And she took a second lump of sugar. + </p> + <p> + The sting that this remark was vaguely felt to conceal was almost + neutralised by the satisfaction of being addressed in such technical + language. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the cerebellum,” said Miss Van Vluyck complacently. “The club took a + course in psychology last winter.” + </p> + <p> + “Which psychology?” asked Osric Dane. + </p> + <p> + There was an agonising pause, during which each member of the club + secretly deplored the distressing inefficiency of the others. Only Mrs. + Roby went on placidly sipping her chartreuse. At last Mrs. Ballinger said, + with an attempt at a high tone: “Well, really, you know, it was last year + that we took psychology, and this winter we have been so absorbed in—” + </p> + <p> + She broke off, nervously trying to recall some of the club’s discussions; + but her faculties seemed to be paralysed by the petrifying stare of Osric + Dane. What <i>had</i> the club been absorbed in? Mrs. Ballinger, with a + vague purpose of gaining time, repeated slowly: “We’ve been so intensely + absorbed in—” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Roby put down her liqueur glass and drew near the group with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “In Xingu?” she gently prompted. + </p> + <p> + A thrill ran through the other members. They exchanged confused glances, + and then, with one accord, turned a gaze of mingled relief and + interrogation on their rescuer. The expression of each denoted a different + phase of the same emotion. Mrs. Plinth was the first to compose her + features to an air of reassurance: after a moment’s hasty adjustment her + look almost implied that it was she who had given the word to Mrs. + Ballinger. + </p> + <p> + “Xingu, of course!” exclaimed the latter with her accustomed promptness, + while Miss Van Vluyck and Laura Glyde seemed to be plumbing the depths of + memory, and Mrs. Leveret, feeling apprehensively for Appropriate + Allusions, was somehow reassured by the uncomfortable pressure of its bulk + against her person. + </p> + <p> + Osric Dane’s change of countenance was no less striking than that of her + entertainers. She too put down her coffee-cup, but with a look of distinct + annoyance; she too wore, for a brief moment, what Mrs. Roby afterward + described as the look of feeling for something in the back of her head; + and before she could dissemble these momentary signs of weakness, Mrs. + Roby, turning to her with a deferential smile, had said: “And we’ve been + so hoping that to-day you would tell us just what you think of it.” + </p> + <p> + Osric Dane received the homage of the smile as a matter of course; but the + accompanying question obviously embarrassed her, and it became clear to + her observers that she was not quick at shifting her facial scenery. It + was as though her countenance had so long been set in an expression of + unchallenged superiority that the muscles had stiffened, and refused to + obey her orders. + </p> + <p> + “Xingu—” she said, as if seeking in her turn to gain time. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Roby continued to press her. “Knowing how engrossing the subject is, + you will understand how it happens that the club has let everything else + go to the wall for the moment. Since we took up Xingu I might almost say—were + it not for your books—that nothing else seems to us worth + remembering.” + </p> + <p> + Osric Dane’s stern features were darkened rather than lit up by an uneasy + smile. “I am glad to hear that you make one exception,” she gave out + between narrowed lips. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course,” Mrs. Roby said prettily; “but as you have shown us that—so + very naturally!—you don’t care to talk of your own things, we really + can’t let you off from telling us exactly what you think about Xingu; + especially,” she added, with a still more persuasive smile, “as some + people say that one of your last books was saturated with it.” + </p> + <p> + It was an <i>it</i>, then—the assurance sped like fire through the + parched minds of the other members. In their eagerness to gain the least + little clue to Xingu they almost forgot the joy of assisting at the + discomfiture of Mrs. Dane. + </p> + <p> + The latter reddened nervously under her antagonist’s challenge. “May I + ask,” she faltered out, “to which of my books you refer?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Roby did not falter. “That’s just what I want you to tell us; + because, though I was present, I didn’t actually take part.” + </p> + <p> + “Present at what?” Mrs. Dane took her up; and for an instant the trembling + members of the Lunch Club thought that the champion Providence had raised + up for them had lost a point. But Mrs. Roby explained herself gaily: “At + the discussion, of course. And so we’re dreadfully anxious to know just + how it was that you went into the Xingu.” + </p> + <p> + There was a portentous pause, a silence so big with incalculable dangers + that the members with one accord checked the words on their lips, like + soldiers dropping their arms to watch a single combat between their + leaders. Then Mrs. Dane gave expression to their inmost dread by saying + sharply: “Ah—you say <i>the</i> Xingu, do you?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Roby smiled undauntedly. “It is a shade pedantic, isn’t it? + Personally, I always drop the article; but I don’t know how the other + members feel about it.” + </p> + <p> + The other members looked as though they would willingly have dispensed + with this appeal to their opinion, and Mrs. Roby, after a bright glance + about the group, went on: “They probably think, as I do, that nothing + really matters except the thing itself—except Xingu.” + </p> + <p> + No immediate reply seemed to occur to Mrs. Dane, and Mrs. Ballinger + gathered courage to say: “Surely every one must feel that about Xingu.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Plinth came to her support with a heavy murmur of assent, and Laura + Glyde sighed out emotionally: “I have known cases where it has changed a + whole life.” + </p> + <p> + “It has done me worlds of good,” Mrs. Leveret interjected, seeming to + herself to remember that she had either taken it or read it the winter + before. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” Mrs. Roby admitted, “the difficulty is that one must give up + so much time to it. It’s very long.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t imagine,” said Miss Van Vluyck, “grudging the time given to such + a subject.” + </p> + <p> + “And deep in places,” Mrs. Roby pursued; (so then it was a book!) “And it + isn’t easy to skip.” + </p> + <p> + “I never skip,” said Mrs. Plinth dogmatically. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, it’s dangerous to, in Xingu. Even at the start there are places where + one can’t. One must just wade through.” + </p> + <p> + “I should hardly call it <i>wading</i>,” said Mrs. Ballinger + sarcastically. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Roby sent her a look of interest. “Ah—you always found it went + swimmingly?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ballinger hesitated. “Of course there are difficult passages,” she + conceded. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; some are not at all clear—even,” Mrs. Roby added, “if one is + familiar with the original.” + </p> + <p> + “As I suppose you are?” Osric Dane interposed, suddenly fixing her with a + look of challenge. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Roby met it by a deprecating gesture. “Oh, it’s really not difficult + up to a certain point; though some of the branches are very little known, + and it’s almost impossible to get at the source.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever tried?” Mrs. Plinth enquired, still distrustful of Mrs. + Roby’s thoroughness. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Roby was silent for a moment; then she replied with lowered lids: “No—but + a friend of mine did; a very brilliant man; and he told me it was best for + women—not to....” + </p> + <p> + A shudder ran around the room. Mrs. Leveret coughed so that the + parlour-maid, who was handing the cigarettes, should not hear; Miss Van + Vluyck’s face took on a nauseated expression, and Mrs. Plinth looked as if + she were passing some one she did not care to bow to. But the most + remarkable result of Mrs. Roby’s words was the effect they produced on the + Lunch Club’s distinguished guest. Osric Dane’s impassive features suddenly + softened to an expression of the warmest human sympathy, and edging her + chair toward Mrs. Roby’s she asked: “Did he really? And—did you find + he was right?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ballinger, in whom annoyance at Mrs. Roby’s unwonted assumption of + prominence was beginning to displace gratitude for the aid she had + rendered, could not consent to her being allowed, by such dubious means, + to monopolise the attention of their guest. If Osric Dane had not enough + self-respect to resent Mrs. Roby’s flippancy, at least the Lunch Club + would do so in the person of its President. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ballinger laid her hand on Mrs. Roby’s arm. “We must not forget,” she + said with a frigid amiability, “that absorbing as Xingu is to <i>us</i>, + it may be less interesting to—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, on the contrary, I assure you,” Osric Dane intervened. + </p> + <p> + “—to others,” Mrs. Ballinger finished firmly; “and we must not allow + our little meeting to end without persuading Mrs. Dane to say a few words + to us on a subject which, to-day, is much more present in all our + thoughts. I refer, of course, to ‘The Wings of Death.’” + </p> + <p> + The other members, animated by various degrees of the same sentiment, and + encouraged by the humanised mien of their redoubtable guest, repeated + after Mrs. Ballinger: “Oh, yes, you really <i>must</i> talk to us a little + about your book.” + </p> + <p> + Osric Dane’s expression became as bored, though not as haughty, as when + her work had been previously mentioned. But before she could respond to + Mrs. Ballinger’s request, Mrs. Roby had risen from her seat, and was + pulling down her veil over her frivolous nose. + </p> + <p> + “I’m so sorry,” she said, advancing toward her hostess with outstretched + hand, “but before Mrs. Dane begins I think I’d better run away. Unluckily, + as you know, I haven’t read her books, so I should be at a terrible + disadvantage among you all, and besides, I’ve an engagement to play + bridge.” + </p> + <p> + If Mrs. Roby had simply pleaded her ignorance of Osric Dane’s works as a + reason for withdrawing, the Lunch Club, in view of her recent prowess, + might have approved such evidence of discretion; but to couple this excuse + with the brazen announcement that she was foregoing the privilege for the + purpose of joining a bridge-party was only one more instance of her + deplorable lack of discrimination. + </p> + <p> + The ladies were disposed, however, to feel that her departure—now + that she had performed the sole service she was ever likely to render them—would + probably make for greater order and dignity in the impending discussion, + besides relieving them of the sense of self-distrust which her presence + always mysteriously produced. Mrs. Ballinger therefore restricted herself + to a formal murmur of regret, and the other members were just grouping + themselves comfortably about Osric Dane when the latter, to their dismay, + started up from the sofa on which she had been seated. + </p> + <p> + “Oh wait—do wait, and I’ll go with you!” she called out to Mrs. + Roby; and, seizing the hands of the disconcerted members, she administered + a series of farewell pressures with the mechanical haste of a + railway-conductor punching tickets. + </p> + <p> + “I’m so sorry—I’d quite forgotten—” she flung back at them + from the threshold; and as she joined Mrs. Roby, who had turned in + surprise at her appeal, the other ladies had the mortification of hearing + her say, in a voice which she did not take the pains to lower: “If you’ll + let me walk a little way with you, I should so like to ask you a few more + questions about Xingu....” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + The incident had been so rapid that the door closed on the departing pair + before the other members had time to understand what was happening. Then a + sense of the indignity put upon them by Osric Dane’s unceremonious + desertion began to contend with the confused feeling that they had been + cheated out of their due without exactly knowing how or why. + </p> + <p> + There was a silence, during which Mrs. Ballinger, with a perfunctory hand, + rearranged the skilfully grouped literature at which her distinguished + guest had not so much as glanced; then Miss Van Vluyck tartly pronounced: + “Well, I can’t say that I consider Osric Dane’s departure a great loss.” + </p> + <p> + This confession crystallised the resentment of the other members, and Mrs. + Leveret exclaimed: “I do believe she came on purpose to be nasty!” + </p> + <p> + It was Mrs. Plinth’s private opinion that Osric Dane’s attitude toward the + Lunch Club might have been very different had it welcomed her in the + majestic setting of the Plinth drawing-rooms; but not liking to reflect on + the inadequacy of Mrs. Ballinger’s establishment she sought a roundabout + satisfaction in depreciating her lack of foresight. + </p> + <p> + “I said from the first that we ought to have had a subject ready. It’s + what always happens when you’re unprepared. Now if we’d only got up Xingu—” + </p> + <p> + The slowness of Mrs. Plinth’s mental processes was always allowed for by + the club; but this instance of it was too much for Mrs. Ballinger’s + equanimity. + </p> + <p> + “Xingu!” she scoffed. “Why, it was the fact of our knowing so much more + about it than she did—unprepared though we were—that made + Osric Dane so furious. I should have thought that was plain enough to + everybody!” + </p> + <p> + This retort impressed even Mrs. Plinth, and Laura Glyde, moved by an + impulse of generosity, said: “Yes, we really ought to be grateful to Mrs. + Roby for introducing the topic. It may have made Osric Dane furious, but + at least it made her civil.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad we were able to show her,” added Miss Van Vluyck, “that a broad + and up-to-date culture is not confined to the great intellectual centres.” + </p> + <p> + This increased the satisfaction of the other members, and they began to + forget their wrath against Osric Dane in the pleasure of having + contributed to her discomfiture. + </p> + <p> + Miss Van Vluyck thoughtfully rubbed her spectacles. “What surprised me + most,” she continued, “was that Fanny Roby should be so up on Xingu.” + </p> + <p> + This remark threw a slight chill on the company, but Mrs. Ballinger said + with an air of indulgent irony: “Mrs. Roby always has the knack of making + a little go a long way; still, we certainly owe her a debt for happening + to remember that she’d heard of Xingu.” And this was felt by the other + members to be a graceful way of cancelling once for all the club’s + obligation to Mrs. Roby. + </p> + <p> + Even Mrs. Leveret took courage to speed a timid shaft of irony. “I fancy + Osric Dane hardly expected to take a lesson in Xingu at Hillbridge!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ballinger smiled. “When she asked me what we represented—do you + remember?—I wish I’d simply said we represented Xingu!” + </p> + <p> + All the ladies laughed appreciatively at this sally, except Mrs. Plinth, + who said, after a moment’s deliberation: “I’m not sure it would have been + wise to do so.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ballinger, who was already beginning to feel as if she had launched + at Osric Dane the retort which had just occurred to her, turned ironically + on Mrs. Plinth. “May I ask why?” she enquired. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Plinth looked grave. “Surely,” she said, “I understood from Mrs. Roby + herself that the subject was one it was as well not to go into too + deeply?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Van Vluyck rejoined with precision: “I think that applied only to an + investigation of the origin of the—of the—“; and suddenly she + found that her usually accurate memory had failed her. “It’s a part of the + subject I never studied myself/,” she concluded. + </p> + <p> + “Nor I,” said Mrs. Ballinger. + </p> + <p> + Laura Glyde bent toward them with widened eyes. “And yet it seems—doesn’t + it?—the part that is fullest of an esoteric fascination?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know on what you base that,” said Miss Van Vluyck + argumentatively. + </p> + <p> + “Well, didn’t you notice how intensely interested Osric Dane became as + soon as she heard what the brilliant foreigner—he <i>was</i> a + foreigner, wasn’t he?—had told Mrs. Roby about the origin—the + origin of the rite—or whatever you call it?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Plinth looked disapproving, and Mrs. Ballinger visibly wavered. Then + she said: “It may not be desirable to touch on the—on that part of + the subject in general conversation; but, from the importance it evidently + has to a woman of Osric Dane’s distinction, I feel as if we ought not to + be afraid to discuss it among ourselves—without gloves—though + with closed doors, if necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m quite of your opinion,” Miss Van Vluyck came briskly to her support; + “on condition, that is, that all grossness of language is avoided.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I’m sure we shall understand without that,” Mrs. Leveret tittered; + and Laura Glyde added significantly: “I fancy we can read between the + lines,” while Mrs. Ballinger rose to assure herself that the doors were + really closed. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Plinth had not yet given her adhesion. “I hardly see,” she began, + “what benefit is to be derived from investigating such peculiar customs—” + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Ballinger’s patience had reached the extreme limit of tension. + “This at least,” she returned; “that we shall not be placed again in the + humiliating position of finding ourselves less up on our own subjects than + Fanny Roby!” + </p> + <p> + Even to Mrs. Plinth this argument was conclusive. She peered furtively + about the room and lowered her commanding tones to ask: “Have you got a + copy?” + </p> + <p> + “A—a copy?” stammered Mrs. Ballinger. She was aware that the other + members were looking at her expectantly, and that this answer was + inadequate, so she supported it by asking another question. “A copy of + what?” + </p> + <p> + Her companions bent their expectant gaze on Mrs. Plinth, who, in turn, + appeared less sure of herself than usual. “Why, of—of—the + book,” she explained. + </p> + <p> + “What book?” snapped Miss Van Vluyck, almost as sharply as Osric Dane. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ballinger looked at Laura Glyde, whose eyes were interrogatively + fixed on Mrs. Leveret. The fact of being deferred to was so new to the + latter that it filled her with an insane temerity. “Why, Xingu, of + course!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + A profound silence followed this challenge to the resources of Mrs. + Ballinger’s library, and the latter, after glancing nervously toward the + Books of the Day, returned with dignity: “It’s not a thing one cares to + leave about.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think not!” exclaimed Mrs. Plinth. + </p> + <p> + “It <i>is</i> a book, then?” said Miss Van Vluyck. + </p> + <p> + This again threw the company into disarray, and Mrs. Ballinger, with an + impatient sigh, rejoined: “Why—there <i>is</i> a book—naturally....” + </p> + <p> + “Then why did Miss Glyde call it a religion?” + </p> + <p> + Laura Glyde started up. “A religion? I never—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you did,” Miss Van Vluyck insisted; “you spoke of rites; and Mrs. + Plinth said it was a custom.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Glyde was evidently making a desperate effort to recall her + statement; but accuracy of detail was not her strongest point. At length + she began in a deep murmur: “Surely they used to do something of the kind + at the Eleusinian mysteries—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—” said Miss Van Vluyck, on the verge of disapproval; and Mrs. + Plinth protested: “I understood there was to be no indelicacy!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ballinger could not control her irritation. “Really, it is too bad + that we should not be able to talk the matter over quietly among + ourselves. Personally, I think that if one goes into Xingu at all—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, so do I!” cried Miss Glyde. + </p> + <p> + “And I don’t see how one can avoid doing so, if one wishes to keep up with + the Thought of the Day—” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Leveret uttered an exclamation of relief. “There—that’s it!” + she interposed. + </p> + <p> + “What’s it?” the President took her up. + </p> + <p> + “Why—it’s a—a Thought: I mean a philosophy.” + </p> + <p> + This seemed to bring a certain relief to Mrs. Ballinger and Laura Glyde, + but Miss Van Vluyck said: “Excuse me if I tell you that you’re all + mistaken. Xingu happens to be a language.” + </p> + <p> + “A language!” the Lunch Club cried. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. Don’t you remember Fanny Roby’s saying that there were several + branches, and that some were hard to trace? What could that apply to but + dialects?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ballinger could no longer restrain a contemptuous laugh. “Really, if + the Lunch Club has reached such a pass that it has to go to Fanny Roby for + instruction on a subject like Xingu, it had almost better cease to exist!” + </p> + <p> + “It’s really her fault for not being clearer,” Laura Glyde put in. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, clearness and Fanny Roby!” Mrs. Ballinger shrugged. “I daresay we + shall find she was mistaken on almost every point.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not look it up?” said Mrs. Plinth. + </p> + <p> + As a rule this recurrent suggestion of Mrs. Plinth’s was ignored in the + heat of discussion, and only resorted to afterward in the privacy of each + member’s home. But on the present occasion the desire to ascribe their own + confusion of thought to the vague and contradictory nature of Mrs. Roby’s + statements caused the members of the Lunch Club to utter a collective + demand for a book of reference. + </p> + <p> + At this point the production of her treasured volume gave Mrs. Leveret, + for a moment, the unusual experience of occupying the centre front; but + she was not able to hold it long, for Appropriate Allusions contained no + mention of Xingu. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that’s not the kind of thing we want!” exclaimed Miss Van Vluyck. She + cast a disparaging glance over Mrs. Ballinger’s assortment of literature, + and added impatiently: “Haven’t you any useful books?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I have,” replied Mrs. Ballinger indignantly; “I keep them in my + husband’s dressing-room.” + </p> + <p> + From this region, after some difficulty and delay, the parlour-maid + produced the W-Z volume of an Encyclopaedia and, in deference to the fact + that the demand for it had come from Miss Van Vluyck, laid the ponderous + tome before her. + </p> + <p> + There was a moment of painful suspense while Miss Van Vluyck rubbed her + spectacles, adjusted them, and turned to Z; and a murmur of surprise when + she said: “It isn’t here.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” said Mrs. Plinth, “it’s not fit to be put in a book of + reference.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nonsense!” exclaimed Mrs. Ballinger. “Try X.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Van Vluyck turned back through the volume, peering short-sightedly up + and down the pages, till she came to a stop and remained motionless, like + a dog on a point. + </p> + <p> + “Well, have you found it?” Mrs. Ballinger enquired after a considerable + delay. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I’ve found it,” said Miss Van Vluyck in a queer voice. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Plinth hastily interposed: “I beg you won’t read it aloud if there’s + anything offensive.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Van Vluyck, without answering, continued her silent scrutiny. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what <i>is</i> it?” exclaimed Laura Glyde excitedly. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Do</i> tell us!” urged Mrs. Leveret, feeling that she would have + something awful to tell her sister. + </p> + <p> + Miss Van Vluyck pushed the volume aside and turned slowly toward the + expectant group. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a river.” + </p> + <p> + “A <i>river?</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Yes: in Brazil. Isn’t that where she’s been living?” + </p> + <p> + “Who? Fanny Roby? Oh, but you must be mistaken. You’ve been reading the + wrong thing,” Mrs. Ballinger exclaimed, leaning over her to seize the + volume. + </p> + <p> + “It’s the only Xingu in the Encyclopaedia; and she <i>has</i> been living + in Brazil,” Miss Van Vluyck persisted. + </p> + <p> + “Yes: her brother has a consulship there,” Mrs. Leveret interposed. + </p> + <p> + “But it’s too ridiculous! I—we—why we <i>all</i> remember + studying Xingu last year—or the year before last,” Mrs. Ballinger + stammered. + </p> + <p> + “I thought I did when <i>you</i> said so,” Laura Glyde avowed. + </p> + <p> + “I said so?” cried Mrs. Ballinger. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You said it had crowded everything else out of your mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Well <i>you</i> said it had changed your whole life!” + </p> + <p> + “For that matter. Miss Van Vluyck said she had never grudged the time + she’d given it.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Plinth interposed: “I made it clear that I knew nothing whatever of + the original.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ballinger broke off the dispute with a groan. “Oh, what does it all + matter if she’s been making fools of us? I believe Miss Van Vluyck’s right—she + was talking of the river all the while!” + </p> + <p> + “How could she? It’s too preposterous,” Miss Glyde exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Listen.” Miss Van Vluyck had repossessed herself of the Encyclopaedia, + and restored her spectacles to a nose reddened by excitement. “‘The Xingu, + one of the principal rivers of Brazil, rises on the plateau of Mato + Grosso, and flows in a northerly direction for a length of no less than + one thousand one hundred and eighteen miles, entering the Amazon near the + mouth of the latter river. The upper course of the Xingu is auriferous and + fed by numerous branches. Its source was first discovered in 1884 by the + German explorer von den Steinen, after a difficult and dangerous + expedition through a region inhabited by tribes still in the Stone Age of + culture.’” + </p> + <p> + The ladies received this communication in a state of stupefied silence + from which Mrs. Leveret was the first to rally. “She certainly <i>did</i> + speak of its having branches.” + </p> + <p> + The word seemed to snap the last thread of their incredulity. “And of its + great length,” gasped Mrs. Ballinger. + </p> + <p> + “She said it was awfully deep, and you couldn’t skip—you just had to + wade through,” Miss Glyde added. + </p> + <p> + The idea worked its way more slowly through Mrs. Plinth’s compact + resistances. “How could there be anything improper about a river?” she + enquired. + </p> + <p> + “Improper?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what she said about the source—that it was corrupt?” + </p> + <p> + “Not corrupt, but hard to get at,” Laura Glyde corrected. “Some one who’d + been there had told her so. I daresay it was the explorer himself—doesn’t + it say the expedition was dangerous?” + </p> + <p> + “‘Difficult and dangerous,’” read Miss Van Vluyck. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ballinger pressed her hands to her throbbing temples. “There’s + nothing she said that wouldn’t apply to a river—to this river!” She + swung about excitedly to the other members. “Why, do you remember her + telling us that she hadn’t read ‘The Supreme Instant’ because she’d taken + it on a boating party while she was staying with her brother, and some one + had ‘shied’ it overboard—‘shied’ of course was her own expression.” + </p> + <p> + The ladies breathlessly signified that the expression had not escaped + them. + </p> + <p> + “Well—and then didn’t she tell Osric Dane that one of her books was + simply saturated with Xingu? Of course it was, if one of Mrs. Roby’s rowdy + friends had thrown it into the river!” + </p> + <p> + This surprising reconstruction of the scene in which they had just + participated left the members of the Lunch Club inarticulate. At length, + Mrs. Plinth, after visibly labouring with the problem, said in a heavy + tone: “Osric Dane was taken in too.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Leveret took courage at this. “Perhaps that’s what Mrs. Roby did it + for. She said Osric Dane was a brute, and she may have wanted to give her + a lesson.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Van Vluyck frowned. “It was hardly worth while to do it at our + expense.” + </p> + <p> + “At least,” said Miss Glyde with a touch of bitterness, “she succeeded in + interesting her, which was more than we did.” + </p> + <p> + “What chance had we?” rejoined Mrs. Ballinger. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Roby monopolised her from the first. And <i>that</i>, I’ve no doubt, + was her purpose—to give Osric Dane a false impression of her own + standing in the club. She would hesitate at nothing to attract attention: + we all know how she took in poor Professor Foreland.” + </p> + <p> + “She actually makes him give bridge-teas every Thursday,” Mrs. Leveret + piped up. + </p> + <p> + Laura Glyde struck her hands together. “Why, this is Thursday, and it’s <i>there</i> + she’s gone, of course; and taken Osric with her!” + </p> + <p> + “And they’re shrieking over us at this moment,” said Mrs. Ballinger + between her teeth. + </p> + <p> + This possibility seemed too preposterous to be admitted. “She would hardly + dare,” said Miss Van Vluyck, “confess the imposture to Osric Dane.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not so sure: I thought I saw her make a sign as she left. If she + hadn’t made a sign, why should Osric Dane have rushed out after her?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you know, we’d all been telling her how wonderful Xingu was, and + she said she wanted to find out more about it,” Mrs. Leveret said, with a + tardy impulse of justice to the absent. + </p> + <p> + This reminder, far from mitigating the wrath of the other members, gave it + a stronger impetus. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—and that’s exactly what they’re both laughing over now,” said + Laura Glyde ironically. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Plinth stood up and gathered her expensive furs about her monumental + form. “I have no wish to criticise,” she said; “but unless the Lunch Club + can protect its members against the recurrence of such—such + unbecoming scenes, I for one—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, so do I!” agreed Miss Glyde, rising also. + </p> + <p> + Miss Van Vluyck closed the Encyclopaedia and proceeded to button herself + into her jacket “My time is really too valuable—” she began. + </p> + <p> + “I fancy we are all of one mind,” said Mrs. Ballinger, looking searchingly + at Mrs. Leveret, who looked at the others. + </p> + <p> + “I always deprecate anything like a scandal—” Mrs. Plinth continued. + </p> + <p> + “She has been the cause of one to-day!” exclaimed Miss Glyde. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Leveret moaned: “I don’t see how she <i>could!</i>” and Miss Van + Vluyck said, picking up her note-book: “Some women stop at nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “—but if,” Mrs. Plinth took up her argument impressively, “anything + of the kind had happened in <i>my</i> house” (it never would have, her + tone implied), “I should have felt that I owed it to myself either to ask + for Mrs. Roby’s resignation—or to offer mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mrs. Plinth—” gasped the Lunch Club. + </p> + <p> + “Fortunately for me,” Mrs. Plinth continued with an awful magnanimity, + “the matter was taken out of my hands by our President’s decision that the + right to entertain distinguished guests was a privilege vested in her + office; and I think the other members will agree that, as she was alone in + this opinion, she ought to be alone in deciding on the best way of + effacing its—its really deplorable consequences.” + </p> + <p> + A deep silence followed this outbreak of Mrs. Plinth’s long-stored + resentment. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t see why I should be expected to ask her to resign—” Mrs. + Ballinger at length began; but Laura Glyde turned back to remind her: “You + know she made you say that you’d got on swimmingly in Xingu.” + </p> + <p> + An ill-timed giggle escaped from Mrs. Leveret, and Mrs. Ballinger + energetically continued “—but you needn’t think for a moment that + I’m afraid to!” + </p> + <p> + The door of the drawing-room closed on the retreating backs of the Lunch + Club, and the President of that distinguished association, seating herself + at her writing-table, and pushing away a copy of “The Wings of Death” to + make room for her elbow, drew forth a sheet of the club’s note-paper, on + which she began to write: “My dear Mrs. Roby—” + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Xingu, by Edith Wharton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK XINGU *** + +***** This file should be named 24131-h.htm or 24131-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/1/3/24131/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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